Creampuff Revolution

Four-Eyed Creampuff

The first time I got glasses, I didn't think I needed them; I just thought it was gettin' REAL smoggy in Toronto and that's why I had trouble reading street signs a block away, or the number on an oncoming bus. Turns out I needed glasses for distance and once I got them, it was a WHOLE NEW WORLD, From Anna-style.

When it came to picking my glasses, however, I inexplicably chose these red wire frame ones, which were...fine, I guess? 

I wore these "homage to Sally Jessy Raphael" frames for at least seven years before upgrading to my current frames, seen here while I try to show off my cute hair and distract from my receding hairline (a post for another day).

I also have a pair of glasses with "transitions" lenses that make me look like a '70s pedophile, so unfortunately, there are no photos of those (although I do still wear them to walk the dog on sunny days and I do still get 'OMG IS THAT A 1970s PEDOPHILE?' looks from people on the street).

I've worn my current frames since 2011 and a couple of years ago, the last time I went in to get my eyes checked, the optometrist suggested that I might need bifocals. 

"Your current glasses are fine for distance but you might find that you need an adjustment to, say, look at your phone with your glasses," she said.

"Nah," I said, easily reading a text on my phone at the time, "I'm good. Not time for bifocals yet, GRANDMA."

Probably about a year later, I met up with my theatre school pals Gicl and Elca for sushi and when I was looking at the menu, Gicl caught me doing that thing where you hold the menu REAL far away from your face because you fuckin' need bifocals.

"Did you just do THIS??" Gicl said, imitating me with great gusto.

The decline had begun.

Of course, it took me WAAAAY longer than it should to get around to getting new glasses but yesterday, Katr and I went to the eye doctor and I got to try on ALL THE FRAMES.

I only tried on eight pairs and two of them might be the same, so I added in the dog.

I feel like the cutest picture of me does not contain the actual glasses I chose and I considered waiting until I got the glasses for a REVEAL post that only my mom would care about, but we may not get our new glasses until December and I didn't want you to wait until next November to see them, so I will let you know now - I chose the ones on the bottom right.

They are waaaay bigger than my current glasses AND they will contain Progressive lenses so that I can live the ultimate dream; watching TV and scrolling through Twitter AT THE SAME TIME.

As a side note, it was my first time seeing Katr's optometrist and she was lovely. My favourite moment was when she was doing the thing where you're looking at the letters and she's swapping out the lenses to see which are better or worse and at the end, she goes "Good job! You're such a good observer!" and I am 44 but I still glowed with praise. 

Later, I told Katr about it and she burst out laughing. "She said the same thing to me! And it FELT SO GOOD." Anyways, thanks Dr. Chow, for making us feel special. I can't wait for my giant old lady glasses!

 

Creampuff Scoff

Since I shared this post about wanting a decent cardigan on Facebook last week, I've been getting a lot of targeted ads for cardigans, including this one, from LL Bean. I liked the look of it, so I clicked on it, thinking "I didn't know LL Bean had plus sizes!"

Well, THEY DON'T.

Fuck off, LL Bean.

Creampuff Taunted by Chicken Restaurant

Growing up in Alberta, we didn't have Swiss Chalet. So when I moved to Ontario for university and everyone in my dorm flipped their shit over the Festive Special, I was like Ben Wyatt in Parks and Rec not understanding why everyone was so into Li'l Sebastian.  Like, guys...it's chicken. And some not great stuffing. Calm your tits.

Of course, after several more years of living in the land of the Swiss, I had become as indoctrinated as everyone else. Katr, coming from Texas, had also become a Swiss Chalet convert and when we moved to Vancouver, one of the biggest disappointments was being outside the delivery zone for both the Trutch St. AND Lougheed Hwy Swiss Chalets. A Swiss Chalet dead zone, if you will. We had to DRIVE to get Swiss Chalet GAWD TOTAL NIGHTMARE.

So when we bought our place in 2010, people laughed when we said we chose the location because it was within Swiss Chalet's delivery zone and we laughed too, but with our mouths full of chicken.

It's pretty rare that a month will go by without a visit from the dirty bird. Even if the salads are occasionally paltry or the fries aren't always as crispy as you'd like, we remain loyal customers. The delivery folks know to stay back from the door so I can slip out and pay them without the dog flying at their junk. We all have our little rituals around our meals, like how Kate always shakes the salad like maracas while I make a weird poutine out of my chicken, fries and that sweet, sweet Chalet sauce. Plus, this time of year, cranberry sauce!

A few days after Thanksgiving, I opened my Swiss Chalet app to order and ... I couldn't. It said the restaurant was "closed". "Huh," I thought, "Well, I guess the restaurant is closed today."

About a week later, we went to order again and same deal. This time, though, I got worried. The Trutch St. location actually fuckin' closed a couple of years ago - what if our beloved Lougheed location was gone too?? UNTHINKABLE. 

Katr went online and got the goods from other panicky Swiss Chalet fans - the restaurant was closed for renovations but was supposed to open up at the beginning of November.

"Whew," we said to each other, our heart rates returning to normal, "just in time for Festive Special season!"

Well, Festive Special season began and still, the restaurant was closed. Katr finally broke down and tweeted them; apparently now we won't be able to get our mitts on the Festive Special until "mid- to late November". NOOOOOOOOO!!

Even though our local Swiss Chalet is closed, I still get a lot of promotional email from Swiss Chalet, reminding me about the Festive Special. But I was prepared to be chill about missing out on a few weeks of precious Festive Special time because there literally could not be a more first world problem than this. And then today:

Our only local Swiss Chalet has been closed for renovations for OVER A MONTH. Every day without a Festive Special is like a knife to the heart. And today, I get this in my email. In the words of the great @jannarden, @SwissChaletCA - this feels A LITTLE INSENSITIVE. pic.twitter.com/Uy6RhhsDhS

— Rosemary Rowe (@rosemaryrowe) November 13, 2019

Creampuff Doesn't Think You Should Watch It

I talk to my parents on the phone pretty much every weekend and often, when we've finished untangling all the world's social and economic problems, we discuss what we've been viewing on the Apple TV.

My folks are avid fans of the British-style mystery show - nothing too gory but a cracking good yarn. They enjoy everything from Midsomer Murders and Death in Paradise to grittier shows like Scott & Bailey or Line of Duty. Having exhausted most of the selections on Netflix, they've subscribed to MHZ, which shows Nordic noir; excellent for mystery lovers who also want to work on their Swedish. They always have some new show they're bingeing and want to recommend.

Then they ask me what I've been watching and I tell them, but lately with the caveat "I don't think you should watch it." Like, there are a lot of shows I'm enjoying right now but I wouldn't recommend them to my parents, or even to you. For example:

Mindhunter

I don't know why I got hooked on this show. Set in the 70's - hate it. Two male protagonists - boring. Generally (certainly for all of Season 1) female victims and horrific crime scene photos and/or verbal descriptions of the crimes - extremely upsetting. But I weirdly fell in love with Holden and his open face and chain-smoking, tryin' to be  a good man Bill and of course lesbian Wendy the lesbian who's a lesbian.,

Watching them trying to figure out how to profile serial killers - before "serial killers" was a term - is strangely addictive, especially if you're a fan of shit like Criminal Minds and such and already know all the TV lingo. Also, I felt proud of myself for profiling Bill's We Need to Talk About Kevin kid. Poor Nancy. But I have to look away from the crime scene photos and "lalala" when they talk about certain crimes. So I don't think you should watch it.

Succession

A friend of ours REALLY wanted to talk about this show, so Katr and I started watching it. I immediately hated all the the characters and didn't give a rats ass what happened to any of them or to the giant media conglomerate they owned. But the second episode is called "Shitshow at the Fuck Factory", so you know I had to watch that.

After a couple of episodes, we grudgingly agreed that was something compelling about rich people problems and the writing is pretty stunning, so we kept watching, even though the opening credits are PAINFULLY LONG and you CAN'T SKIP THEM EASILY on Crave and that music, UGH.

We just finished Season 2 and we're fuckin' in it now, you guys. But a story about a control-freak rich white patriarch playing his approval-craving children against each other while he refuses to give up the reins of power isn't the kind of thing my parents enjoy.

Plus, I don't want to talk to my parents knowing we've all watched Kieran Culkin wipe his own jizz off a window.

Outlander

Oh man, this should be a whole separate post. I'm'a do a whole post on this. Anyway, the point is, my folks enjoy a good historical fiction - they were the ones who turned me on to my favourite show on Netflix, The Last Kingdom, after all - and I had high hopes that Outlander might well received. But based the horrors that befall Jamie at the end of Season 1 at the hands of Captain Jack Randall and his junk, I did not recommend it to my parents, nor do I recommend it to you. But I am still watching that shit.

As a preview, for those of you who've made it to Seasons 3 and 4, I fucking hate Roger. Something real bad happened to him in Season 4 and I was like "GOOD". But we can talk about that next time.

Are you watching anything you wouldn't recommend to me or my parents? Let me know, it'll probably be my new problematic fave.

Creampuff Remembers

I think about this story every year. Got my poppy pinned on securely today. Lest we forget.

Sexy Creampuff Sunday

Me (sexy voiced, from the bedroom) Heeeey.

Katr: (from down the hall in the dining room) Heeeeey.

Me: I'm...out of the shower.

Katr: Niiiice.

Me: (coyly) It's real...steamy in here.

Katr: (with equal coyness) I'll bet it is.

Me: (breathily) Do you...?

Katr: (with equal breathiness) Do I...what?

Me: Do you...wanna come look at this weird thing on my back?

SCENE.

 

Sharpei Saturday Outtakes

Katr, Drtr, Effie's various staff and I all strive to take beautiful photos of Effie, our precious wrinklebean. And sometimes...we fail.

Lookin' ruff as hell

TOO CLOSE

Flashing the titties

WHAT THE FUCK

Creampuff Shares Her Poppy Secret

I was at the bank this afternoon and, after our business was concluded, the teller leaned forward conspiratorially, like she was about to tell me that she was being held captive or that one of my boobs was out. I leaned in too.

"I have lost, like, four of those this week, " she said, pointing at the poppy I had pinned to my sweater, "how are you keeping that pinned...ON A SWEATER? Did you run the pin through your bra?"

"Ah," I said, nodding sagely, "I too have known the pain of a lost poppy. But let me show you how I keep this on."

I flipped up my poppy and showed her my secret; a tiny piece of rubber band.

"Here's what you do," I went on, removing my poppy to demonstrate my technique, "You take a flat rubber band. You cut a little piece out of it. And then - and this is key - after you put your poppy on, stick the end of the pin THROUGH THE RUBBER BAND."

She looked at me like I had just solved world hunger.

"And that stops it from poking you?" 

"Oh no. No, you can still experience a righteous poking. But it will STAY ON."

"Aaaaah."

"Of course," I said, really warming up to the subject, "the key part of this plan is that you don't lose the poppy between the point of purchase and your house but if you were REALLY on top of things, you could just carry a tiny bit of elastic in your pocket this time of year."

I could tell I was losing her at this point, plus the lady who wears her headphones and sings Neil Diamond full blast had just come in, so I took my various receipts and left.

Anyway, since I shared the lifehack I am most proud of with the teller at my bank, I thought I'd share it with you all too YOU'RE WELCOME CANADA. I'll see you and your securely fastened poppies on Monday.

 

Who Does Creampuff Have to Blow to Get a Decent Effin' Cardigan?

My name is on a lot of random lists and somehow, last year, I was asked to be a reader in an American lesbian play and screenwriting contest. I said yes, because I really enjoy reading other playwrights' work, plus I only had to read, like, 10 pieces.

A few of them were really excellent but some of them were so egregious that it felt like a waste of time to actually use the rating sheet the contest organizers provided. I said to my BFF Padu that, for those scripts, I wished I could just submit a photo of my face while I was reading them.

Anyhoo.

This year, I made it a mission to find a great cardigan. The kind you can wear outside of your house without being embarrassed. The kind with buttons, so you can button it. The kind that hangs nicely, so that it looks like you and Sponge Bob don't have the same physique. Maybe something with a nice cable pattern.

I know what you're thinking: Roro, why not knit yourself a cardigan?? Well, the answer is that this year so far, all I've knit is about half a cowl, so the chances of me finishing a cardigan for myself before the Earth is swallowed by the Sun is fairly slim.

The only fat girl store chains in Canada, Addition-Elle and Penningtons, are owned by the same company and both of them have closed their Vancouver stores, so if I want to try on fat girl clothes in person, I have to make Katr drive me to the suburbs. Obviously, fuck that shit, so I do most of my shopping online these days because these stores, for all their many other faults, make returns extremely easy.

Starting in the summer, I've been trolling the website, hoping that the perfect cardigan will magically appear. They refresh their inventory fairly frequently, and if you want something in a larger size, you gotta move fast, like a fat shark. So probably every couple of days, I'm scrolling through "new arrivals" and I'm spending a lot of time looking at the models.

It might just be that I'm spending too much time looking at clothes online but I am starting to wonder if the models reviewing the clothes...WITH THEIR FACES. Observe:

This is cute and lesbian friendly!

RUN

So comfy and cozy!

FUCK THIS JACKET AND THE HAT ALSO

Fun and flirty!

THIS OUTFIT GAVE ME CRAMPS

In doing research for this incisive piece of citizen journalism, I did come across kind of a cute cardigan I hadn't seen on the site before. I clicked through and saw that they don't have it in my size and the model clearly knew, as she is clearly saying: 

BACK OFF, BITCH, THIS CARDIGAN IS MINE. And maybe I didn't hate this hat so much after all.

 

Creampuff is Pretty Sure it's Perimenopause

If you haven't been watching CBC's hilarious Baroness von Sketch Show this whole time, you are missing out.

I knew it was a show for me when I saw the sketch in the first season about how after you turn 40, it's time to stop giving a shit in the locker room at the gym.

I myself remember when that glorious shift took place; I went from being so bashful and always hoping there would be a cubicle free for modest changing to just existing fatly, out in the open. I would see the looks of horror from taut 20 somethings and think "You don't want to see it, don't look directly at it, I DON'T CONTROL YOUR EYES DENISE."

As a bonus for Katr and I, they film Baroness von Sketch in Toronto, so often we see folks we recognize, on screen and in the credits, and feel super cool for knowing them. Plus, Aurora Browne was a couple of years ahead of me in theatre school, and in the stalkerish words of Viscount Raoul de Chagny from Phantom of the Opera, "she may not remember me but I...re...mem...ber...her."

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, they posted this sketch online and it was LIKE THEY KNEW MY LIFE:

I feel like actual MENOPAUSE is something I had heard a lot about and was somewhat mentally prepared for. In fact, I remember watching an episode of The Closer where Kyra Sedgwick's character is sweating uncontrollably and she doesn't know what it is and I'm like "IT IS MENOPAUSE, YOU DIPSHIT, DUH DOI." But it's only been over the last year or so that I'd heard the term "perimenopause", much less thought about how it might be affecting my life as a woman of a certain age.

The symptoms of perimenopause seem nebulous to everyone, but I've pinpointed three key areas where I've been most affected by this preview of THE CHANGE OF LIFE.

1. Mutinous Uterus.

I never had children and I feel like these days, my uterus is punishing me for my life choices. She's like "EVERY month, I get this place ready and throw a party for the sperm and you NEVER INVITE ANY." Biologically, my uterus has to keep throwing the party but, while the party themes in the past might have been "Snuggly Puppies" or "Baby Ducklings", these days, the party themes are more like "Jackhammer of Pain" or "Machete Ballet". 

I've had the cramps on and off in my life, but nothing like the last couple of years. Day One, I might not be able to work. One time, I almost passed out and threw up simultaneously while we had company. Because of my sensitive stomach, I can't take anything stronger than Tylenol, which is basically bullshit. All I can really do is offer it up to Christ while keeping a hot Magic Bag down my sweatpants, which slithers out the leg of the pants whenever I stand up. 

2. What?

I remember seeing a Sandra Shamas show where she talked about losing her nouns in her forties and struggling to get someone to pass her the salt, which she eventually refers to as "the white shakey stuff". See, I remember THAT important detail from a show I saw in my twenties but not the conversation Katr and I just had about the errands we have to run today:

Me: So we're going to the bank, the recycle depot and the Safeway.

Katr: Yes. But we'll do the recycle depot first.

Me: Right.

Two minutes later:

Me: So we're going to the airport, the Home Depot and the textile museum.

Katr: What?

3. Fuck Everything/I'm so SAAAAAAD/Don't TOUCH ME/Where are you GOING????

That pretty much sums it up. 

One of the fun things about being a cis-gender lesbian married to another cis-gender lesbian is that your partner REALLY understands what you're going through but one of the less fun things is that YOU'RE BOTH GOING THROUGH IT, which means that at certain times of the month, it's a good thing pot brownies exist. Fortunately, because we're lesbians, we're super good at processing, so.

Anyway. Ladies. If you have any keen tips to share about how to get through this magical woman time, I am ALL EARS. Until the 10th, when I won't be able to hear you over the sound of me microwaving my Magic Bag.