Wednesday, October 26, 2011

On Being Glamorous

Since I have realized how wonderfully glamorous I have [not] become, I decided it was time to make some of you stay at homer's feel better. Much better. The following are positive reframes of some possible situations that might cause you to--GASP!--lose your glamor swing. It's entirely possible I've suffered all of them; it's entirely possible I won't even write about half of them. 

Scenario: No shower in more than three days (this could include but is not limited to: visible dandruff, enough grease to oil the TinMan--'Oil can!'--and/or oily skin and leftover makeup), no clean clothes and you've gotta go to the grocery store, a playdate, or some other place where people will in fact remember you, and will in fact report you to Social Services for "poor hygiene" or "malodorous scent", or "disheveled appearance." 

Solution: First, take a look at your nearly homeless-looking-self and say, "I may as well black out a tooth but dang it, this is gonna WORK!" The key here is to think creatively. Take a blow-dryer and heck--blow off the dandruff! (This actually works...not that I've tried it.) Wash your face all except for your eyes and reapply a little makeup--yup, just keep plowin' through that old mascara. Feel extra glam in extra makeup--you just might get hit on (bonus!) by one of those guys that is always cleaning out the port-a-potty at the park, right when your 4 year old needs it. No clean undies? Psh--no problem! Either borrow your husband's (clean) briefs or if this isn't possible, consider yourself as daring as the Kardashians, and go commando! Worried that you smell, "less than fresh"? NO worries--this can be taken care of by any of the following: whilst applying Desitin on your kiddo, rub a little on your wrists--it's all anyone will be able to smell; or going the glam route--spray some cologne from your hubby's stash--just say "it rubbed off during our rendesvous this morning *wink wink*!" And heck, that's why the make up is heavier, and your hair's a mess! (because of course, in your glamorous life, you and your spouse have time, energy, and space to have something like a rendesvous).

Scenario: You almost make it out the door. I said "almost" on purpose. Well, now that you're all ready to walk out the door with the kids and five different bags for any situation in-tow, you can handle ANYTHING, but wait! You sat down to put on your boots and--you've sat in an UWP (Unidentified Wet Puddle...and yes, there is such thing as a "dried puddle"--the kind that have already long dried before you realized there was a puddle). You go to check for a clean pair of pants--NOTHIN'. 

Solution: Don't stress! Put on that PBS cartoon you've been denying the kids (I mean  because you never fail to plan all-day activities so as to avoid them watching any of that evil television!..This should conjure up an image of a fire-and-brimstone preacher at the pulpit somewhere on the Bible Belt) and walk yourself to the bathroom. Once again, whip out your trusty blow-dryer. The clothes' dryer is more thorough--true, but you don't have time for thorough; you just need your soggy underwear (if you wearing them) and pants to be dry enough to not look and feel like you've wet yourself pre-Depends Diaper stage. "I can do this! I can do this!" you tell yourself in the mirror, as your children laugh hysterically at their Mommy (since the show will be done by the time you actually can start fixing yourself.) "Why are you blowing air on your tushy?" they ask in between erupting giggles. "Well," you say as you regain your glam flair (you recall yourself in those times you wanted to audition to be an actress or a stand-up comedian and channel your drama Chi), "sometimes tushies get reeeeally cold and think that they live in the Arctic, where there's always snow! So, I have to remind my tushy that it lives in Colorado, where it's not so cold bahahaha!" 

Was this joke...funny? Hell no! But, take in these times with young kids because, all you have to really do to make them laugh is: say something inappropriate like "tush" or "butt" or "poop"; say something in an inappropriate context; or say anything inappropriate. Especially if it rhymes. This won't last, so make yourself feel like Seinfeld and do whatever it takes to make them laugh, and make yourself feel completely normal.

Scenario: You get to the grocery store, you prepare the kids with "Good boys/girls get ___ when they have good behavior at the store" etc., you get the stupid carts with the car attached that drives like a blimp (yes, I compare it to a blimp on purpose because blimps aren't supposed to drive, and apparently, neither are the giant pieces of crap they give you at the store), and head in there with all the gusto you can muster. The kids are falling out of the cart, screaming "BEEP! BEEEP!" because as they explain "These horns don't work!", and in the check-out line, they swing from a fantastic pendulum of trying to make out with one another by licking tongues ("...Just like our friends who got married at that church!") and then ending it by punching each other in the face right there, in there little no-horned car-cart. 

Solution: It's ALL about the reframe, remember? So, be PROUD! Maybe someone recorded the whole ordeal with their Smart Phone, will post it on YouTube and you'll be RICH! So what if you feel like you look like Zach Galifianakis with your gut hanging out of your too-short, stained shirt and bad grease-ball hair? You've MADE IT OUT, Mama, and whether its Hellish or not, you will make it back home! You've OVERCOME, just like Mel Gibson in Braveheart (not the part where he's tortured and murdered...). You are probably funnier, savvier, and pleasantly more crazy because of it. Now, go home, throw the kids in one room and safely lock it (and laugh manically to yourself like the evil Stepmother) so you can really take a shower. If you can't, then spritz water on your face and call it good. 
Then dear friends, go write about it.

Peace OUT!