It's Funny How Life Turns Out

On July 22nd, my friend and I took a much-needed vacation to Jamaica. It was B-E-A-UTIFUL and very fun. Even if it WAS sans luggage.
We arrived in Jamaica at about 12:30 a.m. on July 23rd. Yes, we were late. Blame it on my terrible "luck" (or what is the opposite of luck? Curse?) in traveling. The plane to Jamaica was delayed due to the airplane having a cracked windshield...
?
When have you EVER heard of a plane getting a cracked windshield?

As we approached the baggage claim area in Jamaica, I couldn't see my bag.
It was one of those moments like when you walk out of a store and look at where you think you parked your car and it's not there. Aka, a Panic Attack. Turns out, Delta told me, that someone stole my luggage from the Baggage Claim area. It had been scanned in, but once it got out to the floor, they no longer could find it anywhere.
I was DEVASTATED.
I mean, BAWLING. It doesn't help a situation like this to actually have Panic Disorder, and the drugs to help you NOT have an attack are in the aforementioned M.I.A. luggage.

Meh.
Life goes on.
I didn't let it ruin my trip. I'm not too attached to physical things. I AM, however, quite sentimental about the littlest things. This sock, that bra, these swimswims... all have great stories behind them.

Fast-forward to last night, August 31st.
It's 9:45 P.M. and I'm leaving class, and see that I have a missed call and a voicemail. I'm walking with friends mind you. It's funny how you can multi-task on certain activities in some situations and not others. I.e., I'm perfectly capable of walking, listening to voicemails, and carrying on conversations with people I'm walking with.
However, once this voicemail started, I had to come to a HAULT!!!!
It was a lady from Delta.
They had located my luggage, and they were going to send it out for delivery immediately.

I bawl almost hysterically.
Then, I speed home.

I'm going through stashes of purses and nooks and crannies trying to find the key to the lock to my suitcase. What if they bring it to me, and it still has the lock on it, and I have no way of opening it?? THAT would be my "Luck" (curse?)

Waiting.
Sitting, waiting, wishing, hoping. Isn't that a song?
Go lay down on my bed.
...

Next thing I know, the guy is ringing my doorbell at 1:02 A.M. ? Where the heck has he been?

When I opened the door, the guy had left it standing on end in front of my door, and already was getting back in the elevator.
Like, “I’m just going to leave this here. I don’t care if the lady didn’t hear me knock and if anyone steals it. This broad has been without this shiz for over a month”.

I stared dotingly at my bag.
Oh, I love you, Bag.

I pulled it in to my apartment, unzipped all the pouches, and noticed that nothing seemed to be missing (except key exterior items; ie, a lock, a zipper pull, my name placard).
I went into the bathroom, took a Klonopin and a bath, and went to bed.

This morning I woke up and pulled everything out individually.

My black dress.
I pulled it out, held it up in front of me by the shoulders, stared at it admiringly with my head tilted to the side and stars in my eyes, then pulled it in to my chest and gave it an extraordinarily loving hug. * Muah* Black Dress.

My Rainbows.
Black ones. and Tan ones.
Ironically, my backordered replacement Black Rainbows should be delivered today. Sigh. I had to work so hard and wait so long to get these replacements. Do I just turn around and return them?
I tried the left one of each on, because I already had my boot on my right foot. I wanted to wear my black ones to work today.

My swimswims.
My swimswims. : ( I had put them all in a plastic grocery bag when packing. Thinking of all the moments and pictures I wish I had been wearing them instead of my too-small, cheaply-made obligatory purchases made me upset, so I did NOT pull them out and love them. I will do that tonight. Because the pool in my complex is open again.

My jewelry.
Oh, you sexy ivory bangle, you. But not real ivory. That’s cruel. But it looks like it. Looks great with sexy jeans and a black top.
And miscellaneous earrings. Hoopies and Turquoise danglies. Oh, you guys are just too much. Who could live without you?
Necklaces! You get on my neck RIGHT this instant! Oh, my jade-beaded necklace. I wore you to Club Jam only a week before I left, where a gay man asked me if you were a real “Pearl Necklace”. We both giggled. Yes, you did too, Jade-beaded necklace.

My skirts, sundresses, and swimswim wraps.
You were each dearly missed. I’m saddened at the thought of loss of usage over the past month during other excursions.
Next year, sexy black Victoria’s Secret Swimswim Cover-up-- I say as I shake my finger at it-- Next year.

... Unless, of course, I can talk Delta in to giving me a flight somewhere warm and sunny where I can wear my stuff all over again. Then, maybe sooner. : )
But with my traveling luck/curse, I'm not going to plan on it.


The beginning picture of this post is one I took on our way hiking through random Jamaican jungle. I found the self-made fencing beautiful in a way. Little did I know, that behind that shanty of a wall, was this breath-taking natural crystal-clear spring.
In life, you just don't know what's hiding behind third-world shanty fences...



And today, I feel a complete contentness with the Universe.
Thank you, Karma.

The Good Ol' Days

This morning I awoke to discover I had slept in over an hour. I also got up and discovered further that there was no hot water in my entire apartment complex. Sure did need a shower.
Awesome.
Dug through my enormous closet to find something FAST to wear. Oh, what's this, cute little striped wrap dress from H & M? Well, hello there! I must have bought you a year ago, and literally worn you like, twice.
Awesome. Tie that thing around me, and I am outta my place like a bat out of hell... Which is apparently the only location to find rapid-paced bats. Or so the legend goes...
Anyway,
As if my fury of a morning at my abode wasn't enough, as soon as I walked into my office I encountered a whole slew of disasters needing dealt with.
As I'm running around, this creepy, I wanna say Vietnamese, custodial/grounds keeper guy just watches me pass. His head was not really moving, but just his eyes. Perhaps it's a sign I watch too much SVU. I immediately start repeating in my head, "PLEASE don't end up dead and raped in a dumpster... PLEASE don't end up dead and raped in a dumpster"...
As I'm almost past him, he hops to his feet and says, "Good Morning, your excellency", as he bowed in half and moved his arm in a circular motion.
..
?
Uh, Como?
I just smiled and nodded and picked up the pace a little bit to where I was going.

Then, just before lunch, I was standing at a desk, and an older customer stopped next to me and just looked me up and down.
I turn my head toward him and give him the Raised-Eyebrow, "What the F do you think you're doing?" look. He slowly starts speaking. "I couldn't help but notice how TALL you are. And.. how.. STATUESQUE you are!"
.
Seriously?

Why all the creepers?
What happened to the good old days of just saying, "Why hello there, complete stranger. You look great today" ?

A Brief Rant

... To Continue on with my Fashion Faux Pas education...


* This post may be uncomfortable for men. If this gets your panties in a bunch, please disregard. *

I see this EVERY DAY of my working life.
I ask you; nay, i BEG you-- What is wrong with society today?



It has come to my attention that I should host another Webinar.

Entitled:
VPL: Visible Panty Line and you. Where to draw the line.

Ladies. (and some gentlemen). I don't want to be crass. But honestly. Let's get real here. We wear our Underwear UNDER our clothing for a reason. No one else wants to see it. Well. Some people may want to see it. But that needs to stay in your bedroom.

There are several components to keeping your skivvies a well-hidden secret.

* Number 1: Please don't wear clothing that's too tight. Mike D might have lyricized, "Her pants are tight and that's ok", but that cannot be applied as a generality toward all women. If you wear too-tight pants, no underwear in the world is going to be ok.
Case in point:


One might say, "What about one of those 'thongs' I've heard so much about. They're a cure-all for VPL's, aren't they?

Wrong.

* Number 2: Don't wear underwear that's too tight. Be them briefs, boyshorts, thongs, or any other style. Unless you have less than 1% body fat, your skin/fat rolls will be occipitally offensive.
Let me introduce Exhibit A.



Thongs need to be loose enough that they do not leave an indentation on the skin.
That being said, even if you have a fit body and your thong is well-fitted, some outfits just need to be paired with either Spanx or going commando.

Entre Exhibit B.



Now.
On to Parachute Panties.


Heck-to-the-No.
I understand women that would like a more "total support and comfort". However, Parachute Panties are not the answer. Your pants will inevitably gap in back, and these things bunch up and look like they are ready to deploy at any second to be used as a flotation device.
* Number 3: Do not wear parachute panties. The top of your panties should never come higher than your hip bone.

I will share just one last rule before I wrap up this post.
Concerning White pants/skirts/shorts/clothing.
Yes, when you wear a black shirt, it is a good idea to wear black underwear.
When you wear red clothing, it is a good idea to wear red underwear.
HOWEVER!!!
When you wear white ANYTHING!!!! , DO NOT WEAR WHITE UNDERWEAR.
Actually,
you should never wear white underwear.
Ever.




* Number 4: When wearing white, be sure to wear tan/pink/flesh-colored underwear. White only enhances the underwear borders. Flesh-colored blends in with the skin, so you can't tell where flesh ends and underwear begins.

Remember, these are called "Unmentionables". They should also be "Unseeables".

You are welcome.

DeMotivational

After a conversation last night, I decided to share with you one of my most fantastically Debbie-Downer of all time e-mail convos with a guy I work with...
It was a friday afternoon, and I was just in "one of those moods"...
And e-mail signatures just happen to be a VERY passionately-refuted ill of mine.
The following convo has been edited. ***** appear to protect identity. #### appear to censor.


________________________________________

From: Matt A*****
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 2:46 PM
To: Megan Breinholt
Subject: RE: Eve

What time do you want me there?

Matt A****
Outpatient Services Specialist
Travel Clinic
801.581.*****
Matt.*****@hsc.utah.edu
“Energy and persistence conquer all things.”

________________________________________
From: Megan Breinholt
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 2:55 PM
To: Matt *****
Subject: RE: Eve

I can’t believe you have that saying on your signature. Do they REALLY conquer all things? If you have no eyeballs, but want to see a picture… Is enough energy and persistence really going to make you be able to see?
No.

The only thing that comes from persistence is the agitation of other people.

Guess what, people with sayings and doodles and comics and slogans and cartoons and motivational pictures of a baby dressed up like a bumble bee and scriptures all unavoidably involved with your e-mail signatures….
NO ONE CARES!
They just want to know how to contact you.
*gasp*

Ha.


________________________________________
From: Matt *****
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 2:57 PM
To: Megan Breinholt
Subject: RE: Eve

Well Im pretty offended by your rude comments regarding my signature. Excuse the sh## outta me for me trying to inspire people with my emails!!!


________________________________________
From: Megan Breinholt
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 3:02 PM
To: Matt *****
Subject: RE: Eve

The only thing signatures like that inspire me to do is gouge my eyeballs out, nail my tongue to my desk, and never want to see an e-mail containing that phrase ever again.
:-D

Have a super nice day!!

________________________________________
From: Matt *****
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 3:14 PM
To: Megan Breinholt
Subject: RE: Eve

#####.

Matt A*****
Outpatient Services Specialist
Travel Clinic
801.581.****
Matt.a****@hsc.utah.edu
“Energy and persistence conquer all things.”

________________________________________
From: Megan Breinholt
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 3:21 PM
To: Matt *****
Subject: RE: Eve

No they don’t.

________________________________________
From: Matt *****
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 3:31 PM
To: Megan Breinholt
Subject: RE: Eve

They do if you’re a good person with a positive attitude.

________________________________________
From: Megan Breinholt
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 3:54 PM
To: Matt *****
Subject: RE: Eve

My grandma had amazing energy and the most honorable attitude, and persisted with her pancreatic cancer longer than Patrick Swayze was able to persist his.
Neither of them “conquered” it.

Unless by “conquer”, you mean “died”. ?
Maybe you should reconsider the “conquer” part of your motivational, and replace it with something else..
Maybe “helps you deal with”.
Or “makes you a target for”…
Whatd’ya think about that?

Or.

I do understand the many things a good person can accomplish with a positive attitude.
But they can’t conquer ALL things.
As Benjamin Franklin stated, no one will ever be able to “conquer” death or taxes.
THAT, my friend, is a true statement.
You should use that as your Signature Saying.

Or maybe you could reconsider the “all things”, and replace it with, “a lot of things”, or “most things”…
Just some suggestions…
:-D
________________________________________
From: Matt *****
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 4:05 PM
To: Megan Breinholt
Subject: RE: Eve

Well that all depends on what you view as conquering something. Maybe she conquered it by not letting it wreck her spirits. Everyone dies, so as humans we aren’t really conquered by death unless we let it break our spirits. Otherwise death is just a part of life. So as long as you go out with grace, maybe an “energetic” or “persistent” attitude, you’ve conquered it.

Hey, look, my energy and persistence have “conquered” your ridiculous notions!!


________________________________________
From: Megan Breinholt
Sent: Friday, May 21, 2010 4:27 PM
To: Matt *****
Subject: RE: Eve

Oh lordy. If you’re going 12-year-old-girl on me for giving you a hard time, you’ve already wrecked my spirits.

Hey with your energy and persistence, why don’t stop wasting time with my ridiculous notions, and conquer world hunger, world peace, earthquakes in the Sudan, and cancer.
Those are “all things” not yet conquered.

If you’re going to go all philosophical-rhetoric on me in re-defining what “conquer” means, and that you’re “life-altering slogan” is only in reference to “Spiritual” conquering, and are going to completely disregard “ALL THINGS” including physical incapabilities, you need to include that qualifier in your motivational.

“Energy and persistence spiritually and morally conquer all things”.

Or.

“Energy and persistence conquer all things of a spiritual or moral nature”.

+-~* Affectionately*~-+,
-Megs

I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Once upon a time, yesterday was the warmest day of the year.

And after a weekend of SERIOUS couch-potatoage, I finally got the bee in my bonnet to take my roadbike Ruthie out for the season's maiden voyage.
It was a lovely day. Warm but overcast. Birds chirping. Green leaves and blossoms a-plenty.
So I dug around in my storage unit and closets trying to find my bike pump.
No dice.
Who knows where it is. Which is sad. Because it was totally cute and lime green. Not easily misplaceable.
I call Contender Bicycles to see if they were still open. The man answers, "Contender Bic...", and I interrupt him.
"Are you guys still open???"
A pause. "We close at seven."
"What time is it right now?"
A pause. "Seven".
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo.
So, I get in my car and drive down to Smith's Fred Meyer. They're open. They've got to have a cheap pump to get me through today.
What's more pathetic than DRIVING to a store to buy a tire pump to go for a bicycle ride?
Oh yeah, the rest of this story...
So I'm ho-humming my options at Smith's Fred Meyer. Not looking too promising. Not only do 99% of them only have the standard Schrader nozzle, but they're all pretty much plastic.
I find a pump that has an attachment to convert the Schrader nozzle into my Presta. I see that it has a "Three Year Warranty", so in haste, I purchase.
Returning home, I'm giddy. I'm humming/whistling the melody to Herman's Hermits "I'm in to Something Good". I get the pump all ready to fill'er up and start pumping the back tire.

SNAP.

Within about 4 pumps, this heavy duty, 3-year warrantied's Presta attachment breaks.
In half.
Awesome.



Ug.
So I forcefully hold the nozzle on the valve and continue to pump until the tire is at a somewhat-tolerably-full,-enough-to-get-me-through-a-few-miles level.
Ok, now the front tire.
Jimmy-rig it so it's barely clamped onto the valve with this "heavy-duty" but broken nozzle.

Pump.
Pump.

PPSSSSSSSTTTTT!




?
I'm sorry, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!
Oh cool. I broke the tip off my tire valve. This is awesome.
I slowly slide my back down the wall until my butt hits the floor. I rest my elbows on my knees and give the pump the Stink-Eye.
I mull over my options.
Door number 1, raise the white flag. It was a valiant effort, but wasn't in the cards to ride tonight. Just accept your losses, and get into your jammies. Law & Order is on.
Door number 2, pull yourself together, Woman! This is a BIKE PUMP for crying out loud. Get out an extra inner-tube and get this ordeal under control.
...
Another glare to the pump.
Alright, Pump. I don't like you. You are immediately going back to Smith's Fred Meyer where you came from. Well, you were just sold at Smith's Fred Meyer. I am actually willing to bet that you came from Hell. But if you get me through this, I'll wait till TOMORROW to take you back there. Deal?
Huff-n-puff.
Get the new tube in. Now. Caress the pump nozzle. It is your friend. I didn't lock it on the valve, but just held it in place and pumped and pumped and pumped and pumped until, like the front tire, it was tolerable just to get me through a few miles.

SWEEET! Let's go!
First off, apparently I need to clean up a bit.




Check.
So Ruthie and I are off. I decide to swing by my sister's house and use her nice bike pump just for precaution's sake.
It was a very nice ride. Although my new place's location near the top of Capital Hill isn't very conducive to finishing strong.. :-S But I did it. Felt good. And I'm looking forward to my pump-swap this evening.

Definitely before Seven.


And the collateral damage?

Apples to Apples

There are a few different options when a student is considering doing an MBA at the U of U.
There’s the full-time day MBA program, there’s the executive MBA, and there is the night Professional MBA program, which boasts,
“A rigorous 48 credit hour program with flexibility to create an individualized educational experience”.

The PMBA program is a two-year program for professionals that work during the day. Although the course line-up shows students taking 6 semesters to graduate and finishing in August, many students in past cohorts have taken an extra course here and there to be able to complete the program in 5 semesters so that they could graduate in May. That is what many in the PMBA graduating class of 2011 had also intended to do.
So it was a shock to many students when we received an unexpected e-mail Monday morning from the Assistant Dean of the business school saying:
_______________________________________
From: [mailto:DESB-ProfessionalMB@umail.utah.edu]
Sent: Monday, April 19, 2010 10:46 AM
To: pmba-2011@lists.utah.edu
Subject: [pmba-2011] Message to all Professional MBA students who have registered for additional credits

Dear Professional MBA Class of 2011,

As per the policy of the Professional MBA program, you should be registered for a maximum of six credit hours in summer semester and nine credit hours in fall semester. If you have exceeded these prescribed numbers of credits, please withdraw from these additional elective courses by 12:00 noon on Wednesday, April 21. If, after that time, your schedules have not been adjusted, the PMBA Office will drop courses for you. In an effort to provide students on the wait lists an opportunity for electives, the elective courses will be dropped first.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Brad Vierig,
Assistant Dean
______________________________________


During the course of Monday, many students tried to contact the dean’s office and the PMBA office to get clarification of this said “policy”.
As a matter of coincidence, the Dean, associate dean, and assistant dean, all have taken the next 2 weeks off and cannot be reached until early May.

In one of my e-mails, I stated that I am not the only person that is having a hard time understanding this.
To which, I got this response from the PMBA advisor,
“Actually, the vast majority of students don’t seem upset by this”.

I couldn’t believe it. So I sent out “feeler” e-mails to people in class that I frequently talk to.
As of last night, 24 hours after the e-mail was sent, I had received e-mails from at least 25+ students who are also having a hard time understanding this new policy, and saying that it was effecting their future plans/goals. And I hadn’t even contacted half of the cohort. So I'm really interested to know how many this “Vast Majority” the PMBA is referring to really is.

I met with a PMBA advisor yesterday wanting answers to my questions:
-Why are they instituting this new policy?
-If it has always been a PMBA policy, why are they only starting to enforce it now, half way through our program?
-- If they have decided to enforce it, shouldn’t they wait for the incoming cohort this fall?
-Where has this policy been provided to me in writing?

The Advisor first of all, in my opinion, was thrown under a bus from the dean’s office administration. They left her here to deal with complaining and upset students by herself, even though she has no power to do anything about it.

It was a frustrating meeting.

When I asked why other cohorts up to this current year were able to take excess credit hours but we are now not, she said, “This is a completely different program than past cohorts. We’ve changed things.”, And just kept insisting that this was a completely new program, like comparing apples to oranges.

Even though it is comparing PMBApples to PMBApples.

When I asked where this had been provided in writing that we couldn’t take excess hours, she said, “We never said you could”.
I said, “You never said we couldn’t”.
And another round or two of “We never said you could”, “You never said we couldn’t” passed.
In my understanding, unless specified otherwise by a department or program, protocol follows University regulations. And University regulations allows students to register for as many hours as they feel they can handle the coursework for.

I’ve asked the PMBA advisor to schedule an information session with the dean’s admin as soon as they are available. Which will be in early May. Which may be too late. Because as the e-mail said that we received two days ago, our classes are being withdrawn without our permission today, as I type this.
I and many students are very frustrated because we can't seem to get answers, even though we are trying to follow the proper chain of command.

Does this make any sense? Any suggestions on how to get answers?

A Citizen for Fashion Faux-Pas Education

Attention citizens:
If you cannot intellectually dress yourself, please consider yourself banished from my scope of vision.
From now on, I'm selectively viewing people's choices in ensembles, and will only see people whose outfits are pleasing to me.
I would like to hold perhaps a webinar on articles of clothing with both form + function.

Most may be familiar with this travesty:



Sandals::
form: strapped sturdy shoes.
function: keep feet cool when the weather is warm.
Socks::
form: stretchy tubes of warmth.
function: keep feet warm when the weather is cool.
A physical oxymoron.

Get it?

...

However, there is another, LESS known, fashion faux pas.
IMHO, HOWEVER LESS KNOWN, IT IS IN NO WAY LESS OFFENSIVE TO MY EYEBALLS.



Entre` de short sleeve vs. fleece vest calamité.

Short sleeve shirt::
form: worn on upper torso with shortened sleeves.
function: promotes airflow to pits when the weather is warm.
Fleece vest::
form: worn on upper torso with no sleeves.
function: keeping the core of the body warm when the weather is cool.

Not.
O.
Kay.

Each item is fine to be worn independently, but the combination of wearing both is offensive and counterproductive.

To those who might be shocked by the lesson learned in this entry, please enroll in my webinar.

E.O.D.

It is perhaps superfluous to say that with the beginning of the year, one thinks back on the last year, for whatever reasons.

Maybe to measure just how far you've come along the path of "Becoming a better person".
Maybe to note the mistakes made, and vow to steer clear of those potholes in the future.
Or maybe to reminisce on the fantastic ensembles you'd purchased on massive sale.

On an uplifting side of this last year, there is one focus in the Realm of Meg that has been vastly improved upon.

The dating scene.

Since my first high school boyfriend, I have continuously had a steady boyfriend. It's not that 'Having a Boyfriend' is something that I felt defined me; I wasn't a desperate creeper. They just always just fell in to place.
After a massive break-up last January, I am happy to submit my Exclusively-Dated Tally Year-End report:
0.
That's right, people.
Goose-egg.
In the decade since I first embarked on my dating journey, it is the first year I didn't have a "S.O."
No, instead, I rolled up my sleeves and got in there.
Into the dating scene.
Well, as much as I could tolerate, anyway.
And the greatest accomplishment I feel I can claim from this past year:

I am an Equal Opportunity Dater.

During the course of one year, I went out with:
- Multiple men with children
-- A hand full of them with children only 10 years younger than me.
- Multiple divorced men.
- A Chinese man.
- A Navajo man.
- A black man.
- A deaf man.
- A man in a wheelchair.
- A man with one arm.
- A man with a full sleeve tattoo.
- A man with gauged ears.
- A man almost twice my age.
- A man nearly a foot shorter than me.
- A red-head.
- And the rest, who were neither stimulating nor noteworthy.

Idle Minds

So yesterday I had a sore throat. Since I work at a hospital, they told me to take the day off... Mind you, I wasn't SUPER sick-- I didn't have a fever or anything, but, if your work tells you not to come in, whattareyagunnado?
Hum...
Call Sis.
Wanna go shopping?
Sure.
Finish shopping.
What now?
Wanna go get tattoos?
Sure.
Explanation:
My sis and I have been talking for years of going in and getting tats together. Although over the years, my idea of what I wanted has changed, we knew we wanted them.
My sis has been crazy-mad-running this past year or so. She's done a handful of marathons and half-marathons.
Good for her.
I personally feel that the human body doesn't want to run more than 10 miles in a day. But whatevs.
For those who are unfamiliar with the history of marathons, please read my sister Jill's blog post http://jillatoz.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-is-marathon.html .
According to legend, with his last breath, Phidippides stated "Νενικήκαμεν", or "We are Victorious".
So,
this is what Nancy got:

Like a Glove

I knew from a very young age that I was different.
I remember watching movies, such as Ace Ventura, where the phrase was stated, "Like a Glove!"
Me: Discombobulated.
Rest of world: Resolute.
Cue retrospection.

I would look at my hands, and have visions of wintertimes and me trying to fit my boundless digits into confining mitts. It was like trying to stuff one of those big puffy sleeping bags into the tiny carrying bag it came with. You NEVER could get it back in there like the day you bought it.
Reluctantly, I would make do and don the gloves, dealing with the sensation of having webbed hands. After all, I only had to deal with the webbedness for about a week before my fingertips would push themselves out the top of my gloves, creating trendy fingerless gloves. It was like a person trying to deal with a pair of pants too short; Sag them down, and you have webbed-crotch. Pull them up, and your ankles despise you.
Hence, the description of fitting "Like a Glove" confounded me. Why would you ever want anything to fit like gloves fit on me? No thank you.
Fast-forward to last night. After already convertible-izing two pair of gloves this season, I went to the store to buy new ones. I was in a reflecting mood. There were decorations that reminded me of my dearly-missed grandmother. As I made my way to the "Winter Accessories" section, i saw some Isotoners. My mother has them. My grandmother had them. They must be good. But will they fit?
I perused the selection, and noted the incredible texture.. Genuine leather. Hm.. Lined with cashmere... Hmm... There was a notably sexier-than-the-rest pair, which also had lycra in the mixture. It was the only pair i could find like them, so i tried them on.

Snug.
Marvelously snug.
And my fingertips weren't crammed.
Room to breathe?
Stretchy-yet durably warm delights.
Like a glove.