I thought I would take this time to introduce you to a different side of myself. Some of you may already know her, but to others, well, here she is.
Most days I live in the world of real things. Things that are backed up by good, strong evidence. Things like,oh let's say, inertia. You know, the kind of stuff we learned all about in elementary science class. (Thanks Mr.Woodberry). Some other time I will go into just how we experienced the law of inertia firsthand. It's a good story and includes illustrations, but I am getting off subject. I include my faith in this class of things that are real. I have tons of proof and will share this in another post as well.
This other me, or I should say, part of me, is conspiracy theorist. The world in which we live is full to the brim of the unexplained. Sasquatch, El Chupacabra, Swamp Ape... I could go on and on. UFOs could be on either list. They are not proven to exist, but try telling that to the 6 year old me who, while on a visit to New York, saw a strange light in the sky. My brother and I were convinced that we saw a UFO and told everyone in the house about it. I don't really remember what they said, but it was most likely something like, "Cool, really, o.k. it's bed time." Little did they know that it would be all over the newspaper the next day, and we thought we were the coolest. All that to say, you never know.
Yesterday I found a new and mysterious thing to ponder. It was errand day, which of course included a trip to the dreaded superstore. You know the one. I know, I know, I shouldn't shop there, because it is evil and taking over the world, and someday I will regret it. I actually did regret it, but not for the reasons you may expect. As I carried my 2 year old through the doors and grabbed the first over sized cart I came too, I realized that it might be best to stop first in the ladies room.
Now I must go back just a couple of steps.
The lighting in our bathroom at home is not what you would call high tech. I have always thought that possibly, someday, I would trick the whole room out with the mirror surrounded by lights, but that is on the same list as, oh, I don't know, a swimming pool, so for now we have lights that will just have to do. There is adequate light, in that I haven't ever gone out with lipstick on my ear, but little did I know just how inadequate it was. For the past month I have looked in the mirror and found new deeper crows feet. I have also realized that it was time to take care of my roots, but I went on with life and tried to put it off for as long as possible.
Fast forward back to the superstore. Now, it didn't seem that the lighting was that incredible when I walked in. It wasn't like some places you go where you actually have to feel for the stall door. (I never have understood why restrooms need ambiance, but that too is a discussion for another day.) The lighting was well, adequate, and when I say adequate I mean so far beyond adequate that I could see every single pore on my face in addition to each and every grey hair. I literally gasped at my appearance. I was one of those women. I was just sure that the other shoppers had taken one look at me and thought, "Oh that poor little boy. I can't believe she makes him shop with her looking like that!" I half thought that as I walked out, the host for Extreme Makeover (not the home edition)would be there waiting to whisk me away. I realized that it was not only time to take care of my roots, but oh say 2 months past time. I hoisted little man up to my hip and grabbed my 10 sizes too big cart and we made a bee line for the hair color aisle.
As I grabbed the box of super ultra gray covering dye, and checked my list to be sure that something else could be bumped for a day or so, it hit me. I don't think that they light those rooms to make it easier for shoppers. If they wanted to do that they might, say, bring the diapers down a shelf or two so that I don't have to climb like a monkey to grab the last remaining size 6 Pampers. They don't do it for ambiance either. I honestly think that they do it for pure unadulterated shock value. I am nearly convinced that they do it so I will run screaming toward the very aisle I didn't even need to visit before I entered that fateful room. Then as I was leaving the aisle I would pass the perfectly placed, newest and best Botox in a box that they are selling for $50, forgetting that I still needed bread, milk and three story high diapers. This would of course implement the need to split my order, paying with cash and the handy bank card, which now opened another method of payment therefore affording me the bottle of red (I'm no longer talking about hair color folks) that I so richly need and deserve. And why is this vino so richly deserved? Because with wrinkles and roots like that, I must have a very hard life.
Now this all may sound a bit like an over dramatic tangent. You could just attribute it all to lack of dedication to beauty on my part. Maybe it isn't a conspiracy at all, but instead just brilliant marketing. I would do more research, but the thought of asking my hubby to check out what his pores look like under the lights is as daunting as the thought of the looks I must have been getting from the other shoppers. So for now, friends it will have to remain a mystery. Investigate if you will, but be aware, it will cost you a cartload.
Most days I live in the world of real things. Things that are backed up by good, strong evidence. Things like,oh let's say, inertia. You know, the kind of stuff we learned all about in elementary science class. (Thanks Mr.Woodberry). Some other time I will go into just how we experienced the law of inertia firsthand. It's a good story and includes illustrations, but I am getting off subject. I include my faith in this class of things that are real. I have tons of proof and will share this in another post as well.
This other me, or I should say, part of me, is conspiracy theorist. The world in which we live is full to the brim of the unexplained. Sasquatch, El Chupacabra, Swamp Ape... I could go on and on. UFOs could be on either list. They are not proven to exist, but try telling that to the 6 year old me who, while on a visit to New York, saw a strange light in the sky. My brother and I were convinced that we saw a UFO and told everyone in the house about it. I don't really remember what they said, but it was most likely something like, "Cool, really, o.k. it's bed time." Little did they know that it would be all over the newspaper the next day, and we thought we were the coolest. All that to say, you never know.
Yesterday I found a new and mysterious thing to ponder. It was errand day, which of course included a trip to the dreaded superstore. You know the one. I know, I know, I shouldn't shop there, because it is evil and taking over the world, and someday I will regret it. I actually did regret it, but not for the reasons you may expect. As I carried my 2 year old through the doors and grabbed the first over sized cart I came too, I realized that it might be best to stop first in the ladies room.
Now I must go back just a couple of steps.
The lighting in our bathroom at home is not what you would call high tech. I have always thought that possibly, someday, I would trick the whole room out with the mirror surrounded by lights, but that is on the same list as, oh, I don't know, a swimming pool, so for now we have lights that will just have to do. There is adequate light, in that I haven't ever gone out with lipstick on my ear, but little did I know just how inadequate it was. For the past month I have looked in the mirror and found new deeper crows feet. I have also realized that it was time to take care of my roots, but I went on with life and tried to put it off for as long as possible.
Fast forward back to the superstore. Now, it didn't seem that the lighting was that incredible when I walked in. It wasn't like some places you go where you actually have to feel for the stall door. (I never have understood why restrooms need ambiance, but that too is a discussion for another day.) The lighting was well, adequate, and when I say adequate I mean so far beyond adequate that I could see every single pore on my face in addition to each and every grey hair. I literally gasped at my appearance. I was one of those women. I was just sure that the other shoppers had taken one look at me and thought, "Oh that poor little boy. I can't believe she makes him shop with her looking like that!" I half thought that as I walked out, the host for Extreme Makeover (not the home edition)would be there waiting to whisk me away. I realized that it was not only time to take care of my roots, but oh say 2 months past time. I hoisted little man up to my hip and grabbed my 10 sizes too big cart and we made a bee line for the hair color aisle.
As I grabbed the box of super ultra gray covering dye, and checked my list to be sure that something else could be bumped for a day or so, it hit me. I don't think that they light those rooms to make it easier for shoppers. If they wanted to do that they might, say, bring the diapers down a shelf or two so that I don't have to climb like a monkey to grab the last remaining size 6 Pampers. They don't do it for ambiance either. I honestly think that they do it for pure unadulterated shock value. I am nearly convinced that they do it so I will run screaming toward the very aisle I didn't even need to visit before I entered that fateful room. Then as I was leaving the aisle I would pass the perfectly placed, newest and best Botox in a box that they are selling for $50, forgetting that I still needed bread, milk and three story high diapers. This would of course implement the need to split my order, paying with cash and the handy bank card, which now opened another method of payment therefore affording me the bottle of red (I'm no longer talking about hair color folks) that I so richly need and deserve. And why is this vino so richly deserved? Because with wrinkles and roots like that, I must have a very hard life.
Now this all may sound a bit like an over dramatic tangent. You could just attribute it all to lack of dedication to beauty on my part. Maybe it isn't a conspiracy at all, but instead just brilliant marketing. I would do more research, but the thought of asking my hubby to check out what his pores look like under the lights is as daunting as the thought of the looks I must have been getting from the other shoppers. So for now, friends it will have to remain a mystery. Investigate if you will, but be aware, it will cost you a cartload.
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