Shades of Green and Grubby

To me she represents what I want to be. Classy and pretty in a 30-something way. Pink travel mug in hand (filled, no doubt, with chai). Her attitude and actions bespeak confidence. She fraternizes with the other young parents around her with grace and independence.

I bet she listens to NPR, does the Times crossword and drives a fuel efficient car. Maybe a Prius? Or better yet, A VW.

I bet her other child is a dirty dishwater-blond boy. Maybe 6 or so and not getting any older. He was born 6 or so, 'cause she would never be the mama of a baby.
Her husband is probably either an editor or owns a technological something-or-other company. At any rate, his office is extremely posh and in a very sophisticated building.

And their house is no less classy. Probably very modern – stainless steel and glass paired with retro yet simplistic furniture.

I've never even spoken to her. But I see her now & then while her daughter plays T-ball against the younger boy I nanny.

And now is when I'm gonna get philosophical: I realized that she was lookin' a bit green around the gills one day as I came dashing across the field with Evin before his game and flopped in the grass to read Covino's Elements of Persuasion... I have my options still open. I envy her stability, but she looked like she envied my independence and my freedom.

Hmm. I wish I could live with more passion in the now instead of envying what I may be someday. I'll regret every moment that I don't. Except for that one time... = )

May I offer you some chocolate and a midol?

It's not really worth the trouble to be female, sometimes. Here's is a partial list of my grievances:

I spend nearly a whole minute every day, while speeding through my-- err – beauty routine, bemoaning the fact that I have the most absurdly combination skin in the history of pretty much ever, 'cause of course that matters if you're a girl... Yeah, well, the blotchy look keeps those pesky shallow guys away, anyway! Bite me.

Whose idea was it that muscle should weight 3 times as much as fat? Seriously! I can go down 5 pants sizes by gaining 25 lbs. I could have 3% body fat and Concepts would still call me fat. Here's how it pans out: If one more helpful person tells me what an “average, attractive” female wight is, I'll put some of my muscle to use demolishing their face. I don't care if 108 lbs is attractive, being wimpy and/or waif-ish is not high on my priorities list.

Mascara is evil. I cut my eyelashes down to half their natural length so I could smear that gunk on them and poke myself in the eye with a bristle-brush? Swell.

Girl pants. Oick! What's the point? Girls spend HOW MUCH TIME complaining about their thighs and butts just to stretch on 99% spandex jeans that are 5 sizes too small and accentuate what? Oh yeah... Isn't that dumb? I'll loan you a pair of my brother's cargo pants, too.

Adding an addition to your height in the form of “pretty shoes”, aka high heels. I've never seen being 5'6” as an issue...apparently that would be a false assumption. If you don't add another half a foot to your regular height you can't be feminine. You also can't be graceful and wow people with your mad stilts skills. Yeah. Right. I have enough difficulty walking on the feet I was born with. Adding any extra possibility for klutziness is NOT a brilliant plan. Theory: it's not that high heels make your walk look graceful, it's that only those talented people who are way too coordinated to be descended from apes can manage to walk in them.

Yep...a helpless ornament. That's what females are obviously supposed to aspire to. Bummer, I guess I missed the memo while I had time to be entirely muscle-free. And it's too late to teach this old dog to walk in high heels. And the pants are straight out of the question. The mascara might get another try or two, but the combination skin, well...let's just say I threw out my concealer months ago. Get over it or go soak your head.

Because the problem with that is obvious.

They say you can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse. So here's me in a nutshell (although I don't technically carry a purse...instead I have a huge WW2 Army messenger bag. Even better!)

→ 1 binder filled with 2 semesters worth of Spanish word-lists. I keep meaning to study them.
→ My bible
→ 2 books whose bindings read: Persuasion. The first, Covino's “Elements of__” is for a class in the fall. I haven't finished the first chapter in the 3 weeks I've carried it. The second, Austen's beloved novel has been read twice in the past 3 weeks.
→ A 8x10 pad of drawing paper
→ A collection of NYTimes crosswords.
→ A box of Brown Sugar / Cinnamon Pop-Tarts
→ 2 bottles of Pibb Xtra
→ A bag of just-add-H2O refried beans
→ A SJU Sweatshirt
→ My wallet
→ A comb, several tubes of Burt's Bees lipgloss and other assorted toiletries in a hand woven fair-trade bag from Guatemala
→ A tub of Green play-dough
→ My keys
→ 2 notebooks
→ A folder of scheduling information for the boys' activities
→ 3 Eco-friendly shopping bags
→ Sunglasses
→ Cell Phone
→ Tylenol & Band-aids
→ A mug and 9 tea bags
→ A sippy cup (Yes, it's mine. I spill a lot, ok?)
→ A jar of applesauce
→ Mary Poppins, herself, to say nothing of the lamp.

There. Take what you want from that and learn a lesson. So, I'm gonna say the moral maybe is check your girlfriend's purse/bag before you propose and if she has a sippy cup or refried beans...Run, 'cause she's probably a person like me.