“Just hope it doesn't happen on prom night.”
My mother, due to the fact that she hasn’t been able to move off of the couch in the past week, has become addicted to the Do It Yourself Channel.
Every time I walk into our living room she is watching some show that teaches her how to embellish our garbage bags or turn her old sock into a lamp.
“STEPH!” I hear her call for me from the couch, “DO WE HAVE ANY ACID FREE DOUBLE STICK TAPE THAT IS SAFE FOR PHOTOS?!”
“No.” I say.
“THEN CAN YOU GO GET SOME FOR ME?”
She already has one page done of my “Happy Birthday, You’re 18!” scrap book (which is cool, I admit) and about twenty embellished CD covers.
“They’re festive, no?” she asks me, holding one up with jeweled accents entitled “Party Mix!”.
The women on the shows are much worse; what with their decoupage crap and polymer clay bead things.
“Roll the clay together like a jelly roll,” says a heavy set woman on the show “Bead It!” as she teaches us how to create "beautiful works of art" with clay. “Oh, jelly rolls! I just love ‘em!”
"These aren't the kind you can eat," says her side kick, Thin Woman.
I watched a middle aged Jewish Soccer Mom who has way too much time on her hands ruin a pretty pink coat at one point on “Embellish It!” (Are you sensing a theme here? You thought “Bead It!” was a play on words didn’t you? Silly reader. Pop-culture references are for kids!) Jewish Soccer mom begins to paint polka-dots in ugly colors all over the coat.
“Why is she ruining it?” I asked the TV as my mom and I sat watching on a rainy afternoon (hey, if you can’t beat them, join them, right?).
“My kids asked me why I would ruin a nice jacket,” Jewish Soccer mom echoed on the screen then laughed, “but I said, ‘just wait until I’m done embellishing!’ and they said ‘aw, mom!’”
It was uglier when it was done. Not even ugly in a it’s so out its in way either. Just ugly.
They also have an entire show dedicated to knitting. And on one of the mornings where I didn’t go to math I watched it.
I won’t lie; it made me want to knit. I’ve never knitted in my life, but after that show all I wanted to do was grab some needles and go to town. Maybe even buy a cat or two so I can make them some sweaters or something.
Oh you crazy stay at home mothers who have nothing better to do than die cut paper all day and glue it to windows.
While trying to find my blazer tonight (Marta, the maid, just loves to play hide and seek with me. It used to be in my closet, but what a silly place for a piece of clothing, honestly) I finally became fed up and did what I always do when I’m stressed out; I took out the prom dress.
I dunno about all you other girls (or guys, I won’t discriminate) out there, but I’m a firm believer in the whole looking pretty = feeling better thing; and there’s nothing I love more than feeling pretty when I’m PMSing, feeling disgusting, cursing out my maid, and wishing for school to end so I could spend my days making scrapbooks within scrapbooks (they’re all the rage now. As seen on Scrapbook It!). So I pull out The Dress from my closet and put it on. I turn on my iPod, I have myself a little dance fest in my room, I do the twirl thing, I put on my tiara, and I do the whole wave pretend you’re in a parade thing, I curtsy. Dammit, I’m even feelin’ pretty good about myself. When I decide I’ve had enough, I go to unzip the dress… and it won’t come off.
I panic. Its not coming off. The zipper won’t move.
Then I start to get upset.
Am I retaining water?
Have I gained weight?
Why won’t it come off?
It zipped up easily enough, what’s the deal?
This is about the time I start to cry (PMS + feelings of insecurity + lovely dress which you are now ready to take off but it won’t budge =girly cry fest).
So I do the only thing I can, I go see my mother (who is reading a scrap booking magazine).
“It won’t come off!” I cry. I must have looked horrific. I will liken it to what one might look like after a near rape incident; my arms were out of the straps of my dress, for the tacky effect I am wearing a bra with straps, and, oh yeah, my dress is now on backwards.
“What on Earth…?” she puts her magazine down and laughs.
“So not the time to laugh!” I say, “Fix it!” I motion to the zipper.
She sighs, finding the problem right away; that nice expensive dress which uses the same kind of zipper my mother buys at the sewing store for her creations (she noted it) was caught on some fabric. I had not gained weight, and though I was probably retaining water, that was not what caused the incident (thank the lord).
Now I’m just mad we spent so much on the dress.
However, this will not stop me from buying another one this year.
Quote of the day:
Holden: “Girls, don’t ever date a man who will make you leave school.”
Stephanie Meisenheimer: That’s why I’m going to date Daniel Thai. He’ll never make me leave school!”
Daniel Thai’s jaw drops and he turns bright red before banging his head against his desk.
-- Tuesday in English
Every time I walk into our living room she is watching some show that teaches her how to embellish our garbage bags or turn her old sock into a lamp.
“STEPH!” I hear her call for me from the couch, “DO WE HAVE ANY ACID FREE DOUBLE STICK TAPE THAT IS SAFE FOR PHOTOS?!”
“No.” I say.
“THEN CAN YOU GO GET SOME FOR ME?”
She already has one page done of my “Happy Birthday, You’re 18!” scrap book (which is cool, I admit) and about twenty embellished CD covers.
“They’re festive, no?” she asks me, holding one up with jeweled accents entitled “Party Mix!”.
The women on the shows are much worse; what with their decoupage crap and polymer clay bead things.
“Roll the clay together like a jelly roll,” says a heavy set woman on the show “Bead It!” as she teaches us how to create "beautiful works of art" with clay. “Oh, jelly rolls! I just love ‘em!”
"These aren't the kind you can eat," says her side kick, Thin Woman.
I watched a middle aged Jewish Soccer Mom who has way too much time on her hands ruin a pretty pink coat at one point on “Embellish It!” (Are you sensing a theme here? You thought “Bead It!” was a play on words didn’t you? Silly reader. Pop-culture references are for kids!) Jewish Soccer mom begins to paint polka-dots in ugly colors all over the coat.
“Why is she ruining it?” I asked the TV as my mom and I sat watching on a rainy afternoon (hey, if you can’t beat them, join them, right?).
“My kids asked me why I would ruin a nice jacket,” Jewish Soccer mom echoed on the screen then laughed, “but I said, ‘just wait until I’m done embellishing!’ and they said ‘aw, mom!’”
It was uglier when it was done. Not even ugly in a it’s so out its in way either. Just ugly.
They also have an entire show dedicated to knitting. And on one of the mornings where I didn’t go to math I watched it.
I won’t lie; it made me want to knit. I’ve never knitted in my life, but after that show all I wanted to do was grab some needles and go to town. Maybe even buy a cat or two so I can make them some sweaters or something.
Oh you crazy stay at home mothers who have nothing better to do than die cut paper all day and glue it to windows.
While trying to find my blazer tonight (Marta, the maid, just loves to play hide and seek with me. It used to be in my closet, but what a silly place for a piece of clothing, honestly) I finally became fed up and did what I always do when I’m stressed out; I took out the prom dress.
I dunno about all you other girls (or guys, I won’t discriminate) out there, but I’m a firm believer in the whole looking pretty = feeling better thing; and there’s nothing I love more than feeling pretty when I’m PMSing, feeling disgusting, cursing out my maid, and wishing for school to end so I could spend my days making scrapbooks within scrapbooks (they’re all the rage now. As seen on Scrapbook It!). So I pull out The Dress from my closet and put it on. I turn on my iPod, I have myself a little dance fest in my room, I do the twirl thing, I put on my tiara, and I do the whole wave pretend you’re in a parade thing, I curtsy. Dammit, I’m even feelin’ pretty good about myself. When I decide I’ve had enough, I go to unzip the dress… and it won’t come off.
I panic. Its not coming off. The zipper won’t move.
Then I start to get upset.
Am I retaining water?
Have I gained weight?
Why won’t it come off?
It zipped up easily enough, what’s the deal?
This is about the time I start to cry (PMS + feelings of insecurity + lovely dress which you are now ready to take off but it won’t budge =girly cry fest).
So I do the only thing I can, I go see my mother (who is reading a scrap booking magazine).
“It won’t come off!” I cry. I must have looked horrific. I will liken it to what one might look like after a near rape incident; my arms were out of the straps of my dress, for the tacky effect I am wearing a bra with straps, and, oh yeah, my dress is now on backwards.
“What on Earth…?” she puts her magazine down and laughs.
“So not the time to laugh!” I say, “Fix it!” I motion to the zipper.
She sighs, finding the problem right away; that nice expensive dress which uses the same kind of zipper my mother buys at the sewing store for her creations (she noted it) was caught on some fabric. I had not gained weight, and though I was probably retaining water, that was not what caused the incident (thank the lord).
Now I’m just mad we spent so much on the dress.
However, this will not stop me from buying another one this year.
Quote of the day:
Holden: “Girls, don’t ever date a man who will make you leave school.”
Stephanie Meisenheimer: That’s why I’m going to date Daniel Thai. He’ll never make me leave school!”
Daniel Thai’s jaw drops and he turns bright red before banging his head against his desk.
-- Tuesday in English