Can You Handle The Truth ? Part II

                                                                          

                                                                   

Last week  Jamie Ayres  hosted a blogfest based on the 2 Truths and a Lie game. Now that her book 18 TRUTHS is on sale today, we are finally allowed to come clean. Jamie has generously offered to donate all of the proceeds from today's sales to charity. To find out more about 18 TRUTHS  go HERE.  The following is a condensed version of my three choices:

1) In order to help me become more graceful, and aware of which occasions called for white gloves, my mom enrolled me in the Wendy Ward Charm School, when I was only four.

2) When I was seventeen, I dated a twenty seven year old waiter. Not only did my parents approve, but my dad helped me give him directions to our house.

3) While getting fitted for orthotics for my plantar fasciitis, I was asked to become a foot model for an orthopedic shoe company. Though  I was hired for my high arches, the division I worked for fell flat, and my geriatric foot modeling career ended abruptly.

The majority voted for #2 as the lie. The next most popular choice was #3. Oddly enough, no one doubted that the blogger who never resists the opportunity to write about embarrassing bodily functions was a charm school graduate.

As for #3, I did have plantar fasciitis, and I still wear orthotics, but I was never asked to model orthopedic shoes. Gosh, it feels good to get that off my chest! Congratulations to the eight great detectives who sniffed out the lie: Yvonne Stephenson,   Sherry Ellis,  Rum-Punch Drunk,  Susan Fleet Swiderski,  Robin @ Your Daily Dose,  Title By Jaq,  A Beer For The Shower,  and of course Jamie Ayres. Be sure to visit these amazing super sleuths.

Thanks to Jamie for hosting this delightfully deceptive blogfest, and thanks to everyone who played along. It was interesting to learn about your powers of deductive reasoning. 

Since most of you thought that #2 was the lie, I thought that I should further explain why my parents didn't object when I was casually dating someone ten years my senior, during my junior year in high school. For the record, he was a complete gentleman, and we would just get together on occasion to see a movie or listen to music. As outrageous as it may seem, my mom had a similar experience.

When my mom was fourteen, she went to visit her aunt in Michigan City. Her aunt decided to fix her up with her landlady's son. The plan was to go on a double date. It was a lovely summer evening, so the foursome went to a drive-in movie in his convertible.

While my mom had done some babysitting to earn some spending money, she didn't have a lot in common with her date, who was a college professor. She had even less in common with his married friends. Though they were at the drive-in in his convertible, my mom didn't have to worry about him getting fresh because she recalled, "He was allergic to the night air, and kept sneezing into his handkerchief."

Later when my mom saw her aunt, she didn't say a word. Neither one of them ever spoke of the incident again. Though my mom's adventure could have turned into a date with danger, at least the college professor was thoughtful enough to use protection. A properly placed handkerchief is definitely something to sneeze at.



Can You Handle The Truth Blog Fest?

                                                                               

To celebrate the release of her new book 18 TRUTHS,  Jamie Ayres  is hosting the Can You Handle The Truth? Book Release Blog Fest. Each participant is asked to write two events that actually happened, and one event that is completely false. The challenge is to see how many fake stories you can sniff out, while meeting new bloggers along the way. If that isn't enough incentive to join in on the fun, Jamie has graciously teamed up with other authors in providing some incredible giveaways. Be sure to visit all of the lovable liars here.

My earliest memory of feeling completely out of place, was when my mom enrolled me in Wendy Ward Charm School. One of her dear friends signed her daughter up, so my fate was sealed. Some of my acquired skills included: drinking tea with my pinkie extended, knowing which occasions called for white gloves, and walking down a runway as all the moms were snapping photos, while my mom conveniently left her camera at home. Did I mention that I was only four at the time?

When I was seventeen, I went out with a twenty seven year old waiter that I met at a restaurant with my parents. Not only did my parents approve, but my dad went out of his way to be helpful. One day my dad overheard us talking on the phone in the kitchen. I was trying to tell him the best route to our house, when my dad heard me stammering. He quickly jotted down directions, and silently slid them across the table. Thanks to my dad, my date continued to believe that I was a confident college student instead of a nervous teenager with no sense of direction.

Years ago I began suffering from plantar fasciitis, so I went to the podiatrist. He suggested that I get fitted for orthotics, and sent me across the hall to have molds made of my feet. While there, I noticed that a man kept staring at me. I thought that this guy had some weird foot fetish, so I ignored him. Then he told me that he worked for an orthopedic shoe company that was unveiling a new arch support line. He complimented me on my high arches, and asked if I would be interested in becoming a foot model. He wasn't concerned that I was limping at the time, because they just needed me for still photographs. It was a good thing, because the shoes were nearly impossible to walk in, and that division of the shoe company went under within less than a year.  Little did my mom know, that this Wendy Ward Charm School graduate, would go on to become an unsuccessful geriatric foot model before I turned forty.

Against Doctor's Orders

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I've gotten to the point in my life, where my doctor visits have turned into "outings," which is not dissimilar to my mother, and grandmother. Several years ago, my ninety year old grandma took two buses to her doctor's office, and was handed a gown in the examining room. Since it was summer, she took off her coat, sweater, blouse, skirt, orthopedic shoes, girdle, and pantyhose, while she shook as the air conditioning blasted.

When the doctor finally showed up, he asked her how she was feeling, went over her list of medications, and said to get dressed without ever having examined her. Then she proceeded to put all of her layers of clothing back on, before embarking on her long bus ride home. Later when my mother asked her mother why she didn't say anything when the doctor didn't even bother to examine her, my grandma replied, "Oh, the doctor was very busy, and I didn't want to be a bother." My grandma would never question anything her doctors did, and second to her hairdresser, they were to be treated with the utmost respect.

Although my mom also holds her hairdresser in the highest regard, she does not hesitate to argue with her doctor, "No, I will not stay in that rehab facility. I don't like it, and that's it. Can you give me a pill? I'll take a pill, but that's it. Do not call my daughter to talk about my test results. You can call me, and that's it!"

Though I have a wonderful doctor, we have had some polite disagreements. About six years ago, before I was scheduled to have a follow up endoscopy, I asked to have a colonoscopy at the same time. I had also been having stomach problems, and thought it made sense to check everything while I was under anesthetic anyway. Because I was only forty seven, and the recommended age was fifty, both he and the gastroenterologist were reluctant to perform the procedure. Not only did I have my first colonoscopy, but I ended up having three in a six month period. The polyp was so large, that I underwent abdominal surgery to remove it. That argument probably saved my life.

My physician reminds me of the TV doctor from the sixties, and early seventies, Marcus Welby M.D. James Brolin played his handsome young sidekick, Dr. Kiley.  Dr. Welby always went out of his way for his patients, and even made house calls. Though my doctor doesn't make house calls, he'll always visit you in the hospital even when you're under another doctor's care. He'll also always tell you the truth. Whenever he introduces me to another doctor or nurse, the eighty two year old never fails to mention, "She's not fat. It's her liver."

IWSG: For The Birds

                                                                    

Alex J. Cavanaugh has soared to new heights in 2014, by welcoming birds of a feather into the  IWSG . He has invited the International Wader Study Group to merge with the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Members from both groups will meet on a trial basis before the merger becomes official.





Waders like writers have many insecurities, and the new and improved IWSG will provide them with the ideal format to share openly and honestly. While many bloggers discuss weighty issues, the waders or shorebirds could discuss their difficulty with having to consume one-third of their body weight every single day. Christopher Crane struggles with bloating, while Sally Sandpiper is constantly ridiculed for her large bill.

Most of the wading birds are no strangers to irony. With their long legs, and webbed feet many people don't realize that shorebirds are considered to be excellent migrators. Writers are also misunderstood creatures. While waders are divided into "pickers" and "probers," writers are characterised as "plotters" or "pantsers." In the wading bird community, the "pantsers" would quickly die of starvation; hence, they would provide the necessary tools to become  successful "plotters."

If this merger goes through our Ninja Captain will be the leader in all things IWSG related. Oh no, another IWSG just popped up on Google. It's the  International Workshop on Science Gateways. This must be part of  Gary Phillip Pennick's diabolical plan to undermine Alex's group. First he started I Was Seeking Gary, and now this. He must be stopped. We'll have to wait until spring, but I know just the right pickers and probers for the job.