Suburbanly Incorrect

Things I think about while driving

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1. Why does Facebook have to come up with fake national holidays. Life is hard enough without FB making us feel guilty for not celebrating National Hot Dog Day .

2. Why does everyone think it’s acceptable to wear spandex ? Camel toes are a real thing

3. When did talking on the phone in public become acceptable? I don’t need to know your ovulation cycle or potential baby names. Especially when I’m at the gym on the elliptical machine concentrating on Shahs of Sunset .

4.  Why do I watch Friends and still want to wear Jennifer Aniston’s exact outfits 20 years later?

5. Where do beauty bloggers store all that make up? I barely have room for deodorant and they are constantly updating. I’m not too proud to admit my eye shadow brush is from my wedding. 20 years ago.

6. When did people stop realizing deodorant is a good thing

7.  When did eating in your car as if it’s a diner become a “thing”. It is not a good look, even though I do it myself

8. Why is every housewife on television going through menopause and why do they appear to be  crazy? It actually explains so much in my own life

9. Where do all my phone chargers go? I am always left with a random box and no cord yet my kids are constantly needing new chargers

10. Why does my CVS coupon always expire the day before I actually need to go there ?

If You see something, become unhinged and embarrass your family

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If you see something, say something. Do we not hear this every day? Is this not the mantra the Federal Government has been cramming down our throats since September 11? So when it’s time to say something, what would you do? Do you say something and risk being labeled a racist, a bigot or even worse an unhinged housewife? Or do you sit there and do nothing even though in your heart you know you should and in your deranged mind you know if you don’t no one is safe from your unbridled anxiety that is about to be unleashed.

My family went on vacation in December. We were going to an island in the Caribbean. I was a nervous wreck about the flight, and I am evolved enough to realize I am not always rational. I was trying to be calm and pretend that I was fine but my family saw right through that. That is probably why my husband did not blink an eye when I spent more than $85 on bad magazines and gum in the airport newsstand.

Once we were on the plane I felt more at ease and started to calm down. That was a momentary blip. My family was  seated across the aisle from each other, two and two. Aisle middle, aisle middle.  This was a great set up,until a morbidly obese man came down the aisle looking to squeeze into the window seat next to my daughter in my husband’s row. The man  started yelling at his wife about wrong seat assignments and panic set in. I could see his discomfort and embarrassment. There was nowhere for this man to go, let alone squeeze himself behind a row of seats and fold his body into the window seat. He politely asked my husband to switch seats.  Adam could sit by the window and this man could have the aisle. Since the option of purchasing another seat was off the table(the flight was full) this was the best way to go. I watched in absolute horror as Adam replied “I would rather not.” I repeat, to the morbidly obese man who could not squeeze into his seat and would most definitely have a heart attack if he tried my husband replied “I would rather not.”

To help save face, I would take one for the team. This is what marriage is about right? So, I gave Adam my aisle seat, the man took the other aisle and I sat in the middle with my daughter at the window seat. Of course the whole time I am thinking,” If the plane goes down will they be able to identify me because I am not sitting in the correct seat” like I said, not rational.  Meanwhile, “I would rather not” has become the running joke of my house since this episode.

All was good, I did a mitzvah, we were going to be ok. Until a young fella looking like the unibomber came down the aisle.

This is when the adage started running through my head. If you see something, say something. Was this something? A middle eastern man, young, twenty something with a beard and mustache who was  wearing a hoodie (with the hood up btw)  looking very shifty walked to the back of the plane and went immediately into the bathroom. Ok. I was going to remain calm. I was over reacting maybe he didn’t go into the bathroom. Nope.  He was in the bathroom.

I tried giving Adam the stink eye, motioning my head in the direction of the bathroom. No dice. He thought I was trying to tell him to stare at the poor guy squeezed into the seat next to me. I kept checking, the kid still was not out of the bathroom. I finally had to text him to tell him what I was thinking. So Adam looks at me and mouths “what do you want me to do” then went back to reading the NY Post. Are you freaking kidding me? Clearly I was on my own here.  That kid was in the bathroom for a good 10 minutes and I know because I timed him. When he came out of the bathroom he took his seat, in the LAST SEAT IN THE PLANE!! OMG this is like terrorism 101. What more proof did I need?? I could not take it. I was in a full sweat. Again I am repeating the mantra in my head. “If you see something, say something” but what am I seeing? What am I going to say? I felt like unless you actually see someone planting a bomb or stabbing someone you don’t say something.

Screw it, I got up. I made the poor man next me shimmy out of his seat so I could go scope out the situation in the back of the plane. Nancy Drew I’m not but I have watched enough episodes of Law and Order to be able to figure something out. As I walked by his row I tried to glance over to him without making eye contact, I didn’t want to give anything away but I noticed he did not have a carry on bag. Really dude no carry on? This was getting worse by the minute as was my creeping anxiety attack.  I approached the Flight Attendant and gingerly tried to say I am having a small issue I ned to talk to her about. I was talking low and she could not hear me so I had to raise my voice to say “There is a passenger on this plane making me uncomfortable” that was pretty politically correct right?  That was too vague I had to be more specific. More specific?  Okay, there is a guy who looks like one of the 9/11 bombers on this plane and he locked himself in the bathroom for 10 minutes and now he is sitting in the last row, probably waiting to meet his virgins, is that specific enough for you?

At this point I may or may not have started to cry a little. I am not proud but hey, it’s 6:30 in the morning I just got out of a seat that is basically a sardine can and there may or may not be a potential terrorist on the plane, there is no reasoning with me.

The flight attendant tried to explain to me it’s very hard to get a bomb on the plane, that they really catch everything while going through security. She then went on to tell me he was probably just  masturbating in the bathroom because that is what many people do before the flight takes off.  I’m sorry what? This theory actually made me speechless. This is what many people do before a flight? Was this some new relaxation technique I have not heard about? Is this like the dark web? Go to the bathroom and jerk off before the flight and you will be calm? This seemed like a far fetched theory but I was pretty desperate so I smiled and said “Yeah, ok” she looked at me sympathetically and said “are you going to be ok? You are having a thing right?” Yes I am having a thing, Im a middle aged woman scared shitless of flying and you just told me the potential terrorist was probably jerking off into his hoodie in the bathroom. I feel much calmer now, thanks.

So I did what any reasonable person who was having a full blown meltdown would do. I went into that bathroom and tore the fucker apart looking for a bomb. I spent another 10 minutes in there taking things off the walls, looking under the sink and the toilet. I left no space unturned. When I walked out of there I felt reassured that had my masturbating bomber left something in that bathroom I would have found it. I also felt like I needed a shower and a valium but thats another story.

When I got back to my seat my daughter suspiciously looked at me and asked me where I went. She knew I was up to something. Maybe I gave it away when I said “ok we are all good I swept the bathroom there is nothing there.” She just looked at me and shook here head.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Needless to say I am fine and our plane was fine. The masturbator got off the plane and we all survived. I am not embarrassed my little meltdown and I’m not embarrassed that I tore a bathroom apart looking for a bomb. I am embarrassed that my husband would not switch seats with someone who needed it more than he did.  Even though I know my husband hates flying as much as I do and it was his own fear that prevented him from doing so.

I never claimed to have it all together. I actually claim the opposite, I know I was unhinged and irrational that day. I am almost 50 years old, I have earned every anxiety attack that I have. No-one was injured, no ones feelings were hurt, the only person who knew I was losing my crap was my family and the lovely flight attendant. I do have to say that felt a little bad ass tearing things off the walls of that tin can of a bathroom. I know I did my civic duty that day. I saw something, I said something. Even if my saying something was in the form of a housewife who had gone off the rails.

Turning 50

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The idea for this blog was born out of the notion that I am reaching a milestone birthday and have not actually done all the things I had hoped to do.  One of the things that I have yet to do is blog on a regular basis.  Or on any basis. In my mind, I have written a bunch of blog posts but in reality, none have materialized, sort of like the fake weight on my driver’s license.  After reading many self-help books and books on procrastination, ok and some smutty books I have come to the realization that I have no reason other than fear. Fear of failure, fear of criticism, fear of fear, fear, fear, fear.  Fear can be crippling.  I have a friend who used to never drive on highways or even take an elevator all because of her fear.  I lived in my apartment in NYC for 12 years and she would not come up because I lived on the 18th floor. She is now medicated, happy as a clam and driving all over the place while aimlessly taking the elevator.  I never realized my fear was stopping me until I realized I was watching reruns of Catfish and Dr. Phil.  That was a pretty low point.  Especially when I decided that I could actually do the job Neve was doing and I figured out who the catfishers were before Neve did.

When I was younger and single I was pretty fearless.  I was definitely someone who took chances and didn’t think much of it.  Clearly looking at past fashion choices you don’t have to be blind to see I was a risk taker.  So in honor of turning 50, I am really going to start taking risks until the big day.  I am not necessarily going to be jumping out of a plane (although I may) it will be baby steps.  When I had the idea for this blog, I originally thought it would be funny and snarky (pretty much like me) but life has taken some unexpected turns.  I don’t always feel so funny or snarky, ok I always feel snarky. Maybe it’s the things I have experienced this year, maybe it’s turning 50, maybe it’s having my first born get ready to leave for college, maybe it’s all of the above, but I am not feeling funny.  I am feeling old and nostalgic.  Truthfully, I think I have watched too many episodes of This is Us because I have Cat Stevens running through my brain and I am now watching old episodes of The Magic Garden, trying to remember my childhood without sobbing.

I have 6 months until the big FIVE O and I am really going to try to make this blog part of the countdown to 50.  I will really try to engage and just write, make some memories and live in the moment like all the FB posts on positivity say to do.  I am starting to compile a list of things I would like to accomplish before that day.  A mini bucket list.

For my first leap, I signed up to run a half marathon in March.  I have run countless races in the past but that’s exactly when I was in shape for them, in the past.  I have been sidelined with hip issues for the last 2 years so I am totally out of shape.  Add some extra pounds and my impending entry into old age and a half marathon seems pretty like a lofty goal.  I will try to  chronicle my training so I have to be accountable but my ability to evade accountability is like my teenagers. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or proud.

After that I am open to suggestions. I am way too comfortable in my life right now,  but I am also very neurotic so anything that could possibly end in my death may not be a great suggestion.

 

 

 

 

 

Weigh In

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It has been 4 days since my initial weigh in.  This sucks.  I am not going to lie.  Seeing those numbers on the scale was like waking up with a pimple on my wedding day.  I had not seen numbers that high since my post baby check up at the doctor for my now 15 year old.  How did I end up here and how am I going to get myself out of this.

If this were 20 years ago this would be easy…A pack of Virginia Slims light,  Diet coke and a bag of pretzels and it would all be of in 2 weeks.  But this is not 1996 and I cannot nicotine/caffeine the pounds away. I am going to have to work my old menopausal ass off and truthfully I don’t know if I have the emotional/physical stamina to do this.
I said I would blog about this so I will but I can see how some days are going to be harder than others. For example today… I have been dieting for 4 days and I have not lost an ounce. I think I may have even gained a pound actually.
On the day of the weigh in my husband came with me to the gym.  In hindsight this was probably not the smartest move given my emotional state.  The line to get on the scale was extended to the steps. Which was about 30 people deep. Wait a freakin minute. I thought this was going to be private.  I did not realize I would be getting on a scale in front of trainers and members of the gym. WHAT???  After waiting on that line for what felt like an eternity I got on the scale.  I wanted to cry when the numbers reached up to those of a small circus animal.  How did this happen? I mean I sort of know how this happened .  Too many nights of an extra glass of wine, bread basket, cappuccinos, eating off my kids plates, a bite of this a bites of that, an emergency box of candy hidden in my glove compartment.  The list is endless.  Now here I am standing on a scale in a room full of strangers vulnerable and exposed.  You know that dream where you go to school naked?  This is it but I am wearing spandex, which by the way is much too tight.
So after this humbling experience they usher you over to a table to meet with your “coach”.  Which happens to be a trainer armed with all the training tools the military uses to knock you down and drag you backup.  They give you all these fabulous offers and discounts on private training,  supplements, tests,  classes,   a meeting with a nutritionist… the list was endless. I think they may have thrown in a small child but I am not sure because after the fourth or fifth item I was already plotting my escape.
Needless to say I left the gym and my head was spinning.  How am I going to get this weight of? How did I get this fat?  How am I going to motivate myself to get here?  How can I keep my one  glass of wine per week? What the fuck am I going to eat?  Do I really look as bad as I feel?  Who killed Jr?  Is Elvis really dead?  What ever happened to my cabbage patch doll?
Well friends here I am.  Four days later and I am still a hot mess only now I get emails from Danielle, my perky 22 year old coach.  Reminding me that she is here for me and asking what I am doing to change old habits.  Other than purging my glove compartment of a stale box of Hot Tamales I am not sure how I have changed.   I am pretty sure when I said to Danielle “I am entering menopause and  and don’t know how I am going to do this” she was thinking the same thing.  As well as “how did I get this old bag on my team.”
I vowed to blog about this so I am.  I am determined to figure something out and take this weight off. I am not sure how but I will.  I have to weigh in again next Monday.  I have six days to pull it together and figure something out.  There is no way I am getting on that scale Monday and seeing those numbers again.  Somehow someway the scale has to start moving in the other direction. Until the next weigh in….happy eating!

I Am A Runner

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I am a runner…
I am a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, bitch (depending who you ask) but first and foremost I am a runner. 1992 NYC… I am 23 years old, kind of lost in my job, lost in a lifeless relationship and hopeless what the direction of my life was going to be. I was doing what every other single New Yorker was doing, going to the gym and running on the treadmill, running to nowhere. I happen to notice the man next to me wearing a race t-shirt so I asked him about it.
The flood gates opened, he told me about the New York Road Runners Club. How every weekend you can sign up for a race with other crazy New Yorkers who just enjoy the passion of running. The camaraderie you will feel will be like no other. His passion for the club and running was infectious so I decided, why not .
This was long before the Internet became what it is, I actually had to go to the NYRRC and join in person. I know, who can relate to that idea?
I made that trek in 1993 and In 1994 I ran my first marathon. That was 19 years ag . I have run 5 marathons, countless half marathons and road races and several triathlons.
I have run through rain, snow, hail and sleet. I have run through terrorist attacks and their horrendous aftermath. I have run through break ups, make ups, marriage and divorce (not my own btw). I have run through illness, family drama, life and death. Through every major event in my life or someone close to me, I have run. Running is the one consistent thing in my life that I know I can always count on. Running gives back to me much more than I can ever give to it. Unless you are a runner, you can’t even begin to understand that last statement. Running has given me friends and relationships that I otherwise would not have had.
Only another runner could understand when you say you HAVE to get up in 0 degree weather to do a training run at 4:30 in the morning. Others may say, “You don’t have to, you choose to “. But you see yes, we do because we are runners. Running is in our blood and our DNA, there are very few things that can stop a runner in their tracks, other than a fallen runner. I’ve run countless races where a runner has gone down, always and I mean always do I see others stop running and help their fallen friend. Pr be damned.
We all run for different reasons. Some run to lose weight, some run for charities, and some run for clarity. It doesn’t matter why it just matters that we do it.
On The day of the Boston Marathon, it was a perfect running day, much like that fateful day of September 11. Who knew that such a joyous event would forever be marred by the movements of madmen. As the events of the day unfolded, the whole world watched in horror. I felt like I was punched in the stomach. As a runner I was invested in the marathon because I knew the significance of Boston. I had never run it, but as a runner it was on my bucket list. All those running that day had given up family time, sleep, alcohol,countless things. Some traveled thousands of miles just to say they have now joined a club only a small percentage of people can say they are members of, having run a marathon.
The horrors of that day are still unfolding. We saw humanity at it’s worst but also at its best. But that is what running does, it unites and brings people together on a playing field that is leveled. As I listened and watched on TV and the Internet I waited, I knew the running community would not allow the act of a cruel sick individual deter who we are. We are runners, in the face of adversity we do what we know. We lace up our shoes, do whatever pre-run ritual we have and we go.
I have no idea what is going to happen tomorrow with all of this, I can’t even say in one hour what will be. What I do know is this :
There will always be haters. There will always be heartbreak , sickness and tragedy. But there will also always be goodness, sunshine and hope. I choose to be on the side of goodness. Therefore I will do what I always do.  I too will lace up and go for a run. I will proudly go to the start and hopefully cross that finish line in many more races .. Whether there are 10 runners or 10,00. I will not be deterred in fulfilling a dream due to fear, that’s what evil wants .
I will do this because its who I am.
I am a runner.

High School Seniors

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My what a long strange trip it’s been. Those words were the beginning of my commencement speech from high school , June 1985. I don’t remember anything else that our class president had to say after that . More so because I had made the brilliant decision to smoke a joint with my best friend on the way to graduation . This was more funny because she and I were not the kind to show up high for graduation , or pretty much anything . If you based your opinion on stereotypes all I can say is , she was in the marching band and on the tennis team , I was captain of the cheerleaders. I’m pretty sure if you surveyed any seniors who knew us and asked if we would be the ones who showed up high on graduation day they would say you were high . Get my point ? I do remember we pulled up and got out of the car and she left the keys In the ignition and the car was running , that may have been the highlight of my graduation day btw.
I’m pretty sure that day our class president talked about our paths in life and how we were about to embark on the best journey yet .. Blah blah blah . Most of his speech came from Grateful Dead quotes ( not a bad thing ) but I know they touched on how now we can make all our dreams happen, the world was ours .
So as I sit here waiting for my daughter to come out of high school I can’t help but look around at the other parents waiting with me . I go back and forth : I watch the seniors get in their cars, all young with good hair . They are so hopeful and optimistic , then I look over at my peers , sitting in their minivans , playing candy crush and I wonder where the hell did our lives detour so dramatically that somewhere along the way dreams became a pair of comfy shoes and sweatpants .
I pride myself on looking pretty good ( I said pretty good as in for me , let me qualify ) . However last Friday I didn’t feel well. I let my hair dry naturally ( I have Jersey Girl hair , big and curly )and put on sweats . My darling husband came home and said what the hell happened to you ? Your hair is from the 80’s and your not wearing sweatpants that fit .. Wtf.. My knee jerk reaction was to point out his shortcomings …  . Instead I kept it to myself.  Telling him his flaws doesn’t help , his ego is the size of Canada and me making fun of him only fuels the fire thus leading him to wear sleeveless shirts and clothes with teams on it . Instead I asked myself , what did happen ? How did I end up in sweatpants and bad hair . So I looked back in the archives of my life to get these answers and truthfully I had no answers . Instead I found myself compiling a list of things all young twenty something’s should do to try to avoid ending up looking like Medusa in bat mitzvah sweats .
1. Get blow outs , lots of them
When I was in college you didn’t get your hair done unless you were going to a wedding or a funeral , today it’s like brushing your teeth . Your young , you have disposable income . Treat yourself because $30 today is nothing . In 20 years when your kid wants $200 sneakers $30blow outs become a luxury
2. Mani/pedi weekly
Go for it . Again $25 a week to spend on yourself to make you feel better .. Again in 20 years you will be wearing ugg boots never letting your toes see the light of day because between blow outs and no mani pedi you just saved $55.
3. Ridiculously expensive shoes
Now I’m serious . A girl gets to wear a glass slipper only so often . Buy the expensive shoe now . You can always sell them later . Louboutins hold their value , their like fine wine and I promise you when your living in the suburbs and you realize you can buy a chair or a pair of shoes you’ll be kicking yourself in your ugly 9west knock offs that you didn’t splurge when you had no kids and actually worked for money.
4. Fabulous vacations
Go . See the world or don’t but remember… one day black out fares , babysitters , dog sitters and schedules will rule your life and a 10,000 vacation is out of the question because you have camp . You will be sorry you never did that club med with your old college roommate because club med at 50 is just creepy and your club med is now a stay cation.
5. Kiss and do not tell!!!
ok not promoting being a slut , we have Disney channel for that . I’m kidding . I just mean kiss a boy and enjoy it , play your fantasy out in your head . I love my husband but we have been together almost 20 years … I wish I could bottle the first 9 months we were together . Pure joy . I got sad being with him just knowing I wouldn’t see him the next morning if he wasn’t staying over , corny but true . Those first months are fantasy , enjoy them reality is also great but let’s face it fantasy can be pretty fucking awesome
6. Be in the moment with your friends
I mean this with every fiber of my being . Put the phone down , please . Stop looking at Facebook or Instagram . Enjoy the moment with your friends because time is fast and furious and in the blink of an eye 20 years has gone by and you haven’t seen your best friend for 10 years . Make the memories about being in the actual moment don’t document every fucking second for the world . Laugh together , have experiences together , this will be the basis for your friendship down the road when your going through death and divorce . Not to get dark but life kicks you in the ass and it’s these friends who will be there for you. Friendships with a history tell more stories with a glance or look . these are the people who love you because of your flaws not in spite of them
7. Make mistakes  
Make big ones , fuck up . Go big or go home . This is it this is when it’s your chance to experience everything , and you should . Now is the time to screw up , this way when you have kids their only partially screwed up
8. Take chances
Really . Take every opportunity given . Skydive , go to Africa ( ok well maybe not Africa political unrest can be dicey ) . I think what I’m trying to say is say YES and I CAN . and if you can’t , then say you’ll try . If you don’t try in your twenties you’ll never do it. Just do it … Whatever IT is ..once you have kids saying I can gets a lot harder unless it’s driving to the mall
9. Smile And laugh
I know this sounds weird but I feel like everyone is very serious today if I had known in my early twenties what I know today I would have laughed my ass off every day . I had no kids or husband to worry about wtf was I so consumed with .
10. Tell everyone who means something to you.. how much You love them
I know everyone puts this on their list but it is true . In the blink of an eye I was 40 now I’m almost 50 ( sort of , not really .. but kind of ) I never knew how much I missed certain people in my life until they were gone . You don’t get do overs in life and just telling someone how you feel about them can be a game changer.
Really the list is about not having regrets . I have no regrets about anything I did in my earlier years ( this does not include people I may have done …haha)
I think I did everything on that list . Which could be how I ended up in ugly sweatpants And with bad hair . But I also ended up with a pretty cool life so I guess at the end of the day wearing my ugly sweats is worth it and I would do it tomorrow and probably will. So if you see me on the pick up line at school In an old sweatshirt and my hair all messed up , don’t judge me . Behind the wheel could be a skydiving lunatic who scaled mount Kilimanjaro …all while wearing louboutins.

25 Things You Don’t Know About Me

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1. I have run 5 marathons…
2. I hate olives
3. I won the contest in 8th grade for conjugating a verb the fastest …
4. My best friend is my neighbor who moved next door to me in 1972
5. I still speak to my camp friends, whom I met when I was 7
6. My favorite food is mashed potatoes so much, that my husband proposed to me with my
engagement ring in them
7. I can open a locked door with a credit card
8. I knew on my first date with my husband that I was going to marry him
9. I was captain of the cheerleading squad in high school
10. I can play 2 songs on the piano ..heart and soul and a song from the musical Oliver
11. I haven’t slept through the night since we got my dog, 6 years ago
12. I was an extra in a television commercial
13. I went to a sleep away camp run by the Boston Celtics
14. I hate clowns
15. I know the words to the entire Born to Run album
16. I am terrified of heights but skydiving is the #1 thing on my bucket list
17. I am  a private person
18. I had to get a restraining order against an ex-boyfriend when I was 25 years old
19. I believe in ghosts
20. I’m extremely claustrophobic
21. I don’t believe in chance encounters
22. When I was in high school I worked in a drug store, ice cream shop and clothing store
23. I love movies although, I have never seen ET
24. I was kicked out of sleep-away camp when I was 13
25. I have run on every vacation I have ever taken, including Israel where the signs were in Arabic saying “turn around”

Scott Baio

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I have had a crush on Scott Baio since 1974. No lie, not even Joanie loves Chachi could deter me. The first time I laid eyes on him with Jodi Foster in the movie Foxes I was hooked. I followed him through happy days right up until Charge in Charge. As I got older he aged but really really well so I always felt that somehow we caught up. I did not even fall off the wagon when I found out he was dating his younger, much younger…okay creepily borderline, disgusting, much younger, cast mate. I persevered and kept my crush right where it belonged, with me in secret. I don’t think it’s any coincidence my husband is a brash New Yorker with a very thick Queens accent (ok Scott was from Brooklyn but to a girl from New Jersey it’s all the same. Now I can pick out a Borough after 2 words!) I am sure somewhere down in my subconscious the first time he spoke to me I was hearing my childhood crush speak to me. Believe it or not they were so similar, and even though this was 1995, they seemed to almost dress the same. (Clearly looking back on this that should have been my red flag for his propensity to dress as if its still the 80’s.) So once I met my husband I was hooked …minus the red bandana on the leg.  Lo and behold a few years ago VH1 was running a reality show starring none other than my true love, Scott Baio. My husband and I settled in to watch. Of course I made him watch with me…he needed to see my muse!
As we started watching I started to get really uncomfortable and depressed. The premise was that Scott had not really matured and was trying to find “the One” for him. To do this he basically needed to go back to everyone he had dated or screwed or who the hell knows….by the end of the first episode I was repulsed . He had slept with so many women. he discarded them like empty water bottles. And these women were mostly 10’s. Im serious. I was watching this show in disbelief. These women were all drop dead gorgeous. In my fantasies I didn’t even look that good. Seriously this man is like a god…women literally seemed to fall at his feet. However he was flawed;really really flawed. I mean monumentally. Like…so flawed his good looks and boyish charm were so lost in his immaturity, that I was waiting for him to light a fart on fire!
I could not begin to tell you how depressing this was to me. I had spent years pining away at the fantasy of Scott Baio. In my mind he was far more mature and emotionally evolved than the overgrown frat boy I was watching on tv. How to move past this? How do you reconcile your fantasies with your reality?
What do you do when the image you have created in your head is exceeding the real one that stands before you? I suppose we have all experienced some sort of this disappointment at one point or another.  Who does not fantasize about running into an ex boyfriend/girlfriend when you look your best? I know in my mind I have toned arms, taught belly and am tan.  In reality it has been when it’s dead of winter, I am in the midst of a “fat stage” and I am about 3 weeks overdue for color. NO this was not how my fantasy was supposed to go. How am I supposed to make his wife seethe with jealousy and him rue the day he let me go if I look like a mad housewife minus the minivan?
I suppose it’s how we handle these reality checks rather than the reality check itself that shows us what kind of person we are or aspire to be. I bring this up because I actually had an encounter the other day with someone in my mind who was much nicer, prettier and overall a better person than I thought they were. In this business of blogging you really are privy to people’s worlds. In 1978, I had no lens into Scott Baio’s world other than Tiger beat and Teen Beat. There was no Tmz or Perez Hilton. If I found something out about him it was only through his publicist. He was untouchable and the fantasy of Scott was pretty damn good I may add. If it were today I could get google alerts letting me know every time his name was in a news column. I could follow his Twitter or find him on Facebook. There would be no fantasizing because short of me eating dinner at his dining room table I could be with him. Oh look, Scott is getting a car wash, he is at the supermarket… oh look he’s getting a parking ticket. Thanks but I’ll take the fantasy over the reality. I do not need to know he cries at night or just wants to be in a committed relationship.
But, I digress. My encounter. I met up with a blogger. Someone I follow quasi regularly. This person puts her self out there as a “regular “ person…someone who can relate to the masses and frankly sometimes i disagree but I do read her and sometimes really like what she puts out there. Now, I have never fantasized about meeting her and having some deep conversation with her but I did have a certain sense of respect for her based on her writing and things she has put out there about herself. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. I met her and recognized her from the photos on her blog. I did not blurt out “Hey! Are you so and so?” not for any other reason other than I did not want to seem like a single white female. The creepy factor was a little high for me. So I kept quiet about my secret of knowing her, however I tried to make small talk considering we were both at a dog babysitting place. She wasn’t taking the bait, in fact she was almost condescending.
I cannot tell you how I felt when she walked out. I wanted to run to her blog and call her out. Let her 5,000 followers know she is a fraud and fake. Hey friend of the everyday man where were you today when I tried to say hello? Now, I am sure if I recognized her in front of everyone in the store her attitude would have been different..I am sure she would have been more than gracious to take accolades for her work. Speaking of, when I got home I went right on her blog to review what I ever saw in this person and you know what? The signs were there. I just chose to ignore them.  She blogs about herself and her fabulousness mostly. Her fabulous life and all who are in it. So really, when I saw her she probably just thought I was not as fabulous as she is. Fair enough. You can take a pig out of the trough and dress it up but its still a pig right? In all fairness I should have not been as let down as I felt considering I had built this person up in my mind to be nicer and more welcoming than she was.  Nowhere on her blog does she profess to be nice and friendly.  I just assumed it because I felt like I knew her from reading what she puts out there….not necessarily making it true.  It just means it’s out there.
My lesson in all of this is that fantasies sometimes are better left where they originated, in your head. This is why I do not even play the fantasy game with my husband. A- I really do not want to know his wildest fantasy.  If i’m not it, don’t bother telling me..it will lead to nowhere good and he cannot win. I’m not telling him mine because I am pretty sure he is not growing any taller any time soon and I have no idea where to find a United States Marine uniform to rent but thats a different conversation. The whole idea of a fantasy is to keep it in your head make it yours, let your crush be larger than life, let your ex pine away for you, let your favorite blogger become your best friend; whatever works. Just remember when your fantasy and reality eventually meet you know, worlds collide..you can handle it!
What do I do? I just make my husband put that red bandana on his leg and talk to me. I close my eyes and I’m the weight it says on my drivers license. Fantasies, remember? For the record….Scott Baio is still my guy!