Lately I've been getting...
...my wisdom from coffee cups. I went to the local Coffee Bean the other day and while reading my cuppa, I saw the following saying, "Don't look back unless it makes you smile." Good advice, whatever the source.
Occasionally someone "advises" me that I should "get over" what my ex did to me. Sometimes these are well meant comments, other times not so much. But... I really have, as much as one can, gotten over it. That's not why I bring that nit wit up. It's just that now I see him for what he was and it makes me, not only smile, but laugh out loud. So, being the card that I am, I write about those things. That, blended with my dry wit that only another Irish person can truly understand, may come across as bitter or something else perceived as negative in our society. Personally, when I was bitter, I made no secret of it. After all, it was what it was and I was brutally honest about it. But...always with a punchline. I have been able to smile at that nimrod for years.
Lately a memory popped up that I had mostly forgotten about. I guess it was clouded over by the more fervent memories of the final week of my marriage. One way or another, I remembered it while I was in California. The last time I saw my ex (except for the court ordered mediation when I never turned an eye to him) he had a gaping, oozing sore in between his eyebrows and I put it there.
When he was cheating, he was very "meticulous" about his appearance. At times he resorted to daily tooth brushing...a sign I recognized all too well. One night he wanted his unibrow tended to.
Now...ordinarily, I would have tweezed the offending hairs but for some blessed reason, I decided to do a really good job. I was trying ever so hard to be a good wife and isn't it a wife's job to separate unibrows? That man had hair everywhere but on his head...he started shaving right under his eyes. (Yeah, I know, monkeys will be monkeys.) So, in one of my last desperate acts as a wife trying to keep an errant husband, I went and got my bottle of Nair with no inkling whatsoever that it would eat through the man's epidermis.
Now, I've been using Nair since 1972 when my mother gave me my first bottle of the stuff along with this stern warning, "Don't put it anywhere except your underarms and your legs. Obviously, she couldn't have foreseen the bald pussy craze of the new millennium. Even at a young age, I knew enough not to apply chemicals to my coochie...duh. Anyway, I've used that shit for decades with nary a problem...although I have always steadfastly obeyed my mother's advice and limited my use of it to the aforementioned body parts.
Being the girl that I am, I never needed to apply it to my face but armpits are mighty sensitive areas and I never had a problem with them. So, it was with great confidence that I lovingly painted a huge square halfway up my husband's forehead and halfway down his nose. How was I to know that he would have one of those hideous reactions that are dreadful when hidden by clothing...but nothing short of a Batman mask would have hidden that huge ulcer. It was glorious.
I've decided to inject my memories of my ex with pictures of that cycloptic thing on his face/head. It pleases me...and it makes me smile.
...my wisdom from coffee cups. I went to the local Coffee Bean the other day and while reading my cuppa, I saw the following saying, "Don't look back unless it makes you smile." Good advice, whatever the source.
Occasionally someone "advises" me that I should "get over" what my ex did to me. Sometimes these are well meant comments, other times not so much. But... I really have, as much as one can, gotten over it. That's not why I bring that nit wit up. It's just that now I see him for what he was and it makes me, not only smile, but laugh out loud. So, being the card that I am, I write about those things. That, blended with my dry wit that only another Irish person can truly understand, may come across as bitter or something else perceived as negative in our society. Personally, when I was bitter, I made no secret of it. After all, it was what it was and I was brutally honest about it. But...always with a punchline. I have been able to smile at that nimrod for years.
Lately a memory popped up that I had mostly forgotten about. I guess it was clouded over by the more fervent memories of the final week of my marriage. One way or another, I remembered it while I was in California. The last time I saw my ex (except for the court ordered mediation when I never turned an eye to him) he had a gaping, oozing sore in between his eyebrows and I put it there.
When he was cheating, he was very "meticulous" about his appearance. At times he resorted to daily tooth brushing...a sign I recognized all too well. One night he wanted his unibrow tended to.
Now...ordinarily, I would have tweezed the offending hairs but for some blessed reason, I decided to do a really good job. I was trying ever so hard to be a good wife and isn't it a wife's job to separate unibrows? That man had hair everywhere but on his head...he started shaving right under his eyes. (Yeah, I know, monkeys will be monkeys.) So, in one of my last desperate acts as a wife trying to keep an errant husband, I went and got my bottle of Nair with no inkling whatsoever that it would eat through the man's epidermis.
Now, I've been using Nair since 1972 when my mother gave me my first bottle of the stuff along with this stern warning, "Don't put it anywhere except your underarms and your legs. Obviously, she couldn't have foreseen the bald pussy craze of the new millennium. Even at a young age, I knew enough not to apply chemicals to my coochie...duh. Anyway, I've used that shit for decades with nary a problem...although I have always steadfastly obeyed my mother's advice and limited my use of it to the aforementioned body parts.
Being the girl that I am, I never needed to apply it to my face but armpits are mighty sensitive areas and I never had a problem with them. So, it was with great confidence that I lovingly painted a huge square halfway up my husband's forehead and halfway down his nose. How was I to know that he would have one of those hideous reactions that are dreadful when hidden by clothing...but nothing short of a Batman mask would have hidden that huge ulcer. It was glorious.
I've decided to inject my memories of my ex with pictures of that cycloptic thing on his face/head. It pleases me...and it makes me smile.
posted by Meg Kelso | 7:16 AM
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