Never having seriously considered plastic surgery before, it has been on my mind a lot these days. Not for the typical reasons either. See, I’ve actually been thinking about asking a doctor if it is possible to give me pointed ears like Mr. Spock. Why? Because right away people will see me and think, “Hmmm… why, she looks a sensible woman” and maybe then they’d stop saying highly illogical, completely irrational things around me.
There are many examples I could give of the straight-up wacky things that fall out of people’s mouths, but today the one that is front and center in my mind is my bank’s insistence on charging me an overdraft fee for insufficient funds. Uhm, hello? Insufficient means NOT sufficient. Parlezvous? There is no money in the account, so you putting that little minus sign next to each overdraft fee isn’t helping any. In fact, this may come as a shock to you, Banker-Boy, but it is having the exact opposite effect on my account. See, each time you dink me with one of those fees, it adds up, making the funds even more insufficient than they already were when we started this crazy game called life! Really, these people push numbers around for a living. You’d think they could figure that out.
The added plus to having pointed ears would mean I wouldn’t have to explain my emotionally detached gaze when someone tells me they’ve recently cut back on their anti-anxiety medication but can’t understand why they’re feeling terribly nervous and experiencing an unexplained sense of foreboding. I’m just being reasonable, not heartless, when I say that anti-anything means going in the opposite direction of that thing you just said out loud. Put that rocket science manual back in the glovebox, Chicken Little, and listen to the sound of your own voice.
Then, there are my sweet-faced piano students who might benefit from a visual cue when it comes to my seemingly mysterious, mad skillz of logic and reason. The little darlings sometimes leave their music folders behind from one lesson to the next and when I question whether or not they’ve practiced the material given to them the week before, they boldly look me right in the eye and insist that they most certainly did. See, if they saw a set of Vulcan ears on the sides of my head they might view those babies as concrete evidence of some serious common sense in the woman they are talking to. The sight of them might even cause them to think before they speak, making anything they say slightly more sensible (funny how that works).
Now that I think about it, keeping my hair long enough to cover the ears would probably serve me well, too. That way I could reveal the ears when I’m feeling particularly smart and composed, but tuck ‘em right back in when emotions kick in and I’m suddenly all Captain Kirk-like – you know, irrational and illogical, letting my heart get involved. Don’t look so surprised, it happens. There was an episode of Star Trek (the TV show, not the movies, you youngsters) where James called Spock an “overgrown Jack Rabbit” and an “elf with a hyperactive thyroid” – there are so many times where I’m much more that person with the machine gun mouth than the calm, cool and collected “computerized half-breed” (also a Kirk-ism).
No. Plastic surgery isn’t an option. At least, not yet. Instead, I think I’m going to try and boldly go where only brave women have gone before. Allowing the lines of time to settle into their rightful places to show the face of one who chooses to learn from life’s enterprise. Exploring strange, new-to-me worlds (I’m talking to you Apple, Inc.), new lives and occasionally not-so civilization. Surely a wise old face will announce to the world (or at least the room) that I’m not to be trifled with (Tribbled, maybe).
Oh, and if I get to laugh about it all at the end of my day? Well, that’s just the logical bonus. You people keep saying things that crack me up and as long as that keeps happening, I have high hopes that I will be a wise old woman who will “live long and prosper” (which will probably make my bank very happy, too).