People always say, “Never say ‘never.'”
Well, I said it. And I ate it.
On November 30, 1994, I wrote in my Language & Spelling Journal about the discomfort of opening unlikely gifts in front of certain disconnected relatives. (Again, I’m refraining from making personal edits below.)
…I tear off the tacky “Blue Engine That Could” rapping paper and in my hands I’m holding green, blue, and pink eyeshadow that I know I would never wair in my life. So not to be mean I put on my fake smile and say, “Oh! Thankyou.” And they say, “I knew you’d love it.” If only they knew. So for Christmas I want money so I can by what I want.
Wrong again, Suzy.
Dear Eleven Year Old Square Piece,
I hate to break it to you, but this week you wore both pink and green eyeshadow… At. The. Same. Time. And… you loved it. Presently you own two shades of pink shadow, five shades of green shadow and two shades of blue shadow. (Don’t even make me count all the purples.) This, and you’ve recently purged even more shades from your disgusting and unnecessary pit of makeup.
Learn to say “thank you” and stop being so entitled.
One day you’re not going to have a clue what’s an appropriate gift for an eleven year old. You’ll find yourself wandering aimlessly and anxiously down a variety of aisles before completely losing your hope and your mind. Give us all a break.
And by the way, yes, “wair” seems like the appropriate spelling for “wear” as it rhymes with “air.” In the future, this will cause you to lose sleep as you toss and turn over all of the ways that the English language has betrayed you.
Twenty-nine Year Old Square Piece**