So, wanna see my crusty scar?

Oh, don't pretend you don't. What could be more exciting than sharing boo boos, eh?

So here it is, two weeks down the road. There's a still swollen weirdness where the surgeon peeled the skin up off my cheek to stretch it over that �" x �" hole he cut out of my nose, but that will disappear with time.

The scar itself is kind of, uh, well crusty pretty much covers it, but I expect that to go, too, with time. After all, my nose ballooned out to nearly double its normal size after the operation so of course the skin cracked and went all weird. I won't really get a sense of how it will all look for at least another month or so.

Frankly, I expected much, much worse. Instead of Frankenschnozz it has more of a reptilian thing happening. I'm thinking of renaming it Schnozilla.

Since the damage was not nearly as bad as I feared, I was in a celebratory mood. When I was in Montreal, I went a little nuts.

How nuts?

I bought myself hiphugger bellbottoms. I know. I'm out of control.

The last time I wore hiphugger bellbottoms lo-rise pants was 1972. To put this in perspective, that would be a mere 214 dog years ago.

Couching it in those terms makes me feel ever so much better.

And just to put the icing on the cake, my, uh, "look" back in 1972 would be alarmingly close to this:

Shut UP.

I have two words for you zygote smartypants who have been laughing: Hammer Time. Oh yes, one day your children will find that picture of you in your big hair and M.C. Hammer pants.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA.

So where was I? Oh yeah, the lo-rise jeans. When I stood in the jean store contemplating my image in the mirror, I felt a fair bit of ambivalence. I think I speak for us all when I say that there's nothing sadder than an older woman dressing like a zygote. Plus, my aging carcass is far different from that of a young girl. It is, and always will be, somewhat, ummmmmm, lumpy.

But oh, man, I wanted those pants.

They fit.

My gym membership is about to expire so just before I renew it my trainer and I are going to do a full strength and fitness test as well as general body measurements and a calliper fat measurement. I know that this last year of working out has made big changes. The number on the scale hasn't moved particularly, but nothing in my closet comes near to fitting anymore. I've been gradually swapping out fat for muscle. Seeing myself in clothing that fits brought that home.

I couldn't resist. I bought the pants. And at an insanely cheap discount store I bought a bright red shirt for $15 which is far more flamboyant than anything I've worn for many years because � because it just seemed time.

Oh yes, I am all about the articulate. That four years studying journalism? Clearly time and money well spent.

Well, I wore my new clothes home and when the spousal unit picked me up he remarked that I was looking good indeed. It goes without saying that he was not wearing his glasses. When we got home he began to, um, er, ah, unencumber me of my clothing and it was then that he realized that I was wearing pants of the lo-rise persuasion.

See, I had worn my new shirt untucked because my daughter had told me that only old people tuck their shirts in.

Oh yes, I am now all about the hip, the happening, the groovy.

Shut UP.

There was a pause while the spousal unit got over the shock of the lo-rise cut of the pants. Clearly, he was struggling to be diplomatic. He told me the pants were very attractive but he was concerned over whether or not they were age appropriate. I reminded him that he'd found them quite flattering at first glance. He allowed as he had.

Another pause. Clearly reassurance of some sort was necessary. I cast about in my mind for the most age inappropriate clothing I could think of.

"I promise, no mini skirts."

The man's relief was palpable. Then the universe unfolded as it should.

As we snuggled afterwards, I reflected that it's no picnic, being married to an eccentric woman in her 50's. Guess it would be cruel to tell him that it's only going to get worse when I'm in my 60's, eh?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 717.28 miles.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers