My toes are in embarrassing condition. I am in dire need of a pedicure. I am going to have lunch with a friend today, and she is bringing her young son, and I decided that if he asks me about my hairy left toe, I am going to tell him I've been working on it for quite some time and am rather proud of it.
You know how children are. Always noticing your most embarrassing flaws. My sister is a teacher and says one of her students said the other day, "I think you're gaining weight." I told her she should tell the kid he's an ugly little peckerhead.
That's why I'm not a teacher.
Do you ever begin to prepare for an event months ahead of time, thinking: By the time this event arrives, I am going to be so hot. Commence the maniacal workouts and eating of bird food!
And then you crash and burn in a tangle of Haagen Dazs and Mad Men marathons? Has that ever happened to you?
Huh. Just wondering.
When I was young -- say, 6 years old, I used to pretend I had another personality. Or, rather, that another person lived in me or maybe possessed me, but only during bath time, and only when my younger sister was also in the bath with me. Or, when real me wanted a cookie and wanted my sister to steal it for me.
My other personality was a witch. Like I pretended to be a witch in order to scare my sister into doing things for me.
It's hard being an older sister. You have to figure out a few things like: 1) How to get the attention you rightly deserve as the firstborn, and obviously, most important child. 2) How to effectively enslave your younger sibling. 3) How to make sure all food portions given to you are larger and contain more chocolate chips than those given to your younger sibling.
It's just hard. One has to get pretty creative.
Did you think I might somehow tie all of these separate thoughts together in a cute conclusion? Huh.