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If you meet me at Blogher next week know one thing: I am going to be entirely fake.

And I admit it.

Which counts for something, doesn’t it?

But I am doing it for YOU.  So that I don’t scare the living hell out of you when you meet me.  So that I somewhat resemble my profile picture. Heh.

In the next couple of days I have every manner of appointment scheduled: hair, nails, feet… you name it and I’ve scheduled it.  Except lipo and Botox because, well, my husband doesn’t love me.  If he loved me he would have agreed.  OBVIOUSLY.

I’ve even gone SHOPPING for you.  My $5.00 WalMart shoes broke last week after four years of service.  Perfect timing.  My tried-and-true black pants are splitting from my ever expanding waistline and my favorite shirts have been slobbered and sauced upto the nth degree by the youngsters.  It is better that you don’t see me that way.  I like my little blog-protected-world.

You know, shopping for most that gals that I know is a treat. For moi? Notsomuch.  I can never seem to find something that fits me when I have money and when I don’t (like today) I find a ton of things. Problem is, I don’t want to buy the clothes because I am working on losing weight for the marathon and so I don’t want to be in this size much longer.

I really hate being a woman sometimes.

But I digress… So if all goes according to my evil plan, when I arrive at the convention, my hair will be freshly cut and dyed.  I will have manicured nails and such.  I will be wearing clothing that my children haven’t ravaged yet.  In short, I will be a completely fake representation of myself.

Which makes me realize that if I offend someone’s sensibilities then I have no one to blame but myself.  Oh hell.  Didn’t think of that.

C’est la vie!

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