Word is out; I recently lost my cell phone. For the first few hours, even the first full 24 hours, I felt as though I was suddenly missing a limb. I was walking around in a haze, always reaching for that little piece of iPhone greatness that has let me stay connected to everyone and everything. I hadn’t realized how attached I had become until I entered “the car wash” this morning.
The car wash has always been a place of great mystery and for me, very similar to a torture chamber. Quite a few years ago, I tamped down my fears and entered the “car wash.” I deftly manoeuvred the front tires into the little track, became amazed that the vehicle was moving on its own and was terrified at the sight of the giant rolling strips of death when the URGE hit. Yup, I was stuck in a soapy, wet, chamber of immense torture with no hope of finding a suitable place to squat. The familiar panic set in and I frantically searched for something that could serve as an adequate porta-potty. I found a few plastic grocery bags that I kept in the back seat for when the family dog and I went walking. Fitting I thought, the same bags I use for Max’s poops were now being used for mine. I contorted myself into a pretzel like position (Jeep’s aren’t porta-potty friendly) when all of a sudden I heard a great commotion ABOVE the noise of the washing that was taking place. Some idiot designer thought it would be a good idea to have a glass viewing area of the “car wash” so people who weren’t actually partaking in the event could view those who were. A few people were now viewing MY backside and commenting LOUDLY on what was taking place. The ensuing chaos, yelling (viewers) and crying (me) permanently seared “car wash = bad” onto my brain. In short, I have never returned or wanted to return to a car wash.
This brings me to today. I have entered “car wash” world quite a few times since Oscar’s appearance. Today however was the first time I didn’t have a cell phone. The line-up was 6 cars deep and as Oscar and I settled in for the wait, I reached for the non-existent phone. Realizing it wasn’t materializing, Oscar and I decided we had to entertain ourselves.
My black wool coat is now entirely Pug hair free as mom’s Explorer is very pretzel positioning friendly. I made a new friend who was stuck in the next line over and looked as bored as I did. I also had time to think, and then hope that any incriminating “husband eyes only” pictures have been removed from said phone. I’m still waiting for random images of me, vastly under clothed, to pop up. I hold on to the thought that a sex tape helped make Paris Hilton famous, maybe a few sexy pictures of an Ostomate might make ME famous? Reality quickly sets in; I view some amazing pictures of Jessica Grossman (www.uncoverostomy.com) and realize I am no longer a 21 year old and no one really wants to see my jiggly bits.
I thank Oscar for allowing me to venture back into a “car wash”. I also have to ask forgiveness from everyone who has seen, or may see, a 33 year old in un-flattering poses with more jiggly bits then a bowl of Jello. *groan*