Entry #42 - Spinster Couture

Dear Diary,
    I have always considered myself to be a fashionista of sorts. I first became aware of my keen eye for fashion in grade four. For most of that year I wore the same outfit; floral leggings, an over sized red sweatshirt that had a huge happy face on the front and said "Don't Worry Be Happy", pushed-down coloured socks, and a side pony with a scrunchy. I looked good. This was also the year I got bangs thanks to the boy I had a crush on telling me I had a "Klingon" forehead. I will concede that he did have a point, it is more of a fivehead than a forehead, but he didn't have to point that out to me. To this day I still feel a little self conscious every time Star Trek is on, which is awkward as I totally have a thing for Captain Jean Luc Picard; he can "make it so" any time he wants to, if you know what I'm sayin'. WINK!

Entry #41 - Mansion on the Market

Dear Diary,
   With Kim's departure for Scotland and my gregarious house guests back to Vancouver, leaving only the cat and Kim's unfinished portrait of "Birth of a Spinster" to keep me company, I must confess, the view from where I sit has been rather grey. I initially meant this figuratively (and as a salute to Pride & Prejudice), but the view from my window literally just got worse when I looked up to see my ex-boyfriend's car in the turn lane at the intersection below. If you have never loudly booed someone and shaken your fist at them from a safe distance (while wearing ugly pyjamas, a side ponytail, and writing about your life of lonely spinsterhood), I highly recommend it, very therapeutic.

Entry #40 - Spinster Forlorn

Dear Diary,
   At the advice of "Counselor Pat", my wise, fashionable, and sage-like life counselor, I shall face my grief here and now, in a head-on and timely fashion; this is apparently "healthier" than bottling it up for later when it will be released in a cataclysmic and borderline criminally-insane fashion.

Kimmy is gone. There, I said it. My beloved hetero-life-partner-in-spinsterhood has packed her bags and set off on a grand adventure. Where does a young spinster go in this big wide world in order to seek her fortune, you ask? After numerous highland themed romance novels (see Entry#23 - Spinster Scholars), the answer is simple: Scotland. The home of haggis, tartan, and Robert Burns, among other things. Upon reflection, I realized it is me who laid the foundation for this decision. Way back in 2006 I gave Kim my copy of "Outlander" by Diana Gabaldon, and now, five years and six more "Outlander" novels later, her mind is still consumed with men in kilts and rolling in the heather...but I digress.

Entry #39 - Spinster Fitness

Dear Diary,
I've been working on my fitness for about two months now, and I must say that I have seen limited results. This may be because I often follow up a trip to the gym by sitting on the kitchen floor and eating chocolate, but I can't say for sure.
My older sister, Amy, is a fitness machine.

Entry #38 - Easter Tidings

Signs of Spinsterhood #3

Dear Diary,

In honour of the forthcoming Easter holiday and by popular demand (popular = Vanessa), I decided to dig up some of my old Easter-themed rants from my pre-spinster era. Your eyes do not deceive you, nor is it a typo, I said "rants" plural; thus we have come to the third "sign of spinsterhood": ranting and raving like a senior citizen.

I do not believe that having a brain, an opinion, and a backbone leads to spinsterhood, not at all. When I say that ranting, raving, and complaining is a signpost on the road to spinsterdom you have to keep in mind that it is all about content, frequency, and delivery.

The content is asinine a large percentage of the time: Nothing I complain about will ever be seen on the news or written about in the New York Times. My complaints, tirades, and "meowing" (actual words of an ex-boyfriend) are almost exclusively about pointless, ridiculous things. I am sort of like a senior citizen in a retirement home who complains just for something to do and, very likely, to hear the sound of my own voice.  "It's too sunny!"

The frequency must be high: I don't think a day goes by when I don't come across something that really grinds my gears and some poor person who has to hear about it. When you are a spinster, most days are -multi-complaint days.

The delivery must be cutting and indignant: Finding something ridiculous to complain about and then delivering it in an angry and indignant fashion is kind of my specialty. Does that make me a harpy? Possibly, let's check:

Affirmative. It would appear that it does indeed make me a harpy, and we all know that men want nothing more than to find themselves a sassy, redheaded harpy. You know what most men want? A fan club of thoughtless clappers. <----OH! I just caught myself complaining! *dictated into smart phone* "April 20th, 10:05 am, complaint #1 - Content: bitter and unnecessarily mean, Frequency: first of the day, which is impressive considering I have yet to speak to anyone, Delivery: cutting, indignant, and harpy-like. A fine specimen"

Let's get on with the Easter fun! When I say Easter I mean chocolate rabbits, coloured eggs, hot cross buns, and a stat holiday. The whole crucifixion/resurrection thing is such a downer.

Finally, also ironically and appropriately, there is this post from March of 2008.