February 18, 2013
Look at all those classy things I said about finding exactly the right word. (See February 16, 2013.) Oh dear. Get over yourself.
I must report that I am fattening up again. When Enzo and I go swimming at the Y we have to walk through the weight room to get to the pool. The walls are all mirrors. And I could see that my jeans were very tight, not in a good way. “I’m looking kind of beefy,” I said to Enzo. I don’t remember what he said back, but I could tell he was amused. I got credit.
My jeans are made of stretch denim so that I can still squeeze into them when they are, realistically, too tight. The brand is called Secretly Slimming, or something to that effect–I will check the label in a second. But I really hope that is the brand because it will allow me to make the following joke: that if they are slimming it is a pretty well-kept secret. On the other hand the jeans really can’t be blamed for this state of affairs.
It reminds me of when I got a pair of pink Dittos when I was about ten, and my mom said I looked like a sausage. I was a tad fat. By today’s standards I was Nadia Comaneci, but back then most kids were thin, and I wasn’t. Not at all.
I see I’ve made my mom look like a meany. It’s true that her critical faculties are not impaired by motherhood. But that just means that her good opinion actually means something. To paraphrase from a story I heard on This American Life: Doesn’t my love mean more because it’s conditional?”
To make up for it (and since my mom is pretty much the only one who reads this, and she thinks I am a minor genius) I will type in here something I wrote by hand a few nights ago when I couldn’t sleep.
About fifteen years ago I took Kate Dennis up to my parents’ house for a visit. Her parents were absent and alcoholic (dad) and crazy and didn’t like her very much (mom). Anyway, after the visit, in the driveway, my dad was calling me Porkchop and my mom was handing me Tupperwares of fabulous leftovers through the open car window, and then they were both waving, and as we drove away, Kate Dennis said, “It’s so obvious that they totally adore you.” And I thought or felt, Oh! Well, yeah. Duh!
Just checked the label on my jeans. They are Levi’s Perfectly Slimming 512 Boot Cut. Joke cancelled.
I just finished reading I Hate Plot by Rachel Davies, aka Snake. Caroline Allen recommended it a while ago, and there’s some part of me that resists recommendations. Because I am an idiot. So I finally got around to reading it, and it was so good. Completely satisfying. Funny. Huge range of feeling. Fun to read. Over too soon. And (this is my one absolute requirement) cheap. I tried to post a link to it a minute ago. Hope it worked.