The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: mistakes

I’m going to listen to my mother, for once.

Ever since that fateful day in 1977 when I crashed my bike and broke my arm in two places after my brother and I followed our mother’s explicit instructions to “GET OUT. TAKE YOUR BIKES. AND DON’T COME BACK UNTIL THE STREET LIGHTS COME ON,” I stopped listening to my mother.

Leslie (left) and friend circa 1977, from my baby book. Notice the staple.

Leslie (left) and friend circa 1977, from my baby book. Notice the staple.

Unfortunately for me, that was the last time she’s ever been wrong.

For instance…

She told me not to pierce my ears. Result? Double pierced on both sides at age 13 by some clueless teenaged Piercing Pagoda trainee at the Monroeville Mall. Long term result? Thirty years later my ear holes are about as lopsided as my knockers. Continue reading

Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.

My 4 year old son Bucket Head doesn’t like to make mistakes. He recently started doing this thing where if he needs help with something like a chore or a puzzle piece, he undoes whatever we’ve helped him with and says “Yet’s just betend that didn’t happen, otay?” Then he expertly does it himself and we all applaud and high five and fist bump like “What a brilliant child! He did it ALL BY HIMSELF!”

I mention this because a few days ago I posted some rather unflattering pictures of myself with mock hairdos and asked you to help me choose one for my new look. (Don’t bother lookin’, I took that mofo down.) It was supposed to be funny, but a vast majority of the comments indicated to me that I missed the mark.

Fellow bloggers, has that ever happened to you? A post just doesn’t go the way you intended?

Well, let’s just pretend that didn’t happen, okay? 

Thanks for all the sweet advice and the well wishes for my hair appointment though! It went very well. I don’t know why I was so nervous! Out of practice, I guess. Sure do love my stylist Kristie. I’ve been going to her (not often enough) for the past three years. She’s the one who cut and colored the style on my avatar that several of you seem to like. Local friends looking for a great stylist, email me and I’ll hook you up with her number.

My new ‘do looked especially great on Friday when I walked out of her salon, but you’ll have to take my word for it because the receptionist had a bad case of the DTs, bless her heart.

Ow, my eyes. Actually, if you squint and stare at that picture long enough you can see the image of Saint Genesius of Rome, the Patron Saint of Comedians.

So let’s just move on from this unfortunate “help me pick a new hairstyle” incident. This whole What I Wore Wednesday crap has really messed with my psyche. Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen either.

Whatd’ya say I just get back to my regular schtick and not care so much about how I look or what I’m wearing. That’s not really who I wanted to be when I grew up. I like the snarky bitch with the beard and the camel toe better.

And frankly, so do you.

yours truly,

-Iris

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