I'm spending my lunch break thinking of things I hate about me. I know most people traditionally spend this time eating, but I feel I don't deserve food. Food is for people who are pretty, thin, rich and talented.
People like me deserve whatever the opposite of food is. Since I'm an awful cook (see below), anything I prepare falls in this category so maybe I'll eat after all.
Here are the top ten things I hate about me:
10. I'm a terrible cook. I know I just said that, but I'm so bad I'm saying it again. I can make southern food like biscuits and gravy that'll make you sass your momma, but that's it. I made homemade hash browns last week and served them to Mr. Man in bed. "Why is their ketchup on my oatmeal?" he asked.
9. My eyebrows are all wrong. Because I have Hashimoto's, my eyebrows have all but disappeared. I live in constant fear someone will spontaneously ask me to go swimming or shower with them and my eyebrows will wash off.
8. My hair is ridiculous. One year it's blond, the next it's brown and it's never the right length or style. I either look like it's 1982 and I'm in a Duran Duran video or like I've just bought a new pair of double knit pants with an elastic waist and I'm off to Bingo.
7. My nose is too small. My glasses fall down all the time and so I wind up pushing them up like someone who wears a pocket protector as a fashion accessory. I need that thing that Steve Martin invented in The Jerk. (I also need this lamp, that chair and that's all. That's all I need.)
6. What the hell is going on with my chin? It's little but almost pointy like the bad witch in Wizard of Oz. Factor in what's going on just below my chin and I'm just a few chromosomes away from being a turkey.
5. Boobs. Oh sweet lord where do I begin? Too small, too floppy and definitely not sweater worthy. I'd get new ones but my selfish family wants me to spend my money on food and electricity and stuff.
4. If you ever see me in public and ask if I'm pregnant and I kick you in your no-no place, don't feel like you're the lone ranger. My tummy is not now nor has it ever been flat. Since my youngest child is almost 15, I don't know how much longer I can use the excuse that I had a baby, but I plan to ride that train as long as I can.
3. To tan or not to tan. That is the question I ask myself every day. When I tan I at least briefly feel like I am palatable to look at and will not induce vomiting in random passersby. On the other hand, once I stop tanning - like now - my skin is a lovely color one only sees in intensive care units and funeral homes. Factor in the weird color splotches tanning leaves behind and you can see why people often stop me to ask whether there is a charity I'd like to have them donate to on my behalf.
2. I look good in absolutely nothing, and I don't mean the kind of nothing you're thinking. Clothes look all weird on me like I found them lying in the street and put them on. At 5'5" on a good day, pants are always too long and I have to wear high heels tall enough to impress a hooker. Of course I love those kinds of heels, especially when they're red, but as I am the clumsiest person alive, I fall down even more that usual. At least when I'm on the ground my shoes are cute.
1. My fingers are awful. Truly awful. If you saw my hands in a line up you would think they belonged to a farmer who was too poor for a plow and just dug up 100 acres with his bare hands. I long for the 50's when decent women wore white gloves. Maybe that's what I should do anyway. I could be the writer who brought gloves back to humor.
Crap. Lunch time is over. I'm going to go have some Quaker and ketchup.
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
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