Santa Maria Sun / Humor
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 13, Issue 19
On time is when Mom's readyThe ins and outs of hair, shoes, and matching outfits�
BY ROB KRIDER
There is no one more stressed than a woman trying to get ready to go to a wedding, party, graduation, theater—let’s be honest, really any event requiring clothing more formal than flip flops and a T-shirt. You think the Oval Office was a stressful place during the Cuban Missile Crisis? That was a trip to the spa compared to the other day when my wife was attempting to get ready for a retirement dinner. She had to find a dress in her closet that fit, a pair of shoes that matched, and she had to complete this task before 6 p.m. when we were supposed to be at the restaurant.
Men think that getting ready is a simple thing to do (first pants, then shoes), but for women, getting ready is more complicated than cold fusion. Chemicals must be applied on fingernails, hot air is directed at hair, body parts must be supported and such supportive devices must be hidden, colors have to be matched, and heel elevations are calculated; all of these different details are fighting against the defiant clock. Time is a woman’s biggest enemy when it comes to getting ready. There never seems to be enough time for women to change their minds about an outfit and then realize at the last minute that something needs to be ironed, dyed pink, or exchanged for a larger version from Kohl’s. And even though women can’t spare a single second to accomplish the enormous task of getting ready actually on time, they can always find five minutes to yell, scream, and blame their husband, kids, dog, whatever for them not being ready.
My wife went through all of this nonsense just the other day. The air pressure from stress in our house was pushing the windows outward. Everything in our house was “a mess” or “wrong” or “lost” or “stolen” (anytime something is missing from my wife’s closet it was “stolen”—as if thieves case women’s closets looking to steal one high-heeled shoe and take nothing else of actual value in the house). Things for my wife were not going well; clothes weren’t fitting, somebody heisted a belt, time was running out, life was at DEFCON 1, nuclear war was imminent. If the button to launch the missiles was in my bathroom, after the other day when my wife lost her mind over the hair conditioner bottle being empty, the entire planet would be suffering a nuclear winter.
I imagine women have been losing their minds while trying to get ready since the beginning of time. It truly is an incurable problem. I’m sure there was some poor caveman futilely trying to drag his wife out of the cave to go hunt bear during the beginning of civilization: “Honey, we have to go, or all the bears will be gone.”
“Wait, is the bone through my hair crooked? Should I use the tree stick instead?”
“I don’t care. Let’s just go kill a bear so we can eat this winter!”
“Are you saying I’m as fat as a bear? I’m not leaving!”
Here is a piece of advice, dudes: Don’t try to help your spouse. God forbid you step in and tell your wife while she is getting ready, “Honey, stop running in circles. You’re getting nowhere. Stop blaming meth addicts for your missing pumps, just put on the first thing you tried on. You look fine, plus we don’t have time for this. You’re beautiful, let’s go.” What may seem like good advice sprinkled with some kind words (you did call her beautiful) will not be taken well by your spouse. She will have only heard you say to her, “You’re crazy, you’re fat, and it doesn’t matter what you wear. You look like crap anyway, so I might as well leave you at home!”
I’ve learned over the years just to get out of her way. My wife, whom I love, works herself into a fervor every time she has to get dressed up to go anywhere. Everybody in my house knows that before we leave the house to go somewhere nice, Mom is going to lose her mind. The key is to steer clear. You don’t want to be the poor schmuck who has something in the dryer when she needs it (you’ll be the fall guy). Don’t get in her way, don’t say a word, don’t even make eye contact, it will only anger her. She is going to act like the Tasmanian devil while she gets ready; just let her spin herself right into the ground.
Here is how I have learned to get my wife “moving” when the show is about to start and we haven’t left the house. I don’t say a word. I just go outside and start the car. The sound of the car running in the driveway is the only thing that actually tells the female brain, “Oh, it must be time to go now.” I will admit, I have spent a fair amount of time sitting in a car, while it is running, in my driveway. She doesn’t come out immediately, but if I don’t go out and start the car, she will never leave the house. Eventually she will come flailing out of the house, run across the lawn, and say, “I’m sorry, somebody stole my hairbrush, so it took me a while to get ready.” I just smile, tell her she looks beautiful, and then drive like a madman across town, attempting to make up lost time.
Right now Rob is sitting in his driveway with the car running, waiting to take his wife to the movies. They will miss the previews.
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