3 December 2012
Since we jumped in the car right after our morning power walk to run a fast errand, I was no way making eye contact with any mirror. Better to pretend I had a bag on my head, and nobody could see me. But The Prince Consort announced he was having a bad hair day, and could I check the car’s back seat for a hat for him to wear.
Vanity Thy Name is Man.
A cemetery is a great place to find male vanity in perpetuity.
Take this monument:
Now this guy had quite the high/tall/big opinion of himself.
Let’s say it was the patriarch of this family who ordered this crypt built. A memorial to his riches and status.
Okay. But I’m saying it was the surviving wife who had the last laugh. Note the bricked up door and barred side windows.
Men. Can’t live with them. Can’t let them unscrew their coffins and climb out again.
Kath: who is now Defluffed a total of 25.5 pounds, seeing the goal with 8.5 pounds to go, and refrained from violence only muttering, “Well, that was a wasted five months,” when a sales person told me he didn’t have an Extra Large in that pant. COME ON! I’m wearing size 8 jeans, and not the elastic waist kind. GRRRR! Men!