In Praise of Older, Less Perky Breasts

If you are easily offended, you should probably skip this post. Of course, if you are easily offended, you probably aren’t reading a blog called “Mange Merde” anyways. Unless, of course, you don’t have access to a French-English dictionary.

I like to think that I still look reasonably good, and in relatively good shape, for a woman of my age. (Of course, I also like to think that Tinkerbell and the Good Humour man are my next door neighbors, and that the owls really are what they seem, so clearly what I like to think has no bearing on reality.)

Anyways, yesterday, as I was looking at myself in the mirror, I contemplated whether I might want to get my breasts lifted at some future point in my life. Because, you know, clearly they have not gotten with the “looking reasonably good for their age” program.

I didn’t give that thought a second thought until today, when I was again looking at myself in the mirror (hey, I was brushing my teeth, alright?) when I suddenly thought “why on earth would I ever have thought of having them nipped and tucked?” (Mind you, I was never seriously considering it, it was just a passing thought, but the ludicriousness of that passing thought struck me nonetheless.)

These breasts have nursed two children through a combined total of seven and a half years!

They have eased babies and toddlers through bumps and scrapes. They have comforted our son through a badly broken arm. They have kept an infant quiet through entire movies.

They have lulled my children to sleep for more than 2,500 nights (top that, Scheherazade!)

They have given both of my children the absolute best start in life.

Fix them?

Hell, no. They’re not broken! And I’m darned proud of them.

I Left Buffalo for This?

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I HATE being cold. I can’t bear it. I find being cold painful. In fact, I would rather be in pain than be cold – and I’m no masochist.

So I live in sunny, warm California. Ok, I may hate the Bay area – yes, it sucks as a place to raise children. But at least one thing I could always count on is it being tolerably warm.

So WTF is this all about?

What a cruel, cruel joke to play on me!

Are You Responsible for Those Kids?

You know how when you are at a restaurant or a coffee shop or some other public place, and some parents are letting their kids run amok, and disturb the other patrons, disrupt the flow of traffic, trip people, and generally create a nuisance? Oblivious to all the stares and dirty looks being thrown their way, and in the general direction of their kids?

Actually I could have just stopped with “oblivious”, I suppose.

Anyways, don’t you just hate that?

Well, that happened to me yesterday at Starbucks, where I was sitting attempting to grade finals. And a lady next to me was trying to study. And everywhere around me people were either keeping to themselves, or attemping to have quiet, polite conversation. Including the two men sitting in the corner, whose two children were running amok.

And I don’t just mean a little amok. I mean a whole lot amok. The two children, perhaps ages 2 and 4 or so, were literally running from one end of the room to the other, cutting right across the path where people walk in the front door, and get into line. Back and forth they ran, weaving in and out of people carrying scalding hot drinks, glass cups, and annoyed looks.

At one point they had a long knitted scarf stretched between them as they ran around, the better to trip people with.

And through it all, the two men ignored them, looking up only occasionally to smile benevolently at their cute little tykes and then go back to their conversation.

I’m sure they appreciated how the entire population of Starbucks was watching their children for them.

I went over to the manager, whom I know (let’s face it, we know all the people who work at all of the Starbucks within a 10 mile radius), and asked her what the policy was when a patron’s children are stampeding. She lamented how there was no policy, and I said that I was myself about ready to go over to the parents and say something.

I should take a moment to tell you that I hate confrontation. Yeah, I know, kinda odd for a lawyer – indeed a rather successful litigator at one time, but there you have it. I hate confrontation. Well, unless I’m billing hourly for it.

But I just couldn’t bear it any more, and somebody had to do something. But how to say something without it being confrontational? Hey, I’m a parent, and I understand that it does no good to get a parent defensive about their child.

Then suddenly, I hit on the perfect thing to say. At least, I think so. In fact it brought a grin to my lips just thinking of saying it to them, if only I could pull it off.

And I did.

I sauntered over to the two oblivious ones, leaned in really close, and very sweetly asked:

“Excuse me, but is one of you responsible for these two children?”

“I am,” answered one of the men, readily.

I leaned in even closer to him, and in a knowing stage whisper tinged with just the right amount of irony, smirked:

“It’s kinda hard to tell.”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAH!

“Is one of you responsible for these children? Oh, you are? Because it’s kind of hard to tell.”

Get it??

Oh, I crack myself up!

And the thing is, it worked. They weren’t offended, they apologized, and took their kids outside to let them run around.

Feel free to use this. Just think of me when you do.

I Looked at My Mac and Felt Revulsion

I never before have had such an immediate and visceral response to a computer – except maybe to swear at one of Mr. Gates’ unholy offspring. But there I was, looking at my poor Macbook, and feeling repulsed.

My wonderful husband gave me a Macbook for Christmas. He’d known that I needed – seriously, had a business case for – a Macbook, so that I could dual boot and view how my various business websites looked in Windows browsers as well as the Mac. So at some point when I could justify the expense, he knew I was going to need to get one.

So instead he put one under the tree for me. What a guy! (Thank you, honey!)

Well, a dear friend of mine advised me that a gift of Windows XP Professional was on its way to me, and so I purchased and downloaded Parallels, one of the two options for
running Windows on the new dual-core Macs, and awaited its arrival.

About 10 minutes ago, I started the Windows installation process.

And then I looked at my screen.

And I saw that familiar death-screen blue, the familiar Windows setup font, advising me that “Windows XP Professional Setup is copying files”.

And I felt physically ill.

Windows… there on my beautiful Mac.

I mentioned – no, whined – this to my husband.

And he put his finger on it.

“You feel as if you’ve violated your Mac.”

And you know what? He’s right.

See?:

Accutane Causes Birth Defects – and We Really Mean It

Anyone who has looked into taking the anti-acne drug Accutane (Sotret Isotretinoin) knows that it causes birth defects. You can’t help but know that it causes birth defects, because if you are a female, you have to sign up on a registry because it causes birth defects, get counseling so that you know that it causes birth defects, prove that you are not pregnant – because it causes birth defects, and prove that you are on birth control (because, you know, it causes birth defects), before you are allowed to have even one capsule. Even then, you are only allowed a month at a time, and have to go back and check in with your doctor so that they can make sure that you still remember that it causes birth defects and have not gotten pregnant – because it causes birth defects.

Clearly, you cannot get a prescription for Accutane unless you understand that it causes birth defects.

But just to be sure – to make really really sure – that you understand that, you know – it causes birth defects, they also put a warning on the package once you get your prescription filled. Ok, that makes sense.

But in case you are a complete moron – in case you – you know – somehow forget that it causes birth defects between your indoctrination and the time your first month runs out and you have to go back to the doctor to get your next month ‘s dose of counseling about how Accutane causes birth defects before you can get your next month’s prescription – just in case, just to make really REALLY sure you know that Accutane causes birth defects, they also put a picture for you over each capsule:

But wait, there’s more. Just in case you’re such a complete moron that even that might not remind you that Accutane causes birth defects, just to make really REALLY REALLY sure that you remember that Accutane causes birth defects – well, this is the first warning label that I’ve ever seen that comes with a diagram:

Imagine if other warning labels came with diagrams!

More Fringes of Having No Fringe

It’s only the second morning that I have woken up with little hair, but already I am finding so many fringe benefits.
In addition to those mentioned in my previous post – the anticipated ones – I have been delighted to observe these uncontemplated benefits:
– only one towel needed after a shower now
– I don’t have to deal with trying to keep my hair out of the way when washing my face
– this is the ultimate wash and go (or heck, roll out of bed and go) hairstyle. It just looks good without my doing *anything* *at all* to it
This is so #$%^&* liberating!

Showing Some Skin

By popular demand (really), another pic of me showing my shorn for the common man:

What I Did Today – Hair Today, Goon Tomorrow

Today I cut all of my hair off.

I don’t just mean that I got a haircut. I mean I cut off all of my hair. I mean so short that, as I told one friend, I make Sinead O’Connor look like a long-hair.

Several people have asked me why I did it. I have been wanting to do this for a couple of years. I’ve been putting it off, but I’ve been wanting to do it. Here’s why:

a) I think that I look good in very short hair; and
b) I thought it was time for my natural hair colour and me to get re-aquainted; and
c) covering the grey that is coming in is such a hassle, but to let it go natural means
d) either having two-tone hair while it grows out, or cutting it back to the roots; and
e) due to stress and life changes, my hair has gotten very thin – I mean falling out in clumps every time I wash it – and while it’s growing back in, it’s just starting to come in at the top, so the bulk of the length of my hair had gotten very thin and sub-optimal; and
f) if I didn’t do it now, I’d have to wait a few years, because in a bit over a year if I did it folks would think it was a reaction to “turning a certain age”; and
g) I think that I look good in very short hair.

Fringe benefits I have already noticed:

a) It cost only $9.00 to get my hair cut. Usually it costs $45+
b) And that’s not including hair colouring, which I’ve done away with.
c) It feels fantastic on my head.
d) It feels fantastic to my hands.
e) No more bed head!
f) No more hat hair!
g) Did I mention that I think that I look good in very short hair.

So there you have it.

And here you have it: