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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Don't Call Me Hillary

My heart goes out to a good friend who recently lost her father. It's a big loss. You never get over it. No matter how old you get, how wise the years make you, the world becomes a colder place when dad's not around.

It's been over three years now since my father died. For one thing, I should stop wearing his clothes. Contrary to what others might think, it's not for sentimental reasons. No, aside from that fact that I may look a little cuckoo-in-a-forgiving-way - it's because his jacket is Burberry's. Considering the rest of my wardrobe looks like it's been washed with a grenade, it's a classy touch.


Yes, if he could see me now, he'd cringe. It's hard to believe that of all the people I kept up to impress, his opinion was the one that mattered most. As of late, I've been avoiding paying my respects at his shrine lest I see his portrait slap his forehead and give one of those groans usually reserved for baseball errors.

I'd offer an incense and say, sorry dad. I look a mess but I think gnomes secretly replaced my stuff with items from a mall in the Twilight Zone.

The truth is, without my dad, I kind of stopped caring about looking like an old lady and as a result...I look like a haggard old lady. And, yes - those are my old maternity tank tops underneath my t-shirts. They're really comfortable but I know, the holes are pathetic.

I remember how sad my dad's eyes looked as he recollected of images his own mother. What he must've seen her sacrifice to take care of him and his six hungry siblings. He did everything in his power to make sure his daughters never suffered the same humbling path. But what did we know.

He might even recruit my former gay co-workers to talk sense into me. They'd say, "Don't fall into the full-time-mom conspiracy: too consumed to groom."

Consumed with cooking, cleaning, dropping off and picking up that I've neglected my eyebrows that need tweezing; my teeth that need flossing and my clothes...honey, you look like an unmade bed.

I know, I'm not the only one. It's not laziness, it's priorities - you're huddled in your mountain of laundry, tonguing that fuzz growing on your lip. I feel your pain. Come on, girl - drop those skivvies and go make that waxing appointment before they start calling you Hillary.

7 comments:

  1. My twin and I did not grow up with a dad, my biological father and our Ma, they did not workout. So I am always, a teeny bit wistful about father-daughter relationship most especially a close one. Reading the part about your Dad brought a lump so hard to swallow. You are so blessed to have a dad who so loved you and whom you loved so much too. Thanks for sharing! You should definitely make something about your wardrobe. :) Come on girl, move! :) One more thing, I so love this "It's not laziness, it's priorities"

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  2. My father is the same way. Thanks for sharing this with all of us out here in blogger land. And thanks for stalking me and my blog!

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  3. My Dad us the complete opposite. The worse I look, the better. Of course, he couldn't care less about his appearance either. It made for many embarrassing events when I was teenager.

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  4. @grapesandoranges: It always breaks my heart to know of daughters who were denied that special relationship with their dad - even when it's not the best, he's still your dad. At least your daughters have a different experience.

    @Diplo_Daddy: It's always a pleasure stalking your blog - are you kidding?

    @Twinisms: So you and your dad try to outdo each other dressing down - that's cool.

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  5. Oh man....I don't even have kids and I totally have caterpillar eyebrows and a hairy upper lip....time to do something about it!

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  6. Yep, I was just starting to floss my teeth and tweeze my eyebrows regularly again, and then I had to go and birth another kid. And my maternity tanks are wardrobe staples.

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  7. @Real Life Reslers: To be honest, the main reason I had kids is so people would understand why armpits needed brushing.

    @Michelle: THANK YOU! I knew I wasn't alone in the tank top thing.

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