hi - i'm valerie, and i'm cranky.
not just a little cranky, but full-blown nuclear piss-a-rama cranky.
and i'm loving it.
usually, i really try to put on a brave face. no one likes to be around Miss CrankyPants, or Mr. Midol, either for that matter, and so, i really try hard to be pleasant.
not today, kids. not at all.
what got me started? hormones, mostly. work is getting weirder and there's not enough Twix bars, wine, ice cream and brownies in the universe to make things better.
then i catch sight of my butt in the mirror and realize that Weight Watchers & i have got to get reacquainted.
so i tried hard to not talk to anyone today. keep my head down, work, work, work. if i can't see you, you can't see me.
hey - it worked when i was a kid.
so on my way to lunch, i ended up talking to someone.
and she complimented me on my hair color.
horror of horrors!!
OK, i'm not totally psychotic. i appreciate a complement. heck, i even appreciate two compliments. three or more, and well, i'm in Nirvana and am unable to form coherent
which isn't different than any other day.
back to my story.
after i was complimented on my hair color, i mentioned that the Husband said (just the other day, as a matter of fact) he preferred me as a redhead.
i have no issues with it, i liked being a redhead! but i saw a photo of myself (also being about 15 pounds heavier, you can totally see it in my face) with the red hair and dang if that just isn't a good color for me.
so the woman i was talking to, who might have been a touch hormonal herself, says, 'oh, you know men! they cannot stand having other people notice that their women look good. they want you to look good for them, just not for anyone else.'
suddenly, i was transported back to junior high, when Crazy Auntie Kay told me to only go to male hairdressers. female ones apparently don't want other women to look good, but men are OK with helping us to look goooood.
and no, i'm not sure how that logic works if the hairdresser, um...bats for the other team.
so my crank-o-meter went off the charts. come on, what's next? all women are bad at math?
that we are better/worse drivers than men?
next thing you know, we'll need to be barefoot and pregnant 24/7/365.
like i said, i'm a bit testy.
and i'm thinking that idea i once had to be a hermit, living in the mountains (or what passes for mountains 'round here) and yelling for all the damn kids to git off mah lawn.
except that if i'm a hermit, there won't be any kids on my lawn.
dammit. now i'm cranky. again.