It's been nagging at me, this fluffing and flouncing that I did. I feel as though I have to own up to it.
If I keep hiding my shame it will only grow and fester and come to the surface in ways that are socially unacceptable and someone could get seriously hurt.
Look. This little old lady couldn't do it herself. She isn't tall enough to reach the top of the curtain rod where the fluffing and flouncing had to begin. Sure, she could use that little step-stool I bought for her, but what with the arthritis and her bad knee and all that, what if she tripped and fell through the glass? She'd land directly in the garden and there are still a few dahlias holding on to dear life and one purple African daisy that I want to try to over-winter in a pot but have been too lazy to dig up.
These curtains are on probation. We're giving them a trial run and we needed to see all the various ways in which they could hang. They HAD to get flounced. You don't just fling curtains up and then let them dangle there without a little manipulation.
I guess I'd better admit that I fiddled around with curtain draw-back hooks, too. The pewter ones seem OK.
So now I'm a queen. I think this is how it all starts, anyway.
I mean... is this enough to gain queen acceptance? Or do I have to throw out all my plaid flannel shirts AND my winter steel-toe work boots? I COULD donate them to needy lesbians hit hard by the recent economic crisis but I really love my plaid flannel shirts...
Have I approached a crossroads?
Is there a membership application I have to fill out or do I just need to finally gather up the courage to face off against one of those frightening-looking and intimidating eyelash curlers?
And what of my tools? Who will care for them? Can I still drive a standard transmission or do I have shop for an automatic now? When I buy something heavy at a store, do I ask for a muscle-bound young man to carry it to my car for me? I have to DVR at least one show on Lifetime and one show on Bravo each week, right?
Fuck. Probably I'll need to smoke 100s from now on. That won't be easy.
I'll have to start drinking again and order frozen "cocktails," correct?
Which antidepressant would be best for a beginner?
Most importantly... what about farting? They'll have to be delicate toots from now on, yes?
When I shave my legs, do I HAVE to use a Venus razor or one of those pink disposables? Or just go with a gentle depilatory instead?
So many questions.
If I keep hiding my shame it will only grow and fester and come to the surface in ways that are socially unacceptable and someone could get seriously hurt.
Look. This little old lady couldn't do it herself. She isn't tall enough to reach the top of the curtain rod where the fluffing and flouncing had to begin. Sure, she could use that little step-stool I bought for her, but what with the arthritis and her bad knee and all that, what if she tripped and fell through the glass? She'd land directly in the garden and there are still a few dahlias holding on to dear life and one purple African daisy that I want to try to over-winter in a pot but have been too lazy to dig up.
These curtains are on probation. We're giving them a trial run and we needed to see all the various ways in which they could hang. They HAD to get flounced. You don't just fling curtains up and then let them dangle there without a little manipulation.
I guess I'd better admit that I fiddled around with curtain draw-back hooks, too. The pewter ones seem OK.
So now I'm a queen. I think this is how it all starts, anyway.
I mean... is this enough to gain queen acceptance? Or do I have to throw out all my plaid flannel shirts AND my winter steel-toe work boots? I COULD donate them to needy lesbians hit hard by the recent economic crisis but I really love my plaid flannel shirts...
Have I approached a crossroads?
Is there a membership application I have to fill out or do I just need to finally gather up the courage to face off against one of those frightening-looking and intimidating eyelash curlers?
And what of my tools? Who will care for them? Can I still drive a standard transmission or do I have shop for an automatic now? When I buy something heavy at a store, do I ask for a muscle-bound young man to carry it to my car for me? I have to DVR at least one show on Lifetime and one show on Bravo each week, right?
Fuck. Probably I'll need to smoke 100s from now on. That won't be easy.
I'll have to start drinking again and order frozen "cocktails," correct?
Which antidepressant would be best for a beginner?
Most importantly... what about farting? They'll have to be delicate toots from now on, yes?
When I shave my legs, do I HAVE to use a Venus razor or one of those pink disposables? Or just go with a gentle depilatory instead?
So many questions.
