Wednesday, July 30, 2008
For Mass..., I can just never remember where there are double esses and where there are double tees. I just throw a bunch of them in there and hope for the best. Also, I think Massachusetts should consider switching from Mass to Ma + that little German character that stands for a double "s." Let's spice things up, Massachusetts!
For Idaho, as noted in the title, I always type "Idago." Frankly, I think this is an improvement. Ida-GO! Idaho should consider it when coming up with a new tourism slogan.
Nothing else to report.
Friday, July 18, 2008
It may be a Southern thing--ladies do not go out in skirts with their legs bare. Certainly, they don't go to the office with bare legs. Heavens! There's also the girdle question, which to me settles itself as soon as you ask me to purchase something called "girdle." (See previous entry on "Crunk") My Granny would never go out in a skirt if she weren't wearing a girdle. Sometimes I consider it, but then I remember that being free and easy is preferable.
So, to settle the question once and for all, my pros and cons of pantyhose:
- Smooths out curves when wearing pencil skirts
- Makes leg skin appear smooth and flawless and, just as importantly, not the color of skim milk
- Not necessary to shave legs on a regular basis (wait, what?)
- Makes wearing of shorter skirts to the office less of a faux pas (this really applies more to tights, but it makes sense in this list as well)
- Considering I usually only get one wearing out of them before I put a thumb through the calf, this is an expensive proposition
- Delays emergency potty breaks by crucial seconds (no need to mention that I could just go to the bathroom when I first feel the urge)
- Allows me to be extra lazy on the leg shaving front
- Difficult to find a perfect fit and too small pantyhose are the worst
That's enough of this list, I think. Today I am wearing a blue skirt that is a rather full cut, some conservative looking pumps, and no hose. Also, I took a chunk of my heel out when I was shaving this morning and it looks like I was in a slasher movie. The band-aid is barely covering the carnage.
Oh, right, I was going to settle the pantyhose question. I think the real answer for me lies in not having a position one way or the other. When I'm wearing a skirt that I feel adequately conceals all that needs to be concealed, I don't mind skipping the hose. When I have an important meeting or my legs will not just be hanging out under my desk all day, I'll probably end up wearing pantyhose. Ditto for if I feel my outfit might not be dressy enough for work--pantyhose and "conservative pumps" make everything a little classier. Oh! Class! That should have been on the Pro list.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
1. They asked if I was claustrophobic. I’m all, “Nah.” Then they start to slide me into the tube, the top of which is about 4 inches from my face. And I start to get nervous. Luckily, they end up sliding me most of the way through the tube, so if I look up I can see the ceiling.
2. I was listening to the radio on the big ol’ stereo headphones they gave me to wear and the station keeps fading in and out, which annoys me to no end.
3. My arms are all crossed across my chest and I’m holding a little buzzer to call the tech (nurse?) if I need her. I’m a nervous wreck that I’m going to move and/or accidentally hit the buzzer. I tried to just rest my elbows against the sides of the tube (yes, the sides were that close) to keep from moving too much. I give myself a B-.
4. It is HOT. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back and my chest and I feel disgusting. My face is all greasy, my hair is starting to get damp…ugh.
5. My back is arched in an unnatural position that is starting to hurt my hips.
6. Tech/Nurse comes back in because it’s time to inject the contrast serum (or whatever they call it). That goes OK, so it’s back in the tube for 10 more minutes.
7. About 5 minutes to go, and I start to freak out a little. I can feel my back cramping up (ready to be a jerk for the rest of the day), I’m sweating buckets, and I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. I now know what people mean when they say that. I’m ready to hit the buzzer and just tell her to use what they have, because I need to get out of there. My heart is pounding and I’m sweating even more and I start to feel a little teary and panicky but I make myself hold out for the remaining 5 minutes.
8. Time’s up. I change my clothes and go wake up My Darlin', who was in the waiting room.
All in all, I give the experience an F+. I’m always fascinated by new (to me) medical procedures, so I was kind of excited-nervous about getting the MRI, but I didn’t enjoy it at all. Also, I was given a coral-colored kimono to wear whilst in the tube. When I walked out of the MRI room, there was a man wearing a blue kimono. And I wondered—do we really need to distinguish our gender by kimono color? It would be ok to have me wear a blue kimono while getting an MRI. It really would be ok to have the men wear coral kimonos while in the MRI. We’re not infants. People aren’t relying on our choice of color to determine our gender. Besides, I look terrible in coral.