I try to stay positive here at Forty Fabulous, but today I'm damn cranky. It could be my hormones, could be lack of sleep. Whatever the reason, I've got a few things that are bugging me and I'm gonna get them off my chest.
Peeve #1: My pediatrician wants to sell me Botox.
I've got an excellent pediatrician, the best. My kids love going to see her. The examination rooms are delightful, she's got creams and sprays so shots don't hurt, she's knowledgable, available and sympathetic. Over the years I have been grateful for her care.
But being a top-notch pediatrician must not pay, because now she's opened a side business, a Medi-Spa. At my daughter's last check-up she gave me a free estimate of how much it would cost to "freshen up." She handed me a diagram of my face covered with an alarming amount of X's - sites that could use a dose of Botox. A fresh face would cost a cool $800 every three months. Since then, I've received lovely invitations and medi-spa menus promoting her new line of services.
As my girlfriends would say, that ain't right. This woman is an amazing pediatrician; she should stay focused on taking care of the children in her practice, not exploit the vanity of their mothers. A great pediatrician is a rare find - I can get Botox at the mall.
Peeve #2: My dog doesn't love me, she's just using me for food.
Last week, the Chicago Tribune's Eric Zorn reported some cold-hearted facts: dogs don't love their owners, they merely manipulate them for their own gain. According to dog expert John Katz, "Over 15,000 years of domestication, dogs have learned to trick us into thinking they love us."
I adore my West Highland Terrier, but I suspect it's true. Though Kelly dances for joy when I walk in the door and sweetly snuggles with me on the couch in the evenings, she'd do the same for anyone with kibble in their pocket. I understand that dogs don't feel love as we humans do. But knowing that Kelly is merely a highly-evolved affection faker is a bit of a let down.
Peeve #3: The Real Housewives of New York aren't housewives.
This Bravo "reality" show may feature real women, but by no stretch of the imagination are they housewives. Not only do all these abrasive Manhattan chicks have big-time careers, their children are cared for by others and half of them aren't even married.
Of course it's more glamorous to follow women to designer fashion boutiques and charity tennis matches in the Hamptons than to show women in sweatpants folding laundry, but at least call it what it is. Because of programs like this, the word "housewife" has become synonymous with spoiled, shallow, gossipy bitch. As a mom who spent the better part of a decade putting her career on hold to focus on home and family, I object!
Oh my, I've been kvetching for too long, so I'll end here. I didn't even get to Peeve #4: Sarah Palin is Writing a Memoir or Peeve #5: I Can't Read a Menu Without a Flashlight. But you can probably fill in the blanks on those.
Got any pet peeves of your own? Post 'em here!