Chapter One Hundred- Sixteen: Ma’am’s take on PSA’S…

Do you know those “helpful” PSA’S that are consistently thrown in our faces like we are truly morons? For example: “Don’t eat detergent pods”. “Do not try this at home” (example a man juggling fire swords, a person doing a handstand on a bike.) Or the ones where the person on tv is doing something completely IDIOTIC and they have in captioning underneath (Actor portrayal) because I assume the real person has died from partaking in the stupid function that the actor on tv is portraying.

What about the good old: “Just say NO!” kind of hard to do when the guy puts a roofie in your drink. Strangers on tv lecturing us on how to behave and stay safe. Well, I would like to see realistic PSA’S like: “Wear your knickers!” PSA! How hard can this be to figure out?! “Ladies PLEASE wear knickers under your yoga pants! No one and I mean no one! other than your significant other needs to be that familiar with your “Nether-regions” whilst I am sitting trying to enjoy my Keto-friendly Violet drink from Starbucks, as you are stretching, and your crotch is eye-level to my outdoor table. Other than your waxer, I do not need to know if you have a Brazilian wax or a seventy style fluff. I do not want nor need to see your camel -toe as I am trying to explain to you what kind of drink I have. Also, when it is sunny out you can see right through the knicker-less yoga pants front AND back!

A PSA for Gentlemen! “Contain your balls!” I am thrilled that when you hit middle age you decided to take up jogging and or cycling! BUT, please note! Those booty basketball shorts you once fit into, and are now screaming for mercy like a band or cummerbund, placed between your girth and crotch leaving one or both balls to hang out! Do you not feel one of your balls dangling out of the shorts as you peddle on your bike?! How about it slapping when you are attempting to jog? Where are your knickers?!!! Again, I do NOT need to be eye-level with your scrotum when you are asking about my drink!

Another I think useful PSA would be for dog owners “Please STOP talking about your dog! No one cares! ( note, I am a dog owner as well!) But I do not insist that EVERYONE walking by has to comment and pet Cujo! I don’t want to see Bingo rollover, lick and hump my leg. I do NOT care what kind of dog he is, or his sad tale of how you rescued him! I am sitting ALONE at this table TRYING to enjoy my drink, sans dog because I want to avoid these conversations! How dare I reveal I too have a dog and yet chose not to bring him out! Yes, I am a selfish person and do not feel like engaging with other dog people right now! My God! it is not as though he is tied up to the fire escape in one hundred degrees weather! He is home in an air-conditioned house ensconced on a VERY pricey sofa probably licking his balls without a care in the world!

An additional PSA I think would be extremely formidable right now is NOT being shamed if I forget my recyclable grocery bag!  # StopBagShaming .Trust me, Skippy the cashier at the grocery store already did ENOUGH shaming by bellowing out: “THAT WILL BE FIVE EXTRA CENTS BECAUSE YOU NEED A PLASTIC BAG!” (Can you shout any louder Skippy? I don’t think they heard you in Scandinavia! )I already have to do the walk of shame home with my plastic bag. The perilous journey is a mere two blocks from the grocery store! I am like Hester from The Scarlet Letter! I attempt to ignore the looks and tongue clucking, and muttered comments! A situation that could very easily turn into the infamous scene from The Lottery! How about A bag PSA? “Attention people, to err is human! We all at one time or another have needed to use a plastic bag! Don’t be a bag shamer and abuser! I mean I think plastic bag carriers get more abuse than an altar boy by a priest!

I realize, there are a lot of stupid people, they need to be told not to eat glass, have sex with farm animals, and not to use detergent pods as mints. I look at the Grand Cheeto telling his disciples to drink bleach and I get it…. How about a PSA for “Orange is the new Stupid?...

Chapter One Hundred-Fifteen: Ma’am and a three way with Jonas Salk…

Nowadays it seems like I need to wear one of those Forensic HazMat suits whilst cleaning my house. Upon entering teenage son’s room to clean, I am happy and reassured that my Tetanus vaccination is current. I feel like an archeologist in ruins. Sifting through artifacts with instead of a brush and pick my tool of choice is a Swiffer, garbage bag, and various cleansers.

Finished, I move on to my fridge where a multitude of science experiments are forming. It looks like I am growing penicillin in there with all of the various molds. I reckon Alexander Fleming would be proud of my mold accumulation. I could totally give him a run for his money!
I should Google to see if they are offering any paid case studies on findings in one’s home for the good of science. I surmise that lurking in my home has got to be a cure for something. Completing my task of cleaning and its discoveries makes me realize I need to contact the insurance company in regards to my yearly flu shot. This mission seems to be more intricate than navigating the Alp size dust mountains within my home.

A phone call with the insurance company turns into an all-day fiasco of a stew of nonsense! I am relegated into automated hell. FINALLY, after several hours I hear a human voice. Skippy the millennial rep, informs me that I need to call the pharmacy and then bring him in on a three way. I laugh wittingly and share with Skippy that I do not participate in Ménage Trois’! My humor is not appreciated! Confused Husband enters the room to ask what’s for dinner? (Keep in mind it is only late afternoon!) I reply I haven’t the faintest as I am trying to figure out how to have a three-way with the insurance guy and the pharmacist. He replies “My aren’t you upping your game!” Keep on with the jokes mister!
Walking by teenage son’s Zoom class and hearing “Who’s that old homeless person in the background?” Makes me realize I need new pajamas. I wasn’t aware that I was included in the Zoom classroom virtual teaching brought in as a show and tell object.

Skippy and the Pharmacist begin to banter back and forth. I imagine this is how Bridget felt when Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver fought over her! This is the closest I will ever come to a duel! I put it on speaker phone so Confused Husband can hear these two males fighting over me! He shakes his head and bellows:”You know the insurance rep gets paid to defend you! Actually, he is defending the insurance company because they don’t want to pay anything extra, and the Pharmacist isn’t fighting over you! He is insisting on a co-pay! They aren’t dueling over you! They are dueling over a co-pay!” (Leave it to him to rain on my parade! He cant even throw me a bone! I have just risked life and limb in order to clean our home and fridge and this is the thanks I get!)

My life is not for me to be dressed elegantly and sipping tea in the garden whilst two swash buckling men duel over me. My forte in life is to wear ratty pajamas, and look homeless to a bunch of teens while cleaning fungus in my home, have two men one a millennial probably in a flannel shirt and fedora arguing with a curmudgeon pharmacist over whether I am worthy or not for a flu shot. Meanwhile the man I had children with, who’s dirty underwear I wash, as well as tolerate his platypus type snoring cannot even indulge me in my fantasy of two men dueling over me! Sensing he may have hurt my feelings he announces:” If growing mold were an Olympic sport, then you would be taking home the gold! I bet Salk would like a three way with you!”

Yes, these are the pathetic crumbs he throws me…

Chapter One Hundred-Fourteen: Ma’am’s homage to Spanx…

The closest I have come to scuba diving is wearing a full unit Spanx. Which obviously is hidden under garments. I CANNOT imagine wearing only a Spanx and then jumping into the ocean. I would look like a sausage swimming around to some hungry shark. I would definitely become his next meal. My story would be on the eleven o’clock news with some catchy title like: ”Sausage of the sea…”

I remember when Spanx first came out. All of these emaciated actresses were saying it’s their secret weapon. I drank the Kool-Aid thinking I would look like Gwyneth if I crammed my middle aged body into these sausage encasement contraption. I couldn’t breathe! My circulation was cut off! I was in pain! Also, it only covered my torso. What about my fat arms flapping like a bird? I looked like the Michelin Man!

Another thing is, wrapped in my Spanx I sweat. I am already in the throes of hot flashes. Now because of Spanx my flashes have become more intense! Also, they squeak when I walk like a rubber suit. When I purchased my first Spanx I was super excited! Almost as if I had found the PERFECT dress.

I locked my bedroom door and began the what turned out to be hour long process of compressing into my Spanx. I imagine this is how Fat Elvis felt attempting to squeeze into his jumpsuit twenty years later, and seventy-five pounds heavier. It dawned on me that like Fat Elvis I needed a Colonel and the chosen one was my son who was five at the time to assist me in obtaining my Twiggy like shape. He had to “help” mommy in and out of them. It was a game. I would say over and over: “It takes a village!”

An hour or so after beginning this ridiculous feat I was truly exhausted and sweaty from this backbreaking endeavor. It really is a two person job! I felt like I was being crushed! I waddled over to the mirror and the sight before me was HORRENDOUS! I looked like a vat of jello crammed into a sausage encasement! Flesh color Spanx was NOT a good choice! I slipped my clothes over the flesh colored sausage cocoon. Staring back at me was a muffin top looking shape, or an ill wrapped dumpling. My back-fat and stomach had been pushed towards my chest. I now had Dolly Parton size boobs that were just weird! I looked disproportioned.

Because of my lack of circulation I walked like Herman Munster. If I held my arms straight out, I could do a great Mummy interpretation! Walking like a penguin into the kitchen to show Confused Husband my new shape. He stared at me and then said:”Is that your Halloween costume? Are you a sausage?”

One day at school, a fellow teacher said that “I looked nice”. My son overheard and said: ” It takes a village! If only you knew what was under her clothes!” I was GOBSMACKED as was the giver of the compliment!

Years later I still wear Spanx, but now I know how to wear them. I feel like Clark Kent and they are my “S”under my clothes, instead of standing for Superman they stand for Spanx. I may walk like Herman Munster and be unable to breathe, but like Fat Elvis I too feel confident in my jumpsuit….