You know how I mentioned I’m a graphic designer? Well, because of my field—zee arts—I meet other artists from time to time at networking functions.
Yesterday, one of the painters I met asked if he could paint my portrait. Immediately I thought of that scene* from Titanic. You know that scene. Wretched Celine Dion popped into my head. I said I’d think about it.
When I got home I told Chuck that a well-known, respected and quasi famous artist wants to immortalize me on canvas. Chuck put down his beer and said, “So now you officially know you’re attractive.”
Oh, praise Jesus! I t’aint ugly! I’ve been wandering the planet for 34 years with an inkling that I might not be hideous, but now I wonder no more. And to think I missed the pageant circuit because I never knew The Truth.
“So I should do it?”
“Are you going to keep your clothes on?”
"And you're not going to have an affair?"
"Of course not."
“Great. We’ll hang it over the couch.”
Apparently as soon as you officially find out you're attractive, you immediately turn into a hoebag.
*If you need a refresher, here’s the sorta-kinda scene. I have no idea why they ended the video the way they did, but they're a cute couple so I forgive them.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.