SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

Since I began contemplating the idea of dressing up the truth, I’ve suddenly become aware of just how often my actions are glossed in translation. In other words, I’ve been treating myself: glamorizing my life with the gift of language. Such an easy indulgence is hard to resist. In just this past week alone, I’ve caught myself with my hand in the cookie jar on several occasions. Luckily, the other party involved hasn’t noticed, an event that would surely force me to abandon the cookie jar and instead eat my words. Yuck.

1) Snobby Girl from high school that I ran into on the street: I like your headband. Where’d you get it?

Stunned: Oh, this hole in the wall called The Cay Market. It’s in the East Village, pretty close to Astor Place. It’s really fantastic–hard for me not to buy the whole place up every time I go. I like your scarf.
(Translation: I bought it at the KMart at Astor Place. It was 50% off, total cost amounting to $1.99. I bet your scarf is from Burberry. I bet you’re going to tell me it’s from Burberry.)

Snobby Girl: Thanks. I got it for Christmas [leans in and intimately confides] It’s legit Burberry.

2) Will, my brofriend: You smell good. It’s weirding me out. What is that?

Stunned: Oh, it’s Tragique, a new scent I picked up the other day.
(Translation: It’s dramatically tragic that I actually bought lavender body spray at CVS; yes, dramatic enough to say it in French. I just couldn’t deal with walking out of the apartment smelling like the last thing I’d cooked. The world doesn’t need to know that I indulge in garlic chicken sausages.)

Will: Really? I always had you pegged as an Old Spice kind of dude.

3) Intimidating Twenty-Something Coworker (female) standing at the coffee machine last Monday morning: How was your weekend?

Stunned: Oh, nice. Pretty quiet. I actually hosted a little wine-tasting at my apartment. Very low key.
(Translation: My roommate and I each bought a bottle of $3.99 red wine from Trader Joe’s and drank both before falling asleep on the couch while attempting to re-watch the entire first season of Full House. Yes, I own the DVDs. No, they were not a gift, but a careful investment.)

Intimidating Twenty-Something: That sounds great! You’ll have to let me know some of the wines you liked. I know nothing about wine and I always feel like such a dunce.

4) Hot Twenty-Something Coworker (male) standing at the coffee machine last Monday morning (one hour later): How was your weekend?

Stunned: Uhhh, [voice jumps an octave or two] good?
(Translation: Your strikingly good looks have robbed me of my verbal prowess and if I meet your gaze I will become completely lost in the abyss of your deep blue eyes.)

Hot Twenty-Something: Cool. See you later.

So…apparently this isn’t exactly a foolproof method. It failed me when I needed it the most. However, the silver lining: being at a loss for words is better than eating them, especially when I have a phobia about eating in front of hot guys that I don’t know very well. Oh well. In the game of word-play, you can’t win them all.

Photo Credit: ecoupons.com