My daughter has had a life-long habit of getting the names of things wrong. I love this little quirk of hers and often don’t correct the inaccuracies because I find them so damn cute. Gloves, for much of her life, have been called Glubs. Alcohol, as in the rubbing, is Unclehal. And divorce: Divorshun.
Since Gwyneth Patrol tried to elevate divorce into a breezy lifestyle choice by publicly announcing her “Consciously Uncoupling” on Goop a few weeks back, I’ve thought more about my daughter’s use of her own word to describe breaking-up. Divorshun. Isn’t divorce shunning your spouse or shunning your marriage? Isn’t that more accurate than Conscious Uncoupling? Or maybe it’s just that Divorshun is so much more honest and palatable than Gwyneth’s version of things.
What’s not palatable anymore is my continued attempts at trying to make things work between my short-waisted, fatty midsection and pleats. I’m filing for a divorshun immediately. I’m shunning extra fabric from my stomach and out of my closet forever!
For any gal lucky enough to have a healthy relationship with a long torso and lean waistline and can afford added volume, may I make a suggestion of a beautiful union? I hope you have a lifetime of happiness together!