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The Perils of Writing a Column

Candy's Column

The Perils of Writing a Column

Easter BumpBetween you and me, I felt rather good about myself in my Easter Sunday dress.  Form-fitting enough to really showcase my bump, but also cute enough to make me feel like a stylish mama.  No small feat six months into pregnancy.

I bounced — okay, waddled — down the stairs, prepared to welcome the compliments my husband surely would heap on me.  Instead I was greeted by silence, a silence broken only by the tap-tap-tap of Mr. Candy’s fingers playing his favorite computer addiction, er… game.   I, with absolutely no pride, made a point of “casually” hanging out by the TV, a place I knew his eyes would eventually land.

And… succcess!  A wide smile crossed my hubby’s face.

“My shirt is perfect for Easter, isn’t it?” he asked, clearly impressed with himself.

Was this guy serious?

“Yeah.  Perfect.”

I continued to stand there, waiting.  La-di-da.  Now, I am not usually the kind of woman who seeks validation.  The words “How does this make me look” have rarely, if ever, escaped my lips.  But I AM A HORMONAL PREGNANT LADY WHOSE BODY IS CHANGING EVERY DAY, DAMMIT!  It’s a weird thing to deal with.  Wonderful, but weird.  Just throw a few scraps of praise my way, please.  Please?  Sincerity not required.  I even tried to help him out:

“My pink ribbon is very Easter-like, too, don’t you think?”

“Yes — AND you’re shaped like an Easter egg!”

Oh yes, he did.  Followed by a guffaw.  So I did the only thing I could, and scorched an Easter egg-sized hole into Mr. Candy’s head with my no-fail Laser Stare of Death.

“I’m kidding!” he insisted.  “I just say these things for your column!”

Yeah, mmm-hmmm.   Actually, my hubby is a kindhearted goofball and self-professed “laugh slut,” so I was inclined to believe him.  Not laugh, but believe. However, it dawned on me that this column has — oy — bestowed Mr. Candy with a free pass to passively-aggressively lob insults and claim immunity because he’s “just helping me do my job.”  I processed this development, thoughtfully rubbing my big belly, and said to myself:

“Huh.  That’s pretty damn clever.  Well-played, Mr. Candy.  Well-played, indeed.”

That is, until this Easter Egg cracks!

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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