Suzy Says

Of my many bad habits (shopping when I can’t afford it; pathological laziness; trashy magazine addiction), the one that’s probably the easiest to change and should be, really soon, is my insane dogwalking attire, undoubtedly the snickering of the neighborhood. If I were a celebrity, that’s what I’d be wearing on the cover of a trashy magazine (I wonder if I’d still read them if I were in them?), with a huge headline like “Suzy’s Secret Heartbreak!”

In fact, it’s not heartbreak or drug addiction that leads to my odd clothing choices when I take Rita out in the morning. It’s a combination of morning stupor, lack of caffeine, and laziness. I just grab the first thing and head out the door.

Today’s crime against fashion was: pink pajama bottoms patterned with little white bows, white men’s v-neck t-shirt, cashmere coat, and kitten-heeled mules, worn with unbrushed hair jammed into a pony tail. Niiiice. Imagine my relief to discover that the cop giving a guy a parking ticket was a regular policeman and not from the Fashion Police. Rita the Slinky gave the cop the eye and he stopped in the middle of writing the ticket to pet her and admire her while I tried unsuccessfully to hide behind her willowy form. When she was bored with him, she kissed him on the nose and took off in search of the next smell.

My little Husky* Hussy.

All that medical crap just sucked the frivolity out of me, and I’ve pretty much spent the last week pondering my (possibly imminent) mortality and having such a raucous pity party that the neighbors threatened to call the police (not the fashion kind) if I didn’t keep my self-pity down to what my father used to call a dull roar.

In addition to the horrors I have already related, I had to endure an ultrasound. For those of you who have never been subjected to this, I will just say this: Stephen King couldn’t make this shit up. It was gruelling and gruesome in the extreme. Of all the medical intervention I have suffered (and I do mean suffered) the past two weeks, this was the total worst. Even the Pap Test and mammogram were more fun. Seriously. And that heart monitor thing was the good part.

Now I have to wait for the test results, and you know how patient I am at the best of times. I feel like I just took final exams. Only I hope my results aren’t, you know, final.

*Apparently Rita is part Siberian Husky, hence her aversion to the heat and extra-thick coat.