Friday night I was by my lonesome. DH was trying his luck to see if he could score a last minute ticket to see Pearl Jam at MSG because seeing them twice in one week is just not enough. The only reason I didn't join in is because I was physically exhausted from seeing them Tues and Thurs night and getting home at 1 am on a work night made me realize I'm not 25 anymore.
Anyway I digress, so Friday night it was just me and Jack, some food in the freezer and Friday night television. Its a rarity for me to watch live TV. Ever since we got the DVR (lovely device) we tape everything and usually catch up on the weeks shows over the weekend. Since I didn't want to watch what we'd recorded without DH, I resorted to live TV - commercials and all.
I came across this program called "What Would You Do?" - it was on ABC I think and it was a hidden camera show where they have actors put in certain stressful situations to see how people will react. I only caught the tail end where they had an older actress at a pharmacy trying to purchase much needed medication only to find out her insurance no longer covered it and she had to pay $150 or so and didn't have the money. I was amazed to find that several people offered to help her pay for her medicine and some paid for the whole thing for a complete stranger in distress. One woman, who herself only survived on social security, gave $20 to help and that just blew me away.
I must say that I am somewhat cynical when it comes to my own human race. I see us as a people who for the most part destroy, deceive, harbor jealousy and greed and the list goes on. Watching this show, however, really restored a bit of faith in mankind for me. It warmed my heart to see strangers helping strangers.
Now if we could just get those drug companies to be a bit more selfless, put aside their greed and see the reality that there are millions of people who need medication that they can't afford, then my outlook might really become sunny.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010 | | 8 Comments
My mother said I was born with hair on my legs. My aunt always tells the story of the day I was born when they looked at my plump legs and said “Yep, she’s going to be a hairy one”. I didn’t become aware of my overgrowth until the 4th or 5th grade when a very observant peer pointed it out to me and the class that I had a mustache and looked like a monkey. Oh kids, how cruel they can be. As if going through puberty and desire to fit in wasn’t hard enough, I was now coined as the hairy girl (not a boy’s first choice to ask to the dance). In a sea of fair skinned blond girls, there I was, oily olive skin, hair the color of asphalt, a uni-brow and mustache that made some of the boys jealous.
I did what anyone else in my place would have done, I went home crying, developed an extreme insecurity and begged my mother to let me shave. My mother, being a veteran hairy person herself, said that under no condition could I shave. She said that shaving will turn my already bushy legs into a hair brush. The only way to successfully rid this fuzz was to wax. She vowed that waxing lasted longer and in time would make the hair grow less and less. Her argument was convincing and not knowing what waxing was I happily agreed. Most American mom’s can remember their daughter’s 1st ballet recital or 1st dance. My mother, on the other hand, will never forget my 1st waxing session. If anyone heard me that day they probably would have called DYFS. With each pull of the strip, however, I just kept thinking of how great it will be to be hair-free and just bore the pain. It was this day that a crusader was born.
Judging by the way these kids are dressed, one would think that I live in an impoverished area. Quite the contrary, I live in
Wednesday, March 17, 2010 | | 1 Comments