As I was heading out of my Bikram's yoga class in all my sweaty glory on Sunday, the instructor tells me that she doesn't know why, but at the end of every class she gets the Indiana Jones theme song in her head. I think she pictures herself in the hat, cracking the whip that will drive us all in to shape. Hmmmmm. The secret thoughts of yoga instructors. All I know is that I'm about 10 years away from being a pretzel, and I want a better theme song.
Tonight I'm sitting here typing in my brand new purple velour pants (super comfy), birthday compliments of my friend Shannon, who tucked them in to a very cute Cosmopolitan Girl gift bag. I am now referring to them as my New Age Wear, since Shannon felt compelled to buy them in response to my protestations that, even though I'm interested in woo-woo New Age kinds of things, I will never ever buy in to the woo-woo fashion of flowy, often purple, outfits. Thanks, girlie. This is how a childhood crush in Elvis turned in to a full blown collection of paraphernalia--Elvis afghan and all.
Movie not worth seeing: The Wedding Date. It's bad. Really bad. Not only is it a confusing and blah story with no chemistry between the lead characters, but it turns out the production company sent out a bunch of copies with poor color quality. I had more fun counting the number of color changes throughout the film than watching this sad attempt at a love story. Actually, I'm plain mad that movie makers demonstrate such blatant disrespect for their audiences and allow people to unknowingly spend $9 for two hours of total crap. Ugh. I would like to speak to someone about this.
If I ever have enough money to start my own business, I'm going to open a clothing shop with pretty dressing rooms and nice lighting. I think I'd make a fortune. I can't count the number of conversations I've had with women, today especially, with stories that end with her standing in the dressing room, fighting back tears, and feeling hideous. I am no stranger to staring at myself in dismay under lights that accentuate every flaw either. The recipe for a major meltdown. What kind of sales strategy is that? If you look semi-okay in our store, imagine how great you'll look in the light of day!
I need to go to sleep, but I'm wrapped up in the perfect movie marathon on TBS. Just finished Serendipity (I'm a sucker for sappy movies), and now it's on to Parenthood. I ADORE it. Primarily because it reminds me so much of my childhood friend, Beth. I remember renting it with her in middle school, and we thought it was hilarious. We watched it all the time and quoted lines to each other. "Gee Grandma, you got short!" "I'm shrinking!" "Bummer..." We'd laugh and laugh. I wish I knew where she was so I could call her in the middle of the night to remind her of this.
There are moments when I very much wish I could go back, just for an instant, so I could own these memories fully. Happiness in the middle of awkward adolescent misery. It's like I only get part of it, because the feelings and confusion I had at the time about myself and my place in the world are now so distant, like a part of me that is filed away for good. I can remember, but I can't be that me anymore. So weird. It's unimaginable at 13 that when you're 28 you'll wish you could go back to visit your old self.
"Mommy, what was that?"
"It's an...electric ear cleaner..."
"It was kinda big."
Grandma: "It sure was!"
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