If you’re a woman over the age of twenty, you have a pact with your sister, your mother, or your best friend. If you don’t already, trust me, you WILL.
Imagine Paula Dean, in her sweet southern accent, saying something like this:
“Why Sugar, you have a great long hair on your chin.”
Wha-wha-what? A hair? My chin? NOOOOO!! This is as close to a near-death experience as most women have. We suddenly go through the dark tunnel of our DayTimer and review our entire work and social schedule in horrification (I made that up) wondering who else has seen the GLH? Why didn’t someone say something before now?
And that, dear heart, is when we decide we need to make a pact. And the pact goes something like this:
“On my honor, I promise to resolutely report the appearance of a whisker dangling from your chin or shimmering on your upper-lip no matter what, no matter where, no matter when, in perpetuity, forever and ever, as long as we both shall live. And furthermore, I promise to pluck the aforementioned offending chin whiskers or wily mustache hairs from your lifeless body as a final token of our true and unending devotion to vanity, should you meet your demise first. Amen”
It reminds me of when I was in fifth grade. I had a boyfriend named Stanley. I knew he was my boyfriend because he would make faces at me in the hallway as we changed classes – high romance in my 10-year-old mind. One day after my favorite school lunch of chili and homemade cinnamon rolls – I went outside to work my womanly wiles on Stanley by playing a raucous game of Red Rover. Had it been an Olympic sport, I would have won a gold medal in Red Rovering…I was nothing short of world-class at breaking through the defenders line! I’m telling you; I was spectacular.
But that day a funny thing happened – every time I tried to get Stanley’s attention so he’d call me over, he would turn away. Not once did I hear, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Monica right over.” Oh, heartache!! Had Stanley fallen for someone who actually needed a training bra? Was my RR prowess passé? I was confused. I was devastated! After school, I was walking home with my best friend, Suzanne, lamenting my crushing sadness over Stanley’s cold-shoulder and even colder heart when she stopped, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Monica, you have a bean stuck on your front tooth.”
Wha-wha-what? A bean? Front tooth? NOOOOO!! It was a George Sanford moment, “Elizabeth, I’m coming!” Why didn’t someone say something?
Why hadn’t someone told me the truth and yes, Jack Nicholson, I COULD HAVE HANDLED THE TRUTH. Pretending it wasn’t there did NOT make it go away!! No, no, no, no, no!!
Okay, a little overly dramatic, but I tell you all that, to tell you this….
“Sugar, it’s time to take down the dusty pink Priscilla’s.”
Wha-wha-what? Yes, yes, I know. It hurts. It seems like you just put them up. But alas, not true, it’s not 1983 and it’s time you let the Priscilla’s “go quietly into that good night”.
ASP Home Stagers spend countless hours in study, planning and preparation to help you present your home at its finest. And in bringing forth the reality of what your home needs to be in order to be its most attractive to buyers; sometimes we have to hold a mirror up to your chin whiskers and get the floss after those beans. Initially, it might be a little embarrassing but in the long run, you really need to be told.
So here’s my pact to you:
“On my honor, I promise that I will absolutely no matter where, no matter what, no matter when, in perpetuity, forever and ever, tell you the truth about what needs to be done in your home until such time as you have a SOLD sign in your front yard.”
No mas frijoles!
Monica
