Is Nordstrom reading my blog? This is the ad I have in my feed on Facebook. Either the woman has a Betty Big Belly or she’s pregnant. Both things I talk about in my blog. How do they know what my belly looks like?Freaky picture, doesn’t say “maternity”.
Yesterday, for the first time, I posted something somewhat political on Facebook. I don’t post political things since it can create a shit storm but I was really miffed (one of my mother’s words) about this particular fact that wasn’t being picked up by any media except for little article in the New York Times. It made me uncomfortable, and in the end, I’m glad I did it.
But this isn’t the point of this blog. Viper Tongue suggested I start a new blog and write it under a pseudonym. Then, I could “let it rip” as she and my teacher and classmate in my Gotham writing class said I should do. I would have so much more blog fodder! I always have to be careful of what I say and how I say it due to my circumstances of being a trophy wife (please insert laugh here) and a mom, which sometimes takes the fun out of things. They say I would be a lot funnier if I could write how I talk and say how I feel (how I talk depends on my audience at this point, still.) Please oh please retirement for Marty hurry up and let my kids not be embarrassed by me so I can be myself! My therapist that I went to eight years ago* said to me, “Who is Sarah Berardi?” I said, “Oh, there can’t be a Sarah Berardi…yet.”
Watch for my new blog, I’ll look like this:
*No, brother Mike, I do not currently see a therapist, cuz I’m friggity-frack fixed. Can’t you tell?
Thought it through today when I was Facebook messaging with one of my kid’s friends from high school. I said to him, how do you not know what I’m talking about? I wrote about it in my book?! Why have you not bought my book yet, doofus?”
He said, “I’m not approaching menopause”.
Well said. So I messaged him back, “but it’s about ME, and the kids, you can relate, it’s about my medical migraines, you can understand medically” (he’s a paramedic). He claims he’ll buy my book. We’ll see, as I have a little Amazon.com account where it tells me how many are purchased no matter where they are purchased.
So my title has a certain specificity: Miralax, Menopause, and Migraine. Even if you don’t need Miralax, have migraine, or even if you are not going through menopause, you can relate to my book. Just sayin’. If you know me, you will laugh. Rumor has it, if you don’t know me, you will laugh. My book has been on some bedside tables where others can get a laugh out of a quick chapter!
This is my new motto, which has nothing to do with anything,
“If life gives you lemons, freeze them, and throw them as hard as you can at the people who are making life difficult for you.” Sciencegirl sent me that.
I saw on Facebook that you’re donating, a one-day internship with you this coming Sunday which will go to the highest bidder. This is your link :https://www.charitybuzz.com/catalog_items/3476295. When I saw it, I immediately sent it out to my husband for approval to bid but I received no answer. I usually don’t even ask his permission, just on the big things, ya know? But I play tit for tat and once I told him, “do NOT come home telling me you bought a new car or a new TV.” He came home with one new car and two new TVs. So if I really want to, as I sit here typing, I could bid on your item.
Then I’d have to fly out there from Buffalo to LA. I’d get to meet your wife and son. I’d have lunch with you. But I wonder what you’d have me do otherwise as an intern? Would you make me type the article you’d write on me? I’d be OK with that. I’d be able to give you plenty of fodder. I think we have a lot in common. You know, I just self-published a book. You had yours properly published. I’m a little funny, you’re freaking hysterical. I’m good looking, you’re so-so (well, that’s your fault for the pics you put up of yourself). Though I, too, have published very unflattering pics of myself to show my humility, which is a great characteristic we should all strive for.
You’re married, I’m married. You’re raising a kid, I’ve raised two perfect children. See, we could so do this and have fun. So since I’ve only just now, Thursday, seen this auctioning off of interning with you for this Sunday, and I’m not going to be able to turn it all around that fast, I’d like you to donate it again. Perhaps to a different charity next time. And could you post it on your facebook sooner? K, thanks, man.
I’ve been mildly migraining all week, and my husband just came up and asked me if I wanted him to rub my head. Please do not yell “team Marty” at your computer. I usually have to ask him to do this, and it usually helps bring the pain down a notch. But I said “no” for a totally vane reason. I’m having a good hair day, and we are going out to dinner in a few hours.
But my good hair day is thankfully only on one side of my head so I’ve been lying in bed on the bad side since I’ll have to re-do that bad side anyway. You know, funk it up a bit.
Hey, I was asked back in February to blog for Vibrant Nation.com. I just found out last week there is a section called “other” on Facebook messages where it’s been sitting. Lawyerboy went over the contract and gave me the go-ahead. Wow, do they have a lot to catch up on me – I’ve got to break them in slowly.
They even twittered me :)
I’m not all that adept at Facebook. It kills me, Patty Perfect, to admit that out loud. It also kills me to have to ask one of my kids for a quick answer to a some minor problem I’m having with it. Well, I paid for it, in not asking for help.
The other day, I decided that after three years of using Facebook, I might change my profile picture. In doing so, I found one that I liked, but it was taken three years ago. (I don’t like any that are recent!) Three years ago I was 15 pounds lighter – menopause, migraines, depression, thank you. Three years ago my eyelids weren’t 15 pounds overweight hanging into my eyes. Three years ago Freddy Fat Chin wasn’t as prominent. But I posted it anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking, was I drunk? But I felt a little guilty, knowing it wasn’t a true representation of me…since I don’t lie. (I’m proud of that. One of the dysfunctional siblings I have has a whole lifetime of lies – hope he’s reading this, assface.)
Well, as I uploaded the pic, it showed up really, really largely on my facebook. Holy crap! That’s embarrassing! Before I could take it down, within seconds, people started “liking” it. I quickly made it my new profile pic, and proceeded to take it off my Timeline (thinking the big face of me would disappear, and I would just have my thumbnail pic). Well, sixteen more people kept commenting on it over the next few days. I commented, “how is this pic still up, I took it down?”. Someone replied that if people keep commenting on it, it stays up? Great.
Now I feel like a liar. I don’t look like that, people. I’ve misrepresented myself. You’d think this would spur me into making myself look like I did three years ago, but it won’t. I need more serotonin for that, and you can’t buy that at Wegmans.
So instead of me loving and feeling pumped about all the “you look beautiful” comments on my pic, I feel horrible. My therapist (WhomIDon’tGoToAnymoreCuzI’mFixed), says I have to learn to take a compliment. But it’s a three-year old compliment, so I figure I’m off the hook.
I know, I’ll make a split screen of a before and after. No more guilty conscience.