Duck Amuck-Constant Maintenence and some whining


There’s a funny cartoon that every American kid (and adult) knows: Bugs Bunny.
One of my favourites is called “Duck Amuck”
In it, Daffy Duck is controlled by the cartoonist, who, as we learn in the end, is Bugs Bunny. In the pertinent scene, Daffy Duck battles a blob of black goo that begins to sag and drip from the ceiling. He tries to hold up one side of the blob of goo, only to have the other side sag.

He tries a stick to prop up the failing side only to have the stick snap in two and the blob finally pin him to the floor.

Daffy loses his temper and, in a fit of rage, rips the goo to shreads.

I have always thought of being a woman like that cartoon, especially as I get older.

Hair, lashes, nails, toenails, allergy shots, rodacea treatments acne treatments, fitness, fashion, sports 

& post surgery massage (it’s far from relaxing, I can tell you-I’m held together by string and a medically healing woman named Miley. Miley always asks “it hurt, right?” “Yes”, I whimper. “But it better now-you see.” as she contorts my legs into bizarre positions), skin care, Botox, fillers…

I’m so glad for the technology and talented people and grateful to afford it. Some days, though, I would love not to chase around the city keeping my aging goo at bay. I would rather just drive our Polaris around the ranch, pet the horses, or watch some mystery movies and sip coffee in my velour pantsuit and leopard slippers and hair greasy and all ahoo like Phyllis Diller.

I’m always looking for ways that I could get the services I want in nearby locations to simplify.

I’m eyeing an aesthetic place next to my hair salon, so I’ll let you know how that goes.

I could just let it all go and give up like the loud, obnoxious pajama-clad lady at the tire store I saw Friday.

Hey, the “Spring Haircare, Salon -n-Tire Center” could be the “bomb”.

I refuse to give up.

I thought perhaps I’m whining and then calculated all the effort and time it takes just to look 25.

Ok, 35

Ok, “Good for My Age”.

You can see where this is going-to insanity, to the dripping blob.

How ON EARTH did I do this while working outside the home full time?

I sacrificed my weekends and lunch hours. And read few books. And organized very little.
I loved a discussion I had with my French sis this year: “My God, our generation was possibly the first to have at least 2-4 jobs all at once AND be expected to have 1 or more college degrees also: career, home, children, woman Maintenence….

no wonder I never see anyone. We’re all frigging EXHAUSTED!”

She said “You know, there is a famous singer here who used to say in the 80s and 90s “You can have it all!” Now he recently sang “You were all lied to.”

I think we were.

The choices are overwhelming; get a PhD or get married or both. Get a Masters and have no single thing you can do well:kids, science, fashion, sexy & fit wife, superb mom, great child caring for a loved one with a major health issue whilst caring for our own deadly health issue. 

Jesus. Kill us all now.
Were we always this nuts?
No.
When I was a kid, my mum worked outside the home teaching. She also took care of the family and garden and canning and cookies and sewing clothes and so on.
There were no spas and few salons, except JCPenney’s.  Most ladies made their own clothes and did their own hair with orange juice cans. There was no coloring of hair or comfortable eye contacts or obsession with nails. Botox and facial fillers didn’t exist. 

Middle-age ladies looked like round bespectacled grandmas from the Far Side cartoons and the pressure was kind of off. 30 was old and no one tried to look like Hollywood starlettes.
 

Far side by Gary Larson. A Far Side woman, aged 29 through the eyes of a fly.

“Well, why not just stop?”

Because of date night.

I LOVE when all that effort comes together and I have a few hours of pure fantasy feeling good about all that work. Hair done, nails “did” pretty dress and cute shoes.

That sounds vapid.

Yes, but it’s fun as hell and I no longer have to prove my brain to anyone.

What about you? At what point will you give up?

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