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What Dave Says, What Tracey Says, And What We Really Mean

  • June 22, 2011

The other day I made an appointment with a facial plastic surgeon. I’d already visited him once for Botox, but I decided it was time to try a little Juvederm* because my friend Amy has a theory that women age one of two ways: you’re either a wrinkler or a sinker. Wrinklers have crow’s feet and horizontal lines across their foreheads. Maybe some laugh lines and other various creases. Sinkers, on the other hand, aren’t very wrinkly but they lose volume in their faces which causes grooves, furrows, and other undesirable divets.

I’m a sinker. I’m not very wrinkly, but I have a few areas where there is a noticeable loss of volume occurring, specifically above my upper lip.

I called the facial plastic surgeon’s office and the woman I spoke to made me want to jump in my car and drive there immediately. She had tried Juvederm and she loved it.

I knew Dave would probably not understand my desire to have gel injected into the area above my upper lip (the same way he didn’t understand my need to have diluted botulism shot into the furrows between my eyebrows). This is akin to the confusion I experience when a man tries to tell me how much better/clearer/superior a television program is when viewed in HD (sometimes, just to mess with my dad, I say, “You’re right, that one IS clearer!” except I point to the non-HD channel).

So this is what I said to Dave: I want to try Juvederm but I’m going to wait until my contract job ends because if something goes terribly wrong I’ll be super embarrassed if I have to show up at work with a giant trout-pout. What do you think?

This is what Dave said: If it’s really important to you then go ahead and do it.

This is what Dave really meant: Egads! How much is it going to cost to keep my wife from morphing into some kind of freaky, troll-like creature? Jesus, by the time she’s fifty her face will be a giant clusterfuck of poison and drywall spackle.

Me: So you’re cool with this?

Dave: Sure.

Not long after this discussion, the T.V. in our family room stopped working. It’s six years old and apparently the lamp inside burned out. Dave started lobbying for a new T.V. right away. “It’s been six years, Tracey. Those lamps don’t last forever.” I agreed that they probably don’t and then suggested something really crazy: “Why don’t you take it in and have it repaired,” I said. Dave said fine, he’d take it in. Unfortunately, not only were the lamps burned out, the color wheel was too. Repair estimate: $400. Dave mentioned that he could get a brand new T.V., comparable or even better to what we had, for $489. We could still repair the old one, but other things might go wrong soon and then we’d have to put more money into it. Since I was really only half paying attention by this time, I said, “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t make me come with you to buy it because that shit bores me silly.”

A few days later, Dave went on a recon mission to Best Buy and American to compare prices. He cornered me when he came home.

This is what he said: So they have these smart T.V.’s now and you can get streaming netflix, and check your Facebook on the T.V., and pull up websites, and all kinds of things! Wouldn’t you love to check your Facebook on the T.V.? You said the other day you wouldn’t mind signing up for netflix. And they’re only $1200!

This is what I said: Wow, the smart T.V. can do all that? That is amazing. And you’re telling me we can have netflix, like streaming right on the T.V.? Technology sure has come a long way!

What I really meant: I will never check my Facebook on the T.V. because my laptop is right over there. And Jesus Jones, I couldn’t care less if we owned any T.V.’s at all**. I rarely watch network television, especially in the summer, and if we didn’t own a T.V. I’d never have to be subjected to the crap you like to watch (namely Hitler documentaries on the History Channel, old James Bond movies on obscure cable channels, and the constant, insipid dipshittery of Tosh.O and Jackass). And this will be one more electronic item that I don’t know how to work. It’s bad enough that Matthew had to label the components in the basement because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to turn on the Wii or play a CD.

Dave: So you’re cool with the smart T.V., right?

Me: Sure.

So that’s how it works in our household. Everyone gets what they want, harmony is maintained, and we operate on a strict tit-for-tat basis.

I’m just afraid of what Dave will ask for if I ever get those new boobs I’ve always wanted.

*Did I like Juvederm? Eh, it’s okay. I was very conservative with it so you can’t tell I got it which probably means I’m the biggest dumbshit to ever walk the planet.

**Except I’d want to watch Shark Week because that show totally rocks even though they need some new clips because I’ve seen that one chick get her leg bitten off by that Great White Shark like hundreds of times. It’s still awesome, I still think that *maybe* her friends will pull her into the boat in time, and she deserves a medal for bravery because she’s completely zen about the whole thing.

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