I am not going there. There are things I won't write about. They come under the heading of "Too Much Information." I have been know to cross that line and I'm working hard on my boundaries.
Of course I can't remember how Goldilocks ends or what she was doing in the woods. Was she taking a walk? Did she run away from home? Was she arrested for breaking and entering after the bears found her? Didn't the bears chase her out of the house? I will be writing a post about fairy tales, and how child friendly they aren't, but that will be another day.
I'm attempting to stay on one topic at a time.
Still, even if Goldie got tossed, she had found a place where , she eventually found a good fit for all her needs.
I am not Goldie. I'm not having her luck in finding a good fit. At least I won't get tossed out of my house.
ANYWAY
I've written previously about the miss sizing of clothing and shoes. Oh and hats. Not that they are miss sized. They think we all have the same head size. I feel like my name should be Dr. In-between. I'd like a shoe size of seven and a quarter please. Oh, and maybe they can have built in arches too. And the hats are all too big. Why do men have hats with measurements but women don't? Just wondering.
Even though I'm short enough to wear petites, they don't fit well either. The pants can be too short. How is that possible? They're made for short people. I'm short and getting shorter as I write. And the tops? The smalls have gotten a tad tight in the chest, and in the mediums the shoulder seams come down mid arm and it's too big around the bust.
Of course, some of this depends on the manufacturer, color of the item, the type of store, the day of the week, and whether or not the moon is in the seventh house. I have no idea what the size I may need. Stores should really make allowances for this and let you take in twice as many items because you need to take in at least two of what you want to see what size you need.
The only thing I can usually guarantee for myself, is that it won't matter how many sizes I take in to try on, most of them won't fit.
Pants are the worst. If they look good while I'm standing up, I can't sit down in them. They dig into me which is really uncomfortable. If they are almost falling down around my butt, I can sit. But then I need to use a belt, and when I do, I can't sit again. I have met a few other women with this problem. I'm sure you're out there, but who wants to talk about this? It's a bit personal. But I've decided to break the silence, so there you have it.
You already know I have flat feet but you don't know that I have no fingerprints. Well, they can't get them so I assume I don't have any. And it's not due to old age unless 35 is old. That was the first time I couldn't get my prints done. At a police station, so it wasn't because they didn't know what they were doing. And no, I wasn't arrested. I was thinking about getting a job in Florida and they wanted my prints. *AD After three times, I figured God didn't want me to move so I gave up. Good thing or I'd still be working and my pension would be elephant food. Thank you Universe.
I know that I once did have actual fingerprints. When I started to work at the Board of Education (now the DOE) I was 22. They took my fingerprints and gave me a job and didn't make me come back three times looking for them. So.
Did they get stolen when I wasn't looking? Did I work so hard that I wore them off?
I don't know. The only positive to this would be if I were a criminal I wouldn't have to worry about leaving prints. Of course DNA is another issue, but lately, I'm not so sure it would be.
There was a test tube that you placed a funnel around, and were required to spit into the tube up to the marked line. They specifically said not to count bubbles as saliva. We all now know I have dry eye, but guess what? I also have dry mouth.
It took me over an hour and a half to get enough wet saliva to fill the tube. And, I'm not sure if it was enough. I'm counting on some of the bubbles melting and turning liquid. I expect the lab to send me a letter saying I have to do it again, this time with more expectoration.
And on to other medical anomalies. Everyone who has stomach problems has plain old GERD, your garden variety of acid reflux. Not me. At age 38 I was diagnosed with Barrette's Esophagus, which is like reflux, except it goes up into the esophageal lining and eats it. Yummy. Also it could become cancerous so I have to have an endoscopy every two years. Again, thank God I don't need a colonoscopy every two years. At least this one doesn't require any prep. Just no eating. That I can do.
Every one I know has Carpel Tunnel Syndrome. Many of my friends have had surgery for it. Not me. I got De Quervaine's Disease instead. Again, when I was in my thirties, and in both wrists. First my left hand, then my right. It's caused by a twisted tendon that affects your thumb mobility. Meaning, any time you move your thumb you experience excruciating pain. Get up and try to do anything without moving your thumbs. Pull you pants down. Pull them up. Scream.
I walked around for a year and a half with what I call air casts on my arms. It was a lovely look. At least the beige matched my clothes. The cortisone shots fixed the left hand, but I had to have surgery on the right. Knock on wood, they are usually alright.
At this point I'll just list the surgeries to complete the picture. Bunions (optional) back, not optional, ovarian resection, not optional, fixing stomach muscles from previous surgery, Optional? Oh. Almost forgot. Two arthroscopies in my right knee and a partial knee replacement in the same knee. Two deviated septum's, since the first one sprang back. I use the word the ENT used. In the olden days, they didn't cut the cartilage. The pushed it aside. Or something like that. In any event, I couldn't breathe again.
There were some other things like cysts and polyps that I'll just ignore. It's hard to remember. I try to do a body inventory by going from my feet to my head in my mind, but it's like when I'm counting my tattoos, I usually forget one.
If all these things happened to me in my dotage, I'd be like, okay. That's what happens as you get old. I started to require surgery when I was 22.
Not that I'm complaining. I would never do that because I am very fortunate. I actually did find the fourth bear. I married him. And of all the things that need to fit, well, that's the only really important one.
MORAL OF THE STORY
It doesn't matter how irregular you are. Once you accept it, you can find someone who accepts you too. Just like you can accept all their irregularities.
THEORY
Everyone needs to believe they are unique. And is some sense, everyone is. It's our uniqueness that makes us interesting. And as we've evolved, we've come to embrace what's different. Now, if the whole human race could just figure that out, maybe we'd stop looking at the differences.
