Tonight, I attempted to make dinner. I did succeed in making what I set out to make (woohoo!) but, as I sat in my room, in front of my computer, eating my meal of chocolate chip pancakes and milk without a napkin or silverware, splitting my time between surfing the web and attempting to wipe spilled syrup off my lap, I began to realize how far I have to go to become a proper Betty. Holy goodness, I have a long, long climb ahead of me!
I mean, honestly, as of today, it is an incredibly victory for me if I manage to do something as simple as make myself pancakes for dinner. Cleaning the house is a phenomenal triumph I experience once in a blue moon and laundry? Oh please, if I do a load from start to finish including folding and putting away, I get so smug, you’d think I’d won a Pulitzer! Housekeeping is not “my thing”, nor are cooking or mending or any of the other domestic arts. Thus, in order to actually DO The Betty Project, what I DO is not the only thing that will need to change. I need to rethink my definition of what constitutes an acceptable way to live.
Now, I realize that to SAY that you’ll do something is a far different thing than actually doing it. And, at this point, I’ve said I’m going to do this thing called The Betty Project but am not entirely sure how I’m going to go about accomplishing it or even what “accomplishing it” will look like. I’m intimidated and overwhelmed. So I will try to channel my mother and, as she advised me time and again throughout my adolescence, I will try to take this “one little ducky at a time”.
Therefore, the first three months of The Betty Project I intend to spend pursuing Betty numero uno: Betty Crocker. I will (try to) focus my energies on the home: cooking, cleaning, mending, and so on. I also feel the time has come to take a bit more pride in my appearance. After all, women back in the day would put on a dress, heels, stockings, a hat and gloves just to go to the market. The least I can do is put on a shirt under my sweatshirt and TRY to wear pants without holes in them.
My starting point is tonight: an apartment in utter disarray, at least three loads of laundry waiting to be done, not a single table surface free of clutter, dishes in the sink and on the counter, utter chaos accompanied by a dinner of chocolate chip pancakes and milk eaten with my bare hands in front of my computer in my plaid pj pants and a striped t-shirt. Really and truly, there is nowhere to go from here but up…