I believe that for the 8 week duration of my cut-and-color my hair will continue to look as good as the magazine hair model's salon coiffure which my stylist valiantly tried to copy...without requiring daily treatments from three different tubes of goop, a hair dryer with a diffuser, two different sized curling irons and a special comb to make a zigzag part....which, incidentally, is the way I intend to wear it to the Academy Awards.
I believe that if I take the time to select recipes from Bon Appetit, write down the necessary ingredients on a shopping list, actually purchase said items at various markets and specialty food shops, bring them home and put them in the refrigerator then, voila! My job is done. Dinner will happen spontaneously. Of course, right before my next dinner party I'll be cleaning out the refrigerator and wondering where this rotten bok choy, quinoa and carrot juice came from.
I believe that after I say goodnight to my children, they will stay in their beds and, perhaps after reading a chapter from one of their many classic children's novels, will fall sound asleep, leaving me to have an uninterrupted and stimulating conversation with my husband while enjoying a glass of merlot by candlelight beside a flickering fire. (This, by the way, is very similar to believing in the Easter Bunny.)
I believe that if I keep a stack of parenting books on my nightstand and another two shelves worth crammed into my bookcase, then my children, simply by occupying the same airspace as such wisdom, will become angelic and obedient.
I believe that if I produce a delectable meal for a dinner party or a holiday repast, then I should be credited for at least a week's worth of cooking...and my family should be more than happy to dine on toast, carrot slices and juice boxes until I say that week is over.
I believe that if I listen to Oprah and her trainer, read her fitness book, watch the episodes featuring her trainer and her exercise regimen, then I will "make the connection" without any further effort, except perhaps perusing the fitness issue of "O" magazine while at the market getting bok choy.
