Diet, Dye It

I needed a notary. 

Getting a notarized signature meant a trip to my bank.  I can count on one hand how many times I've been there in the past 10 years.  Fact.  Which means I wasn't surprised that the young man truly needed to see my ID.  He was so young I wondered if he was even born the last time I was there.  Well, silliness aside, I was super embarrassed when he informed me that my Drivers License had expired.  

(Later sifted through a pile of mail that my husband had daily stacked  and I daily ignored while it lay next to my computer.  The renewal notice was down there several months deep. ) 

Fortunately our state allows drivers to restore their rights on-line,  plus a hefty monetary fine for being a tardy numbskull.  You don't ever have to go in for a new photo!

One doesn't need to fill in any information.  But... you can update.  Which I didn't do.  So I just left the ugly pounds discrepancy on my weight. I told myself it was essentially a lie of omission.  That weight was factual at one time.  Plus I was hedging with the little white lie that I told myself  about sticking to a diet and getting back to that healthier size.  It would be my luck to get pulled over by an efficient officer of the law who carried bathroom scales to nail deceitfully plump speed offenders.

In addition,  I forgot to check to see what my hair color claims.  Some years ago I asked myself, should I 'Live Free, or Dye.'  I chose to be free, and I'm really really free.

Plus,  safe once more to drive the highways as a skinny brunette. 



HA! Thanks for the smile today!

Popular posts from this blog

An Old Cold Spot


January . . .