|
|
Friday, April 14, 2006How To Leave a Lasting ImpressionFor me, some things come easily -- like falling down short flights of stairs and forgetting to shave my armpits before ballet class. One thing that comes more naturally than anything else, though, is letting things fly out of my mouth before I've thought about them. Just ask Eric. He has spent the last eighteen years of his life cringing. Eons ago, during our Life B.C. (that's Life Before Children), a couple whom we'd just met asked us to their home for dinner. We seemed to have a lot in common -- we were all from Pennsylvania, we were all musicians, we were all about the same age. It seemed like the beginning of a good friendship. I don't know how the conversation turned toward animals and pets, but suddenly I opened my mouth and began to yap about a particularly unfortunate mouse in my life. "I once starved a mouse to death," I announced, oblivious to the pained expression on my husband's face. "You what?" Well, gee, there's nothing like a little bit of encouragement to tell one's story to an eager audience, so I launched right in. "Well, I had this brown mouse named Oscar. I'd raised him from babyhood because his mother, Jane Louise, died suddenly of a seizure when Oscar and the other baby mice were only seventeen days old." (I'm sure my audience was, by this point, enraptured.) "Anyway, Oscar developed some kind of rash or something, because he started scratching all the time. In fact, he scratched himself behind the ears so much that blood started to spatter on the glass of his cage, and he was loosing the fur behind his ears. I thought it was really gross and I didn't want to deal with it anymore -- so I let his water bottle go empty and stopped feeding him. Then, when he was finally dead, I just picked up the whole aquarium and threw it away." Lovely dinner conversation, that. And our conversation in the car on the way home was even lovelier. "Why the heck did you tell them that mouse story?" Eric was beyond incredulous. "I can't believe you told the mouse story to them -- we only just met! They're not ever going to want to see us again. You really need to think about things before you say them." Well, maybe so -- but, even after the mouse story, I never did master the art of "thinking before speaking." Why, just the other evening, Eric took me to my favorite boutique in downtown Franklin. While Eric was busy chatting with the store manager, I discovered a cute little tank top and popped behind the curtain of the dressing booth to try it on. Unsure of the overall result, I slipped from behind the curtain and got Eric's attention. "Well? What do you think?" He loved it. He thought it was great. But I wasn't so sure (oh, the curse of being female!). So Eric suggested that I ask the not-even-close-to-turning-thirty-yet store manager for her opinion. Yeah, right. I could just hear her inner voice whispering, "Oh, great, now I've got to make this way-too-old woman feel like she looks okay in the tank top." But Eric persisted, and called her over to the dressing room. "Jill would like your opinion." Thanks, Eric. Having no other choice, I emerged from the dressing booth, threw my arms back, and made eye contact with the approaching manager. "My nipples are showing!" She didn't miss a beat. While she felt that the tank top really looked fine (had she actually checked if my nipples were showing?), she assured me that I could easily wear a bra underneath the already-stitched-in shelf bra -- and even that it was perfectly acceptable for my bra straps to show. Right. It might be "perfectly acceptable" for your bra straps to show if you're not-even-close-to-turning-thirty-yet, but I'd rather not go there. It was probably the most interesting conversation I've ever had in a retail store. And as I slipped back behind the curtain to change, I heard the gal say to Eric, "She's so cute." Aha! I spoke without thinking first and was labeled cute. That's not so bad, is it? Is it? Incidentally, I wore the tank top last night -- on top of another tank top. Problem solved. Now if I could only solve my tongue-with-a-mind-of-its-own problem. I'd make much better first impressions, and my husband wouldn't have to worry about taking me out in public...right? Naaa. I'd rather be "cute." |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
|
4of my readers are feeling chatty:
You are definitely cute!!!
UM...
SO... how about those Phoenix Suns?
Our dog once ate my guinea pig... all except the head. We found that in the neighbors yard.
I thought a tank top was called a turret.
Sending this to PETA right away ( ok I won't just wanted to see you sweat a little in your cute tank top)
Happy Easter.
LOL - Yeah - I have to agree, I'd rather be cute too - but that will never happen that anyone calls me cute...
I sometimes don't say anything that drives my Sweetheart up the wall...go figure.
Post a Comment
<< Home