The Amy Binegar-Kimmes-Lyle Book of Failures: A funny memoir of missteps, inadequacies and faux pas

by Amy Lyle

  My sex excuse list:

  Ate too much

  It’s still daylight

  Haven’t brushed my teeth

  You were mean to me earlier

  It’s Monday for God’s sake

  I was asleep!

  Didn’t sleep well

  I just changed the sheets

  Just not feeling it

  The kids are still awake

  My legs aren’t shaved

  I ate dairy

  My nails are still wet

  I must finish this chapter

  It’s Sunday!

  You need to manscape

  I just ate garlic

  Did you eat curry for lunch?

  Backache

  I have to finish a work project

  Stomachache

  I think the dog wants out

  Headache

  I think the dog wants in

  You drank too much

  Is someone at the door?

  I haven’t drunk enough

  I have to get up early

  Let me watch the rest of this show

  Didn’t we just do it?

  Not in the mood

  I’m so tired

  I have a charley horse in my leg

  I need to change the laundry

  I haven’t showered

  I think I’m pre- menopausal

  Men seem to be more visually stimulated than women. If women are in an elevator and an attractive man steps in, they’re probably thinking, I bet that suit is a Stanley Korshak—it looks expensive. They’re not wondering about the gentleman’s penis size or visualizing copulation.

  My final piece of evidence about men and women not wanting sex equally is this: ask 100 women how much they spent on the four billion dollars’ worth of pornography sold last year in the US. Ninety-nine percent would say “Zero.”{68}

  AND IT’S NOT EVEN EIGHT AM

  I walked past Peter shaving, in the shower.

  Peter: Ouch! This razor is so dull. Have you been using it again on your legs?

  Me: No. I used it on my lady parts.

  Peter: I asked you not to use my razor. It dulls it and then rips my face off.

  Me: Did you know that you have a slight lisp? Peter: What?

  Me: Yes. You said, “dullths” and “ripths.” That’s a lisp. Did you go to speech therapy as a child, because you should have?

  Peter: Why is it when I catch you doing something that I asked you not to do, you launch a personal attack?

  Me: Do you hear yourself? You said, “perthonal.” You should get that checked out. Is your tongue swollen?

  Peter: Oh my God, you are so weird.

  THEY GET INTO ALL THE CREVICES

  To celebrate my friend Amanda’s birthday, we went to Jeju Sauna Korean Spa. In Atlanta, we have pockets that are predominantly Korean with restaurants serving bibimbap and shabu-shabu, several Korean karaoke bars and warehouse sized spas.

  Plan to stay at a Korean spa for the day as there’re countless treatments and activities to do. After checking in, you’re issued blue scrubs, not unlike what your dental hygienist would wear, and a towel. A tour guide of sorts walks you through the facility. In the open area, they have a variety of spas that resemble igloos.

  Spas available:

  Wood Sauna: Traditional warm sauna that reduces tension and opens pores

  Baked Clay: Dilates peripheral blood vessels and helps eliminate waste products

  Jade: Infused with herbs, increases metabolism and relieves arthritis

  Gold and Silver: Helps with nerve stability and neurosis

  Jewels: Lined with semiprecious stones, offers calming powers and “mind-glowing powers”

  Rock Ice: Lowers your body temperature and contracts the pores

  Charcoal: Toxin absorbing and stimulates sweat glands

  Each spa could hold ten to twenty people, but many were unoccupied and very peaceful. Amanda and I did encounter one gentleman reading Dante in the jade igloo and another in a headstand yoga pose in the baked-clay igloo. The floor is heated throughout the spa, making it very comfortable to wander around in bare feet.

  Entering the locker room to change, you’ll catch sight of hundreds of naked women speaking different languages, from Spanish to Swahili. You wear your scrubs if you choose to travel to the mix-sexed areas; otherwise, you remain au naturel.

  As we were leaving the locker room for our treatment, we passed a small room with a glass door where we could see a few women sitting on low stools wrapped in long black capes. Attendants were putting what looked like spaghetti pots of hot water under their stools. Our guide explained that the ladies were getting chai-yok—their vaginas steamed. It’s an ancient treatment that reduces stress, fights infections, regulates menstrual cycles, balances female hormone levels, aids in infertility and clears hemorrhoids. Additives like wormwood, lemon or lavender can be added to the V-steam if you would like your vajayjay to be scented as such.

  Amanda and I thought about doing the Chai-yok treatment but the ladies sitting on the crotch pots looked ashamed. Perhaps they had a Groupon and misunderstood chai-yok to be an exotic yoga class. We moved on to our treatments.

  The first phase required us to alternate soaking in hot tubs and cold tubs for several minutes each. Then it was time for … THE SCRUB.

  Lined up in military fashion were ten to fifteen stainless-steel cadaver-style tables. Completely naked, you lie on the table while an older Korean woman wearing military-issue-looking underpants-and-bra set starts dumping buckets of water on your body. Amanda described it as “waterboarding.”

  Scrubbing table

  Next, the women put on scrubby mitts and scoured us like we were dirty potatoes. As sheets of dead skin fell from the mitts, we were slipping and sliding on the tables. Just when I thought I could not take one more second of the Brillo-pad treatment, the buckets of water started again. I had my eyes closed but could hear other women spit and spatter as they tried to catch their breath. Then … silence and the smell of deliciously fresh cucumbers that the attendants had grated by hand. They placed the fresh cucumber gently on our faces. Last, they massaged our scalps for twenty minutes and washed our hair.

  Remaining naked, we shuffled into the shower to rinse off. We were exhausted and needed food. The Jeju offers an authentic Korean restaurant, so we enjoyed fresh fish and noodles while sitting on floor cushions at the low platforms and watching other people explore the healing igloos.

  We would have loved to have rested in their nap room, gotten a Ji-ap reflexology massage and taken a dip in their mineral pool, but we had to head home to get our kids off the bus.

  The amazing, all-day adventure at Jeju Spa is around $50.

  IT’S MY FACE

  My mother (and Oscar Wilde) said, “Youth is wasted on the young.” I knew not to do all the things that would age me, such as baking in the sun, not getting enough sleep and drinking alcohol, but I didn’t listen. Hence, I’m looking more and more like an old lady.

  Some of it is genetics (this orange-peel-like texture running down the sides of my legs must have come from my grandmother). Certainly, gravity plays a role—how else could you explain butt cheeks changing from the shape of coconuts to something tubular? You’ve seen it at the beach: the eighty-year- old guy in a Speedo, holding a metal detector, with Florida-old- man cheeks. We are all are destined for this if we don’t start doing excruciatingly painful lunges and the exercise Satan himself invented—squats. I don’t do either and now shorts are a thing of the past.

  At forty-five, I’m not going to look any better. Therefore, I started buying shimmery/sparkly clothing—to distract people from my face.

  Other atrocities I’m experiencing:

  My hair has turned into wire, resembling a combination of Animal, the crazy drummer from The Muppets, and the 1970s SNL character Roseanne Roseannadanna.

  Back/knee/neck pains that used to go away with one glass of wine or a Tylenol are not going away.

  Extra pound
s will not come off.

  No energy.

  Random black, coarse hairs—mostly above my lip but sometimes I find them on my chin or on one of my nipples.

  Extreme paleness of skin.

  Brown spots are appearing all over my body.

  Even darker circles under my eyes.

  Blindness. The other day I ate what I thought was a Reese Pieces at the bottom of my purse but it was an Advil tablet.

  My eyeballs are changing shape, getting narrower and smaller. This is really bad news as I have somewhat beady eyeballs already.

  Giant pores—magnification mirrors are no friend to me.

  My mornings start with fifteen minutes of vitamin and supplement swallowing.

  Fish Oil – Healthy heart

  Ultimate Flora – Healthy bacteria, promotes good digestive health (a miracle supplement if you can’t poop or poop too much)

  Black Cohosh Extract – Menopause support

  Vitamin D – Immune health

  Vitamin A – Essential for healthy skin

  DHEA – Promotes a balanced hormone level (anti-bitch pills)

  Super B Complex – Cellular energy and antioxidant support

  Vitamin C – Supports immune function

  Turmeric Curcumin – Fights and potentially reverses diseases

  Osteo Bi- Flex – Strengthens your joints, reduces joint pain

  Lutein and Zeaxanthin – Eye health

  Strontium – Improves bone density

  Ribose – For energy and mental clarity

  Hydrochloric Acid – Reduces bloating

  Green tea – Improves brain function; encourages fat loss; lowers risk of cancer, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and cardiovascular disease; decreases your risk of dying and improves dental health

  Getting old is expensive.

  I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO HELP YOU

  I moved to the south after I graduated from college and found work as an administrator (glamorous for receptionist) during the week and worked at Rich’s Department store evenings and weekends. Rich’s had a long history with Atlanta, as it had opened in 1867 and for over a century had been “The” place to shop. When Martin Luther King Jr. received the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, Norway, in 1964, he was wearing a coat that his wife, Coretta Scott King, had bought for him from the downtown Atlanta Rich’s Department Store.

  Famous for their personal-shopper services and generous return policies (they allowed people to return anything, even if it the item had not been bought in their stores, for cash), and although they were founded by Jewish immigrants, they were most famous for their Christmas festivities. The lighting of the “Great Tree,” a massive pine displayed on the store’s rooftop, was a huge Atlanta attraction. Another Rich’s seasonal favorite was The Pink Pig train that looped around The Great Tree.

  In preparation for the tree lighting, the well-heeled women of Atlanta would need to retrieve their fur coats from Rich’s fur vault. It’s only cold in Atlanta about ninety days of the year, but by God, if people in Chicago and Manhattan were draped in fur, the fine ladies of Atlanta would be too. I was fascinated by our customers strolling around the store in their $10,000 chinchilla stoles and minks trimmed with fox furs.

  The busiest “fur rush” at Rich’s was after church on Sundays. I grew up in Ohio, where going to church (or whatever religion you were) was a private matter—not the case in Atlanta. Every Sunday the fur-clad ladies would ask me, “Honey did you attend service this morning?” I would reply that no, I had to work on the weekends. Southern ladies are sweet as sugar but ruthless in uncovering your standing with the Lord. “When you are not working, where does your family attend church?” Or they would boldly ask me, “Where are you on your walk with Jesus?” They would be very offended when I told them I wasn’t attending, but they would offer, “I will be praying for your soul.” I said to a coworker that I would be praying for the souls of the 150 chinchillas that were murdered for their full-length pelts.

  I was fired from Rich’s—not because of my walk with the Lord or my mockery of the PETA offenders, but for a “returns violation.” I showed up for my shift to work in accessories that day, and they redirected me to the lingerie department because a few people had called out sick.

  A woman approached the lingerie counter and asked about our return policy. As I mentioned, Rich’s had a super-liberal return policy and the only restriction I can remember was that you could not return bathing suits or lingerie if the item had been worn. (Rich’s put restrictions on those returns only because it was a state law.) I showed the lady the posted sign and said, “We can accept any returns except on lingerie or bathing suits if the tags have been removed or if the item has been worn.”

  The woman told me the item had not been worn, pulled a hot- pink silky tank top and matching shorts that smelled like cigarettes, cheap perfume and sweat from her purse, and set them on the counter.

  I said, “Ma’am (in the south you say ma’am), there are no tags on this item.” The customer dug around in her purse and slapped the tags on the counter. A line had started to form behind me, as this was Sunday and the fur ladies were either buying, retrieving or showing off their furs while they Christmas shopped. I said, “I am so sorry but we cannot accept lingerie that has been worn.”

  The customer went nuts, screaming and cursing that she had been a customer of Rich’s for over twenty years and she had never been treated so poorly. She demanded to see the manager. When my manager arrived, and asked what the issue was, the customer said, “Your salesgirl said I can’t return this item because it’s been worn. I bought this item and I know for a fact it hasn’t been worn.”

  My manager gave me a “And your reply?” look, so I took a pen and delicately lifted the pink silky shorts. It felt like the entire store had stopped to watch as a pair of black lacy panties dropped to the counter.

  “These have been worn,” I said.

  Later in the office, my sweet manager said, “You embarrassed a loyal Rich’s customer.

  ”The words that I needed to say (“I’m so sorry”) refused to materialize. I said, “I think she embarrassed herself,” and clocked out.

  TRYING TO GIVE BACK

  I wanted the kids to be involved in a philanthropic activity on a monthly basis. Anna wanted to help the people in Africa, PJ’s in Boy Scouts and suggested clothing drives, Savannah’s passion was to help the elderly in our community and Maddy was most interested in serving the homeless. As per the norm in my household, a heated battle erupted over who to help. I suggested we help animals. Remarkably, everyone agreed.

  The Forsyth County Animal Shelter is only a few miles from our house and allows children to assist with cleaning cat cages and walking the dogs. We arrived at the shelter and told them we were there to help with the dogs. The employee immediately assumed we were there to adopt a dog, which got the kids all excited and then crushed when I reminded them that we were only WALKING the dogs.

  Each of the four kids picked out an animal. Anna, only five or six at the time, picked out a large husky, Savannah selected a Lab, Maddy picked a small terrier/beagle mix and PJ picked what the lady said was a “chiweenie.” The lady put looped leashes around each of the dogs and told us where the “walk zones” were behind the building. Less than one minute after getting the kids outside, they wanted me to take a picture.

  Savannah’s Labrador didn’t want to be in the group picture I was taking. While trying to lift him, he wiggled free and ran away. All the kids started crying, and the dog was nowhere in sight. I took the sobbing kids back into the shelter and explained the situation.

  The shelter employee said to her coworker, “They lost one of our f****** dogs.” I apologized profusely and scooted the children out of the shelter and into the car.

  Less than a mile up the road, we saw the escaped Labrador. Savannah opened the door and whistled; it ran as fast as it could and jumped into the car. I drove back to the shelter, returned the dog, and asked if we could come back next month to walk t
he dogs. The shelter employee said that we were no longer allowed to walk the dogs but we could return if we wanted to clean cat cages. No good deed goes unpunished.{69}

  If your spouse asks you, “Why do you love me” and you reply, “You have a fairly good driving record and white teeth.” Please know that is not what they are looking for.

  WOMEN’S RIGHTS

  The elementary school does a great job of bringing history alive every year with the “Wax Museum” exhibit. Kids research historically significant people, select a favorite, and then dress up and memorize a one- to two-minute speech. When the parents show up for the exhibit, hundreds of students are “frozen,” representing everyone from Harriet Tubman to Neil Armstrong. Each student has a homemade “button” next to them that the parents push to make the wax figure come to life.