One Missing Dad & One Found Mean Magnifier

Wake-Up: For whatever reason, dragging my tired bum out of bed was especially difficult.

After washing my face, I quickly brushed on some bare minerals and spied a brand new mascara sample I had yet to try.  Retrieving the little box from the bottom of my makeup bag, I saw that it promised extraordinary volume.  

“Okay, prove it.”  I opened the tube and…huh, the little wand thingy is quite springy and has what appears to be two longer bristles on the tip.  *shrugs shoulders and begins applying* “Ow! Son of a…”  Those oddly long bristles stabbed me in the eyeball, sending my eye into spaz-mode, while mascara went everywhere.  Out comes the eye-makeup remover and cotton ball.  

Must reapply makeup all around the eye area.  Pain in the butt.

Ah. Well.  They should have added a small disclaimer: Extraordinary volume that will clump and look like spider legs.  Add an extra ten minutes trying to de-clump, separate, and remove said unimpressive mascara to an unusually tedious makeup day. 

Lunch:  On the agenda—shopping with Dad for Mom’s birthday.  Shopping with my dad is always the same: I shop, he wanders.

Barnes & Noble: Like always, Dad wanders, I shop.  I quickly picked up the items on mom’s birthday wish list and made to find Dad. Um, Dad? Where are you? I looked in all of his favorite haunts: history, travel, DVD… He was nowhere to be found.  Great. I lost my dad.  This isn’t the first time. I knew the only thing I could do was to go through the entire store.  Slightly rattled when one full sweep turned up no dad, I made an aggressive right turn into hardback hell, otherwise known as the Mean Magnifier. 

Mean Magnifier: “Well, look at you! Suffering no-baby blues, sweetheart? Or…did you find someone and have a little bun in the oven already?” she said, looking at my left hand.  “No ring, though. Have we decided to join the masses?”

What the hell is she talking about? Oh, crap. Parenting books and stuff. 

Me: “Oh, no, no, just heading to…” think of somewhere, anywhere “…to the section on…” OMG say something! “…to the children’s book section.” Really? That’s the best you could do, you absolute idiot?!  Couldn’t say travel or cooking, could you? Look at her, smiling like I just handed her a platinum stick to shove up my a**. 

Mean Magnifier: “Aww, that’s cute.  Your clock must be ticking.”  She started making a tick-tick sound with her plastic nails on a book she was holding. 

Me: “Oh, no, no.  No ticking.” Apart from the ticking time bomb that is my patience. 

Mean Magnifier: “No, you’re right, it’s probably ringing!”  Her laugh is the kind that makes you want to body slam her into the sharpest book corners. 

Me, more worried about finding Dad: “None of that actually.  Well, it’s good to see you—”  Oh, please don’t touch me.

Mean Magnifier: “All kidding aside, are you seeing anyone?”

Ugh, Me: “No, I’m not.” I’m beginning to loathe the word ‘no.’

Mean Magnifier: “Well...someday, right?”  And there we go: the head shake, faux-forlorn look, and fake lip bite that’s really masking her crap-eating grin.

Me: “I should really get going—”

Mean Magnifier: “To the children’s section, right?  I may join you.  I need to get the kids some more books to read.”

Me: “Well, I’m actually running really short on time.”

Mean Magnifier: “Okay, honey, you take care.”

Me: “You too.” 

Mean Magnifier: “Oh, and when you have more time, self-help is over there.  Bye, hun!”

Nice.  Really nice.  For the record, I’ve NEVER purchased a self-help book.  Never.  I have received them as “gifts,” however.  Never read ‘em, either. 

The next instant, I spotted Dad sauntering towards the front of the store.  When I caught up with him and his big old grin, I asked him where he’s been. 

Dad, grinning from ear to ear:  “I was in the store…bathroom.”

Terrific. 

Mean Magnifier Returns

The Mean Magnifier's resurgence is the primary reason for my last post, featuring my new very favorite song, King of Anything. If you haven't read about The Mean Magnifier, please check her out here--warning: you might want to slap her: The Mean Magnifier

You know that feeling--when you're actually having a good day...sun is shining, air is fresh, you're sporting a new outfit and matching handbag--things are good...you feel oh-so-spiffy. Does that feeling ever last? Nah, not when Mean Magnifier is on the prowl.

"Hun! Hun! So good to see you--it's been too long," screeches Mean Magnifier, wrapping her way-too-long nails around my shoulders.  "How have you been? You look precious--look at you! Like a little baby!"

Peachy. "Doing really well. How are you?" Like I need to ask.

"Oh, everything is perfect, as always. My kids love school and my hubby makes me breakfast in bed every weekend. I guess he figures I'm worn out, if you know what I mean...well, I guess you don't really know what I mean.  But, I'm sure you will one day...maybe."

I swear, she's the exorcist kid.

"Now, I heard about (the one that wasn't).  That must have been a shock for you, poor thing. You were really counting on him, weren't you? Now he's left you out in the cold...and for an older woman of all things," she says, laughing.

Any minute her head is going to start spinning.

"I had actually moved on from him quite a while ago."

"Of course you did," she said, much like Rita Skeeter when she interviewed Harry in Goblet of Fire. "Well, I have the perfect man for you. He's handsome, successful, everything you would want. I even told him about you, and he was very interested.  Are you interested?"

Maybe her head won't spin after all.  "Well, sure, why not?"

"Wonderful! I knew you would be...oh...wait...one little problem...he's not thrilled you are a virgin."

"You told him?"

"Well, hun, you would've had to tell him eventually of your chosen situation," she said, condescendingly.

Any second her head will be zippin' around that bony little neck of hers.

"Yes, I suppose that's true, but it is my thing to tell."

Waving her hands she continues, "Anyway, it really took the wind out of his sails, if you know what I mean. He just wasn't into it."

"Hmm, that's interesting, really," I said.

"Why is that, hun?"

"Because most men get seriously turned on by it."

And that, my friends, is how you put Mean Magnifier in her place without her really realizing it. I made my escape, leaving her completely gobsmacked. It's not my normal practice to toss out a zinger of that magnitude, but she had just taken things too far--and it's not the first time.

"Let me hold your crown..."

The Mean Magnifier

Being single has its perks, but it also has some pretty illuminating drawbacks. I say illuminating for one simple reason: said drawbacks quite literally force you to look at your choices through a magnifier...and the result isn't always very pretty. It's kind-of like looking at your pores through a magnifying mirror: somewhat interesting, always horrifying.

Most days, the mean magnifier is an older, self-important, know-it-all woman, who is in a relationship or married.

“So, are you seeing anyone special?” asked Mean Magnifier in an unusually high-pitched voice.

“No, still just me,” I said airily.

Ugh. There it is...the thing all singles hate...the dreaded oh-you-poor-thing head tilt. I must say, the tilt seems to be a bit more extreme when you are a single virgin in her early 30s.

“Well, he's out there somewhere, sweetie. I'm sure he is...probably...maybe,” she said, far too happily.

“Here's hoping,” I said, surveying the area for a quick exit.

Placing her tan hand on my shoulder, while attempting to look sincere, Mean Magnifier whispered, “At least you have plenty of time. You are still so young. Although, it does go by in a flash. I promise you, one day you will know what it's like to be wrapped up in a man's loving arms and wake up the way you went to sleep with him. You'll know one day...even if it takes ten or fifteen more years.”

Biting my tongue, while trying to keep angry--and, admittedly, hurt--tears from stinging my eyes, I said, “Sooner than ten or fifteen years, I hope!”

“Well, reality is reality,” said Mean Magnifier, tossing her head back, laughing.

“Suppose it is,” I whispered. “Well, I should get going...”

Ah, the exaggerated head tilt returns. “You poor thing, you must be really sad most of the time—being alone, single, never having had that feeling of being with a man physically, knowing you are getting older by the second. You just must feel so depressed.”

Well, not until you spelled it out, Mean Magnifier witch.

“Oh, I get by just fine, I promise.” With that, I went through with the goodbye pleasantries and swiftly exited, feeling less than great.

Truth be told, I do get a little lonely sometimes, maybe even sad. But, I like to think that sadness is reserved for those things in life we've had and lost. Moping around, all sad and depressed about something I've never had just doesn't seem right. Nobody ever has everything they want in life; it would feel like a waste of precious time feeling sad about something that never even existed in my life in the first place.

So, I chin-up and move forward with eternal hope pulling me along.