I woke up at the crack of 8:00 (ish). It takes a good half hour between waking up to physically getting out of bed due to whining about how much I hate mornings, hitting the snooze button a few hundred times, complaining about my aching back, & checking to see if there’s an errant dog or two to step over.
Then, it’s on to makeup. Now, folks, when you’re as old as I am, makeup is no longer optional! This procedure takes about 45 minutes, as I have to use industrial strength spackle to fill in my lines & wrinkles. And even though it’s strong, I have to wait a few minutes for it to dry so I can apply the second coat & then sand it down. Next comes all the concealing, de-puffing, & artificial colour additions to my pasty, white face. Why didn’t my Grandmother’s Native American genes get passed to me?
Next, comes the clothing ritual. Men, cover your ears for this part. I gather my boobs up from around my waist & spend about 10 minutes stuffing them into my bra. It takes a while, because gravity keeps insisting that they remain right where they are. After this, I slip into something a little less comfortable – Spanx.
After I’d struggled & done some Olympic worthy gymnastic moves, I finally managed to bring the Spanx up to where it’s supposed to be. Only to end up with a muffin top. This you have to stuff back down into the, well, let’s just call it what it is, girdle. Where is gravity when you need it? When this fun little exercise in futility is over, you notice that your rear is peeking out at odd angles. It, too, must be stuffed; this time, UP into the girdle.
Although this is a little off point, I feel that it begs to be said. Men, unlike women, would NEVER EVER EVER do any of the things we do. I’ve seen 350 pound men on the beach wearing nothing but a Speedo. At least, I HOPE he’s wearing a Speedo. You can’t tell because his gut is covering most of his mid-section & his back hair looks like a sweater. Then, he’ll strut down the beach like he should be on the cover of Playgirl. A woman, however, will stress over gaining a single pound, buy the most restrictive bathing suit with a built in girdle to mask as many (what we see as) “flaws” as is humanly possible.
Furthermore, a woman will dry herself off in the shower & have her robe on before she gets out to avoid seeing herself naked in the mirror. A man will get out of the shower soaking wet, stand there admiring himself, & turn to you saying, “Hey baby, like what you see?” As he’s patting his protruding belly. I am firmly convinced that God is a man.
Then, we go on to clothes & hair. Clothes usually take a while because I still keep a couple of dresses whose size I’ve surpassed. But, ever the optimist, I’ve just got to try one or two on, in case of a miracle. My hair is another ½ hour. Those of you who’ve seen me, know that it’s pretty long, so I wear it up (age appropriate). This entails a barrage of bobby pins & enough hair spray to put a boulder sized hole in the ozone layer directly above my house.
After the torturous morning rituals, I was off on an equally glamorous trip – Walmart. The dogs need bones & food – again. Even though we buy dog food in 50 pound bags, I have to purchase it once, sometimes twice, a week. The kids need cereal & cereal accoutrements, as they went through 2 gallons of milk in one morning. It’s also time to gather more laundry supplies. And, of course, I need more hair spray.
Now, on to the pharmacy to collect the medicines that are now necessary for my existence. Water pills, thyroid pills, blood pressure pills, ulcer pills, etc. Man, I long for the days when I only had to take ONE little pill.
Next stop on my exciting birthday adventure was the liquor store. I’m hoping against hope that there will be something, anything that has the ability to make one happy on the one hand, yet forget your age on the other. I know, good luck with that one. However, as some of you know, I found a decent bottle of wine. I mean the liquid kind, not my normal “whine”. Then it was back home to tackle the laundry. I’d finally cleaned the mountain of clothes from vacation, when several foot hills sprung up in its place.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to cook dinner. Friday nights at our house is hot wings & pizza night. Since Matt used to make them in the restaurant, Friday night’s meal preparation falls to him. Of course, he wanted to make the day special, so he purchased ready made dough balls. He even bought a “gourmet” sauce. Now, I know Michele is going to think I have lost my sense of taste, but honestly, one pizza sauce tastes pretty much the same as any other. Of course, I didn’t tell Matt that. It was so sweet that he went that extra mile.
And before any of you think that my Matt is a slouch in the romance department (Krista, get your mind out of the gutter), he was adorable. He came home with a dozen long stemmed red roses, a beautiful card & a bottle of expensive perfume. What he didn’t know, however, is that the perfume he so lovingly picked out makes me sneeze. I already have a full bottle on my dressing table. That little nugget of information will never reach his ears, however. He’ll think it’s the best perfume I’ve ever smelled, even as he’s wondering if I have hay fever due to all the sneezing.
But, all in all, it was a terrific day. After dinner, I grabbed my cheap bottle of wine & Matt & I went out to the Jacuzzi (where I promptly fell asleep). But, being old, I’ll remember this birthday completely different than it actually was. I’ll look back with fond thoughts (aka delusions) of breakfast in bed, being lavished with sparkly baubles, riding in a convertible for the parade thrown in my honour, & the 7 course gourmet meal & champagne that was brought on golden dishes & fed to me by young, handsome waiters who vied for my attention. It could happen - sigh. But,
7 course gourmet meal, $500.00
Sparkly baubles, convertible for the parade, $100,000.00
Sparkly baubles, convertible for the parade, $100,000.00
Having good friends, terrific children, & a husband who adores me – Priceless.
