Yeah, so, I had to go to the DMV to renew my driver license. It’s OK to be jealous.
It’s just one of those fun things you get to do every five years around your birthday. There’s some outdated stuff on my license, so it’s probably a good thing. It still has an address from, well, five years ago. I’ve moved a few times since then.
Oh, and yeah, the weight is different. When I got my driver license five years ago, I was the skinniest I had ever been in my adult life. Now? Not so much. That’s fine. I’ve had breast cancer and pushed out a baby in the past five years. I’ve earned these extra few pounds.
So anyway, I made an appointment at a DMV office near my office in Oakland, and I mentally prepared myself for my visit to be a clusterfuck. Even when I’ve made an appointment, I’ve had to wait. I also brought a magazine that I was going to pretend to read. I wouldn’t be reading it. The DMV has the best people watching ever. This office didn’t disappoint.
There was a woman sitting in the waiting area with a wiener dog; a black and tan wiener dog, just like my Homer. He was sitting on her lap and being quiet as can be. I wondered, “Is the dog getting an ID card or a driver’s license? Maybe he wants to register his boat, and his boat is named Hot Dog.” I wanted to pet him so bad, and it took all my will power not to reach out and touch him.
I checked in at the appointment desk.
DMV clerk: “All the details on here are correct?”
Me: “Well, the weight is wrong.”
DMV clerk: “Up or down.”
Me: “Sadly, up.”
DMV clerk: “Do you want to change it?”
So, he scratched out the old weight of 130 (I know, right?!).
“Here,” he handed me a pen. “You don’t need to say it out loud. Just write it down.”
Haaaaa! Because weighing 150 is so shameful! It’s so evil you dare not speak its name! Like if I said it out loud three times it would appear like Beetlejuice and make everyone’s clothes feel tighter.
I wrote it down and took a seat in a corner so I could people watch without being watched.
There was a young mentally handicapped man, who wanted everyone to know that there was a man in the office who was festively plump. “He’s fat,” he blurted out. “He’s fat. He’s getting fatter. Whoa. He’s fat. Big hat. He’s got a big hat, and he’s fat.”
I tried not to be obvious, but I was curious who he was talking about. Is someone wearing a giant foam cowboy hat at the DMV? If so, that would be awesome, and I didn’t want to miss it. Sadly, all I saw were a bunch of normal looking dudes and a few were wearing baseball hats. Disappointed!
After just a few minutes, they called my number. The clerk typed in some random crap and took my money. She handed me a printout.
DMV clerk #2: “Make sure everything is accurate.”
Me: “You didn’t change the weight.”
DMV clerk #2 [sighs]: “Maybe you should keep it on there as a goal weight.”
Me: “Umm, OK.”
If you don’t want to print it out again, because you are that lazy, just say so. Don’t act like you are doing me some favor and motivating me in my dieting goals. (And yes, I’m on Weight Watchers, but my goal weight is 140. I don’t care what my driver license says. Take that, Department of Motor Vehicles!)
I headed over to DMV clerk #3 to get an updated photo, and she asked me take my glasses off.
Me: “No. I wear them all the time.:
DMV clerk #3: “It’s policy now. You need to remove your glasses so they can see all of your face.”
Me: “Really? No one ever sees me without my glasses. I don’t think I have one photo of me without them. Seems wrong but OK.”
Now, I’m going to get my new license in a few weeks, and it’s going to have a photo of me without my glasses. It’s going to be a terrible photo. I look like a monster without my glasses. I don’t really care, though. I don’t get asked to show ID that much anymore. Sometimes a kid at the grocery store humors me and asks for ID when I buy beer. Adorable. Plus, now whenever I show that ID, a store clerk is going to have a good laugh. “She put 130 on her license. Yeah, right, lady!”