DC Metro Moms

She's Just Not That Into You

A while ago, a book came out, which then went on to become a lackluster, star-studded cluster called "He's Just Not That Into You." 

The title said it all.  

I think had I read the book sometime in my early twenties - I would have saved myself some humiliation and maintained some more dignity as I found myself in a cycle of falling for men who liked to play mind games and dismissing the ones who actually respected me.

But who knows?  Reading the book probably wouldn't have made things that much better for me.  When you are actually immersed in the height of madness it's hard to acknowledge and take a step back from your own psychosis.

You know what I mean?

However, in the absence of having a tome of wisdom to tell me to get a hold of myself, I decided that I would do go see a counselor who could help me find my way back to normal.

My options were limited.  I had to go to whoever was covered by my insurance and I really didn't know how to investigate this kind of stuff.  It's not exactly water cooler talk, is it?

Throw in Your Tidbits . . .

Growing up Indian American, I have often commiserated with others when they stumble over common "American" cliches.  I say "American" and not English - because the English have a whole bunch of other sayings that screw me up even worse.  And that's not bollocks.

I remember watching an early episode of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?"

I know that it was in its early days because I did not last long watching this show.  I do not fare well with game shows.  They make me angsty.

Is "angsty" even a word?

Well, if it's not - it should be.

Ok, ok.  It leaves me "angstish" (That should be a word too!)

So as I sat there during one of these early episodes, sweating my patootie off from all the "angstinocity" of the situation, a young Chinese-American man, who looked like he had all the makings of someone who would make it at least 3 minutes into the show, was asked his first question.  It had something to do with the popular American phrase, "throw in the towel."

Did I Really Say That? Really?

There are times when I look back at things I have said in the past and cringe to myself.

Because I was one judgmental little pain in the butt.

When I was in my 20's I was someone who felt the need to tell everybody ALL my views on life and oftentimes, how I thought others should be living their lives.  I think I thought I was providing a public service of some sort.

Well if that me was standing in front of this me now, I'd have a real bone to pick with her.

And she (I) might have even gotten a little b&%ch slap from me.

SLAP.

It mainly had to do with the obnoxious things "Old Me" would say to my friends who had children.  Being a mother myself now (one who can hardly find the time to brush my hair, mind you), "New Me" would really like to go back and pick a really nasty old fight with "Old Me".

And I am surprised more of my friends didn't.

Here are just some of "Old Me" views on life that I felt the need to share with anyone who would listen.

No. YOU Take Your Sexy Back. Keep it.

I had the pleasure of reading Mominatrix: A Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase recently. 

There is no double entendre in that statement.  I read the book.  It was excellent.  It made me happy.  I laughed.  I cried.  I got my money's worth from the bulk box of tissues we get from Costco. I will recommend it to friends.

Now, when I say that I cried, please note that this is NOT a sad book.  It's actually quite funny, bravely frank and a complete riot.  Kristen Chase has chutzpah and passion combined with a smart, witty mind and the writing skills to execute.

I really do heart her.  (Happy Valentines Day Kristen!)

I think it's just find that maybe, (maybe?) I have found myself in a teeny bit of a sad place when it comes to anything that has to do with my own individuality. and well.  Hmmm . . . .

Well, I guess the best thing to say is that the sexy me went on a bit of "hiatus".   Not like a two week hiatus.  More like a several year hiatus.  I don't know when she is coming back (She is SOOOOO, inconsiderate like that.  John is hopeful but I told him that she may let him down.  No updates to her itinerary have been made available).

As a mother of two children still in diapers - I was very excited to get this book through the Silicon Valley Moms Book Club in honor of Valentine's Day. 

I told my husband we would be receiving it in the mail and dropped hints as if he was to expect some immediate rewards once I finished the book.  I also tried to give him meaningful winks, but given my total and utter lack of sexiness these day, he mistook it for a twitch and asked if I was dehydrated.

He's a really sweet man.

I was hopeful that being in possession of the book would be all I needed to reclaim some of the "old Kiran."  This would be in contrast to "OLD Kiran" which is how I feel now.  They may sound like the same thing, but they are very different.  Very much so.

"old Kiran"  knew how to party like a rock star and have a good time.  Party more than Keith Richards.

"OLD Kiran?"  Hmm.  Not so much.  But she more closely resembles Keith Richards.

Take Me Away With Your Song . . .

That's a picture of me from a long time ago when I used to be in a popular D.C. cover band.  That is my old friend and bandmate, Kevin Sambat standing next to me at Shamrockfest 2005.  He is going to be mad I posted this.  Oops.

More on Cover Band days later.

The point of showing you that picture of me with my nifty tambourine and my "pimp" jacket is so you know that I love, love, LOVE music.

Last week, one of my favorite bloggers, Theta Mom, wrote a post about how a song transported her back to a special moment in time.  The song in question for her was "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls.  I am not the biggest Goo Goo Dolls fan, but I love that song and understood exactly what she meant.

I love the enormity of what you can feel when you hear a song.  I don't mean to be presumptuous but I am certain you all have your "songs" that can create an almost visceral response for you.  I know that I can be going about a normal task and a song will come up on my iPod and bring me back to a memory from some time ago that I forgot I even remembered.

For example, "Feed The World" from Band Aid came on the other day and I was 9 years old again.  In the 3rd grade and in desperate need of braces.  When that song comes on the radio, it is a sensory rush that overwhelms me and almost brings me to my knees.  The memories come at me like a swift punch to the gut and suddenly I remember.

How To Make Friends and Lie to People

I have learned over the years that in order to maintain friendships and be the best friend that you can possibly be, it is sometimes very important to hmmmm.  How do I say this without upsetting anybody?

Oh whatever. 

You need. To learn. How to lie.

I know. I know.  This is not the lesson we want to teach our children.  "Lying is wrong!" you might say.  After all, look what happened to Pinocchio!  Heck, and even Tiger!

Maybe.  Maybe it IS wrong, but I will tell you that perhaps I can make you feel better by saying it's really just a matter of semantics.  Perhaps you should not look at it as "lying" and maybe consider it as "diplomacy"?

Yes, diplomacy sounds much, much better.