October 27, 2013
I Look Like a Monkey, and I Smell Like One, Too
I can't believe my birthday is on Wednesday, and I haven't even started gift-grubbing, yet! What's wrong with me? Have I lost my Spirit of Getting? Geez, I hope I'm not turning into one of those self-righteous your-presence-is-your-present kind of people. Ick.
Now, for your convenience, I have come up with a system of levels for this years gift buying. You know, like how public radio and t.v. have levels of membership, and you get some token thingy in return for your pledge? Yeah, kinda like that.
We'll start with the highest level.
The Intimate Consort Level
Going for $1,290 is the Stand Strong Necklace from Sundance. In the history of the world, no necklace was ever designed to be more in harmony with the essence of Wenchie. The tree, the wee owl, the declaration of COURAGE. Plus, I only wear silver, and even the chain length is exactly right. Perfection!
Now, let me be perfectly clear about this: Buy me this necklace, and I will have sex with you. Period. I don't care about your age, gender, sexual orientation, political affiliation, dog person or cat person. This necklace guarantees you one night of very grateful and enthusiastic nooky. Heck, I'll even make it a bootie-call! Text me and I'll come runnin'!
The Beloved Soul-Mate Level
Whether in the form of a jaunty vest, some ass-less chaps, or an enduring classic Coach purse, nothing says "I love you, Wenchie," like black leather. Timeless, pirate-y. For the low-low price of $328, you can take another little piece of my heart now, bay-bay.
But let's be clear. It has to have the silver hardware, not the gold, understand? The gold hardware won't match my Stand Strong Necklace, so you will be exchanging that shit if you dare to show up with gold hardware on my Coach purse. Watch yourself.
The Trusted Ally Level
When it all goes down, the polar ice cap has melted, zombies are eating your grandma, and there's a shark-nado headed right for your home town, who do you want on your side? That's right -- Wenchie. And for a mere $200 Lego "Lord of the Rings" Tower of Orthanc, I can be yours. I will be the Sam to your Frodo!
Isn't it marvelous?! There's even an Ent, and an eagle, and a wee Gandalf! And it's not just me whose loyalty you'll be buying; The Boy Child and The Spare are also included! For they have proved that they can play with my Legos without losing pieces. And lemme tell ya -- The Spare is excellent in a fight. He has absolutely zero scruples.
The Favored Disciple Level
Again, this gift comes with the warning of screw-up-and-get-no-cake. This Purity Cross Charm Bracelet from Brighton (yes, I understand the irony of me wearing a "purity cross") costs a mere $58 and comes in silver or blue. Don't get the blue.
'Tis true -- I work for a church, and I don't have any cross jewelry. Rumors are starting to spread that I can't wear crosses because they burn my skin, and while in much of the corporate world, that trait would be a be an asset, it might cost me a raise in Jeebus' world.
The Esteemed Crony Level
Yeah, I've set off all the WTF alarms with this one. This 30" Cutlery Paper Runner from Hester & Cook will only set you back $34, but it will bring me months -- possible years -- of contentment.
It's fifty feet of kraft paper, on a roll, which you can cut to any length. It's 30" wide -- almost as wide as our kitchen table, which doubles as a buffet table when we have people over. The table, if you'll recall, was lovingly hand-crafted by Husband to my specifications. I cannot overstate my love for this table. So when it gets scratched, I wait for company to leave and then GO FUCKING BALLISTIC. Husband says it's fine and he can always throw another coat of polyurethane on it, but it still bothers me. Which is why this paper runner is perfect! Cute, disposable, and protective!
The Unpresumptuous Well-Wisher Level
And now we're scraping the bottom of the membership barrel. For a measly $24.99 (it's on sale!), there's a top at Macy's from Maison Jules called the Short-Sleeve, Scoop-Neck, Owl-Print Tee. That's a lot of hyphenated adjectives there.
How cute would I look in that?! Worn under a V-neck cardi, with my cable-knit Uggs (it's All-Hyphenated-Adjectives Day!). Adorbs! Get it in an XXL, and be sure to keep your damn mouth shut about the size because the diet starts after the birthday cake is gone.
Just click on the photos, and you'll be taken right to the item's web page for your purchasing ease!
October 04, 2013
Embrace the Mouse
It's 4:00 a.m. I've been awake since 2:00. If you've come here to read my trademark hilarity, I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. Because, as you must know, anything written at 4:00 a.m. is only going to be the most self-indulgent, overly-dramatic tripe that ever flowed forth from a teenaged girl's nail-bitten, black-nail-polish-tipped fingers.
It's about my hair. Yes, I'm obsessing about my hair again. Giant, unanimous eyeroll, please!
Last year, I got my hair professionally dyed dark auburn. Immediately prior, I had been sporting my actual, natural hair for a while (which I hadn't done since my late teens, when I began adding blonde highlights). But my natural blonde is mousey, and I'm starting to get grey hairs.
And it occurred to me that mousey, greying blonde wasn't "who I am." A bold person should have a bold color! Thank you, Clairol, for the brain-washing. I am your humble servant.
So I went with dark auburn. And I really liked it! For a while. But recently, after seeing photos of myself, I realized that it's too dark. It doesn't go with my coloring. I look weird.
And worse than weird, I look like I'm trying to be someone/something that I'm not. I don't know what, exactly..., but that idea doesn't sit well with me. I am smart and savvy and self-educated, and I KNOW better than to let advertising convince me that there's something wrong with me, in order to get me to buy their product to change myself! Who is this person???
Who am I.
I decided that I want to go back to my natural color. Or at least, a dye much closer to my natural color (not sure, yet, whether I'm ready to embrace the grey). But when I told this to my hair stylist, she said, "Can't be done." Apparently, it's not as easy as just putting medium blonde on top of dark auburn because it won't show up. Who knew?
So we devised an elaborate plan that involved highlights as a gradual transition or some such thing. Whatever. Fine. I've had friends recommend highlights over and over, so why not try it? It's only hair, right? That's always been my mantra, as I went from color to color -- it's only hair!
After TWO HOURS in the salon chair, here's what I learned: In order to put red highlights in dark auburn hair, you first have to STRIP THE HAIR-TO-BE-HIGHLIGHTED OF ALL COLOR. In essence, before my highlights were red, they were bleach blonde. BLEACH blonde. *shudder* I had no fucking clue that's how it worked.
Now, after two days with highlights, here's what else I've learned: I hate them. I hate everything about them.
1. They cost the equivalent of a car payment.
2. They take too damn long.
3. The hair that was highlighted is now dry and coarse. Never in my life has my hair been dry and coarse. My hair is sleek and soft and luxurious! Except for the fucking highlights. I cannot stress enough how distressing this is.
4. When I put my hair in a barrette or ponytail now, I have stripes. My hair has visible zebra stripes. It looks ridiculous. So I only have two choices -- wear my hair down, which bugs the shit outta me; or pull it back and have a striped head. Neither option is terribly appealing.
5. I'm only allowed to wash my hair every other day. I have very oily hair, so this is intolerable. But red washes out very easily, so I can only wash it half as much as usual, and even that is probably too much.
6. In order to maintain the color, I had to buy two conditioners -- one blonde-tinted, one red-tinted -- and mix them together 50/50. I know -- they saw me comin' a mile away, right?
7. Despite these efforts the red is ALREADY fading from the highlights and revealing the ever-so-ugly yellow-blonde in a couple places. I am mortified.
When you only have one feature about yourself that you really like, it is hard to see that feature ruined. And even harder to know that it's your own damn fault.
Who am I? Am I this person who spends more time and energy and money on my HAIR than practically anything else in my life? What kind of shitty feminist am I?! How can I possibly justify all this bullshit? IT'S ONLY HAIR!!!
My first inclination was to shave it all off. Seriously. I've fucked it up irrevocably. I'm sure as shit not going forward with any long-term plan that involves more highlights. Taking a Do-Over is really the only logical solution.
But look what happens to women in the public eye who shave their heads. Britney, Miley, heck, even beloved Hermione Granger! I'm sure you've read the things people have called them -- crazy, dyke, emotionally fucked-up, ugly, rebel-without-a-clue, desperate. Heck, you may have even uttered some of those diagnoses yourself.
If I were a man, I could shave my head no problem. We've got several baldies at work -- some even younger than I -- and no one bats an eye. But a woman baldie? Unthinkable. I couldn't take the gossip. I couldn't face going into work every day. I'd be a social outcast, people wondering about my state of mind, and health. No, thanks.
A shorn woman just too awkward and offensive for people to have to deal with. It's my social obligation to have perfect, radiant, youthful, mermaid hair. And if that's not obtainable, then I'd sure as shit at least better look like I'm trying, like I haven't given up.
Lying awake tonight, I've come up with a Plan B. It's going to take about two years. Maybe more.
It involves cutting my hair short. Short, but "cute" and "sassy" and therefore socially acceptable. And then keeping it short until all the dye is grown out. And then growing it long again. Unless I decide I like it short. Who knows. Long hair is a giant pain-in-the-ass.
I know that this plan will involve many tears. And I know that my hair will look like shit for a long, long time. But I have to do it. Leaving it the way it is now is unacceptable. I have to prove to myself that I am not this person, the person who spends a car payment on her hair, and compromises her personal grooming preferences.
I also know that this plan will involve questions. Lots and lots of questions and unsolicited comments. People who would never think to engage me in a conversation about who my best friend is, or what's my favorite color, or what kind of books I like to read, will ask me all kinds of whats and whys about the collection of dead cells hanging out of my scalp.
I'm going to have to come up with a couple of good responses. Any suggestions?