Not Dressed Up and Everywhere to Go

I went to Trader Joe's yesterday without a list- bad idea. I was a wandering Jew(ess) and as usual felt like I was in La-La Land. I don't know if it's the smell of all those organic herbs and friendly staff in Hawaiian shirts, or the fact that every shopper in the joint appears to be a stoned hippie slowing meandering down the natural food aisles, but something about that place sends you into a foggy state.

Anyway, there was a display of six packs of Trader Joe's Winterfest Black Lager on sale for $4.99. That sounds like a pretty good deal, why not buy some? John and I aren't really in the habit of keeping beer in the house, drinking it, or anything but the occasional glass of wine.

I've tried to drink beer many times and find that no matter how hard I try to convince myself that "this time it'll taste different", I can't help but make a bitter-beer-face. Any and every beer tastes like sheeeyit as far as I'm concerned.

But recently, I had seen on The Modern Girl's Guide to Life (you know, on the Style network, duh.) that most women, even ones that don't care for beer, actually like a darker beer. I felt adventurous, especially because I wasn't confined to buying items on a list that I never bothered to write and sometimes it makes me buy crazy things..

So, after Jack refused to eat his dinner last night (this is an every night occurrence) and had many a temper tantrum, I realized that I still needed to give him a haircut before putting him in the tub and sending him to bed. I didn't have a choice because today was Picture Day! at the preschool. Um, Yeah.

Yadda, yadda, yadda. After all the craziness, I felt like crawling into a bottle, a bottle of Winterfest Black Lager for that matter. I cracked it open and John gave me a look like "So, this is how it is now? Why didn't you change into your wife-beater and change the oil?" I felt like a fraud. I'm not a beer drinker, this is lame. I'm getting a glass... Well, glass or bottle, it still tasted like horse pee. Make that rotten horse pee.

I couldn't stand the idea of wasting it, why waste a good glass of rotten horse pee? So I drank half, swallowing it down like contestant on Fear Factor does a cat litter turd, or rancid horse urine.

Today, got up, didn't have a chance to shower, I was too busy getting Jack polished for his picture. So I got to the preschool at 8:45 and hoped to just run in and drop him off without anyone noticing. But the teacher didn't open the classroom until 9. Normally everything is ready to go, this almost never happens, but the other teacher was absent.

So I hugged the wall, hoping no one could smell the beer stink that I was certain was permeating through my pores. I figured no one would recognize with my Buddy Holly glasses on, I usually have my lenses in. But nooooo. Everybody was a chatty Cathy. And some were close talkers.

I figured everyone thought I'd been out drinking all night, was hungover, and lost my will to live by coming to school unshowered with greasy hair, and geeky specs.

I started to wonder if maybe I don't look that different than when I'm clean and pretty. Maybe all the trouble I go through showering and doing my hair, putting on my face and popping in my eyes don't do diddly and it's all for my own satisfaction. Could it be?

I mean, there have been many an occasion that John has asked, "Ready to go?" And I'll look down at my pajamas, finger through my dirty hair, adjust my glasses and say, "Do I look ready?" He can't seem to tell the difference. It's like he wouldn't care if he was seen with me in public like that. But shute, I don't want to been seen with me in public.

Why do I even bother?