Human Again

You know that song in Beauty and the Beast that isn't supposed to be there? This is nothing like that.

This is me, human again:


I got my nails done. Sometimes that's all it takes to make me feel human again. It's such a wonderful feeling to have pretty nails. It amazes me how much more beautiful I feel when I have pretty hands. You see, I'm a beauty consultant, and when I show someone a product, I don't like worrying if they're looking at my scraggly nails. I can even feel beautiful while stuffing my face with supreme pizza and drinking Black Cherry Vanilla Coke (which I am doing right now). And no, the coke is NOT diet.

*gasp*

Fake sugar and I just don't get along. It's like decaf coffee or Fazoli's without breadsticks.

Anyway, I start my Environmental Science class on Tuesday. Yay, one more class until I get my Associates!!! Of course, I've been in college since 1999, but... when you're a music major you spend your whole time doing music classes. When I stopped going full-time because I had a child, I had a total of 3 core classes under my belt. That's right, even my daughter can count them on less than one hand. I've been one-trucking it for the past, oh, I don't know... three years? Four? I lost count about six semesters ago. But next semester this rooster is flying the college coop! Yay!!!

So I got my nails done in the mall. Malls are interesting places. For one, you can always observe the "trends" that are running around. Yes, I remember being a teeny-bopper and getting all dressed up to go scour the mall for my next boyfriend. Apparently things have not changed. Except the clothing, of course. It's bad when you pass a clothing store and see the butt crack of the mannequin hanging out of the jeans. It's like they're trying to save money on fabric and decided to take it from the top. And this same store had two different windows: one with clothing that with a little work could fit a Barbie doll, and one with modest clothing. And by modest all I mean is that at least some parts of the teeny-bopper's body would be left to the imagination. Isn't that disgraceful, the way "modest" has become synonymous with "not naked"?

I just know my husband is going to post something about the clothing that I used to wear. Looking back, I guess it wasn't much better.

I saw skinny boys with their jeans hanging down to their knees, shirts that would fit a pro linebacker with room to spare, and hats perched precariously on top of afros. I KID YOU NOT. Afros. Wow. I was rendered speechless. I hope they don't think I was appreciating them when I was staring, jaw hanging, and trying not to laugh.

It makes me laugh when I see the teenagers strutting around too. Mostly because I remember doing it. I was hot. I drove myself to the mall. Look at me now! Yeah, baby!

I find it mildly amusing that I'm such an old fart.