I wore a skirt to work with fishnet stockings yesterday and every time I got up it felt like my butt was showing. It’s like that moment when you leave the ladies room and you feel a woosh of wind on your butt because you tucked your skirt into your tights by accident. Maybe it was the air whipping through the netting or maybe the skirt was too short but it was awkward the entire day because I kept reaching around and touching my own ass to see if it was covered because the last thing anyone needs to see as their last image on their way out of 2011 is my year of eating dangerously ass. Maybe it was a sign from above telling me I’m too old to be wearing the outfit I chose but I can’t help myself if I don’t feel my age. I clearly don’t act my age as referenced yesterday when I told a new Facebook friend he may not want to read my blog for fear he’d learn things about me that may make him feel awkward at work when he has to face me every day. It can be uncomfortable when you know that they know you asked Santa for a new vagina or that you once ate food out of your garbage can or that you’ve peed in your sleep or any of the other too much information moronic like things I’ve revealed when I vomited words into my screen. It is because of these thoughts that I warned this new friend to read at his own risk. He said – “Why because you’re worried you’ll be knocked off that classy pedestal I put you on.” Now if I weren’t a grown woman I would have burst into tears at that and while he claims he didn’t mean it the way I took it – it was a knife to the heart and it really made me think because this is something I’ve been told my entire life by people who don’t fully know me. If you are a potty mouth tell it like it is woman – you are not considered classy or charming or any of the other things any woman – even a woman like me – loves to be. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve been asked what charm school I went to followed by a giant guffaw. People love to tell me that I’m hard on the outside but they know I’m a giant softie on the inside thirteen seconds after they’ve met me. Actually if you get to know me you’ll see I’m a softie on the outside as well. Telling the truth, having no filter, and or cursing – does not remove my charming button. Peeing in the street does. And I haven’t done that since college. I may want to wait fifteen minutes before I drop an F bomb or talk about nipple hair on people in 2012 and while it’s impossible to change the way I enter a life – I’d like to enter in a less car wreck kind of a way. I’m just one of those people you really need to know before you know… ya know? Maybe I’ve been given this personality to prove to me that I myself judge people way too quickly. If that’s the case – gotcha, I hear ya, I’m in, check the done column, I’m going to press pause on what I really think about your personality for at least 20 minutes – fifteen tops – actually better say ten I’m kind of impatient.
I had dinner with my friend Chris last night who asked me what I was doing for New Years Eve and I said “sitting on the couch watching War Horse on dvd” and he said “I hear it’s slow, sad and epic” which is weird because that’s exactly what my year has been minus the horse and Steven Spielberg. I’m still waiting for him to show up at my house and buy something I’ve written – Speilberg not the horse. The horse is busy over at “Two Broke Girls.” I won’t be making any real New Years resolutions but I will be thinking about who I am and where I want to go next and yes – how others perceive me. An acquaintance of mine has a website that tells women what men really think and while I spend an hour a day staring at his website and thinking about how many ways I can say fuck you who gives a fuck what men think of me and stop telling women whats wrong with them douche knuckle – I guess I do care how I’m perceived – so I’ll be signing up for Charm School first thing Monday morning.