Like trying to drink whiskey from a bottle of wine
April 23, 2009 § 3 Comments
This is me. I am sexy!(I can’t believe I am posting this. It’s like the worst picture of me, ever. Worse than the time I got the terrible haircut in 4th grade and everyone called me Cory Matthews -you know, from Boy Meets World, because my hair looked like his. And worse than the time when I was 13 and got a huge cold sore on my mouth right before the school dance, and I covered up my mouth with my hand in every picture and wore overalls because I hated my boobs, but that’s another story…)
This week’s spin cycle is all about manners. And I have to say, I am lacking in that department. I think my bad habits in etiquette mostly stem from one major root cause: pure laziness. This leads to lack of concern for what people think of me because it’s just too much darn work to worry about how to remedy my faults in order to please others. I know that it’s rude to use my finger to pick food out of my teeth or scrape sauce off my plate in public, but I do it anyway. Is that a crime?
Being a single girl for over 25 years of my life, I never really gave much thought to how my habits appeared to others. I lived in my own little world and did what I pleased. It was a nice, happy little world I lived in.
Enter the boyfriend. What a hottie!
Together, we’re a really classy pair. In fact, he probably won’t like me telling you this, but my nickname for him is tooty (or tootycake), because, well, it’s probably self explanatory. He farts, he burps. He does… what boys do. And I’m fine with it. You’d think he’d be a little more lenient about some of my little idiosyncrasies. Yeah, not so much.
One night, he said my hair was poking him and when was the last time I shaved my legs. I asked why bother shaving my legs all the time if I’m going to wear pants anyway; I never did before. His reply: “Yeah, but you have a boyfriend now.” Wait. What? I’m supposed to shave my legs more because I have a boyfriend? Really? Is that, like, a rule or something? I don’t see him shaving any more often now that he has a girlfriend.
Why doesn’t it go both ways? Why must we be “ladylike” while guys get to give their girlfriends a whiff of whatever they just ate with an enormous, loud reverberating belch and stink up the room with their butt air? (Granted, I’m no perfect princess when it comes to the farting, and Matt doesn’t mind – probably because he does the same thing himself ).
And here’s what else I want to know. Why are guys so grossed out by disembodied hair? When I was in England, one of the guys I was traveling with came and asked me if I would take the hair out of the shower drain for him, because he couldn’t do it himself. I don’t get what the problem is. It’s just hair, not a giant mutant cockroach. My hair is THICK and has clogged many-a-drain since I can remember. Back at home when I was a kid, I’d just grab a soap and shampoo-caked wad of it out with my bare hands. Is that totally disgusting? Perhaps. But that’s how I roll.