Opinion – Page 19 – Rant and Roll

I have an issue to ‘a dress’

Remember ladies –

NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR WEDDING.

Seriously.

You can work hard at your job, your academics, your athletic endeavours; you can scale mountains, or travel all across the globe; you can learn foreign languages, form amazing friendships, hide out in the woods, or start a billion dollar company; you can cook brilliant meals, and read all the books, watch all the movies, or write all the plays.

But none of that matters.

Nor do any of these things even come close to the importance of finding a man who will eventually ask you to marry him.

Because if a man doesn’t ask you to spend the rest of your life with him, that means you will never be able to make YOUR MOST IMPORTANT FASHION PURCHASE OF YOUR LIFE.

Which, of course, is your WEDDING DRESS.

Not that amazing suit you scrimped and saved up for, in the lead up to your biggest and most important job interview.

Not that amazing pair of shoes you waited forever to go on sale and snatched them the moment you could afford them, because they make you feel like a superhero when you wear them.

Not that concert t-shirt you bought in grade nine and then proceeded to wear every day for a year, because that event, up until that point, was the most seminal music experience of your life.

Not the dress you bought for your grandfather’s funeral, or the pair of runners you bought for your first big road race, or those yoga pants that make you feel invincible, or those sunglasses that make you look like an international spy.

Not that amazing sports bra that you adamantly wash by hand because you fear it wearing out, or that ten dollar sundress you wore all last summer because you will never find anything so cute and comfortable for the rest of your days.

None of these things matter.

What a second –

*looks around*

IS THIS 2013 OR WHAT?

How are we still dealing with this crazy bullshit?

A woman’s wedding dress is not the most important fashion purchase of her life.

Not unless a masked killer is actually holding a gun to her head yelling “IMMA MURDER YOU UNLESS YOU PURCHASE A WEDDING DRESS!!!!”

Then, I am willing to agree that it was a pretty important buy.

But only then!

And this is coming from a married woman. Who loved both her dress, and her wedding.

Not to mention that I LOVE love. Like, a lot.

And I am all for people coming together to support, celebrate, and embrace this part of life.

But this whole conceit, this long-standing mythology that a wedding is somehow day NUMERO UNO for all the LAIDEEZ makes me want to rip all the hair from my head.

What kind of message do you think this is sending to little girls? And little boys?

Could you imagine a piece on a man’s “most important fashion purchase”?

The idea is so far-fetched I am having a hard time even imaging what it could possibly be.

But goodness knows, it sure is easy to promote the age old trope of the overarching, MEGA HUGE importance of a wedding dress. I mean, if it wasn’t, why the heck would we still be publishing utter crap, like the above photographed article?

Which is basically can be summed up in the following equation: WOMAN+WEDDING = LIFE GOAL – ACHIEVED!

Urg.

Of course, this is not me saying that women should not love their wedding dresses.

Oh no.

I’m just saying that it’s imperative for us to remember that: ALL WOMEN = so much more than an “I DO.”

Ya know what I mean?

Or should I be saying –

Do you?

The more you know

*First things first – the show on Friday was amazing, and I couldn’t be happier with how it went. The headliner was brilliant and very complimentary after I performed, encouraging me to continue comedy and he let me know he was impressed that I had only been doing stand-up for a short time. I was also invited to perform at a local venue by another performer, which is rad.

Right after the show, M and I drove to our friends’ house as we had to dog sit for them all weekend, and only now have arrived home after a bonkers weekend of animals and activity.

So in lieu of anything even remotely sane, I present to you dear readers:

TWENTY QUESTIONS.

Did you know that a Boston terrier can snore louder than a steam powered locomotive?

Did you know that three nights of little to no sleep due to said snoring can leave a person positively knackered?

Did you know that sometimes a run in the pea-soup mist can do wonders to revive your spirits?

Did you know that doing the exact same run two days later can tire you like no other, which is strange, so you imagine that the second day’s mist was the residual spittle from a dementor’s kiss?

Did you know that stand-up comedy is pretty much crack, only healthier for you?

Did you know that all I want to do is continue to make people laugh for the rest of my life?

Did you know that mint-green dresses are in?

Did you know that I’ve just been told that it’s just “mint-green” that’s in?

Did you know that I purchased a mint-green dress, but because of it’s dodgy length I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wear it sans-tights?

Did you know that the best yogurt is lemon yogurt?

Did you know that after two days away from my cat I can never figure out who is more excited to see whom?

Did you know that if I had to eat only one kind of food for the rest of my life it would be south-Asian hands down, no contest?

Did you know that my amazing husband bought be a new laptop for my birthday because my current computer sounds like there is a hot tub bubbling away inside its processor?

Did you know that he also bought me The One Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and I will be reading nothing else this week?

Did you know that I’m also reading the Lost City of Z WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY CRAZY?

Did you know that Victorian adventurers were probably the nuttiest (and sometimes most appallingly racist) people of all time?

Did you know that sometimes I drink chocolate milk by the litre?

Did you know that there is a tumblr called Les Mean Girls, which is a mash up for Mean Girls and Les Mis? And that it is amazing?

Did you know that I adore you all and that as I fall asleep as I type this I want to know random, crazy things about your life and loves?

Did you know – zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

It’s all the little things

Hey you jazzy cats.

Let’s just say that I’d like to imagine that you all look like this:

Because goodness knows that would make me so, so happy.

Anywho, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?

Sometimes there are moments of such infinitesimal happiness in my life that I feel as though my heart might just shatter.

Take for instance, last Saturday morning. I had gone to bed incredibly late the night before (actually, come to think of it, it was more like very early the day of) and woke up at noon to this kind of magic:

And it’s at moments like this that I absolutely relish being a grown-up gal, and all the shiny splendours that my little life has to offer.

Now, on the other hand, there are also times when I feel as though being an adult is total rubbish, and all I want to do is tie my bed sheets into one crazy long bed sheet-rope, fling my belongings out of the window, and then Robin Hood my way to adventure and freedom.

No one likes to pay Visa bills, or get up at the crack of dawn every day, or have a conniption fit every time the price of apples/cheese/detergent/moisturizer/paper towels/gas seemingly doubles overnight.

Seriously though, how are all of these things so expensive!?

Mortgages aren’t exactly a barrel of laughs, and neither are budgets and financial planners.

But despite all that, very often I am overcome with so much joy about my life – and all the amazing things that come with it – that I am basically struck mute (and sometimes motionless.)

Now, to be fair, there are times when this reaction may or may not have something to do with the delicious knowledge that should I want to, it is totally within my power to spend ten dollars on gourmet jellybeans at Save on Foods.

SCREW YOU CHARMIN! I’LL CLEAN MY BATHROOM WITH CANDY IF WANT TO!

But – not always.

Sometimes they are but a work of a moment; a short interaction with a stranger, or watching the sunset as I walk home from work.

At the moment there are three things poking about the recesses of my mind, each one responsible for giddiness and glee.

They are:

1.) Races and places. I recently signed up to run the BMO April Fools Half-Marathon and I am SO EXCITED. First race of the season and I’m already jittery like jittery thing. The race is on the Sunshine Coast which means a beautiful course, and hopefully a mini-vacation for Mr. M and I.

2.) Milkshakes and crosswords. A late-night snack. (Full disclosure: I only ate the milkshake.) But it was awesome. And not totally unhealthy because, well, CALCIUM right?

3.) All the love. That I get to spend the rest of my life adventuring around the world with this mad hatter:

(The fact that he gifts me pain au chocolat and coffee on Saturday mornings just adds to my delight.)

And I don’t know about you folks, but all of this brilliance makes my mundane grown-up “musts” shine just a little bit brighter.

And as a honourary hummingbird, goodness knows I do love my shine.

So happy Wednesday to you all!

I hope you’re all celebrating may and multiple fab things, wherever you are.

A very hairy situation

Let’s talk about body hair, shall we?

So.

As a white, western woman, I feel as though it is socially (culturally?) expected of me that I remove most of my visible body hair, save for that atop my head.

I don’t know if it’s my newly minted old age* or what, but I just really haven’t had the time for these expectations of late.

*SARCASM PEOPLE, OKAY?

But seriously. I mean, I really, really hate shaving my legs. Almost as much as I hate shaving my armpits. I hate shaving my armpits THE MOST. Especially in the winter. I’ll go for months without taking a razor to my limbs because of my rampant MEH syndrome.*

*Also sarcasm, but sometimes it does feel this way.

I’m also completely lax about plucking my eyebrows, and I’m starting to believe that the only time I really get around to using my tweezers is when it becomes apparent that I’m only using my eyebrow pencil to differentiate my actual eyebrows from the ever-thickening unibrow taking over the width of my face.

And I don’t know how to feel about this.

On one hand, I don’t want to have to worry about carting around a fainting couch for all those I inadvertently scandalize should they catch a glimpse of my underarm hair, but then on the other hand, I do worry, because my initial reaction to seeing my own armpit hair is pretty darn unfavourable.

(Luckily though, I have yet to employ the use of the couch.)

But overall, this reaction of mine does bum me out.

The fact that I’ve internalized prescriptions of what’s acceptable and what is not when it comes to the completely natural growth of hair on MY OWN BODY makes me glum.

And it is this glumness, combined with my before mentioned apathy, that makes me feel as though I am catapulted back and forth between NOT CARING and CARING about my body hair.

(I should look into whether or not that correlates with not summer, and not summer.)

Either way, right now, I have engaged NOT CARING mode.

Plus, at the base of it all, I am one of those people that just doesn’t care for sticking around any longer in the bathroom than I absolutely must.

I don’t want to faff around getting ready for LIFE, because LIFE is already completely bonkers and as such, I have enough things to do already.

And also, excuse my horn blowing, but I kind of think that I’m pretty darn snazzy looking as is, and I’m of the mind that whether or not I remove my leg hair everyday – during the eighteen years of winter I am currently living through no less – isn’t going to put a significant dent into my hotness quotient.

At least not in my eyes.

I mean, isn’t that what it’s all about anyways?

If you think you look good, who cares either way?

Unless you’re telling me that my leg hair is slowing down my running.

Then we might need to talk.