Aselin

I've never been accused of being a "girlie girl" although I do think the characterization is like a point on a continuum. Standing next to Rosanne Barr, I seem like Swan Lake Barbie. Standing next to Glinda the Good Witch, I look like I do my hair with an immersion blender and brush my teeth with a pitchfork. It's all relative.

My name throws people off too. Telemarketers never know how to pronounce my name and usually ask for Mr. A-see-line, to which I reply, "That dirtbag moved out months ago" and hang up.

But usually, people who know me have me safely placed on the continuum of "feminine enough". This means I shower at least twice a week and own a pair of high heels over 2 inches.

Sooo, imagine my delight when my hubby reports he received a call this morning. Then he starts silent laughing so hard he can't tell me the story. Of course, I'm excited to hear a story that makes him gasp for breath... I should know better.

Apparently we got a call from a neighbor that went like this:

Riiiing Riiiing

Neighbor: "Good morning! Did I wake you up?"

Hubby "Nope"

Neighbor: "You are breathing hard"

Hubby who just ran 16 miles: "I just finished working out"

Neighbor: "Well, I was wondering if you would teach my class this Sunday?"

Hubby: Pause..."Do you mean ME or Aselin?"

Neigbor: "Uh, this isn't Aselin?" Awkward moment... "Well her voice is kinda deep."


Fast forward an hour or so when I come in after petting bunnies and unicorns and singing to a rainbow, I see my chortling companion doubled over, trying to catch his breath from laughing.

Hubby is cracking up relaying the information to me that apparently I sound like Bruce Vilanch. Or at least I sound like a guy who just ran 16 miles in compression shorts. Neither option is very appealing to me.

Crud. Now I have to curl or wax or bleach something today just to prove my femininity....or my metrosexuality... ugh! I'm wearing a tiara and pumps to the grocery store.