Tag Glitter

Being Glitterati

Michael 2 Comments

The dozen or so Christmas cards I’ve gotten so far are bad for my health. All but one of them is glittery. Glitter. I still shudder at glitter. (You do remember that glitter is even stronger than loofah, don’t you?)

I’m sorry, I just don’t like glitter. I willingly accept it has its places- the inside of a snow globe, the Barbie section at whatever theme park owns her rights (its rights?), strip clubs – and glitter isn’t the only reason I try to avoid those places, but it certainly doesn’t enhance them for me.

What’s become majorly disconcerting is now either due to age (apologies to optimists the world over, but no, it’s not just a number, 7 is just a number), health, or drug to maintain health, it’s not unusual for me to experience a fine tremor in my hands. Do you know what happens to a glitter gilded card when the cover of the card in all its glittery glory is scraped against the inside of the envelope while being withdrawn in a motion usually used with very fine sandpaper?

My usual mail opening spot is at the dining room table and with my newly lost manual stability my dining room table is now the perfect spot for a 21st century disco opening, for very tiny dancers.

Glitter.pngI’m not sure how I became a glitter magnet but I am. I can’t even drive past a Pat Catan’s or Michael’s without the stuff flying off the shelves, out to parking lot, through the car vent, and forever attached to me. It won’t wipe off, rub off, wash off, or as previously noted loofah off. Typically it wears off  8 to 12 weeks after bonding, so as long as I can stay out of glitter’s way on New Year’s Eve and Ground Hog Day I should be glitter free by St. Patrick’s Day and just in time for green glittered shamrock headbands.

The FDA recently issued a glitter alert. Don’t eat non-edible glitter. That’s pretty obvious yet apparently enough people eat non-edible glitter to warrant a warning. And those are people who have choices. I’m sure Hallmark isn’t using edible glitter on its greetings. I’m being glitter dusted across my eating space and not even given a choice!

So if you care for my health, when you slip my card into its envelope please scrape off the glitter. I’ll still recognize you for your sparkling addition to my holiday mood.

Making the Case for Glitter Free Decorating

Michael 1 Comment

You all know I am just out of the hospital a few days now. I was out only a few hours when I discovered that my fingertips shimmered in the dark. No, it wasn’t some reaction to a drug I was given. It wasn’t a remnant of some procedure done. No, it was glitter. Glitter. That shimmery, flaky stuff that adorns cards, bows, wreaths, probably even some brands of toothpaste for all I know. Oh how I hate glitter.

While protected under the blanket of sterility and cleanliness of the hospital I was able to enjoy a couple of weeks knowing my immediate environs were blissfully glitter-free. Then I got better. I was released to the world overrun with those sparkly specks. Oh how I hate glitter.

Why do I so hate glitter? First consider that I too recognize the prettiness of light twinkling from multiple surfaces. I just wish one of those surfaces wasn’t me! Once I come into contact with glitter it is with me forever. I can’t wipe it off. I can’t blow it off. It doesn’t wash off, scrape off, or soak off. It doesn’t even loofah off. Glitter on me is like iron filings on a magnet.

I think we need to establish some glitter rules. First, no surprise glitter. If I see a glitter gilded wreath on a door I will gladly climb through a window to get into that house. But if you send me a glittery card in a plain, white envelope – that’s just not fair. Second, manufacturers of shiny objects must identify the presence and level of glitter used in the making of said sheen. And third, stores, particularly card and home good shops, must provide a glitter free zone for glitter magnetic consumers.

I’m sure working together we can have a glitter free society where sparkly prettiness and good mental health can coexist.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you.