The Fabric of Our Lives?

I've always had issues with my figure. What girl doesn't?? I know I'm fortunate in that I'm fairly tall (5'9") and fairly thin (currently 136), so I try not to complain too much. But my long and lanky figure is also problematic. My inseam is 34 inches so finding pants long enough is a hassle. I'm also very short-waisted so finding shirts short enough is a hassle. My high waist is also very thick and if it weren't for my moderate saddle-bags I wouldn't have any illusion of a waistline at all. I am also lacking in the hips and ass area. And alas, my shoulders, double chin and big ears are also a problem - which basically makes me one big hot mess.

The other day I ran out of my usual underwear. I typically wear Fruit of the Loom cotton bikini undies. Not glamorous but very practical and they do the trick. The trick being to cover my ass and allow me not to feel naked in my clothes - which seems like an oxymoron - but since I said it, it's just MORON.

Anyway, I ran out of my FOTL bikinis because I was lazy and didn't get to the laundry and all I had left were a couple pairs of these lacy satiny jobbers. (Not much occasion for those lately unfortunately. Although...maybe if I WORE them more often, I'd have OCCASION for them more often - IF you know what I mean.) So, I put on a lacy pair, got dressed and then got on with my day. About halfway through that day though I noticed that I kept having to hike up my pants. Step, step, step, tug...step, step, step, tug....and on like that ALL DAY. It was driving me crazy. But then it occurred to me, Hey! Maybe I've lost weight! That MUST be it! That's why these old-jeans-that-used-to-fit-just-right keep falling down! That thought made me happy so I gladly tugged away the rest of the day and was even a little puffed up about the weight I'd lost without even trying. Wasn't I so amazing?! I can lose weight just by merely EXISTING!

The next day, I was down to that last pair of satiny undies (I still hadn't done any laundry) so I put on those bad boys and then put on a pair of black yoga pants over them. (No, I don't do yoga. I just like the pants.) Now, in case you didn't know, yoga pants are made of a stretchy jersey type of fabric that tends to cling to your skin snugly. I was sure that this would solve the I've-lost-so-much-weight-that-I-have-to-tug-up-my-pants-all-day problem. But it wasn't to be. An hour later I noticed that I was still tugging them up every few steps. Step, step, step, tug...

That's when it hit me.

I haven't lost weight. IT'S THE SATIN UNDIES. All of these years, little did I know, that it was my practical cotton undies that had been keeping my pants up. My assless, hipless, waistless figure gave nothing for the pants to hang onto. The friction from the cotton-on-cotton held my pants in place whereas the slippery satin ones just let them slide on down all willy-nilly like.

I was so disappointed. Disillusioned. Distraught.

I had not lost weight. And even worse, I was not cut out for the sexy satin undies. I was doomed to be a cotton undies gal forever and there was nothing I could do about it.

Or so I thought.

When I told my tale to Emma and lamented my boring underwear destiny, she sighed heavily, closed her eyes as if to find her patience somewhere deep inside of her soul, took a deep breath and said, "Why don't you just wear a belt, Mom?"

My Next Husband

I have a new crush. Big time. One that hit me quite suddenly about two weeks ago when he made me laugh.

I hate to admit this but...I'm pretty easy. If you have a nice smile (I have this thing about mouths), pour me a glass of wine and make me laugh, you can be pretty confident that your chances of getting lucky are quite high.

This man has a great smile and I just know that if I asked him really nicely he'd happily pour me a glass of wine. I've known him for a long time - always thought he was cute and extremely talented - but didn't think about him much beyond that. Then I saw him interviewed on television and learned that the. man. is. FUNNY. He had the audience cracking up and me SWOONING. I decided right then and there that I was going to marry him. That he would be my next husband. That I would meet him somehow and that we would get married.

It's good to have goals.

He's currently in a committed relationship. Oh, and so am I. But that's neither here nor there. We will get married. And he will smile at me a lot and pour me lots of wine. He may even sing to me sometimes which would be fan-freaking-tastic. But mostly he'll make me laugh a lot. Then he'll get lucky. Marriage is give and take after all.

So Michael, if you're out there, and you happen to read this, I'm here.....waiting.....waiting to be the next Mrs. Buble. (I even have "Our Song" picked out. You're going to sing it to me at the wedding. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeKtB2EhdaE)

An Old Friend Reaches a Milestone

Happy birthday dear old friend. And even though you're 40 today I don't mean "old" as in OLD. Forty years looks great on you, I'm sure. I miss you and hope you have an amazing celebration. You deserve that.

Where Does She Get This Stuff?

Emma told me today that she's "just humoring" me. I don't even know what we were talking about. All I remember is my shock over her saying that to me. I don't think, in the tone and mood that it was said, that it was meant disrespectfully. I think she just happened to learn a new catchphrase and used it perfectly. It made me laugh out loud and feel proud of her that she's developing quite a sense of humor. She laughed too.

What a great thing. Us laughing together.

25 Years Ago

Two days ago marked the twenty-five year anniversary of the day we got the phone call that would change us forever. It was the beginning of a series of events that destroyed us in a way, but also made us stronger in a way too.

I would rather have stayed the weaker version of myself, frankly.

My 29-year-old sister, Joanne, was stepping off a commuter train. A conductor didn't look back like he should have and moved the train forward. She stumbled. She hit her head on the concrete platform.

And died.

Today marks the day that they took her off the machines that were keeping her alive.

Oh, how I miss her.

Being Brought Up To Speed

Emma is thirteen. Thirteen is hard. Not hard in the way I feared when I thought about thirteen so many years ago when she was a baby. I feared she'd be addicted to meth or something by thirteen. But she's not. She's a great kid - good grades, well-behaved, involved in some fun healthy activities, lots of friends.

But...

It's still hard.

She wants more independence from me and I understand that. It's what we all really ultimately want for our kids, isn't it? We want them to be healthy, happy, independent, contributing adults. They aren't going to get there if they remain dependent on us. It has to happen sometime and thirteen seems to be the age that the inevitable occurs.

But oh how I miss her. I miss knowing everything about her life (her friends do now). I miss being the go-to person in her life (her friends are now). I miss hanging out with her (she hangs out with her friends now). I miss her wearing princess dresses (none of her friends would be caught dead in one now).

I will admit that I'm one of the more fortunate moms though. She does seem to share more with me than her friends share with their moms. The silence that descends between mother and child at this age is so very hard to accept. And from what the other mothers tell me, they have to keep getting their hearing checked to make sure they haven't suddenly gone deaf. Ooooohhhh, I haven't gone deaf. WHEW! It's just my kid pretending that I don't exist! What. a. RE-LIEF!!

With this in mind, I will take any little tidbit of information about Emma's current life that she chooses to grace me with. The other day, on the way home from school, she tells me that Matthew finally asked Marilyn out - "FINALLY!" This was big news indeed. Matthew had been trying to build up the courage to ask Marilyn out for weeks. (Which, I always thought was kind of funny because Marilyn is hardly an intimidating girl, and she liked Matthew and Matthew knew that she liked him so....what's the big risk really Matthew? Man-up and ask the girl out already!)

As Emma and I were chatting about this - when he asked her, where he asked her, how he asked her, what she said back when he asked her, etc. - she concludes the story with, "And then the WHOLE CLASS was staring at them all during lunch! It was EMBARRASSING!"

I was confused. "Why was everyone staring at them?" She sighs deeply at my ignorance and says, "Because they sat together at our table and they've never done that before so everyone knew that they were going out now."

Oh, I see. I get it now.

"So, when you 'go out' you have to sit together at lunch?"

She sighs very loudly again, rolls her eyes, looks at me with a disgusted expression on her face and replies, "It's STRONGLY advised, Mom."

Six months, eleven days, fourteen hours and nine minutes until she's done being thirteen.

Narrative on Grief

Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone.

It isn't just death we have to grieve...it's life, it's loss, it's change.

And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes...has to hurt so bad...the thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime.

That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much that you can't breathe. That's how you survive....

By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way.

It won't hurt this much.

Grief comes in its own time for everyone. In its own way.

So the best we can do - the best anyone can do - is try for honesty.

The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief, is that you can't control it.

The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes...

And let it go when we can.

The very worst part, is the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again.

And always...

every time...

It takes your breath away.

Grey's Anatomy
2009