Such Pretty Faces

A Space to Relate and Create

Reader, you’ve been unintentionally duped. Rather than go to the source, I am seeking to right this wrong directly with you and provide some additional context. The source may fire me, as she is my boss. But I am willing to roll the dice on this one because the truth always comes out.

Each week I submit my heart and soul (a.k.a. blog) to my boss. Our arrangement is that she retains sole creative power with respect to adding pictures, gifs, memes etc to my writing. This is structured as such because she has an eye, a knack and most importantly, an actual interest in that stuff. IDGAF. (Mom, that translates to “I do not get all the fuss” no matter what Siri tells you.)  

As my boss and I are undeniably dedicated to Such Pretty Faces and significantly underpaid for our contributions, we both feel free to do as we please without approval or fear of, well, anything. Yet last week, in my SAHM anniversary post, my boss added a picture of a SAHM who will never be mistaken for me, and she also included that she would bet that I did not own an apron. I have previously written about how we are actually the same person living in different states, so you undoubtedly assumed she was correct.

However, I regret to inform you that I do, in fact, own an apron. Two, if we are putting all our cards on the table. One is plain white and dull and never worn. So it is the other of which I feel the need to come clean. Now, before you remove all advertisements, subscriptions and donations to SPF, please understand that it would never occur to her that I would own this:

For those wanting to know, I was a vegetarian from 2010-2020 and then became vegan in 2020 to the present time. So, what in hullabaloo am I doing with an apron with a turkey suggesting we eat beef as we celebrate the needless turkey murder day known to many as Thanksgiving? She could not have predicted this, nor would she have intentionally lied to you. I hope you hear me, forgive her and then quit eating animals and their byproducts. 

As your BP lowers, your cheeks become un-flushed with your anger dwindling and your pupils return to normal size, let me explain why I have an apron and our relationship status. First, I only wear it on Thanksgiving, and only when I remember. I bought it for myself the first year I got to have Thanksgiving MY way- which for me meant I was at my own home cooking whatever foods I wanted instead of attending a family event where I ate 1/16 of the offerings, 5 slices of pie and counted down the minutes until I could leave. The first year I could do that suddenly made Thanksgiving my FAVORITE holiday simply because I had full control over the menu. I plowed through cans of jellied cranberry sauce and shed a tear out of pure happiness. I made a tofurkey that was edible but not orgasmic, but I didn’t care because I did what I wanted. This holiday tradition carried on this way for many years, and this year could have been a stopper but Covid saved the day. I donned the apron this year as I made apple pie with my kids (which turned out gross so PM for the recipe).

At any rate, clearly the apron doesn’t have a prominent role in my life, so it is easy to assume it doesn’t exist in my life. I hold no ill-will towards my boss for the mis-step, and as our couples therapist says “keeping things private will help us remain amicable.”

Oh, wait…

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