Fate Worse Than Death

School is out and I've been working a little bit more at my part-time retail gig (popular plus size store). We have our loyal customers - they love the fashion and fit and we rank as one of their favorite places to shop.
We also get a lot of new customers - the ones that feel they have to excuse their fatness. "I just had a baby." "I had surgery and now I can't fit into my size 10s." "I'm on a new medication and I've put on 20 lbs." They go on and on about how they've never been this or that size before but someone told them they just had to try this store. Some of the customers are so self-deprecating you would think they beat their dog or park in handicap spaces. I've always said there are worst things to be than fat - such as ugly or ignorant or stupid. For the most part, though, people believe obesity is a fate worse than death.
I would like someone just to come in and say, "I eat too much, I don't exercise and I'd like to buy some new clothes."

Kindness of Strangers

I sat in the orthodontist office the other day and listened in amazement as a First wife and Mom had a conversation with her sons' new (young and pregnant) stepmother. They seemed like best friends, exchanging antecdotes about the boys, horrifying birth stories, and thanking each other for the thoughtful Christmas gifts they had exchanged. The Mom even promised new Mom a gift of a housekeeping service once the baby is born.
One hears such horror stories about new wives and old wives that I was just tickled that sometimes it does work out. A little skeptical, but still..........

Last Christmas

Looking at my son put out cookies for Santa and setting out celery on the front steps for the reindeer, I realized that this is probably the last Christmas any of my kids will believe in Santa Claus. I know the arguments against letting your kids believe and I know the real meaning of Christmas, but there is just something so pure, so awesome about a little kid believing in Santa and reindeers and elves....I guess, it's the trusting innocence I'll miss.
These days, my girls are so surprised when something I suggest makes sense. Half the time things I say just circle around their heads in pretty little arcs waiting to be stored in the file marked "Mom - no damned idea what she's talking about". To them, I am an ATM and chauffeur and sometime maid and cook.
J still thinks I'm knowledgeable, although any questions about Star Wars are fielded to his Grandpa and Uncle R.

Amusing Articles and Such

1. "A Cougar Stole My Man" Cosmo Magazine
This one was especially funny. Young women going on and on about these older, tired women (one caked her make up on to look younger; one didn't dress hip enough) flirting with or stealing their men. Obviously, the old hags had something over these impossibly young, hot women.
2. "Hairy Chests are Hot Again" MSN.com
Yay! Men should have hair (not pelts, I'm not saying men should be part bear) - no man should wax or shave or otherwise diminish their chest hair. Opposites attract and all that. I don't want a man smoother than me. Otherwise, I would just date women.
3. "Large Rats Sniff Out Landmines" National Geographic
Genius. Some smart guy taught rats how to sniff out landmines. Apparently, dogs are messy and heavy (they end up tripping the land mines as they find them). The rats are easy to train, breed easily, and manage to smell the land mines without getting themselves blown up. Very green. Reusable rats versus disposable rats.
4. "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" I saw this on Discovery Health Channel.
No explanation needed. This was one incredulous hour of fun!


Disclaimer - the quotes aren't really quotes, more like paraphrases of what I could remember

I'm the man of the house.

We are a household of women with my eight year old son being the only male - the bonafide underdog. So, me, being the Mom, the older sister, the home owner - it is up to me to me take care of things. When a family of ants decided to move into our mailbox, larvae and all, I was the only one who would go near it. I had to retrieve the mail, spray and scoop out the remains (with my son shaking his head, "Mom, you killed the babies. They didn't even have a chance to live.") Not only did I have to kill the ants, but I had to feel guilty about it too.
When the AC started leaking and it rained in my house, I had to be the one to google "what to do when you have a ceiling leak and you don't want it to collaspe". I even got on the ladder and pinned the string to guide the water into the cooler I had set up to catch the water. What a waste. The ceiling still collasped.
I had to buy the lawn mower and the leaf blower and then I had to teach myself how to use them. I have to prune the trees and spray the Round Up.
It's not all bad though. I did get to paint my bedroom purple and I didn't have to set up the surround sound (even though the house is pre wired). And I can spend whatever I want on decor.

Time to Accessorize

I work part time at a store that sells plus size women's clothing - L.B. I started working there because I needed something besides my kids and school. I'd been bookkeeping forever (preparing taxes on the side) and I wanted something other than numbers. Besides, I get a great discount.
My colleagues are a great bunch of women. There are skinny fat girls, fat fat girls - ranging from ages eighteen to nearly fifty. We sometimes get drinks together, go dancing, or just hang out. Yesterday, two of us accompanied Miss K (she's 19) to go get her tongue pierced. Other than my ears, I having nothing pierced. I do have two tattoos - I got one when I was eighteen, then one shortly after my husband died.
Anyway - I was curious - so off we went. Miss C (she drove) had her tongue pierced ten years ago, so she was our resident expert. We roll up to a popular tattoo/ piercing salon in the Virginia Beach area about 9:45 on a Saturday night, all dressed up in our business casual work clothes. Poor tattoo parlor guys - I'm sure they didn't know what to expect.
So, Miss K fills out the paperwork, signs the release form, and sticks out her tongue. Yikes. That's a big hole they put in your tongue. 12 gauge. (They use a smaller needle when you get an I.V.) Lots of blood too. Wow. But, hey, it looks great. Plus it's one more thing to buy jewelry for.

I Love Christmas, but....

I am starting to really, really, really dislike December. My husband passed away December 16, 2006. His funeral was held on December 22nd. Starting to see the connection?
I've been blaming my late start in decorating and shopping on final exams. There is some truth to this - my kids are lucky that they eat and their clothes are clean. Studying has taken up a lot of my time. Honestly, though, I don't have the energy. The first Christmas was a complete fog - we all just wanted to get through it. Last Christmas wasn't much better. Angry much? How do you help your kids get through the 1st anniversary of their father's death? Go to dinner? Bake cookies? Ignore it?
I keep asking Thomas why he couldn't have been a little more considerate. No one should die in December.
And still - two years later - things aren't much better. My sister and I tried to watch a movie last night. P.S. I Love you. What a great idea! A movie about a widow who receives letters and such from her husband beyond the grave. I made it to the scene where she receives a birthday cake from him three weeks after his death. C has already told me that she's not coming home on Tuesday. She has decideded to spend it with her boyfriend and his family. M just won't discuss it and J just doesn't want to see me cry.
I got a call yesterday from C's guidance counselor - she's suggesting group grief counseling. Great. What a fun bunch of phone calls that'll be. It is so hard to deal with my babies' grief when, sometimes, I can barely handle my own. It sucks being the grown up.