Friday, December 09, 2005

Jumpin' on the bandwagon...

So I decided that I'm tired of not having the latest "it" (although I have been told that I can find it on eBay).

In Paris, everyone has a small yappy-sized dog, usually of the variety which consists solely of eyes, hair, and an extraordinarily high-pitched voice box. You see these dogs everywhere - walking down the streets with their owners, looking très chic with their little jackets and coordinating collars and leashes; frequenting the finest pâtisseries and marchés, waiting patiently on the sidewalk for their owners to bring them their preferred treats, probably something involving quiche; or, most commonly, riding on the metro in their handy-dandy carrying cases (which also match the collar and leash. But then everything in Paris matches everything else: it's all black). The carrying case is usually just a large purse with the dog tucked inside, peeking out demurely between the shoulder straps. I always wondered how you train your dog well enough to not have to worry about your other personal effects coming out unscathed.

I did not have a small yappy dog. Or a large black purse in which to carry it. Or even a matching black collar and leash (although that would have been really odd without the dog to go with it). I felt decidedly unstylish, unchic, and left out. The fact that I was an American wearing jeans, sneakers, and a comfy shirt which had turned a blueish-gray shade in the weird Parisian washing machines didn't help much in the land of tailored black slacks and pointy-toed high heels, but I still blame it mostly on my lack of popular accessory. The only thing that made me feel better was the fact that my husband did not have a small yappy dog either. (Nor, I am relieved to say, did he have a large black purse in which to carry it.)

When we returned to the States and moved into our BYU student ward, I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to worry about my paucity of canine companionship. On our first Sunday in the ward, I settled as comfortably as possible back into the bench and looked around me in satisfaction at being at home and chic again. As I looked, though, my comfort and confidence dwindled as I realized that I still wasn't up to date: Everyone else either had or very soon would have a trendy new baby to play with and show off to the other couples. Hip mothers compared how much their children had grown and the cool tricks they were capable of. This made for interesting Relief Society conversation:

Sister #1: Little Ben started eating solid foods this week. He just loves his mashed carrots. He practically inhales them!
Other sisters: Oh, how exciting!
Sister #2: Little Jessica's been sleeping through the night since she was two weeks old.
Other sisters: Amazing! What's your secret?
Sister #3: (to me) Are you new in the ward?
Me: Yes, this is our first Sunday.
Sister #4: Really? It's little Cameron's first time at church, too.
Other sisters: Oh, how darling! He has his father's eyes and your hair color!
(All gather around to coo over the newest club member.)
Me: Yeah, we just got back from Paris....
Sister #5: Wow. How awesome would that be? I would love to go to Paris someday. But it won't be happening anytime soon -- not with little Anna on the way!
Other sisters: Oooooh!!! Congratulations!!! (The conversation immediately turns to a thorough discussion of due date, how they all felt at that point in their pregnancy, how much her life will change with her new little one, etc.)
Me: (All sense of chicness vanishing quicker than Little Ben's carrots) So... how 'bout those pastries, eh?

When we arrived in Chile, I gave up all hope of chicness with the fact that I couldn't speak a lick of Spanish, although I did learn enough to know that the same scene was being replayed quite often.

Now that I'm back in the States again, all of a sudden I notice that everyone has one of these cool blog things. In my naïveté, I used to believe that only cool people like Gryffinkat had blogs. (Kat, you are still the coolest person I know. I think that's why everyone has blogs now, in an attempt to emulate you.) Then I found, serendipitous-like, Daring Young Mom and a whole slew of other awesome blogs. I began to feel twinges of the familiar accessory-envy. I needed this new "it." This itch became unbearable when even my wonderful husband, who had been my staunch supporter in my lack of chicness until this point, sold out and got his own. What was a girl to do?

And so I present to you my very own blog. Yippee! I can feel the chicness once again flowing through my veins. Take that, snooty French poodle people! I don't even need to worry about housebreaking... er, pursebreaking. Or whatever.


Daring Young Dad said...

"Jumpin' on the bandwagon..." And a fine jump it is. :)

Not Too Pensive said...

In our defense, we had just moved into Wymount, which would certainly explain the impressive number of youngin's about.

The Daring One said...

That's exciting!

None of those women kept their babies in a big black purse did they? You sort of left that open and I'm a little worried about the Mormon community and its humaine treatment of infants.

By the way, when ARE you gonna have kids? j/k

elliespen said...

I didn't see any babies in large black purses, but with the size of some of those diaper bags you never can tell...