I hope I can write this blog mashing the keyboard like a leper. My left hand is a stub – wrapped in a wet towel and I SWEAR there is STEAM coming off it.
How did this happen, you ask?
Well, we entertained last night. We threw a soirée. You know how much I love to give of myself. I slaved all day to make sure the maid got the house clean enough and the caterer got the food right. Honestly. I barely had time for my yoga. Or my manicure. Or my hair appointment.
So, this morning I got up and thought – I deserve some ME time.
I ran a hot bath. Then turned on the TV on the wall at the foot of the tub and put in an episode of Pretty Little Liars.
It was lovely, I have to admit. However, all good things come to an end, and I had to get out in the end. So I reached over casually to get my towel, which had slipped from its rung. Rather than find a warm fluffy towel I found metal – hot metal. I scalded my hand on the heated towel rack.
What a way to end my gift to me!
Of course I should be used to the fact that good things don’t last, for me. But I can’t help but wonder in what way I have offended god.
I feel like Job.
Well, honest to goodness, 2013 had better be good to me because the start of it was very frustrating.
I firmly believe that it is important to start a new year right. I know there are people who greet a new year the same way they left the old one but, is that constructive? Can you imagine the karmic repercussions?
So NATURALLY I had to be very careful about how I prepared for my New Year soirée. I flipped through my closet but decided that I couldn’t possibly turn over a new leaf in an old dress. One would THINK that 48 hours is ample time to find a fitting dress. I suppose that may be the case for everyone but me. Always everyone but me. **SIGH**
What a shopping nightmare.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a size 2 dress?
I’m sorry that I am small, I’m sorry that I don’t like ice cream, I’m sorry that my carb cravings are benign, I’m sorry that my metabolism is active, but I don’t think that the systematic discrimination against petite women is right. How can a store possibly justify only having ordered in size 6-12 dresses? Just because those of us outside those ‘externally imposed size boundaries’ are a minority doesn’t justify this fashion discrimination!
I get angry all over again just thinking about it.
The 11th hour is my finest hour however, and Holt Refrew and Donna Karan saved the day.
In 2013 I pray that the hurdles and barriers I experience due to my petiteness become less onerous, and as my New Year’s resolution I pledge that I will hold fast and work tirelessly for myself and other petite women everywhere.