There is nothing more unattractive then watching a woman ‘go natural’. The implications are far too hideous to even contemplate. There are just some things that we should NEVER do. For instance:
1. Grow chin hairs. It’s not appealing for a woman to sport a Goatee
2. Have caterpillars for eyebrows. I understand that thick is in but Groucho Marxs? Nuh uh.
3. Wear a tank top when you know that your underarms are so hairy that a flock of seagulls think they have just spotted their new nest from the sky.
4. Sport a ‘stash’ across your upper lip as though you were a part of the Big Apple circus.
5. Grow hair on your legs so long that people will start confusing you for Big Foot.
The list goes on but I think you get the point. Ladies, please, let’s not be part of that club. You know, the “I need to go back to basics” club. That’s just a little too much reality. So with that thought in mind, I set my first appointment for a new salon that just opened up down the road from my home. I had just invested in a darling pair of Christian Louboutin’s and after a purchase like that, momma was a bit short on funds and I figured that if I can still get my basic needs met and do it on the cheap? Bonus!
WARNING: NEVER GET WAXED ON THE CHEAP! NEVER!! Let those hairs grow wild until you can get enough moola to go to a “Real” Spa salon. Not a Nail Salon. So, you can only imagine what happened next. After arriving for my 1:15 appointment, I was met at the door by Quan Lee. I should have known to go running for the hills when she said, “You here for a wax? You want to pick a color?” Color?? What is she talking about? I don’t want to get my nails done. I want to get a wax. Heaven help me, if she didn’t understand what I needed, I was afraid of what she’d try to wax and THAT sent a cold shiver down my spine.
An hour later, what should have been a simple wax felt like I had just undergone Dermabrasion on my legs and underarm. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity and keep a stiff upper lip when I left that place. Everything felt raw. I walked to my car like a mummy. My legs stung and my arms were pulled up as though I had wings and was about to pull a Kung Fu move on someone. I looked like I was about to take flight. And driving home was no party either. When I got home, ‘hubster’ took one look at me and he immediately knew what had happened. As I gingerly sat down, with my arms still in that flapping wings position, the ’hubster’ tried to keep a straight face. He quietly got up and walked to the kitchen. He said, “Cocktail?” and I said, sheepishly, “Shaken, not stirred, please”. After this experience, I guarantee you that I will have more sympathy for the gal who wants to go au natural. I personally wouldn’t do it, but I definitely understand.
Posted in Life
Tagged Beauty, Life, Natural
Nervous breakdowns are not an option. So when your very last nerve has been stretched and snapped, what’s a girl to do? Plan a quick weekend away, that’s what. 911 the girls, kiss the “hubster” and fur-kid good-bye and warn him about the “No Calling the Wifey for Ridiculous Questions” rule. Forget about making the “Do you know if I have any more clean tidy whitey’s?”call or the “How do I turn on the toaster oven?”, “Have you seen the remote control?”, “Do we have any more meat patties?”, “Why is our fur-kid sniffing his boys?”, and my personal favorite, “Why is the wireless on my computer not working?”, kind of calls. Earth to “hubster”, Josie has left the building and her mind is now on cruise control. Leave your questions after the beep and I will get back to you after a few cocktails. No, I am not hearing your new conspiracy theories or why ballroom dancing competitions are so entertaining. Am I going to have to place a call to Man Camp? Unless my shoe collection is in jeopardy, park your questions at the curb until the wifey blows back into town.
Under normal circumstances, it’s always wonderful to plan a trip with my “hubster” but this is not that kind of trip. Sometimes you just need a trip in which you can decompress, talk about nothing, and just soak up the bonds of sisterhood while you channel your inner peace.
Yes, this is a weekend for just the girls. We deserve to be pampered and catered to for the weekend. Reality will shake us awake soon enough when we get back home so we might as well whoop it up. Now, that brings me to the core of my question. Not all of my gal pals have the same standards that I do when it comes to choosing an upscale Hotel. My definition of ‘upscale’ may be totally different from theirs. Case in point, when I check into a hotel, must I be classified as a Diva because I want make sure that I will not be in need of my portable UV Scanner (yes, I have one and no I don’t think I’m on CSI: Miami. A girl can never be too careful), especially if there is a possibility that the bed covers may contain, ahem, foreign human stains? Is it too much to expect that when I pull back the bedcovers, I won’t find hairs I know couldn’t possibly belong to me? And seriously, do you really think I want to drink out of those glasses in our room if it looks like they have been spit shined? Literally? No, get-away weekends are meant to be stress free and the last thing I need is to worry about where I am laying my head. My standards are high, yes, and if the gals think I’m over the top so be it. At least I will be at peace that it’s our DNA on those “clean” sheets.
No one told me, while growing up, that aside from getting a stellar education and becoming a successful professional, that I needed to get the basics down for Home Economics 101. Mom would always say, “Study hard, make those grades and make a crap load of money so that you won’t have to depend on a man.” Well….fast forward a decade or so and imagine my surprise when I realized that the “hubster” was expecting the Latina Martha Stewart incarnate for a wife. Houston…. we have a problem!!
We both have full time jobs, work intense hours, I have personal projects I’m currently working on and you want me to figure out how to de-grease the oven? Yes, I see the dust bunnies under the bed taunting us but dude, is your hand broken? Dust Buster meet “Hubster”, “Hubster” meet Dust Buster. It’s called equal opportunity cleaner. The Pastor said till death do us part not till death does she clean! Now, don’t get me wrong. We have a beautiful home right on the lake, everything is neat and tidy within said home but ask me to get into those nooks and crannies on a daily basis??? Put on the brakes Mr. Man. You asked for an intelligent wife. Check. You asked for a kind hearted wife. Check. You asked for a faithful, loyal, giving, loving, affectionate, chic and sophisticated wife. Check, check! And you’re worried about the fact that I have yet to dispose of the science project sandwich, that YOU did not eat two weeks ago, from the refrigerator? Seriously? Surely you jest. Well, memo to hubster: you already have 95% of what you do want in a wife and the other 5%…. you will need to contract it out to Merry Maids. I tried being the Latina Martha Stewart. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt and went to the retreat. Didn’t work! I’m missing the domestic gene and I’m not losing sleep over it.
So look out dust bunnies because big daddy’s going to clean house!
Ten Ways to Drive Your Friend Out of Her Mind and Never Get Invited Back
Disrupt the daily routine that your friend has with her house pets to such an extent that when your friend gets home from work, the furniture has been torn apart and the pets have managed to seize the kitchen counter and hold the family’s dinner hostage.
Invite your own guests to the home without asking, have a ghetto cookout with food you didn’t purchase but your friend did, and have your guests stay until an ungodly hour, although your friend has gone to bed hours earlier.
Visit with your friend when you know that you have an infectious disease, don’t tell her about the disease until you’ve shared the same glass of wine and then proceed to tell her about the nasty cooties you have.
Ignore your friend’s request to take off your shoes when you come into the house and look shocked and dismayed when there is evidence of your muddy shoes all over the Persian rug.
Eat your dinner in the guest bedroom and leave evidence of your dinner all over the luxurious Pratesi bedcovers.
Ask to use your friend’s Jacuzzi and never turn off the jets until your friend finds that the jets have been on for several days and the motor has burned.
Leave lights on around the house as though your friend has shares in the electric company.
Leave an obscene amount of clumped, greasy hair on the guest bathroom floor and just before you head out to the airport tell your friend that you tried to find the dust buster but you had more important things to attend to.
As a going away present, leave all of your garbage behind in your room so that your friend has to clean it up.
Break all house guest protocol by going through your friend’s personal belongings and advise your friend that you’ve noticed that she has a few of the same products and that you’ve taken the liberty of relieving her of some of those products by putting them in your suitcase and taking them off her hands.
Note to house guest: Love to see you again. Next time stay at a hotel (in another state)!!!!
Trying to stay confident all the time is exhausting business. Although I would say I could afford to lose a couple of pounds (ok, maybe just a tad bit more than a few – whatever), I sure came away feeling like Miss Piggy Snorty Snort recently when I went out for Girl’s Night with three fabulously gorgeous friends. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have given my weight a second thought but on this particular evening, all I kept thinking about was on how my thighs rubbed uncomfortably together whenever I would cross and uncross them, how some particular body parts felt like they were shooting the knees, or how having a pooch is no longer endearing, no matter what the husbster says. Needless to say, the appetizers we decided to partake in barely got a second glance from me except for a taste here and there. And trust me, I was EXTREMELY hungry. Extremely hungry = unhappy Josie! And worse, they all stated that they were stuffed from these small, measly little plates of nothing. Seriously?? You’re stuffed?? No freakin way!
That’s it. Momma’s hitting the gym PRONTO!!! Hmph!