How to shower yourself like a local
A LOCAL'S GUIDE TO APRIL SHOWERS
April showers bring May flowers. But when you reach a certain age— the age that I am—it's not always rain showers that are pouring from the sky. No, it's more of the baby or bridal kind that are dumping down on my fair-weathered parade.
Come May, I'll be seeing a good chunk of my friends become parents, hit the next trimester or say yes to the dress, because that's exactly what all of my friends are doing: they're flooding toward domestication.
I'd always heard of this phenomenon: everyone in a 20-mile radius of your friend group gets engaged, married or pregnant around the same time, and then you all laugh about how there must be something in the water and giggle nervously when someone asks, "who's next?" But just like gray hairs, or a crippling hangover from two glasses of wine, I never thought it would happen to me—until it did
Pretty much everyone around me is either planning their nuptials or picking out baby names in the comfort of their newly owned homes, and while I'm super happy for everyone, I can't help but feel slightly snubbed because no one gave me the memo.
No one told me that I was supposed to be engaged, or at least in a committed relationship, by the time I turned 30. Or that I probably shouldn't have spent most of my late twenties dating a man who turned pale at the word "future." No one told me that instead of concentrating on a career, I should concentrate on townhomes, down payments, and half-baths.
I was definitely left off that email chain when it went out.
But truly, I'm super happy for everyone—and if you don't believe me, you can check the majority of my recent text messages that all say, "Omg! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" (and disregard the few that say "Oh, nothing, just sitting here watching Netflix by myself.")
Let's face it, though, self-deprecating humor is a little annoying and definitely not sexy—and to be honest, I'm on the market, so I will avoid the very unattractive "1 feel sorry for myself" moment during this phase of life when all my friends have decidedly left me behind to join various "baby-time" clubs with their other parent friends.
Instead, I will continue going to the April showers and watch my friends give birth to the May flowers. keep buying the tiny socks and white wrapping paper and mazel tov-ing everyone around me until it's time for me to go home and watch whatever the hell I want on Netflix and drink wine that I won't have to share with anyone
How to shower yourself like a local:
Don't: put on your fancy dress or lipstick that says "at least I tried to look nice for this shower" but really just says "you look weird in lipstick and also a little desperate."
Do: have breakfast in bed that includes a flaky pastry from Serious Delights or Kennebec Cafe. Who cares if you get crumbs in the sheets—the only person who's sleeping there is you.
Don't: ask your best friend's beer-bellied cousin when her baby is due during bridal dress shopping after she guzzled the bottle of champagne.
Do: attend a yoga class at the Sweaty Buddha, then float around like you're on air, or in space, or perhaps just heaven, at salt 360. Then go get a massage or just a nice facial scrub at the Spaaah Shop.
Don't: buy a stack of generic greeting cards, diaper genies. or blenders for your friends' "new chapters."
Do: buy yourself flowers from April's Garden, Passion Flower Bouquet AND Floral Expressions and maybe a stack of generic greeting cards and a blender from Urban Market—but just because the blender matches your kitchen and the cards are pretty. Don't: spend your afternoon smelling melted chocolate and crushed-up candy bars on the inside of diapers.
Do: buy yourself truffles from Animas Chocolate Company AND cookies from B*tchin Cookies and eat them whole.
Don't: set a field on fire to figure out the gender of a baby.
Do: take yourself out to a nice dinner at Seasons or Ken & Sue's and then go dancing at the Wild Horse Saloon or the Billy Goat Saloon.
Don't: share your two glasses of wine with anyone.
Do: watch the "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" on Netflix and get a crippling hangover from your two glasses of wine.