October 8, 2007

Four days?! Have I really not assaulted you with my diet rampage in 96 hours? (Hah! I can still multiply! Maybe my gray matter hasn't completely solidified...)

Well, lest you begin to miss my musings - I will commence my evening escapades.

Oddly enough, I haven't even thought about dieting the past few days. Weird, huh? I mean, isn't that what everyone tells you is preferable...a lifestyle change, instead of a horror-of-horrors-diet? I'm certainly not going to go all platitudes on you and say I've conquered my blubber demons. Oh it is to laugh....

I'm simply saying, that life rather got in the way of the diet the last few days...and it wasn't so bad. I've been diving into vast pools of clutter - desperately searching for some lost paperwork. I've been cutting/sewing/cursing while attempting to assemble two fairy ensembles for two cute, but time-consuming, little cherubs. I've been scaling grand mountains of laundry and conquering foothills of dishes. All in the name of "cleanliness" - which I've been told is akin to "godliness"...but I have my deep seated doubts about that. In all, I've been up to my need-to-be-shorn armpitties in normal household stuff. Hence, not much diet dribble. Who knew?

I did remember my poundage and its limitations on Friday. Rather, I was FORCED to face my weighty problems...as I renewed my Driver's License. Ack. It all started rather innocently. I had to drop off paperwork to my daughter's caseworker. No problem... 3 kids, a car ride - easy enough. However, right before I left, I received a rather pitiful phone call from my dear sister - about her day o' tragic events. Thus began a series of events, that I will get to relive for years...four to be exact.

As the story goes, my frugal sister decided to try to save a few dollars on Thursday evening. She found her locks in need of some love...but her wallet in need of some padding. Putting the two together, she realized she was in a less-than-desirable position. Lo and behold, the universe smiled on her - and she found a coupon - for none-other than the local hairstyling school. For a budget-friendly seven dollars, she could have her hair trimmed and eat her proverbial cake too. Seemed like a win-win idea! After all, she only needed a "trim"...how hard could that be? Let me just say...famous last words....

By all accounts, the quick, penny-pinching trip to the "student stylist" was vastly pricier than anticipated. To be honest, my sister actually ended up paying nothing for her haircut. That is, unless pride and confidence have a monetary value. When the stylist gasps then weeps...it really doesn't bode well for how you will look for the next few months. My sister's own whimpers at least reclaimed her seven dollars - even if her self esteem is temporarily AWOL.

Enter the phone call Friday afternoon. By the time the poor woman got a hold of me, her hair cut was only one chapter in her tale of woe. Turns out, that she had been inadvertantly sent to the wrong hotel to present a very important work speech. By the time she figured it out, tracked down the correct location, and broke land-speed records getting there...she delivered her speech - 45 minutes late, with bad hair. Then there is the issue of the speech itself. The same person who misdirected her location, also failed to give her the handouts associated with the speech...AND the disc containing the powerpoint. So - we have a stressed, late, empty-handed, powerpointless woman trying to do a presentation...with bad hair. I'll let you imagine how our phone call went.

Moving forward, I arranged to go to her house, post-caseworker meeting - to offer my support for the life-altering tress-distress. Its the least any self-respecting sister should do. Show up, listen to the horrors of how you came to look akin to a sheared sheep...and be righteously indignant on your behalf. This is what siblings were created for. (OK, we're often better known for ridicule - but she was far too fragile for that)

As I left the caseworker's office, I had what I now know to be, an ill-fated epiphany. I thought, "Well, I'm driving right through town. I'm sure I can save myself a trip - there has to be a BMV along my route somewhere." You see, we finally received the paperwork for a handicap placard for Avalon. (While my legs work perfectly fine, and I don't mind pushing Avalon from further out in a parking lot - it only took being trapped at the hospital once to convince me to cave to the placard. We had to dismember her chair and hand it over someone's car to get it in a few weeks ago.) I merely needed to stop in, pay my $3.50 and walk out with my little magic card. At least, that's what I thought.

My first mistake was thinking I could save time. I can never save time. Time is my mortal enemy. The harder I try to thwart it - the more it will thwap me between the eyes. This was no exeption. I called my pixie chick sister and garnered the info I needed, the site of the BMV that I, correctly, had presumed was on my route. No problem! Pull in, pay up - back in the car in no time. Right.....

*At this point, I will do one of my temporary diversions, think of it as a "flashback". This particular Friday was not exactly a stellar day for me, aesthetically, that is. Yes, I did have on real clothes. No pajama pants, no gardening clothes. But face it, it was 90 degrees out - in October! I didn't exactly dress to impress. Then there was my hair. In my zeal for zen-in-the-home, I hadn't exactly paid much attention to my personal attributes over the weekend. Long, super curly hair gets a bit wild-man-Jack if left to its own devices for a few hours. Try a few days...and I'm well on my way to dredlocks. As I rushed around like a chicken-on-speed trying to leave for my meeting - my hairstyle of choice had been to skin it back and put a thousand or so bobby pins in, to try to manage a bun that was smaller than the size of my head. I didn't succeed. As for make-up...I own it. I had some left-over smears under my eyes and maybe clumped on a lash or two - but that's about it. I was pretty.....*

So here I was, the picture of matronly mistakes...poorly dressed, makeupless, pudgy, with 3-day-old-tangled/skinhead-hair-a-go-go. Again, I was pretty... I plod this way, with 3 kids in tow - into the lovely brown-stained-smelly land of the BMV. Frankly, I think the carpet and I were in a fair competition for most-bedraggled that day. I smiled at the clerk, gave her my paperwork, and laid my $4.00 on the counter. She politely smiled back, and requested my Driver's License to complete my simple in-and-out transacton. Then Satan, himself, had a laugh at my expense.

BMV "Ma-am?" (I hate ma'am)

Me "Yes?"

BMV "Your driver's license is expired."

Me "Are you serious?! I haven't looked at that thing in years!"

BMV "Well, it expired on your birthday a few weeks ago. You've been driving illegally!" (said with extreme emphasis...as if I've been found guilty of a capital crime against her mother)

Me "OK, I'll stop in a couple of days and get it replaced."

BMV "But Ma-am. You are ILLEGAL. You can be stopped and ticketed. This is very serious." (Said with unmistakable glee - that meant had I left, she'd have called Smokey and rat-finked me out. I'd have had a ticket in 2.2 seconds)

Me "Fine. Just do it. Aww crap, I look awful!"

BMV "That doesn't matter." (oh yeah, that helped my mood)

(at this point, I figured I might as well laugh. I decide to be a smarty pants.)

Me "You know, you're providing quite the public service here."

BMV "Thank you!" (I didn't know what to do with that...)

Me "No, you need to understand. I'm on the way to commiserate with my sister about a bad hair cut. She'll laugh so hard at how bad my license looks - she'll forget to be miserable. Her hair will grow out...I'll be stuck with this for 4 years."

(enter new, I-considered-smacking-her BMV clerk)
BMV #2 "You can always come back and pay $19.50 to have a new license made."

Me "Like I said, I'll be stuck with it for four years."

*And the final insult to the whole ordeal?

BMV "Ma-am, do you weigh what your driver's license says you do?"



My sister's gales of laughter are the only reason I didn't go back to that BMV fully armed...

- Alicia Hall - losing weight, and my mind, raising awareness of childhood cancer www.crazycancermom.com