Friday, September 23, 2011

Act your age....NOT your shoe size

Hi.  My name is Camille.  I am 28 years old.  I am an adult.  Sometimes, admittedly, I act like I'm 9.  And I just can't help it.

How, you ask?  Well, I'm sure I can dig up a few examples.

Let's start with food.

I like putting cereal into a bag, and munching on it throughout the day.  I prefer if that cereal is something like fruit loops.  I realize that instead of sugary cereal, that bag of snack should contain something better, like carrots or something, but what's the fun in THAT?  Although, they are advertising that it now has more fiber... (On a side note, while looking for pictures, I just realized that it's spelled, FROOT LOOPS.  Seriously, I'm out of touch.

 I go to the supermarket every week in hopes of continuing my journey of healthy eating.  I buy healthy foods, with a couple of treats mixed in.  Without fail, the treats are gone within minutes.  Sometimes I have to throw the healthy food away because it's gone bad. I swear, I try!  But I'm sorry, have you tried Plan Ciobani Yogurt?  You'd choose the treats over that, any day!  I'd put money on it!

I much prefer to eat macaroni with butter and either ricotta cheese or cottage cheese than have a delicious steak.  I swear, I have completely developed taste  buds.  I know the difference between good food and bad food.  Maybe this can be considered lazy, but don't you think that a bowl of carbs and cheese can go miles?  I do.  Maybe there's just something about macaroni with butter and cottage cheese that brings me back to 4-years old, sitting in Nonni's kitchen having lunch.  Either way, it just makes me so happy.

Next.  The domestic adventures in the life of Camille.

We all know I like to bake.  But honestly, aside from baking and the few meals a week that I make, I have to ask myself, where's the domesticated girl that was supposed to appear when I reached adulthood?  For example...

I hate the following:  Ironing, Putting stuff away, Cleaning and Dusting, Laundry.  My sister will appreciate the fact that I have openly admitted that I hate doing anything that's associated with housework or straightening my pigsty.  I do it, however,  I do it because I know that I'll get annoyed with the mess within 15 minutes.  But still.

Ironing?  Let's just say that I try to buy clothes that never require ironing.  I also try to wash/dry/hang dry my clothes so that they don't get wrinkled.  If they are wrinkled, I usually only iron them if I absolutely have to.

Laundry?  I live on the 3rd floor and the laundry is in the basement.  Enough said?  I know, I know, not a good excuse.  But still, I end up waiting to do my laundry until I have no underwear left.  Or no pants for work, or no shirts (you get the picture...)  Tonight we're going to my dad's for dinner, and I'm bringing laundry with me.  I don't hate doing laundry, I hate the up-and-down the stairs that come along with them.

Dusting?  I honestly like living in a CLEAN environment.  What I hate is having to take everything off my bureau, only to dust it and then pile everything back on.  Maybe I'll patent a type of bureau that has dust resistant particles manufactured into it.

Finally....The adventures in "Camille Hair"

Scott has aptly named anything to do with my head "Camille hair."  Why?  Well, in the humid weather, whether my hair is in a pony tail or down, it gets so messy, that I have these wisps that completely surround my head.  I can brush my hair and 3 minutes later, it's a mess again.  But who am I kidding?  It's not like that just in the humid weather.  It's all the time (Picture attached, obviously exaggerated, but still truthful).

Likewise, I can go get a hair cut, and have the most amazing hair, but it's impossible for me to re-create the amazing job that the hair dresser has done in blow drying my hair.  I honestly think that most people don't realize just how much hair I have because it's almost always in a pony tail!  I still can't move past that 4th grade notion that it's OK to have my hair in a pony every day!

OK, so maybe I only have three major points to comment on here.  But honestly, do you understand the predicament that I've gotten myself into here?  I find that more often than not, I do not act my age at all.  I really do act my shoe size.  But, at the end of the day, when I look in the mirror, I see that if it weren't for these flaws, if I really did change all these things, I wouldn't really be me.  Am I right?  Do YOU act your age?  or your shoe size?  

Props to Lauren because I totally stole this blog post idea from her!  :o)

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