Wheeee!

Harrowing ride, full circle. I am always a little amazed when it happens this way, and it always does.

Last night, while I was watching my favorite guilty indulgence, "What Not To Wear"...

("Oh, Aunt Pillowhead," you say. "How could you? Why, just two posts ago you were faulting Blood Runs Cold for her need to judge and feel superior to others, and now you tell me that you LIKE watching two meticulously put-together fashionistas pounce on some poor unsuspecting woman with no sense of style, humiliate her by making her look at videotape of herself looking really bad, force her to throw away all of her ugly, tired, ill-fitting, dated clothing, and then make her over in their own image? You're kidding, right?")

...um, as I was saying, I was watching this show and then Hammerhead came in...

Okay, hang on there. Wait just one minute. You know what? It's not about watching them humiliate her. I like that show because I identify with the fashionistas AND the victim. And I'm telling you, that victim likes the attention and advice, once she gets over being shamed in front of all her friends on national television. And look how much more confident, beautiful, and snazzy she looks afterwards, with the possible exception of a few not-so-great haircuts and one or two times when the make-up just didn't look right. It's a Cinderella thing--the diamond from coal thing, and I'm a sucker for that stuff. Plus, they give her $5,000. That's a wad of dough, not to be sneezed at.

Anyway, Hammerhead came in. "Aunt Pillowhead," he said. "I learned this new card game that I know you'll love. Want to play it?

"Sure," I said. "Just as soon as I see what they're going to do with this poor lady's hair."

"How long?" he asked.

"Ten minutes, tops," I said.

Hammerhead sat on the floor next to me to watch, absently shuffling the deck. "I don't like that hairstyle on her. She looked better before."

"Yeah," I said. "That fake red color is a little shocking. And I'm not crazy about the bangs, either. But it's a good outfit she's got on."

"Can you play now?" he asked.

"Yep."

And we did. Fifteen games of "Llamas!" which was very fun. I won two games. Loser had to kiss the bottom of winner's bare foot, which was my idea and disgusting, but which I knew would delight him, and it did, when I had to kiss his stinky little paws. And I didn't make him kiss mine. (Scary! Old Lady Foot!) We laughed a lot, and I realized (again) that no matter how high up or low down we go, he and I, I need to remember to come back to the center as quickly as I can, so he can find me there when he wants to.