Friday, May 29, 2009

DO NOT....

Do not tell me you are sorry when I clear my throat and it annoys you. Your correction does not signify an understanding of my discomfort.

Do not tell me you are sorry when you want to listen to music on a morning drive, because it's truly what you wish to hear. Your ears are dedicated to what they want and do not have a respect for my desire for zen.

Do not tell me you are sorry for wanting light when my eyes need the dark. Your brain wishes to see in shades of yellow and red without care that my eyes crave hues of ebony and stone.

Do not tell me you are sorry for raising your voice as your heart can only hear in volumes of pain, without care that my soul can hear your whisper of desperation.

Do not waste three such precious words....."I AM SORRY". I beg you to save them for when you break my heart, for you will, and it is then you will need them..........for your survival.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Married = Leper

I was riding the Kimball line this past Friday, heading to the theatre and happened to get into a fascinating political conversation with an attractive man. I'm a firm believer that we, as a population, don't know how to communicate anymore, unless we are twittering, facebooking, my spacing, texting, etc... So, whenever I have the opportunity to actually speak with someone intelligent I like to embrace the opportunity. The conversation is irrelevant to this post, but the following is not:

Approaching my stop I told "Kimball Line Ken" that it was lovely talking to him. He then asked me if I would like to have a cup of coffee sometime and continue our conversation. I told him I would, if he didn't mind my husband coming along. He looked like I punched him and he suddenly became much less congenial and completely avoided looking me in the eyes. I had become the modern day equivalent of a leper.....a married woman.

I wear a very "non-married" looking wedding ring and band. It's an antique ruby setting and doesn't scream "I'm married". But, it's also not a catch and release mechanism designed to lure in unsuspecting men. My offense was neither intentional or planned.

In the ten years that I've been married I've had this happen only a handful of times. I have noticed that since I'm been getting myself healthy again, that I am becoming slightly interesting to the male population again. So I was genuinely bothered by the whole exchange with the "Ken" gent.

I got married, I did not; develop a third head, become an asexual being, cease being appreciative of admiring comments or glances, lose my feminine sense of wanting to be wanted or have my brain fall out of my head at the altar.

I don't know when being married became an oddity or a disease to be shunned like an H1N1 virus. Do I think I'm all that and a side of guacamole, sometimes, not often. In the moments that I don't feel that way, a simple glance from someone or an admiring comment can boost that sense that "Yes, I'm still desirable to someone who isn't legally required to desire me".

So gents....if you find any of your married lady friends appealing, don't treat them like bubble wrapped eggs in a carton....remind them that you think they are "hot snatch" (as a friend of mind would say) and you just might make their day. Do not ride off into the "L" sunset, leaving behind a woman who feels like less of a woman just because of her jewelry.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Slippers ain't shoes, pajamas ain't pants!!!

I'd like to ask a simple question of my friends, both male and female. When did slippers become shoes and pajamas become pants? I can remember using this style while living in the dorms in my less-than-coiffed college days, but people, really? I see countless folks, in my neighborhood and throughout Chicago sporting this "Glamour Don't" moment.

I attempt to live my life by a statement I once heard Joan Crawford make (I didn't actually hear her say this mind you) when asked why she bothered to dress to the nines before even going to the grocery store..."Darling" she said "you never know who you're going to meet in this town". Now, I realize, I may not meet a lot of influential people in the Albany Park neighborhood, but you just never know. You never know if the next director, casting agent, potential mate, friend, future boss etc.... is right around the corner. Now, I don't leave the house each day in a flowing Balenciaga gown, but I do attempt to style my hair, put on a face and dress nicely. I have my dress down days on the weekend, but I avoid the land of torn up sweats and greasy hats.

It's statistically proven that people who take time with their appearance and pride in the way they look, have a better outlook on life and actually score higher on the Mensa exam (okay, so the Mensa exam part was shit, but you catch my drift).

Be nicer to yourself, don't overwork your at home wear and always remember "Slippers ain't shoes, pajamas ain't pants!"