McKay (or who shall now be called the Son Who Gets Cut Out of the Will) asked me what appeared to be a purely philosophical question yesterday.
"Mama, if you could change anything about the way you look, what would it be?"
I was thoughtful for a moment and then said, "I'd probably get rid of all my freckles."
His face scrunched up in a REALLY, THAT'S IT? kind of look. I took a deep breath and asked him the question that sends men everywhere running for cover: "WHY, what do you think I should change about my looks?"
And he answered me, internets. He actually answered THAT question.
"Well, I'd make your eyes bigger. And your nose smaller. And your ears bigger. And you have too many freckles on your neck. And maybe you could have better hair."
Clearly, he has not yet learned that when a woman asks ANYTHING about her looks, size, face, hair, clothes, eyebrows, muffin top, weight, freckles, or pinkie toe, you reply with, "Why no, honey, you're perfect just the way you are."
Because I am, you know.
And there's nothing like a nine-year-old boy to make you suddenly so insecure. Do I have a big nose? Are my eyes small and squinty? Are my ears too small? Can ears be too small? Yes, I know the freckles are a problem. But my hair? Is it really that bad? What else is wrong with me? And look, LOOK, at my behind. It's HUGE. I'm like a tank walking around with all this girth. And all this flab around my waist? I'm like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. And what about my feet. I have horrible feet. And I hate my eyelashes. They're so ugly. Why do I have to have these bird-like arms? I hate my mouth, too. I'm a freaky, mutant animal, I tell you. THAT'S WHAT I AM - AN ANIMAL. I'm hideous. Look away, lest I burn your retinas with my Quasimodo-esque face. I'm SO UGLY!
After my womanly tirade is over, The Husband sighs, looks up from his football game, and calmly replies in that Pavlovian way all husbands should, "Nah, you're perfect just the way you are."
He at least was brought up right. Can't say as much for his son.