My sister, LaLa, sews.* She cooks.* She bakes.* She crochets.* She’s a crafty sort. And often, she’ll do all of these things for ME, which I love.
This morning I got an email from LaLa asking for various body measurements. She knows I love it when she makes me something, but that I get all panicky over ‘tell me the exact size of your butt, down to the eigth of an inch’ emails.
Okay, fine she doesn’t word it quite like that.
But still, I usually stall and am like, “no…. I didn’t take those measurements. because where is one’s waist, really…? Isn’t that a subjective thing….? is there really, really a definitive answer? ….and hips. Isn’t that just code for ‘butt?’ And I know you’re my sister, but isn’t that a bit personal? It’s big, this butt. Must we quantify….? I don’t sew, LaLa, or measure myself for sport, and your requests are… confusing me…. and remember that one time I tried to measure the RIGHT way according to some expert about bra size, but did it totally wrong anyway, and ended up with a size that doesn’t even exist? That was alarming. Felt like quite the freak. Maybe you could just guess… you’ve seen me recently after all…. no, don’t make me ask Mom to help. She tickles and her hands are cold.”
I can string her along like that for weeks and let me tell you, it drives her nuts. The Ugrateful Whiny Routine gets old pretty fast. Who knew? But today I didn’t do any of that. I went with the truth. I told her it would have to wait, I felt gross, and was wearing my Big Girl jeans.
No idea what I’ll say tomorrow. She’d probably know if I just made up some numbers because I’m not good with numbers and I’d probably pick the wrong ones. She’d be onto me. She’s smart like that.
This morning Seth-4yr came in WAY early and said, “Farlo did a big Fo Up.”
(translation: Charlo, the cat, is sick.)
Me: MMmm. ‘kay. Don’t touch it.
(translation: I don’t have to get out of bed yet if you don’t touch it.)
Seth-4yr: I would not do that. Here, let me get Farlo.
Charlo had gotten on the bed, and Seth-4yr was offering to haul him away. I told him he was okay and to leave him alone. The cat probably did not need Seth-4yr squishing his stomach.
Seth-4yr: Ooookay. Well. Don’t let him Fo Up on your head….
I faceplanted into my pillow and giggled until I was so awake I couldn’t possibly go back to sleep.
The cat is fine.He’s just feeling kinda gross and is wearing his Big Girl jeans today, and will not be sitting still for anyone crafty and thoughtful to measure his hips.
And where are cat hips anyway? Not easily measured. And neither are mine.
*something I do NOT do