A real friend isn't afraid to tell you the truth, right? If your friends won't tell you when there's spinach in your teeth, a bat in the proverbial cave, or when your breath is so rancid that even the dog wonders if you brush your teeth, then who will? No one. Friends are the ultimate arbiter of whether you look or smell bad, and if they won't tell you, then surely no one else will. You'll just be cursed to walk the earth looking bad and smelling worse.
This morning when I came into the office, one of the partners, Joe, called me into the office of another attorney, Maris. Most of us are good friends in our office. There is an air of camaraderie amongst us. We socialize as well as work together.
Joe lifted his hand in the air to slap me high five and said, "I just have to say, you've done an amazing job losing weight".
It was at this point that Maris looked at me, nodded her head in agreement and with a slightly evil giggle she said "Yeah, but um, seriously? Those clothes have got to go!" She was referring to this pair of grey work pants I got at the gap a few years ago, and a few sizes ago. She added "Hey! You know I'm a real friend! I'll tell you what I think."
Admittedly, Maris is the friend who'll always tell you if those pants actually do make your ass look fat (although frankly, I think most often it's usually the fat ass that makes your ass look fat in those pants).
I'm thinking Maris is right, and it's time to get some cheap temporary replacement pants, at the very least. Marshall's here I come.
Children are the same way as good friends when it comes to saying what they think. They don't know to sensor what they say. The other day my son was eating popcorn and offered me some. I thanked him, and said no. He replied, "because you used to be fat, Mom?"
I laughed. "Yes, because I used to be fat. And I'd like not to be fat again".
My son is really great for telling the truth. I should market him as a consultant. He could also help you select bras (see previous post). I'm pretty sure anyone wanting to know if they looked bad in any particular clothes could ask him and get an honest answer.
The other night, while hugging me goodnight he held my head close to his nose and said "Mom, your hair smells so good".
I asked, "Really? What's it smell like?"
"Onions" he replied sleepily in a whisper.
Well then. Time for a shampoo, I guess.
Yep. Honesty. I can handle it. With a little honesty, some new pants and some shampoo, I might be half presentable.