Thursday, June 22, 2006


Weebles: are a line of children's toys originating in Hasbro's Playskool division. Shaped like eggs with a weight at the fat, or bottom end. They wobble when pushed, but never fall completely over, hence the name. Some Weebles were designed to look like humans; newer ones (made in 2004 and later) look more like anthropomorphic animals.

So while Tenley spent another fun filled day romping in the pool and eating animal cookies with her grandparents, I had a major event occur in my living room: What Not To Wear, the Home Edition.

For those of you who know me personally, you know that when I say "my wardorobe is out of control!" it is a drastic understatement. Piles of clothes. Bags of mismatched socks hidden in the closet. Swimsuits from college that I secretly dream of fitting into again. Skirts that are way too short and totally age inappropriate that I haven't let go of because they are from days when my size was a single digit. You get the picture. Something had to be done. But I needed help: the task was incredibly daunting, and I have absolutely no fashion sense to speak of. It was time for a self imposed intervention. So today, at 9 in the morning, Aunty Meg the Cleaning Natzi arrived.

Meg is a triple threat. A) She has fashion sense and a great sense of style both classic and trendy, B) she is ruthless (see post on 4/10/2004- Calling in Reserves!!), and C) she has known me my whole life and can therefore be brutally honest with me and know that I will take absolutely no offense. Knowing this, I was ready for her. I emotionally detatched myself from the textiles, and I moved the contents of my closet and several piles onto hanging racks in the living room, and made laundry baskets of things like jeans and t-shirts to be sifted through.

I was actually more brutal than she was, owing mostly to the fact that she had softened herself up so she could deal with me dramatically clutching garmets to my chest and refusing to part with them...which I did only twice. I was however frog-marched to the full length mirror in Ten's room more than once so she could point out why a garmet was, or was not, flattering. Which is where we find the word of the day: weeble-esque. Notice how the weebles in the picture are rather shapeless in their clothes? This insult was hurled at many of my outfits, and was only out done by the shirt that as I buttoned it, Meg said I looked like the rather dyke-ish lesbian friend of her late mother's.

In the end we took seven bags of clothes to the Goodwill. We will have to do a second day of this, because we didn't get to the bags of socks, shoes, swimsuits, formal wear, stuff in the cubbies and the stuff in storage. But I was counseled on what to wear with what, which jeans for which occasion, and I was allowed to keep a couple favourite weeble-esque shirts so long as I promised never to been seen in public in them unless the Big One hits in the middle of the night and they are the closest garmets within reach.

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