I beg you to give this some thought.

Could you be turning into a High-Maintenance Sally?

Do you often find yourself, due to dietary restrictions, ordering things ON THE SIDE?

The older I get, the more I realize, to my utter dismay, I may be turning into High-Maintenance Sally.

If you’ve ever seen the movie, When Harry Met Sally, you know what I’m talking about.

There is a scene when Harry Burns, (played by Billy Crystal), says to Sally Albright, (played by Meg Ryan), “There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.”

Sally replies, “Which one am I?”

“You’re the worst kind; you’re high maintenance but you think you’re low maintenance.”

“I don’t see that.”

“You don’t see that? Waiter, I’ll begin with a house salad, but I don’t want the regular dressing. I’ll have the balsamic vinegar and oil, but on the side. And then the salmon with the mustard sauce, but I want the mustard sauce on the side. “On the side” is a very big thing for you.”

“Well, I just want it the way I want it.”

“I know; high maintenance.”

The older I get, the more I realize I’m starting to become high maintenance.

Maybe just a little.

I’m not trying to be a total pain in the rear.

I blame age. I just often find I need things a certain way, or the poop hits the fan.

Literally.

For example, I used to be fine with no-name-brand detergent.

Not I get a rash.

I used to be fine with no conditioner. (OK, if you’ve seen my high school portrait, I guess I really couldn’t get away with it – I just THOUGHT I could!)

I used to wake up, take a shower, get on my ten speed and go about my day. Three Rave perms a year, and I was set. I could eat ANYTHING on the menu and not worry about a thing.

Even in college, I’d go for a run, take a shower, slap on my jeans shorts and boom, I was set. I could let my hair air dry in the sun and never worry about a thing.

But after two kids and 19 years of marriage, things have started to change.

I NEED a hair dryer.

I get a headache if I order the wrong salad dressing.

I feel nauseous if I eat shellfish.

I skip conditioner for one day and I look like the lead singer of Quiet Riot.

You know you’re becoming High-Maintenance Sally when:

• You order things ON THE SIDE because you know you’ll end up spending half the  day in bed if you don’t.
• You try to drink a different beer than your “usual” and you end up with a hangover that lasts for days.
• Boxed wine makes you gag.
• Just the mention of the words, “Lemon shot” makes you cringe and want to run to the toilet.
• You snack on ONE granola bar that happens to have artificial sweetener in it and you get a gnarly migraine.
• You can’t pluck your eyebrows because they’re too thick and you can’t get them waxed because it causes an allergic reaction that makes you feel like the Elephant Man.
• You have to drive 20 minutes out of the way, a few times a month, to get your eyebrows professionally THREADED.
• Wearing cheap earrings actually does cause an ear infection.
• You HAVE to get your hair colored professionally every 6 to 8 weeks or you look like a Golden Girl.
• You buy a pair of jeans from the sales rack and the rear splits in half after one wash.
• You try a new brand of yogurt, just for poops and giggles, and you end up sitting on the potty, not laughing… for
• I’m really ashamed about this one: You get a horrible headache from the off-brand candle your daughter bought for you from her school store, so you secretly switch it out for a different scent that you can tolerate.
• You get a rash from off-brand cosmetics.
• You can’t skip a shower or else you look like Kramer during his bath binge.
• You convince yourself you need a pair of boots for the rain, another for the snow, another for girls’ nights, another for carpooling and two more because you can’t just have them in black!

I have been fighting a cold for about a week now and when I’m really feeling sick, I can’t help myself. After loading my body with enough Green tea and Vitamin C to temporarily tranquilize a small rodent, I climb in bed and browse through Pinterest, Facebook, US Weekly and other “junkfood-for-Jackie’s-brain” places to catch up on the latest style trends. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fashion fest when you’re nursing a cold, right?

But during a recent Sunday online style search, I was disappointed. Very disappointed. Although the latest fashion trends for 2015 look fabulous on Kardashian and her kisters, they just aren’t for me.

I’ll throw out some examples:

1. CAPES. Some capes are really cute. I have tried to wear the “cape” look. But I look like I’m stepping off of the Scooby Mystery Mobile wearing one of my grandmother’s afghans around my shoulders. There are some people who can pull off this look. But I am not one of them. If you don’t believe me, I’ll snag my faux fur Restoration Hardware throw blanket off my couch, toss it around my neck and wait to see the kinds of looks I get at the grocery store.

2. Mod 1960’s mini-dresses. Short mini dresses. So short, even my 10-year-old daughter calls them “inappropriate”. (I love that she says that. My only hope is that she keeps this up in high school.) OK, I love 1960’s dresses. My best friend and I practically STARTED our elementary school’s mini skirt trend in the fourth grade. Hello, have you not seen a bazillion FB pictures of me wearing my favorite Jackie O glasses (that sadly cracked in two during our recent move)? I also worship style icons from that era. My mother named me after Jackie Kennedy for crying out loud. But a dress so short that the hem line stops right past my panty line? Especially since my 43-year-old southern cheeks have been expanding from post-holiday Lindt truffle overload? Um, I think I’ll pass. No, thank you.
3. Real fur coats. Long fur coats. I’m super happy with the new fluffy cashmere gloves my husband gave me for Christmas, but I’m not about to go out and buy a long and trendy real fur coat just because Kourtney Kardashian is wearing one. (Not a real fur coat, that’s cruel.) Mark my words, even if I did, it would go out of style the following week and someone would splash red paint on it.
4. Military khaki. I’m OK with military jackets. But, does this mean I need to wear shoulder pads? Because, to quote Jimmy Fallon, “I can’t.” Plus, when I was 11 years old and I participated in a four-hour “Color Me Beautiful” program with my mom, I was shown that even a hint of khaki green fabric near my freckled face makes me look like I actually need to puke. I mean I can’t…I’m a spring! Not an autumn! 

5. Short sweater dresses. To quote my daughter, “Ew!” Some sweater dresses are cute. BUT…the last time I wore a sweater dress that looked good on me, I was a junior in high school. I’m sorry, but these short dresses are MEAN to a woman my age. They highlight everything. Not just my curves, but my bubbles, my flab and my back fat. No thank you.

Oh, dear, I guess this makes me officially unstylish this new year. That’s such a bummer. Being from Texas, I love to dress up and keep up with the latest fashions, but I can’t seem to EMBRACE new trends. But wait….one more search gives me hope. THANKS TO PRINCESS KATE, I’ve realized there’s a style trend I can follow! Black tights! Hello, black tights! Thank you, Kate Middleton, for bringing back simple black tights. You can drop $10 at your local drug store and look like a princess? AND tuck in muffin top without cutting off your blood circulation? And make your grandmother happy because it keeps you warm while wearing a dress? Hello, black thick tights, I love you! I guess I’m not as much of a fashion failure as I thought!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Shut the front door, it’s January. How are you doing so far this NEW YEAR?

Me? I’m doing fan-fubbing-tastic.

I got my workout in this morning. I’ve had enough green tea to flood a basement. I’ve put away 85% of the Christmas decorations. I’m getting back to work. And I have a smile on my face as big as my expanding post-holiday waistline. I’m not going to lie. The cheesy grin has a lot to do with the fact that the holidays are over.

“Ba-hum-big, Jackie” you say?

Oh I said it.

I’m glad the holidays are over! I’m relieved! Yahhhoooo!

Don’t get me wrong – we had a nice Christmas break. We made great memories with our kids in our new home. With my parents. With my in-laws. With all of our relatives. We hosted and hosted and hosted until I practically bled twinkling lights and festive platters.

We had some relatives decide to stay not one week, but two. And others stay not just two weeks, but three. I love them all. I’m grateful for them all.

But as of 11:35 a.m. last Thursday? Like the Griswald holiday turkey, I was done. Dried to the bone, done. I’m not just RELIEVED the holidays are over. I’m fan-fubbing-ecstatic! OK, so it just so happens I experienced this ba-hum-bug revelation on my way home from the airport. Dropping my folks off at the airport, to be exact. Now, I love those two people who brought me into this world more than you could ever know. They are sweet people with big hearts. And I did everything possible to make sure their visit was awesome. From decorating a mini American Girl Doll-themed Christmas tree with my daughter to investing in a new Keurig, we did it all. And they appreciated it. (And mentioned anything I happened to forget. ;))

But there’s a rhetorical reason we should keep visits down to “Ten days tops,” as my husband says. “Ten days tops,” I always nod in agreement, cringing when I receive the actual reservations. I start to get a holiday facial twitch from all the stress of trying to make everyone happy. I try to control it by downing one Lindt truffle every 30 minutes.

My father will make any excuse possible to extend a trip to see his grandchildren. (Who he still thinks are 3 and 6. And me? In his eyes, I think I’m about 13.) I adore my parents dearly. But there is a point during a visit when you’re done. I’m not sure if it was Day 2 when my mom realized she forgot her prescription cough medication in Florida or Day 7 when I woke to the sound of my own snoring on the sofa at 7:30 p.m. (Or Day 10 when my dog ate an entire platter of assorted cheese, crackers and pepperoni.) Son of a…that’s another post for another time.

With the kids home for the break, relatives coming and going everyday, the dog humping the new sofa cushions, (one child home sick with flu-like symptoms an entire week before vacation), and house renovations going on during holiday prep time, I was done.

I could not wrap another gift, vacuum up another ball of Marley hair, clean another toilet, change another bed, or contemplate lunch, dinner or appetizers.

I had a migraine the size of Miami.

All day long on New Year’s Day, after forcing in a mini workout, I fought that gnarly headache. I sat in bed with my daughter watching crap TV for most of the day. And it felt like heaven.

Somewhere, in between over-dosing on Lindt truffles and forgetting to work out for several days in a row, I lost it.

And today, as I dropped my daughter off at school and proceeded to have a celebratory rock concert in my car, I realized it wasn’t all that bad.

We had a lot of fun.

We made great memories.

We had a nice time. I love my family and wouldn’t change them for the world.

I’ve come to the realization that the holidays are a lot like giving birth. You forget everything as soon as the next one comes around. You forget about all the stress, the pain (in the arse-ness) and the emotional exhaustion. You look forward to making more It’s-A-Wonderful-Life and Bing-Crosby-Christmas-Carol holiday memories with loved ones.

Life is short. Life is good. Life really is wonderful.

Here’s hoping you have a wonderful, fun-fubbing-tastic 2015!