You don’t know me.
I don’t mean that like
I mean literally – or at least statistically speaking – you don’t know much about me at all. Sure, you’re aware that I write this blog, and so might infer I have some underlying mental instability that’s not being sufficiently addressed in therapy; you may even have assumed (quite correctly, I assure you!) that, as a blogger, I’m pitifully desperate for whatever passing facsimile of affection anonymous strangers can offer online.* Hopefully, at some point, you had a glance over at the “About Us” section and there you may have gathered a few more clues, noticed that I have a massive ego and am totally in love with the idiot I married, etc. You might, while you were there, have asked yourself, “Is she an albino or something?” and then wondered if that was racist or not-PC somehow and guiltily gone off to google what you’re supposed to call really pale people, at which point I’m guessing you totally forgot about me for six months or until I posted again, depending on when this happened.
For the record: yes, I’ve noticed that I’m really, really white. Yes, I’ve heard about tanning, and no, it’s not an option for me. Yes, even spray tanning. Which is fine, because I actually don’t mind being this pale (except when someone wants to take a flash photograph).
Or when people are casually hanging out outdoors for more than ten minutes and I’m under my giant hat and long sleeves and layers of sunscreen, standing just inside the door asking if we’re ready to come in yet. Knowing, the whole time, that nothing will save me, and I’m going to end up right back at the dermatologist’s office getting freckles frozen off.
But! I still look damned good for my age, apparently, and assume that I won’t be getting wrinkled or leathery for many years yet. So, as I say, I’m not mad at my paleness… until a certain someone winds me up about it.
And, because I can already hear you salivating for an example, let me tell you about the jerkface thing he did the other morning when I was only just barely alive and trying to avoid getting out of bed:
HIM: (moving over slightly to block the window) I have to stand here if I’m going to talk to you.
HIM: Because otherwise, the sunlight bouncing off your skin blinds me.
ME: Asshole. (flips bird)
ME: I thought you were doing it to spare my eyes!
HIM: Oh. Well… yeah, that too.
ME: So you were joking?
HIM: … No. You’re really pale, and if I move over (steps to the side) you go all reflective, like snow.
ME: (covers eyes, presents middle finger)
Which brings me to the legal update, disappointing confusing though it be: Horrible Mega Corp phoned JTL and admitted (gasp!) that they “goofed” on the dates he was allegedly AWOL. So. Problem solved right? Ehhhhhh… not exactly. They’re “conducting an investigation into how this could have happened” but also wanted to clarify a whole bunch of stuff (basically, where was Husband every minute of every other day of his employment, just in case there was secretly another legitimate reason to fire him). Also? It seems they’ve been sniffing around the insurance company that handled the disability leave, trying to get medical records without going through us.
Curious, as Alice says, and curiouser.
ME: Just so you know, the internet agrees with me: 51% of the company is a fair settlement.
HIM: At least then it would be woman-owned.
ME: And minority-owned!
ME: (smaller voice) Gingers are a minority.
HIM: (shakes head) Not a protected minority –
ME: We should be! We need protection – SPF 1000!
HIM: I don’t know why you need SPF 1000, you’re already reflective.
ME: … Not really, right? You were joking about that.
HIM: Mmmm… I mean, it was mostly when I came back to bed, and the light off your bare back was really bright
ME: Shut. Up. And. Fuck. Off.
* Absolutely true. I eat that shit up. Your “like” is enough to nourish me for hours and a comment keeps me going for days.