Have you heard that saying that pet owners and pets start to look alike?
Sayings are funny because they are true! There are so many examples . . . the curly-haired owner of a Poodle . . . the muscle-bound jock who has a Bull Dog, the lean marathon runner who runs with a Whippet.
Which comes first? Do dog owners start looking like their dogs? Or do the dogs mimic their owners?
A crazy thing has happened to me recently. I’m starting to resemble some of the characters in my husband’s favorite TV shows. It’s important for you to know, I didn’t do this intentionally and it’s not some plan to get attention.
Here’s how it happened.
Several weeks ago, I had a pretty serious cycling accident. I’ve been sporting a sling and unable to use my right arm, making it near impossible to do most things—things I always took for granted. It’s amazing how many things we do each day without thinking about all the steps involved. Brushing your teeth, styling your hair, getting dressed. The decision to wear a bra or not wear a bra. This decision takes on a whole new perspective at age 53 than it does when you’re age 23. My husband has coined a new phrase—low riders. Enough said.
There are ramifications to needing help to do even the simplest things. Some steps just have to be excluded. For example, brushing your teeth . . . doable. Flossing your teeth . . . forget about it. Have you ever tried to floss someone else’s teeth? Or stood still while getting your teeth flossed? No way. I have a newfound respect for dental hygienists. They should get a first-place blue ribbon for their skills!
Then there’s showering. The main part . . . shampoo and body wash . . . doable. Hair treatments and shaving . . . forget it. If a blue ribbon is given for flossing another person’s teeth, there should be a Best Supporting Actor Oscar given for shaving another person’s legs and underarms. My husband thought it would be fun, romantic even, to shower together. Let me tell you, the sight of him coming at me with a razor in hand filled me with fear. All I could think of was the first time I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. Shaving was not happening.
Another thing I had to give up was carrying both a purse and a briefcase. There was just no way I could manage both. Both bags were ridiculously heavy on their own, I had to combine the contents of both into one bag. I swore I would carry only the most essential items.
Now, let’s circle back to how I’ve started to resemble characters in my husband’s favorite TV shows. As I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, his favorites revolve around Big Foot, Aliens, WWII, and documentaries. Lately, the documentaries of choice have been about extreme mountain climbing. We’ve watched expeditions to the Himalayas from every vantage point. Mountain climbers who have overcome adversities and fulfilled their dreams. Sherpas who have united for better wages and working conditions.
Remember that single bag? Well, I found it impossible to downsize, so I upsized instead. I found a really large bag with sturdy handles that could hold everything. My bag now resembles something similar to what a Sherpa would carry. And don’t forget the fact that I haven’t shaved in weeks, you’ll understand why, when I prepare to leave the house each day, I emerge looking like my husband’s favorite characters—Big Foot and Sherpas.
Great advise me too! Miss you
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