Monday, December 28, 2009

Merry Christmas

Husband truly is a remarkable character. I am constantly amazed by the way his brain works (especially how he can manage to park 4 cars in our double garage and not dent anything, but that's a whole other story). I came to this new realization again after opening my Christmas presents to discover 2 beautiful sweaters that fit me perfectly and look great on me. I don't understand. I go clothes shopping and take racks of clothes in with me to try on, of which nothing fits (or looks nice for that matter) and he can go without the benefit of a scale model of me and pick clothes that do both.

While thinking about this for a while, I came to a few conclusions about how this is possible.

1. I am more critical of myself.

It's how we are as women... I guess perhaps I think that there are magical clothes out there that can make me look like Jennifer Aniston and when I try on clothes that make me look like... well ME (with all the help that flourescent lighting and mirrors so close that you can't help but put all the focus on your thighs) I am somewhat disappointed.

2. I am more critical of the price tags.

How many times have I left a change room thinking "That was a nice pair of $20 pants... unfortunately the sticker said $70, and there is no way in this green earth I will pay that much for pants, maybe I'll buy them when they go on sale for $20."

3. I look at the number on the tag, not the size of the clothes.

It's a common mistake I think most women make. Please join me in my 12 step program. I believe the numbers (admitting you have a problem is the first step). I choose clothes off the rack based on the number, not the shape. Husband, on the other hand looks at the shape, has no idea what number is on the rest of my clothes and goes based on visual. He actually gets annoyed when overzealous salespeople try to help him find the right size.

Husband sees me every day... the person I really am. He sees me in clothes and not in clothes (sorry mom, it's true), whether I am glammed up for a night out, or spending the day in my pjs and cutting my toenails. He probably knows how I actually look better than I do (especially since I stand up straighter and put my shoulders back whenever I look in the mirror).

I am deluded, and I'm pretty sure I don't like it. Maybe I should just get Husband to buy all my clothes. Maybe if I ask nicely, he'll just cut the tags off before giving them to me too.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Veggie Bacon

I try to shop by the idea that if it connects you to the ground, you should buy good quality. This means tires, mattresses and shoes (among others). Tires, different ones for different seasons. Mattresses, queen-sized, firm. Shoes, leather.

This is why I am not a vegetarian.

I really believe that it would be inhumane to strip animals of their skin and leave their carcasses to rot in the sun. I am willing to make these sacrifices.

The one thing I don't understand about vegetarianism, is where the notion came from that while it's wrong to eat meat, it's somehow ok to eat things that taste like meat. Wouldn't you find meat repulsive?

Let's think about this on a grander scale. I think we can all agree that cannibalism is probably wrong, so would it not seem odd if I asked for my beef to taste like brunette? "I really would like these carrots seasoned like red-head, you see, I won't actually EAT a red-head, but I really am craving one right now."

Put that in your house and smoke it. Mmm. That makes me think of bacon. Sweet sweet bacon.

Friday, December 11, 2009

My Fortunes.

Normally I'm not the kind of person who believes that the universe has a voice and is trying to tell me something. I said, NORMALLY.

I went to a Chinese restaurant while visiting Cowtown and as I was in the car trying to put Girl to sleep to diffuse a potential meltdown on the car ride home, my family took it upon themselves to open my fortune cookie for me. In the midst of their pithy sayings about financial fortune being on the doorstep and love finding them when they least expect it, my fortune said this:

You are capable compent, creative, careful. Prove it.

What gives? Why can't I have some fortune that says I will be rich without trying or loved by all? Why does my fortune need to be a challenge? As much as I believe that my goal in life is to make as much money by working as little as possible, I have put in a lot of time, creative energy and passion into this pursuit. I guess it's time to prove what I can really do.