flowers reading news It's Like This flowers reading news
home
current column
column archive
editor information
Other Work
links
guestbook
link to mailing list sign up
Previous Index Next

Nature vs Nurture

16.Oct.2003

I am often accosted on the street by fans who ask me, among other things, how is it that I can raise a family of six and still maintain my sense of humor when things go wrong. I am also infrequently asked to please not be on the street, as my clothing tends to attract the Fashion Police, in which case I am handcuffed and all traces of hair spray are removed from my artificially tinted follicles and the height of my hair brought down out of the stratosphere to a more manageable level. It’s not my fault that my hair still thinks it’s the 80’s.

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because I still have a full head of hair. Actually, I’m fairly certain I was given this luscious hair as a consolation prize for all the other gifts nature and genetics bestowed upon me.
    Nature: Lets take away her metabolism and give her a good head of hair.
    Me: What? Can’t I have both?
    Nature: Nope. If you’re skinny you’ve got to have thin straight hair. It says so right here in volume 29839 section D. Thou shalt be able to consume enough calories to keep a small mountain village alive for a year in one sitting without packing the pounds on-eth, but the hair on thy head shall be lifeless and stringy. Thou shalt be constrained to buyeth Volumnizing shampoos for the remainder of thy days.
    Me: Hey, I’ll take the thin hair!
    Nature: Sorry, but as a consolation prize, big hair makes your body look smaller. Oh, and learn to wear black a lot.
I hate nature. It always wins. Although in that whole Nature vs. Nurture argument, I’m not sure who is on top. Nature made me what I am today, Cheetos addiction and all. Nurture didn’t help things along any by dropping me into a family full of carbohydrate freaks. My fashion sense is pretty good, as far as fashion senses go.

I can sense fashion, I just never seem to be able to hunt it down and make it my own. I got close about a year ago and then I got tired of holding my stomach in so I could wear that little black leather coat I got for my birthday.

So this brings me to how I’m able to keep my sense of humor while raising a family. It’s that whole Nature thing again.
    Nature: Lets give her a walloping sense of humor that will often get her into trouble at work and on the street.
    Me: Can’t you just give me a great smile?
    Nature: Are you acquainted with that whole ‘fat-people-are-jolly scenario?
    Me: Yeah.
    Nature: Welcome to Jolly Land! Oh, and try to keep the bangs down in front.
So with my natural born sense of humor, I roll through life, laughing at the little things and not sweating the big things.
    Son: Mom, I broke my retainer.
    Me: That’s ok. Take two hundred dollars out of petty cash and go get yourself another one.

    Daughter: My band outfit is going to cost about fifteen hundred dollars, but it’s a really great band outfit!
    Me: Not a problem honey. I can’t wait to see you in it. Are the threads and buttons made of pure gold?

    Husband: I’m about to tear the roof off and put a new one on dear.
    Me: Sure, great, go right ahead. We’ve been unemployed now for a year and a half, but thank goodness that money tree in our backyard just keeps on sprouting hundreds!

    Daughter #3: Mom, I’m going to be five next month and I need my own stuff. Can I have my own room?
    Me: You can have mine sweetheart.
See? You just have to learn to roll with the punches, or at least try to avoid them. I’ve found that ignoring the punches works too. Nothing helps that along better than a big bag of crunchy Cheetos. The loud crunching drowns out any bad thoughts you may have had about something and then your only worry is how to get that orange sticky stuff off your fingers before hubby gets home and catches you. My avoidance response to anything dire functions at a high level. It’s likely to be tripped by just about any occurrence and send me scrambling for something orange. I’m driven and it’s really not my fault. Experts have told us that nothing is our fault. Addicted to something? Not your fault. Beat your wife? Of course you do, you were punched as a kid. I was subjected to high levels of carbohydrates as a child and therefore am powerless to stop the flow of said items down my intestinal tract.

As for the height of my hair, I’m not to blame for that either. Growing up in the 80’s shattered any hope of living in peace with my flat-haired neighbors.

You can’t fight nature. Or was that nurture? Dang, just pass me the Cheetos.

Previous Index Next

Email Me At

©All work is copyrighted and cannot be used without the written permission of the author