i hate my acupuncturist
So Ali brought home a third iPad and a Google Chromebook. Yes, really. And I SO want to make fun of him for this but I simply don’t have the energy.
Because I am freaking starving right now.
In a nutshell acupuncture has not worked for me. I’ve basically paid out a small fortune over the last 3 months only to have my eczema regress right back to where it was…3 months ago. So now I’m out a whole lot of time and money, and I’m still scratching my arms like a crazy person.
On the plus side I’m now seeing a new guy who came highly recommended for skin issues like mine. His credentials are…mysterious. But I wouldn’t care if he wore a Superman cape and red tights because he says he can solve my problem. In order to do it, however, I have to reset my liver by taking a variety of enzymes and giving up everything except fruit, vegetables, eggs, and certain kinds of fish for a minimum of two weeks.
It was like Christmas morning for Ali.And I am a disappointment to my techie husband because I am incapable of taking a good photo. I blame my iPhone for this!
I know it’s just two weeks and I know that I should be grateful that my eczema will be a distant memory soon (fingers crossed) , but I saw this girl walking down the street eating french fries from Mickey D’s and I seriously felt this wave of jealousy that she can eat whatever she wants with no apparent repercussions. I mean, I’m a relatively good person – why did I get a crappy liver?
Yes, apparently I now have liver envy. And I’m simply too hungry to care about how sad that is.
sweet little lies
I am one of the most honest people you will ever meet. I’d like to think this is because I’m just a very good person but the truth is (lame pun intended) that my honesty stems from two things:
- I have a deathly fear of karma, and
- I am a moron (per Ali).
I am kind of a moron sometimes. Just the other day for example, I informed a waitress that she forgot to charge me for my cup of coffee. You’d have thought she’d apologize and thank me profusely for pointing out her error, yes?
No. Instead she brought over a revised receipt with an additional $6 for what is now the most expensive coffee I’ve had that didn’t come with a view of the Seine.
And as Ali paid the bill, shooting me irritated glares the whole time, I feared a bit for my marriage. Apparently I missed the memo that we can afford his two Starbuck-lattes-a-day habit but not my once-a-year $6 cup of coffee.
Potential divorce aside, what choice did I have but to acknowledge the mistake? I mean, I set a bad enough example for Maya as it is! I don’t think I need to be showing her how to master the “five-finger discount” on top of everything else.
But while I’m honest to a fault, I will have to apologize to the person who anonymously asked if I’d take a photo of myself in the morning, prior to my battle with the hair dryer. The answer is a resounding no.
I can't accommodate a pre-blowdryer picture, but how about this makeup-free picture instead?
***Any avid readers out there? I just reviewed What Remains: A Memoir of Fate, Friendship, and Love on my sister site thefancybookshelf.wordpress.com.***
stifling creativity
I used to be one of those childless people who knew everything about raising kids. This meant that at any given moment the most idiotic and naive things would pop out of my mouth. Things like:
“When I have kids they’ll be sleeping through the night at 3 months, tops.” Or, “I will never threaten my kid at Target of all places. Who does trashy things like that?”
This continued even after Maya was born. I recall saying, “I’m never going to stifle Maya’s creativity by enrolling her in 100 different afterschool activities. I’m going to let her be a kid as long as I can.”
Um…yeah.
So in addition to a full day of school, Maya is currently enrolled in Ballet, Jazz, On Broadway, a clay class, Art, and Swimming. It might sound like a lot but trust me when I say it’s a whole lot easier to pay other people to entertain your child than it is to entertain her yourself.
I don’t really mind driving Maya to rehearsals and practices, forking over hundreds of dollars on costumes and ballet shoes, and sitting through a variety of talent shows, open houses, and performances.
I do, however, mind having to sit through the same 90 minute performance two nights in a row.
I forgive you for judging me. If I were you I’d judge me too!
After all, I was that childless idealist once too you know.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 