The lies we tell ourselves
1. “Oh, it’s fine.” C’mon, you know it’s not. Whether it’s the nurse who can’t find your vein after five tries or the hairdresser who cuts your bangs so short you look like Dwight Schrute from The Office, it’s not fine. You’re in pain, appalled, embarrassed. You look like a drug addict. You’re going to have to wear a beret for the next five months. It’s not fine at all. But, God, you have manners, and that’s gotta count for something.
2. On belly rumblings: “They’ll go away.” They most definitely will not go away. I’m talking about those strangled moans that occur on occasion deep in your bowels. Speaking German, those moans are giving you a directive: “Get thee to a bathroom, NOW!” I was talking about this at lunch yesterday with some girlfriends (I know. Lunch!!!) We’ve all had this experience and why we continue to think these rumblings will go away is a mystery. That kind of thinking leads to a clean-up on aisle three if you know what I’m talking about. You know it’s true. And don’t get tricked into thinking you can quietly pass a little gas and things will be fine. That’s the beginning of the end. None of us are getting any younger either. I’m not saying it’s time for Depends, but for God’s sake listen to your body.
3. “They’re nice kids.” I’m sure they are–individually and in small groups. Actually, I think today’s kids are pretty great. Teenagers in large groups are a different story. They want to be cool and funny, and if they have to throw you under the bus to do it, so be it. You remember what it’s like! When my son was two, there was a large group of teens in the road in front of our house. They were loud, and my son wouldn’t go to sleep. I said to my husband, “I’m just going to go out there and ask them to move along.” He looked up from the newspaper, “Don’t do it. I’m serious. They’ll mess with you.” Ridiculous. But I didn’t listen. I was cool; I could talk to them on their level. They were nice kids. “Hey guys! Hi. Would you mind moving along?” I asked, making, I’m not kidding, a shooing motion with my hands. “Yeah, you guys are kind of loud and my son is trying to go to bed.” They just looked at me. Old woman. Hag. No one said anything, but they started walking. “Thank youuuu,” I trilled after them. The next day, I discovered my Christmas reindeer copulating on the front lawn. I have to hand it to them, it was pretty damn funny.