My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Pantyhose Hell


In the last few days, I have sent off two essays to two different magazines. One could take up to ten weeks before they reject me. Happy Holidays!

A big thank you to RS and Harriet (who went above and beyond the call, etc) who were willing to read one of the essays and edit it. I haven’t had to write anything in the non-fiction genre (would this diary count as non-fiction?) since college and that was, um, well, a couple of years ago.

The writing and re-writing process has helped me figure out how to do this again, how to find my focus, how to say what I really want to say. Part of my problem is that I often want to say several things at once and get caught in a vortex of too much thinking. Perhaps I’ll receive some encouraging feedback even if my essays are rejected.

Yes, I am an unrepentant pessimist because bad news hurts less when you expect it. You may say, “Why, FreshHell! That’s a self-fulfilling prophecy!” But, if that were really the case, I wouldn’t have bothered writing the essays, re-writing the hell out of them and submitting them. Let’s call me the Optimistic Pessimist, shall we?


On the way home the other day, Red made up a little song. It went something like this (and was sort of sung to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb):

Mommy, Mommy, Go away
Mommy, Go aw-a—aaaaa-aay
Mommy, Mommy, Go a-away
Mommy, Go a-aa-waaaaay
Go a-aaaa-aawy
Mommy, I want to eat!

I want to eat, I want to eat!

And eat she did. As soon as we got in the door she made a mad dash to her seat at the table (though I made her get up and wash her hands first because I am Bad Mommy).


Today, I am wearing the jacket I got from H3cht’s for a penny. It’s a perfectly nice black jacket but I haven’t worn it since I acquired it back in the spring because it’s not every day I need to look like a corporate Important Business Woman drone. In fact it’s a rarity since I’m usually just sitting in front of a computer at my desk. Kind of like now.

Today, unfortunately, I have to attend a board meeting and a presidential inauguration. Jealous? I will be surrounded by a lot of Southern old white men. God, I should have brought my taser in. Damn! That was a huge oversight. I could have taken out half the Republicans in the county – and right before a very important election, too!

Not only am I forced to wear a jacket but...sigh...hose. I rarely wear hose (and these happen to be thigh-high ones – just so you can burn that image into your brain – because I absolutely will not wear the ones that encase my whole area in sweaty uncomfortableness) because they suck. Therefore, when it’s less than 70 degrees outside, I wear pants. Because all that cold air just goes right up the, uh, air shaft if you’re wearing a skirt with nothing else underneath (except underwear of course!).

Why would anyone willingly wear pantyhose? Clearly a man invented this particular torture device.


9:50 a.m. ::
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