Click, click, click right HERE to go to this week’s Carnival of Education, over at Jenny D’s blog. She did a super job of putting it all together! Go tell her so. Click on the teacher blogs and tell ’em what you think.
Most of the time, I wear dark colors. I am very large, and somehow I feel a little teensy bit smaller if I’m wearing black. In reality, of course, the dark colors make me stand out even more and larger against the daylight and the white institutional walls but I pretend not to know that.
Today I wore a pink sweater to school. It’s a beautiful sweater and I really like it. A lot. Belle bought it for me and it has sentimental value as well as being just a really pretty sweater. I’ve been waiting for the weather to turn cooler just so I could wear that pretty sweater.
Several people told me it looked good. But you know what, I have trouble believing that. I am just so used to wearing dark colors, and trying to hide myself away from the truth of my appearance, that when I saw my reflection in the restroom mirror (why must they be so huge and merciless. . . . . . .) I almost jumped out of my skin.
When I wear it again, I hope I remember to wear a little more makeup. I am pale and pasty and the pink emphasized it, except when I had that hot flash and outpinked the sweater.
I hope those go away soon. The one I had this morning turned me so rosy that a man in the class asked me if I was all right.
“Oh sure.” said I. “It’s just menopause.”
Now, why would that get laughs like Jay Leno would kill for?
“Remember when teachers were mysterious?” said one man.
“Yeah, they didn’t even have first names. Just a title and a last name.” replied a woman.
“I saw my teacher and her husband kiss in the park one time and I almost passed out from shock,” said a younger student. “It was like, ewwwwwww.”
“I didn’t even know my kindergarten teacher had legs till I saw her in the mall one summer,” one of the younger ladies said. “I screamed and my mother had a hard time calming me down.”
The entire group assured me that if I ever needed any help getting from place to place, or carrying anything, that they’d be glad to help.
How nice of them.
Really, it is, you know. It’s just. . . . . .how very nice of them.
There’s a huge billboard just south of Indianapolis that is advertising “Menopause: The Musical.” Every time we drive past, we start in with the snarky comments.
I wonder if they sell t-shirts. I don’t want one, but I bet they’re hilarious.