The Results May Vary

Observations from my Mixed Up World

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The New Glasses are NOT Helping Me

It turns out that Maya needs glasses.  I’m not upset or horrified or figure that kids will tease her.  Both her mom and I have some latent parental guilt over the fact that neither of us thought there was a problem.  It seems she as astigmatism.  Her eyeballs are more like footballs as opposed to basketballs and the things she sees without glasses are askew.

So anyhow, we picked them up tonight and she is wandering around getting used to them.  Here’s what she said…

“Daddy, the floor looks much bigger now.  It’s up to here.”  She raises her foot 3 inches off the ground.

“You know what Daddy, your belly looks much bigger now too.”

I’m so pleased we fixed her vision.

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The Insult

Today I was mortally insulted.  In fact, I contemplated punching a woman in the face.  It was outrageous.  I know that I’m no Adonis but really!  I hope she was on commission because she lost out big time.  To explain, we need to start at the beginning.

I was not in the best of moods when I got up this morning.  It’d been a late night and having Maya get up at 6:14am did not help me feel any better.  You must understand that she can’t just watch TV and let me sleep.  She needs to check in with me every 22 minutes which is about 3 minutes after I fall back asleep.  So when 8am finally rolled around, I was feeling pretty punchy.  So after my shower, I threw on jeans and a sweater.  Nothing fancy but not exactly pajama pants and a tank top either.

I was slightly out of sync with the rest of the family who all opted to dress to a stricter guideline.  I was the only one that was not wearing any black.  My wife looked very nice(oops, I just learned that “very nice” is code for ugly so I amend this to read “super hot”), Maya was pretty in a dress and tights and Milo… well Milo decided that today was fashion day.  I’ve got to give that boy credit.  He can pick out an outfit.  He had dark grey straight leg pants, a white turtle neck and a cardigan vest.  Top it all off with the Tommy Hilfiger scarf tied slickly around his neck and wow, the kid looked super.

It was a day out of shopping and as we wandered the mall, I noticed a number of people doing double takes at our little fashionista.  I wore my crooked half smile that said “yup, he for real and he’s mine.”  What can I say, I’m a proud dad.  But towards the end of the trip, in fact in the last store, came the slap of reality that wrecked my day.

My wife had spotted a great top in the window of a store that we passed on the way to lunch.  After Eastside Mario’s tormented us with the thought of food for 45 minutes before making eating a reality, we wandered back to the store to hunt up the top.  It was an upscale women’s store with lots of well groomed sales staff.  When Milo made his entry, there was an excited reaction.  Apparently they’d never seen a 9 year old boy that wasn’t wearing clothes that advertised flaming monster trucks.  Milo ate up the attention and paraded through the store like royalty.  That’s when the 50 something sales woman looked at me and said, “He sure takes after his mother.  He certainly didn’t get it from you.”  I was stunned.  She actually looked me over and told me that I looked like a hobo.  It took a lot not to haul off and drop her right there.

Surely someone that sells clothes can look at me and realize that there’s a real lack of stylin clothes for the short, squat man.  I mean, it’s only 24 inches from my crotch to the ground.  And it’s a lot more than 24 inches around my waist.  So unless I can find Danny DeVito’s tailor (God, that man can dress) I will never have a chance.  But does that mean I should be insulted to my face?  I hope not.

It hurt.  I can only hope that she had a Julia Roberts-Pretty Woman moment later that day.  Bitch.