Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I'd Tell You, But I Forgot.

The toughest part for me of being a working mom of a 2 year old (besides the tantrums) is the sneaking suspicion that I'm no longer interesting because I don't have (insert: time, money, energy, et. al) to do anything...well...interesting.

Or if I actually do get out of the house for fun, not errands or work, nobody knows about it because my brain is fried from exhaustion or I'm too distracted trying to keep this little person from killing himself to remember to talk about it when someone asks me what I've been up to lately.

Someday I'll laugh about it.

I read this blog (what I do when I can't sleep) where this guy said, 'Don't shame yourself for not being where you are "supposed to be." You are where you are; be in your actual life.'

Good advice, I guess; and way easier than trying to remember to tell people stuff.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Midnight Musing

I might be a bobble-head.

I realize that this may feel like it's coming out of left field to you, but I've had a great deal of time to think about this. I first considered it when I read an article about body proportions and perceived attractiveness. The study showed that when 100 pictures of people were flashed across a screen, the majority of those described as "attractive" were people with regular, symmetrical features and with heads that were proportionally large for their body sizes. The study also noted that most sex symbols and more particularly, movie stars, had proportionally large heads for their bodies. Also of note, they mentioned that large heads on small bodies present well on the big screen. Go figure, it all makes sense. Bobble-heads make the world of entertainment and sex appeal go 'round.

At the time I remember asking a select few loved ones if I had a big head. I'd become suspicious when I noticed that my face, at least, always looked big in pictures, especially if I was with another person. On more than one occasion, I was assured that, no, my head was no bigger than the average Jane's, so I let it go.

My loved ones are liars. Maybe they did it for my own good. They didn't want me to (pardon the pun) get the big head and start thinking I was a sex symbol or something, so they lied to keep me humble. Regardless of their reasons, man, they're liars, one and all.

I blame myself. The signs were all there. I already mentioned the pictures. I never like the way I look in hats. And perhaps the most damning sign of all, my son has a big head. In fact, he's in the 10th percentile for height among 2 year olds, but in the 85th percentile for head circumference. Future sex symbol in the making, folks.

Until recently, I blamed his father for this. He's got a big head. Lots of men in his family do. I come from a family of pin-heads so it couldn't come from me. Must be his genes, right?

Noooot necessarily...

Exhibit A

That's a big melon. I have to come to terms with it and raise my head (slowly and with great effort under the weight) to accept my plight.

All hail bobble-heads! Long may we rave.