In Desperate Need of Lady Practice

I don’t often do a great deal to make myself desirable to men.

I fell out of the shower this morning.

Not like I slipped getting out of the bathtub kind of situation.

I don’t have a bathtub.

I’m still pretty resentful of that decision. To not get a traditional bathtub in my bathroom.

No. I opted for one of those stupid corner shower stalls that are impossible to maneuver around in.

And normally that’s not an issue.

I don’t do a lot of maneuvering in the shower.

But every now and then I feel like I should probably shave something.

A leg or two.

Maybe an armpit.

It’s not often, mind you.

But recently I’ve noticed a trend. In the types of photos being taken of me.

And not a cute one.

This one was taken by K-Rob during the Memorial Day Trail Murph. I was desperate to get back to my car for that sandwich.

This one was taken by Fall Risk after a particularly brutal PlayFITStayFIT Arm Day session. I was desperate to skip our run to get to those tacos.

This one was taken by Dennis during a staff meeting that I was tricked into attending instead of going for food after a full day of shoveling gravel at a house build. I was desperate for even that one little cupcake to keep from getting fired.

I don’t know.

I just…

Apparently I’ve reached the point where I only feed with my hands? Like, utensils are even beyond my level of propriety now?

Even the one POO pic Rogue took of me where I was trying to look cute- I had peed in my pants and snot all down the front of my shirt.

I mean, you only know that because I’m telling you. But still.

And I’ve developed this habit, as a runner with allergies, of wiping my nose on my shirt. Sometimes when you’re out running, you don’t have quick access to a tissue. I haven’t ever perfected the art of snot rockets and I don’t want to just let snot run down my face. I’m not dirty.

So I just use the front of my shirt.

Except when you do this often enough, it becomes a habit.

And maybe you forget that you’re not out running sometimes.

Maybe you’re at work. Wearing a semi-nice dress shirt. In the middle of a meeting…


Look. I know.

There’s a point where a single forty something chick has to start making an effort.

Because I’ve been binge re-watching Schitt’s Creek. And I find myself way more invested in David and Patrick’s fictional relationship than I’ve ever been in any of my real ones.

I’m not even exaggerating here.

I get all the feels from their relationship that I’ve never gotten in a for real relationship of my own.

Probably a tad unhealthy.

And last night I watched the Singles Week episode.

Which led me to notify Rogue and Fall Risk that we’re going to attend the Lisdoovarna Matchmaking Festival in County Claire, Ireland next year.

One or both of them may have agreed. Except I wasn’t asking. It was a directive.

And while that means we all have to stay single for at least the next year (which, I mean, I’ve met us. I think we’ll manage it), I think it also means that I need to start practicing like I might actually be a for real lady under all of the lack of grooming and sloppy dress.

If I’m gonna invest in a trip overseas, I need to make it worthwhile. Give myself a fighting chance.

So, anyway, I fell through the door of my shower out onto the bathroom floor this morning.

Because I lost my balance.

Because I was shaving my legs.

Because I decided to wear a skirt to work today.

Because trying to be a lady…

And I did.

Wear a skirt.

And I think may have looked kind of lady-like to the untrained eye.

Until my former boss stopped by my desk with a bag of Doritos.

Which I promptly dove into.

Nobody photographed that. Thankfully.

But I’ve still got some ick remnants happening and I was probably a little too excited about the Doritos and maybe shoved the first few down a little too earnestly and maybe started choking.

Like tears rolling down my face snot running out of my nose uncontrollable hack-coughing kind of choke.

It took me several minutes to get that under control.

Regain my composure.

Reset my ladiness.

And then dove back into the bag for more.

At which point, yes, I began choking. Again.

And had to go through the same process. Again.

Composure regained, a better lady would have walked away. Would have put down the bag and waited until she was in the privacy of her own home to try anymore.

I am not that lady.

Yep. I sure did. Went back for more.

And yes.

Yes I did choke.


But I finished the bag, so…

I’m gonna need so much lady practice before Lisdoovarna…

4 thoughts on “In Desperate Need of Lady Practice

  1. It sounds like dorito eating practice may be more essential than ladylike practice based on the frequency of dorito eating compared to the frequency of whatever situations inspire ladylike mannerisms for you.

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