Men are definitely living in a parallel universe.
I’m sitting here, Friday night, with my husband, Michael in the family room. We are starting a new game of chess (our new way to re-connect). Joe, my 16-year-old son, Michael, and I just finished a great dinner. I made homemade chicken soup with matzah balls from scratch. The first batch of the season. The familiar ritual of Friday night soup feels completely right. The three of us, a team, laughing at some silly school story; and then there is some off-colored joke told between Michael and Joe. They laugh between themselves. I am left out. I beg to hear the joke that I already know is going to annoy the shit out of me. But, of course, I need to know what they are laughing at. I push on. “Just tell me,” I plead. And in that very instant I wonder, dare they be laughing at me?
I had finally tinted my way-too-blonde eyebrows and eyelashes today. Are they too dark? Do I look like Groucho Marx? And then Joe divulges the inside joke. Well, they certainly weren’t laughing at me. It was something else, something gross, just for guys. Not meant for my ears. But hey, I insisted. So it wasn’t my freshly tinted eyebrows and eyelashes they were laughing about. Neither, Michael nor Joe even noticed. I’m astonished. I’m hurt. I look so different, or so I thought. Don’t they see how much better I look? “Hello, I just made a change to my face!”
Then I think back to last month…I went and had my hair weaved and trimmed. I splurged on myself and I was feeling really excited about my new appearance. Michael and Joe just sat at the table, enjoying every bite of the dinner that I made with my bare hands (actually, it was lasagna from a box, but who needs to know that?) and they continued joking around and watching yet another basketball game. Sometimes I really hate that television! Am I not here? Again, I think, “Hello? What’s up, am I invisible?” I anxiously waited for someone to notice my hair. I thought I looked amazing, at least one year younger! I know I looked distinctively different than the day before. But still, they didn’t notice. And I decided not to say a word. Michael doesn’t need to know about the $200.00 it cost him. He’d definitely give me a hard time about the price. That, he would notice!
As I contemplate my disgust with these two men in my life, I remember another episode of feeling invisible. One of my friends, Lori (who, by the way, is a fabulous esthetician) gave me this incredible facial. My face shined for a whole day. My cheeks were rosy and, in my humble opinion, I was sparkling. Again, neither one of them noticed me. Neither of them said a single word. Michael and Joe just carried on, making dumb ass jokes, watching sports and eating my taco dinner. I can’t help but wonder, who do they see when they look at me? I’m sitting at the same table, for heaven’s sake, but I feel so all alone.
Here I go again, over-analyzing the fact that no one in this house seems to really see me. I can’t help but feeling deep down that I could have a paper bag over my head and, as long as there was food on the table and sports on the television, there could be anyone under the bag. It’s as though I’m totally invisible. I still wonder, though, would they even notice the paper bag?