Saturday, March 14, 2015
I drove by a golf course today and you know what....I want to be one of those women when I get older. Or at the very least I would like to try it on. You know those women, the ones who lunch, the ones who wear pearls on a Tuesday, the ones with madras plaid crop pants and cardigans and lemonade while the husbands' golf. The ones who get their hair done every other Thursday @ 11:am, and always have the perfect shade of frosty peach nail polish ( I can find the shade I just can't make it stay! Please refer to the photo to the right). The ones who never forget sunscreen and have always finished the best book. The ones who never have runs in their hose, and summer in Europe, the ones who sit and have breakfast in a sunny nook while watching the birds. Basically, I want to be selfish. (and let's not think for a moment I am saint, oh no!, I am a hot mess disaster selfish human quite a bit, I would just like to be more effectively selfish while looking great and never feeling guilty)
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Razor: Oh it was a hot date, a real good one. I will spare you all the things that made the man a "hot date" suffice it to say, there were lots. I put on a cute little skirt to show off one of my few physical selling point, my legs....and a pair of wedges to further highlight. I get to his house, quick hug, then ask to use the bathroom for a second before we leave. Nervous pee or too much water, who knows, but it was a blessing in disguise. I get into the bathroom and the fluorescent glow casts a horrifying light on the fact that I missed a strip of leg while shaving....looks like I had missed it for maybe a few weeks! (and lets be honest it wasn't just a strip, I had not taken time to shave in a while, but let's pretend it was just a few strays on my shins), luckily his razor was in the bathroom. I whipped off the wedges, sat on the edge of the tub, quietly splashed a little water on my legs, barbasoled those babies up, and shaved like mad. I rinsed of what I can without being too loud, and dried off. Wedges back on, now smelling a bit like men's shaving cream, I was ready. A few minutes in, to my horror legs are dry, legs are itchy, legs are driving me insane and nothing is to be done except for suffer in silence, which I did, like a boss.
Moral of the story: if you're too lazy to shave, don't wear a skirt. xops