Archive for November, 2006

Yay for adulthood!

Picture this:

You are sitting at a table in a steakhouse buffet restaurant (think sizzler but locally owned). You are eating, chatting with your mate and your kid. You watch a person get up and go to the ice cream bar. You watch them come back, cone in hand, make polite eye contact, resume meal.

Then in a short bit you see the same person get up and go to the ice cream bar again. And return with another ice cream cone. You might smile inwardly a bit but otherwise just keep enjoying the meal.

Then, you see the same person go to the ice cream bar again. And come back with two cones.

Go back a bit. You had been at the buffet to get food and your kid (six year old kid) wants ice cream. He is trying to work the softserve machine (which if you were supervising him, he wouldn’t be doing anyway but don’t get me started on unsupervised children and restaurants) so this strange person helps him and asks him which kind he was trying to get and serves him his ice cream. Then you come over to get him ice cream just as a complete stranger is handing him a cone (which wouldn’t happen if you had been supervising your kid, right?).

Confusing? Slightly. Now go back to watching said person’s repeated trips back to the ice cream bar.

The ice cream fettishist is, indeed, my beloved weirdo. Yes, the family stared and probably told their friends about this person who not only fed their kid ice cream but also came went back for ice cream cones four times (one of them was mine but I’m not claiming it!).

What does my beloved weirdo say? “It’s good to be an adult!”

Yeah, it shows!

May your wisdom be multiplied by the number of ice cream cones you consume at an ice cream bar and the sprinkles smile upon you with sweet serenity.

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Another bubble burst

I remember when I discovered Santa Claus wasn’t real.

I wrote a super diplomatic letter saying that I’d heard from kids in school that he wasn’t real, and I wasn’t saying he didn’t don’t get me wrong, I’ve been super good and I really want those strawberry shortcake dolls but… well, could he just kindof tell me if it was true and I even used the words “no offense.” Not bad eh! Then along with my prezzies I got a note from Santa Mom and Santa Dad. Cool. I got presents. I was now a bit more worldly. I was a big kid.

Yesterday I realized I’ve hit another one of those coming of age milestones. I discovered as I wandered through the make up aisles of El Amal drugstore that I don’t believe in make up anymore.

It used to be if I was feeling shitty, which I certainly was yesterday, I could just go shop, even if it was Rite Aid at midnight and my check was going to bounce. And I would get some makeup and play dress up and it would all feel much better. What lipstick couldn’t cure, chocolate would appease.

But no such luck. Makeup is fun, but my lashes will never look that long, my lips just aren’t that plump, staying up all night writing results in bags under my eyes that won’t go away with green tinged concealer, my foundation will not stay all day through tropical weather and 12 hours on campus. The longer nail polish claims to stay, the quicker it seems to chip. Eye shadow is simply NOT moisturizing. Unless I pay 30 dollars, foundation doesn’t match my brown skin. Creams feel yummy but I don’t see the instant repair.

This may seem like common sense but nonetheless there was always a part of me that had this hope that the perfect product was out there. Nope. It isn’t. And frankly, if it is, I am unable or unwilling to pay for it when a regular lipstick is $12.00!

It may be common sense but it is also a tiny bit sad. Another fairy tale squished.

I don’t believe in sugar free candy which does not have a “mild laxative effect” which gives me stomach cramps.

I don’t believe in a swimsuit that elongates my torso, slims my hips, minimizes any “unsightly” bulges and gives me luxurious cleveage. I don’t care what the magazines say.

I don’t believe in pantyhose that won’t run.

I don’t believe in anti-frizz products unless I’m going for a greased up look (in which case, coconut oil is great for hair and cheaper).

I don’t believe in the latest tummy tucking panties they are selling that come complete with a “lubricating gel” to put them on. If I need lubricating gel for something it better be something reaaaaaaallly pleasurable and not something that makes my ribs brush against my kidneys. And alternately, if I am interested in that look, corsetting is much sexier and no less uncomfortable.

I don’t believe in putting up Christmas decorations before November has even had a chance to settle in. I don’t believe in Christmas charols before thanksgiving!!!

Does this mean I’m an adult? I should ask the Easter bunny.

Waiting room

I was at the endocrinologist today for a follow-up visit and as I sat there waiting for (literally) 3.5 hours I was pondering waiting rooms.

For my non PRican readers, the Puerto Rican doctor’s waiting room is an experience that would be foreign and probably terrifying to many of you. We don’t sit quietly with our Oprah’s book club books and keep our dirty diseases to ourselves. Nope.

When you go into a medical appointment here, for starters you should plan to wait. The system here is that patients are seen in the order in which they arrive. There are no appointments which is good financially for doctors who don’t have to deal with lost revenue from reserving a time slot for a person who doesn’t show up. If you are the patient and you have a life, it blows.

So, plan on waiting 3 or 4 hours, at the least.

While you wait, you should not intend to sit quietly to yourself. First there’s the people who come in selling raffle/lottery tickets or other crap.

Then there’s the waiting room conversation. The “what you got?” Conversation.

As a child I spent a lot of time in waiting rooms and was mortified by these. Now I feel more of a morbid fascination with the conversations around me.

People were comparing blood sugar levels and then having this great conversation about the stuff you should and shouldn’t eat where no one agreed and I thought a fight was about to break out. These are all strangers who happened to meet in a waiting room but suddenly everyone is sharing their medical and life histories with each other.

Today I got to listen to women who were talking about lighting candles for their deceased husbands today –day of the dead– in order to avoid being haunted by them. I listened to a woman who is adamant in her refusal to remove skins from chicken. A man who was discovered by his wife out in the garden eating a papaya from the tree when he’s not supposed to have fruit. A woman whose daughter miscarried. Another woman who is covered in bruises from her insulin shots. A man who is terrified of needles. A discussion on the value of several television commercials. A discussion on microwave cooking methods and recipes. All kinds of talk about various medications. Media hype and the year 2000. The sales tax.

I was there where Juana public hangs out. It was amazing.
I felt like I should be taking notes and passing around consent forms.

My bloodwork was excellent so I get to go another 5-6 months without hanging in the waiting room.