Sugar, Sugar

Here's a transcript of me making an apple crisp this afternoon, helped (read: hindered) by L:

"L, stop eating the butter."

"L, stop eating the flour."

"L, stop eating the sugar."

"L, get your hands out of the cinnamon."

"L, stop eating the butter,flour, sugar and cinnamon out of the bowl."

Most of the apple slices also have bites out of them.

Cooking with kids is, of course, more of an exercise in patience and relationship-building than actual cooking, so I try not to get fed up with the fingers in everything. She gave me a few spontaneous hugs and kisses while we worked, so I know she was enjoying herself. She wanted a chef's hat and apron, but I was unable to oblige.

This year, I won't be doing much Christmas baking as instead I'll be busy nursing an infant and trying really hard not to cry when I've been woken up for the fifth time in a night, but I told L she could choose at least one treat that I normally make and I would make sure it was done. I think I will extend the same option to J, who will probably choose white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

Tomorrow morning I have to do one of my least favourite things, writ large: I have to go to the lab at the hospital for a test (already a huge time suck and frustration) and do a second glucose tolerance test (add sugary drink on an empty pregnant stomach and an extra hour's wait to that). Again, my extreme elderliness is the reason I am repeating the test (I actually passed the first one; it's not the long test or anything, thank god).

About seven weeks left. Where did the time go?

This Means You

Dear People Who Currently Have the Library Books Upon Which I Have Placed a Hold,

Were you raised by wolves?

Return your damn books on time. You're messing up the whole system.

Signed,

No Fan of Anarchy

Tight

Look, it's not that I'm not sympathetic. I understand that every generation, or every decade anyway, has its fashion nightmares that the wearers will later look back upon in horrified disbelief. I was there for neon scarves, banana clips, and those t-shirts that changed colour where you sweat. I know that there is a certain force to fads and they have a life of their own, encouraging people who would otherwise know better to fall in line and do something they may later regret (or, at least, I sincerely hope they will later regret it).

But I can't be silent any longer. This trend has got to die. Please, people, please... please stop wearing those tight jeans that barely hold onto your ass and push all possible fat deposits up above the waistband to make rolls.

This is where my understanding and sympathy breaks down. Because while I can grok the idea that girls feel a lot of pressure to fit in and wear what everyone else is wearing, what I can't get is how anybody looks into the mirror and thinks, "Aw yeah, that looks awesome." It so, so does not. This fashion trend can take the most average-weighted person and make them look like they are carrying fifteen extra pounds around their waist. It takes girls who are skinny and makes them look like they have a spare tire. It takes girls who are average and makes them look fat. Let's not go into what it does to girls who really are carrying extra pounds. And it makes all of them look like they are about to lose their drawers around their ankles.

I should note that it's not the appearance of looking bigger than they are that I object to. Of course women of all shapes and sizes have their own personal beauty that is not at all dependent on conforming to society's idea of the correct body shape. I think and hope that, perhaps, we are finally evolving past the notion that we all have to look a certain way or be a certain size in order to be acceptable.

It's the fact that the look is so universally unflattering that stumps me. It doesn't look good on anyone. It makes every single person who sports it look like they can't figure out if their clothes fit them or not. This is made worse by the idea that these ass-jeans have to be paired with a tight spandex top that may or may not actually reach down to the top of the jeans. I swear if I never see another person trying to rock this look it would make me happy, but since I see at least ten a day I don't hold out much hope for it ending soon.

Is it such a crazy notion to just wear clothes that fit you? Just wear ones that fit. That's all I ask, people. Take a good look in the mirror, realize how awful this look is, and wear clothes that fit you. It's for the good of humanity, as well as my own personal sanity.