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It isn’t Shakespeare, but it is honest: Fabric steamers, dressing rooms and male amnesia

4 mins read

By Cherimie Crane Weatherford

No alien abduction, no failed GPS and no slow sinking misery in pluff mud: However uneventful it may sound, I have just been busy. Although writing for me is like a warm pair of slippers on a cold day, it takes a collection of quiet minutes that recently have been rare. Scowls, scorns and attacks of unsuspecting interrogation while in the produce section of Publix have gently urged me to sit for more than 2.5 seconds and attempt to write my column.

Not one of my sincere explanations can justify my extended absence, but it has been quite the ride. Comforting as it would be to splatter my experiences in black and white for coffee consuming contemplation, time is precious and fleeting therefore a list seems awkwardly appropriate.

1. Some people change careers: It happens, y’all. It is not cause for bouts of anger, fits of fury or endless dialogue. Routines are for dancers, not for women with big hair and short attention spans.

2. Fabric steamers are Satan’s first cousin: No, I didn’t read this in Genesis, but I believe it to be true. My past with power tools did nothing to prepare me for this wicked water-wielding weapon of mass destruction. It may reduce wrinkles in clothing but it does nothing for those on my forehead.

3. Men are confused: Able to describe more than 100 complicated plays during one single quarter of football, most men are simply unable to accurately describe their wife’s preference or size in clothing. Strong, dark and handsome immediately becomes strange, deaf and helpless when it comes to female fashion. It is quite remarkable.

4. Women’s dressing rooms are small torture chambers: Sailors would blush at the horrendous phrases thrown about behind curtain number one. Small seemingly sweet women become fire breathing dragons when facing fashion’s unpredictable sizing.

5. Women are nicer when my husband is around: This strange phenomenon has actually kept me up at night (or maybe it is the 22 cups of coffee). From Self-hating Sally to Sweet Southern Sugar, women are well behaved in the company of my hubs — all women except for his wife. He calms the masses as if he is the Pied Piper.

Oh, the stories I can, and will tell once the onslaught of the minute to minute panic of starting a new business subsides. The world of women is full of fabulous fodder, odd occurrences and even moments of such pure emotion that is only seen and shared within the feminine mystique. My days are as different as the style and personality of women walking through my door each and every day. There is no lull, no counting ceiling tiles or long meetings about absolutely nothing. There is laughter, conversation and acceptance that whoever sizes jeans is just mean.

Thank you all for reading my articles and for fussing at me when I fail to meet my deadline. I promise to do better. If not, swing by my little shop and I will tell you all about it.

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