Wednesday, March 17, 2010
As I drove Bob to pre-school this morning, I heard this from the backseat, “You look like Yoda.”
“You look like Yoda, Mama.”
If this was intended as a compliment, I did not accept it in the spirit in which it was intended. I have received many comments over the years pointing out my supposed resemblance to various celebrities, some more flattering than others. But Yoda? That definitely bumped Nancy Kerrigan and Bjork higher up the list.
Glancing at myself in the rearview mirror only proved Bob’s keen powers of observation. My 4 hours of tossing and turning and damning to hell daylight saving time combined with my usual over caffeinated and under moisturized situation weren’t looking good.
I cleared my schedule and made a mental list of personal maintenance chores that I would be doing after drop off: eyebrow maintenance, mani/pedi, heavy-duty depilatory, deep cleansing mask, and teeth whitening, followed by the extra-strength complexion cream that I got that free sample of in the mail a couple of weeks ago. I timed it out in my head. I thought I could make it all happen before I had to pick Bob back up after circle time.
“It’s okay, Mama. I like Yoda. Yoda’s one of the good guys.”
I decided Saturday might be the right day to use that gift certificate for a facial that I’ve been holding on to since my birthday. Much exfoliating to do, still I have.