Sorry about the morose post from yesterday. I was just really broken down. Also I had a massive breakout on my chin, which hasn't happened since college, and made me feel like an insecure teenager. I got flashbacks as I spackled concealer onto my face. It's bad enough when you're broke and downtrodden and get no respect at work. But then to be pimply on top of all of that is just a ticket to a pity party. My pity parties tend to involve wine and bad reality TV. Sometimes I wail and throw myself around my bedroom. During my pity parties Jeff gets a certain look on his face -- a mixture of pity and confusion -- and retreats into the office to smoke and contemplate his choice of wife.
Luckily I eventually sucked myself out of the bottle and away from The Pussycat Dolls Present: Girlicious and called my friend Betsy, who is the kind of funny, straight-talking friend that can pull you out of any funk. Somehow the conversation turned to terrible trends of yesteryear, and let me tell you, nothing lifts the spirits like remembering how clueless you used to be.
The other day, a friend who shall remain nameless admitted that she had been the leader of her middle school handbell choir. A handbell choir, for those unfamiliar, is a choir that, instead of signing, ring bells in different tones to create music. The bell-ringing happens with a sort of sweeping motion from the chest out, and the effect is that you are watching a live cuckoo clock play the theme to "Cheers" or somesuch random tune that was always insisted upon by the music teacher. The vision of my friend as a sweet middle-schooler ringing bells sent me into hysterics, until I remembered what I was doing in middle school; namely, wearing Troll dolls on my ears.
I loved Troll dolls, which doesn't really separate me from the 1991 masses, except that I also had a unibrow and braces and acne. I know I pull out the unibrow card a lot, but trust, when you have a unibrow every other dorky thing you do gets magnified by 500. Anyway, when I was in middle school I favored bulky cable-knit sweaters paired with leggings, and I liked to play Set in the hallways of my school. I also had a short haircut, and I wore earrings from which dangled two tiny troll dolls. It gets worse: they were dressed as Santa.
I purchased these earrings from a Park Slope store, Little Things, that was like the crack house of the 6th grade. They sold the kinds of precious, useless things that pubescent girls covet: small glass animals, stickers, scrunchie headbands (remember: 1991). The earring rack was my kryptonite. In addition to the troll monstrosities, I owned: earrings that featured babies sitting on top of globes; mismatched earrings shaped like a camera (right ear) and a film canister (left ear); earrings shaped like piglets; glitter-covered earring replicas of Dorothy's ruby slippers. I wore these every day, even though most of them weighed about a pound, since they were, basically, small toys attached to wire.
And thinking about that just ... cheered me. I mean, I may hate my job and I may barely be able to afford rent, but at least I look presentable. That's something, right?
More on Trolls later, I have a lot more humiliation where the above paragraphs came from!