Seven Reasons Carl May Become Charlene #83

Now children, think carefully before you answer this question; the fate of the free world and future generations could be riding on it.


Apparently The Spousal Unit and I can’t, which has led to some really interesting moments around the old casa over the past few weeks.

First, I noticed my husband stopped shaving his face and started shaving his legs.

Then, he requested that I call his hair stylist, The Dancing Reagan, and cancel his future appointments. “I feel like growing my hair out. Autumn finds me yearning for a change.”

I caught him sitting in front of a roaring fire yesterday, intently perusing my latest ‘In Style” and ‘Allure’ magazines, drinking a Cosmo with his pinky up.

He has displayed far too much interest in the Chastity to Chas transformation. No more ‘Dancing With the Stars’ for this fellow. His enrollment in Cher’s fan club was troubling.

He has suggested joining me for my next pedicure appointment and began googling OPI nail polish colors. He seems to be leaning toward ‘I’m Not Really a Waitress’ or ‘Chick Flick Cherry’. Sigh.

His most recent Netflix order arrived and contained ‘Beaches’, ‘First Wives Club’, ‘Something’s Got to Give’, ‘It’s Complicated’, and ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’. Not a single Rambo or Steven Seagal in the envelope.

At IHOP for breakfast yesterday, he passed on his usual Lumberjack special and instead requested one scone, please, with a pat of light Smart Balance on the side, and a cup of hot water and a Midol.

I think I have found the cause of this very non-macho, testosterone-light behavior. I was getting dressed to go to a writer’s seminar, when, in a mad rush to get out of the house on time, I grabbed one of these little yellow packets. Just in the nick of time, seconds before popping one of these little ESTROVEN babies, I dropped the packet and saw the imprinting on the back. ALTERIL, which is an awesome holistic, natural sleep aid. I almost ingested this instead of my estrogen. Oh my gosh, how did this get into my Estroven box? Apparently The Unit, probably after checking into The Chardonnay Arms for his nightly stay, saw these packets out on the bathroom counter and, in his own micro-managing, fusspot way, put them all in the same box. He had been taking my Estroven for at least two weeks and would have continued to do so, if I had not caught the mistake.

 I would have missed the writer’s seminar because I would have been pulled over on the side of the road sound asleep. These little Alteril babies put you in la-la land within 15 minutes, so I guesstimate I would have pulled over in the parking lot of my son’s former high school, where my snoring, drooling, and dream twitching would have attracted mucho attention from the passing wrestling team. Ah, the Facebook stories that might have generated, not to mention the cell phone photos. I can just see it now.

If Carl doesn’t revert to his normal male behavior of burping, ball scratching, football watching soon, I fear I may have no choice but to become a lesbian by default. Turn down those lights Charlene and pour us a little bubbly!

4 thoughts on “Seven Reasons Carl May Become Charlene #83

    • Thanks Keith! Looking forward to the next Sea Scribes at Elaine’s; I’ve lost track of when that is? I’m still feeling OVERWHELMED by the info overload from Linda’s seminar. I haven’t written one chapter on my book since that workshop.

  1. This is so HILARIOUS, Renee! I know I read it when you published it, and thought I had commented then. Is my memory failing me, or is this the side effect of popping one of AA Hubby’s prescriptions by mistake?

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