My Hair-Brained Idea... Success or Fail?

Only part of the skills we learn as
a cosmetologist is the art of cutting hair

As a cosmetologist, we learn a lot more than how to do magic on your hair.

• We learn how to give manicures and pedicures.
• We learn how to give facials.
• We also learn about hair removal.

One of the things I remembered from school was being introduced to Sugaring. This is not unlike a wax, but it is different. It is a honey type paste than can be used to pull the hair out from the follicle. Unfortunately, for it to work, you need to grow the hair out.

That is right - for two weeks before the class, we were not to shave our legs or our armpits. We were like cavemen. Ok - maybe some of us were more hairy then others, but either way, we needed to learn the process (and have the process done to us so we knew what it felt like) so we had to grow out the hair that is not accepted by society on a woman.

One of the many things I learned
in school is how to remove hair
with sugar. Don't be fooled though,
this isn't real sugar that you bake with!

Well, sugaring has many benefits, but honestly, I am not going to tell you about sugaring itself. I am going to tell you what I learned from sugaring.

1. After excessive treatments, your hair will feel softer (because it won't be a blunt end like it is when you  use a razor). This treatment can make it seem like your hair doesn't come back as fast.
2. When you pull out the hair follicle, it can bleed.
3. Bleeding is a good thing because you might have potentially damaged the follicle meaning the hair won't grow back again.

I know it works, because I have used it many times while I was in school. I also know it is painful. I also know that if you are a little OCD, you will finish off the rest of the hairs that didn't get caught the first time with a tweezer... so it got me in the habit of tweezing hair that normal people probably don't tweeze.

Yes - I know - sometimes I am a little crazy.

When I was bored, I would spend hours tweezing hairs from my legs. There wasn't much hair left because of the sugaring and you could barely tell it was there. But I was bored and it would fill the time. 

So that is when I got the idea to tweeze my armpits. Summer is right around the corner and frankly, I find the task of shaving irritating. But if you want to go out in public, shave is something you must do.

So I start thinking... If I could tweeze the hair and damage the follicle, maybe I could go longer in between the removal of body hair.

Did you know tweezing your underarms is rather painful?

So, I started doing this a couple of weeks ago... and I can really only see the results on the left side since I am better at tweezing with my right hand. (Yes - I know you must have the most awkward visual in your head right now!)

So last night... as I was tweezing a few strands trying to make them permanently disappear, my husband caught me. Now - you would think he would have been surprised, but he wasn't. Which leads me to the conclusion that I must frequently do hair-brained activities.

I wasn't getting very far by myself because I was having difficulty with the right side. Being the noble man he is, I enlisted his help... and he obliged.

After about 100 tweezes and 99 of them pinching my skin... a few screams from being tortured, I told him to stop. I couldn't handle it anymore. This was a sick form of torture. I am sure I would endure waterboarding much better. 

Yet his OCD took control of him. He couldn't stop not being completely finished. He needed to continue. So there I sat, my hair exposed to the tweezer in his hand. I think he was actually enjoying it!

Needless to say, I had to prove a point on how painful it was. He lasted 10 hairs before he broke down crying. 

And when I look back at my hair-brained idea, all I have to say is this...

This is what happens after 13 years of marriage. 

Do you have someone special in your life that would
be willing to do weird things with you?

And my armpits have never felt so soft and smooth!

I don't have to worry about this now that I have soft
and smooth armpits!

Note: The only thing injured in the making of this post was a few armpit hairs that deserved it. And just to clear things up, my armpits never looked like the above picture. And those who prefer not to shave because of culture or preference, I do not judge. Shaved armpits on a woman is just my preference.

We Are Getting Old....

Last night was date night. My husband and I were pretty excited. After all, we don't do date nights very often. Why? Because they are expensive and because we have to find a babysitter.

I know - small price to pay for some time alone to celebrate your relationship.

Last night was an exception. We have been waiting for the opening night of Warm Bodies for a long time. Originally it was supposed to come out on our anniversary last year, but they pushed back the release.

This movie is a zombie love story. Not only are we both obsessed with zombies... but it adds romance and comedy to make a perfect date night. So we decided to get out and break the bank.

These kids look so cute. Really,
why would anyone want
to get away for a night!

The first thing we did upon getting rid of the kids was headed for a nice relaxing meal. We were smart this time around. We made reservations.

We walked in and we immediately cut ahead of about 15 people waiting for tables. They gave us dirty looks. We stuck our tongue out at them for not being smart enough to call ahead. Now we had about 2 hours and 45 minutes to eat. This gave us plenty of time before the movie started.

Well, old habits die hard and since we are both ex-military, we had ordered, eaten and finished in 45 minutes. Now we still had another 2 hours to waste! Whatever were we to do?

We used to walk the mall every weekend. At one time,
we actually thought it was fun!

Remembering our younger selves, we decided to head across the parking lot to the mall to walk around. We used to do this all the time before we had kids. For some strange reason, I remember enjoying it. Yesterday, it was boring.

We walked through the mall and not a single store screamed out, "Come look at all the stuff we have here for you to buy!" I just wasn't interested in shopping.

However, one salesperson did scream out to us. She wanted us to try this moisturizer sample and then she nicely pointed out that my husband needed this eye serum to get rid of his wrinkles and bags... and she pretty much gasped when she realized he was only 33.

But no worries. He could improve the wrinkles under his eyes and look so much younger with this promotion today for only $199. I laughed... my husband was not amused! (Especially since neither of us got carded at dinner either!)

After 30 short minutes, we realized we felt out of place and awkward. We were surrounded by teenagers holding hands. Girlfriends running from store to store. Boys with their pants so low their boxers were showing. We were no longer a part of that "mall crowd!"

We were... GASP... the old people!

We promptly left and headed back to the movie theater. At least in the movie theater it was dark so no one could see how old we actually were!

After the movie we promptly drove back home to go to bed where we giggled like little teenagers with excitement because without kids we knew we were going to get something that most married couples don't get much of....

A couple of old fools..

SLEEP!

Geesh... what you think I was going to say!

It's Like Air Conditioning... For Your Butt!

A fellow blogger asked yesterday how bloggers come up with their ideas. Do you plan ahead or do you just write on a whim? I answered that usually I wait for something to happen that seems blogworthy each and every day and I usually go from their. I think that answer is what doomed me to write today's post!

I am a housewife. What does that mean... in return for my husband working his life away for money to pay bills and support us, I get the opportunity to stay home with my kids. That also means that I have become the sole responsible person for the sucky chores (unless I can pawn them off on my kids!) That being said, sometimes I am too picky for my own good so I would rather do it myself. You know what they say, if you want it done right, do it yourself. That philosophy sometimes sucks the life out of me.

So my son obviously takes after his daddy.
He has no problem running around naked!

That leaves me to today... doing laundry. It isn't that I really hate this chore... ok - so I do. It is the chore that never ever ever gets done. Just when you think it is finished, someone throws another pair of clothes in the laundry hamper. It messes with my perfectionist tendencies and frankly society would frown upon me if I let my kids run around naked, even if it was just for one day so I could say my laundry is completely, without a doubt, done. (I would have said my husband, but I am sure he would be ok with running around naked, even if society frowned down on it!)

I started laundry yesterday. But, because I knew I wouldn't get it entirely finished, I didn't throw in any more loads in the afternoon. Mainly because there is nothing worse then forgetting that you had left the clothes in the wash and you need to do it over. I know - rewashing is easy... but I got a sniffer that works great. And I always seem to be able to smell that "I forgot my clothes in the washer overnight and now they smell musty" smell no matter how many times I rewash. I think it is mental!

So I threw the final load from the washer into the dryer, but I never got to folding it. That was a task I was going to do this morning before I started the task of laundry all over again. Now I got a lot of laundry to fold and because I have three kids, it means folding laundry takes up a whole lot of room. And no matter how hard I want to, I refuse to put clothes away until all the laundry is done. So I got a pile for everything and it has filled up my dining room table.

That is when I came across the underwear. The underwear that should be retired. It has more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese. (Sorry - hope you didn't like Swiss cheese that much that you will now never be able to eat Swiss cheese without thinking of underwear!)

If your underwear starts to
look like Swiss cheese, it is time to
retire them!

Now, this underwear belongs to my husband. He is, however, not short on underwear at all. In fact, I think he has so many pairs of boxers that his drawer is overfilling. Yet, these underwear seem to keep making it back in the laundry. Why? Because he keeps wearing them, holes and all. He does the same thing with his socks!

Now for the life of me, I don't understand why, if you notice that these clothes are no longer functioning, why you wouldn't just throw them away, instead of throwing them back into the laundry. So, to push the point, I took a picture of these holes in his underwear and sent the picture to my husband.

"This is your underwear... on crack!"

His response...

"It is like air conditioning... for your butt!"

Yeah - I got nothing! But at least I got a blog post for the day!

What comes first? Farting or Sex

This morning I woke up early. I looked at my phone and it said it was only 7:30 a.m. I didn't remember that it was daylight savings and the clocks fell back an hour. (Thankfully my phone does it on its own!) So I had no intention of getting out of bed. So I just laid there and thought.

I am now going into Day 4 of NaNoWriMo. So naturally, as I lay there thinking, I am thinking about my book. I am trying to grab the essence of my thoughts, truly understand and feel what it is like to just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. I feel like for me to describe something like this, I need to feel it. I need to feel like my main character so I knew exactly what she was thinking. I needed to get into her head.

I laid in bed for a bit before my husband woke up. And naturally, he woke up and was ready to start the day. How dare he think like that? How dare he disturb my ability to lay in bed without being bothered by kids or by life on the outside world. I was comfortable and warm.

My husband got up and did his morning business while I continued to lay in bed. Naturally, since I refused to get out of bed, he decided to lay back down and snuggle. (Yes - my husband is a snuggler! Not me - I have my own personal bubble!)

Well, we all know what happens when you have two people laying in bed...

No - I wasn't talking sex. Geesh.... we are married... we don't do that kind of thing! (blush, blush)

No - we got into one of our weird conversations or what is better known as our kind of pillow talk.

"What do you think came first... The fart or the sex?"

"I think the fart," he said, without hesitating.

"Really?" I questioned him.

"Well I thought you were referring to that question who came first - the chicken or the egg. You shouldn't have worded it that way!"

"So answer the question then!"

"It's the sex."

"I don't think so, you farted in front of me before we ever had sex!" I called him out.

"No I didn't!" he denied.

"Yeah you did. I remember it perfectly," I announced. "We were heading out of the barracks and you were walking in front of me. Then you let it rip." I have a photographic memory for the oddest things. "I shouldn't have married you!"

"Well, you know you aren't supposed to hold it in," he said.

"I didn't fart in front of you," I said, declaring that I couldn't fart in front of someone until I was really comfortable with them. "But what I was thinking is, how do you sleep with someone without the fear of them hearing you fart if you have never farted in front of them before. Don't you worry about that stuff?"

"Nope, I figure if I am sleeping then they are sleeping."

"Yeah, but what if they are that creepy guy that wakes up and stares at you while you sleep?"

"I'm not creepy." Naturally, then he gives me that creepy joker like smile as he gets really close and smiles at me.

"You know what I mean... when they watch you sleep and they are all like wow isn't she so beautiful and peaceful when she sleeps and suddenly you hear...... thbrrrttttt... and a big fart rips out."

"Then I think she is even more beautiful because of the smile that happens because of the fart."

Well, I guess with a comment like that, he definitely is a keeper. Good thing I married him after all. But now it got me thinking...

Which comes first... farting or the sex? Both are intimate acts in completely different ways. And yes, I know it is hard to think of farting as intimate. But for some, it means you are completely comfortable with that person. Yet, when you look at relationships, how many will jump into bed and have sex with a person before they will even fart in front of them?

So, which comes first... farting or sex?

Magic Mike: Why are all the girls screaming?

I am a little tired today. You see, last night I stayed up a little too late watching soft porn.... er... Magic Mike.

Seriously though, this is the second time I have watched the movie and I have to say, I don't know what all the commotion is about. Do I think it is a good movie? Yes. But not to the point where I am falling over and drooling. And it is definitely not soft porn. (Don't get me wrong - it isn't that I wish it was!) But I hear all these women talking about this movie and getting excited. And I hear all these men who are shying away from the movie afraid there going to see something they would rather not. Let me tell you - that is not the case.

So last night, the DVD for Magic Mike was released. When my husband got done with work he called me up like usual.

"So, do you know what came out today?" he asked.

"Magic Mike." Anybody that knows me should be impressed. I am usually not on top of movie release dates. Usually someone needs to remind me.

"Oh. Did you go to the store and pick it up?"

"No."

"Do you want me to go to the store to pick it up?"

"If you want to."

"Ok. Well, do we need anything else from the store."

"I forgot to pick up my body wash when I went the other day and I am almost out. Can you get me some more. Something fruity. I am sick of borrowing yours!"

So my husband, being the sweet guy he is, stopped at the store on his way home from work and picked up the movie and my body wash. To me, there is one main reason I wanted this movie. I wanted to see the unrated version. After all the talk about this movie before it came to theaters, I was expecting to see something, and frankly, it showed nothing more than eye candy. So I wanted to see (Ok - so I am looking like a pervert here!) if these top notch actors really bared it all. Not to mention, maybe my husband could use some tutorials on his dance moves. He totally dances like a white boy who stepped in gum.

When he got home, he pulled the movie and my girly, fruity body wash from a bag. While he handed it too me, he just stood there shaking his head. I looked at him and smiled.

"I have never felt so gay in my entire life."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well, it was bad enough that as a man I went in and bought this movie. But as I am at the store with the DVD in my hand, I am standing in the aisle of body wash, sniffing them to see which one I liked best."

I just laughed.

"I half expected you to call me back and ask me to pick you up some feminine products as well."

"If anything, that would have probably made you look less gay. At least then the checkout person would have known you were buying it for a PMSing woman! Did you have a guy check you out or a woman?"

"A woman. Thank God!"

"Well, did she give you a weird look?"

"No."

"Well see, you really didn't look that gay!"

So last night, my husband and I watched this movie. A part of me kept wanting to reassure him that this really wasn't a bad movie; it wasn't even close to going to a strip club. But I don't know why I have to justify it. The plot behind the movie was good. And frankly, the dancing was good too. Not because they were taking off their clothes but frankly, any man who can dance and sing definitely has my attention.

P.S. Be forewarned... now that I mentioned it, my husband will probably take any and all opportunities to dance and sing to me. The last time I made a comment, something about him farting and scratching himself, he has made a point to make what I said a reality. If I happen to catch his singing and dancing on tape, I will broadcast it to the world to be seen!

It only took 13 years, but I finally forgot!

This was from our 12th Wedding Anniversary
Celebration. We are on our way
to forever!

I met my husband the day after Valentine's Day in 1999. It didn't take long until we were engaged and married. It was a short engagement because we were in the military, and there was always a chance one of us could be put on orders and moved without much notice.

Our young minds thought marry fast - divorce later if it doesn't work. Ok - so divorce wasn't really on our mind. As young as we were, we believed love lasted forever. You know, the way we felt during our first relationship... and our second....and.... yep....love lasts forever. Well, we have already celebrated our 12 year anniversary so we are well on our way. We often joke that we have gone too far already and have too much time invested to throw in the towel now. So we are stuck with each other!

As a young woman, I was flirtatious and demanding. If you wanted my attention, you needed to work for it. And if you wanted me to stick around, you needed to show how much you loved me. It wasn't that I was materialistic... just maybe a little insecure about relationships. I have had a few in the past. Some that lasted less than 24 hours and others were my heart had been pulled out of my chest and left to bleed to death. So, at the time I met my husband, I wasn't in the mood for a relationship. I wanted to have fun and I wanted to be spoiled and I wanted nothing more than to feel wanted.

This is were Sweetest Day comes in. My husband and I met in the Army. I am from Wisconsin and he was from California. Suddenly we are both shoved in New York. It took a lot of adjusting. Not only are the people different, the holidays apparently are as well.

Sweetest Day has always been the 3rd Saturday in October and frankly, it is what can be coined a "Hallmark" Holiday, even though Hallmark didn't have anything to do with it. This actually originated in Cleveland in 1921, and at the time I was dating my husband, this was a holiday primarily celebrated in the Great Lakes Region. Gee - that includes Wisconsin and not California!

You don't have to do much, even
a rose from your backyard to show
your significant other your thinking
of them will make all the difference!

So, on that first 3rd Saturday that we were dating, my fiance showed up empty handed. I gave him the cold shoulder. How could he be so cruel? Did I mean nothing to him? It wasn't as if I was asking for a dozen red roses or a box of candies. Just a little mention would have made me feel better. But nope, nothing. For all I remember, it was a typical night in my barracks room watching a movie while he farted and scratched himself. (Ok - maybe that isn't how it went, but can you tell I was mad!)

So when he finally got out of me what was wrong, he gave me this strange look, almost as if I was making this holiday up as a practical joke. But I wasn't, and I could prove it. It was even written on my calendar in the same type print that they write Yom Kippur Day and Columbus Day and Halloween and Christmas and all the other holidays as well. How could my calendar be wrong? It was written in black and white right there staring at me.

Yet, I found out the sad truth. Not everybody celebrates this holiday and not everybody has even heard of this holiday. I was in shock. But I still demanded to be treated special. After all, it only mattered that I celebrated this day! It was a tradition from where I was from. And for the last 12 years since that first Sweetest Day when I found out he knew nothing of the holiday, I have ruthlessly reminded him of the holiday. And he has been good about not whining too much about celebrating a holiday he has never heard of!

Sure, you may be thinking this takes away the point of the holiday. Now you are forcing him to show his love, and that is something he should do on his own without being told. You may even be wondering what I am doing in return for him on this holiday. (But that is a topic that will take a whole different blog. Like Valentine's Day, this is for the girls. Get over it!) Or you too may have never even heard of this holiday, so you might think I am being downright ridiculous. But I wanted him to celebrate the holiday. To me it was like saying don't celebrate Valentine's Day because you should show the people you love that you love them everyday, not just because it was a holiday! But I wanted the holiday!

And then there was today. Today I forgot it was Sweetest Day. I haven't been hinting at it at all. In fact, I didn't even realize it was Sweetest Day until I woke up and checked Facebook and someone else... from Wisconsin... mentioned Sweetest Day.

So what can I say other than.... I guess that is what happens when you move to California!

Pillow Talk

Last night for dinner I decided to make spaghetti. It wasn't anything too complicated.I usually just brown some hamburger, add some sauce from a jar, and then boil some noodles. Then - Voila - a masterpiece right in front of you!! Watch out all you Chef shows... I am on my way!!

Well yesterday was a little different. I only used one can of jar sauce and I used a lot - and I do mean a lot - of noodles. We were planning for leftovers. To top it off, I had a couple of tomatoes sitting in the fridge that needed to be used. So, to make the sauce go further, I decided to chop up those tomatoes and add them to the sauce. Naturally, this threw the taste off so I had to add extra spices and seasonings to make it taste brilliant. And that is what I did.

So naturally, after a nice romantic dinner (with three screaming kids!) we decided to veg out in front of the TV and watch a nice romantic movie. Ok - so we watched the 5 Year Engagement. Nothing says romance like waiting it out!

Sadly the night had come to an end and with all the kids in bed, we decided to head in the same direction. As we lay there, my husband gives me a kiss good night...

"You smell like Spaghetti," I told him.

He gave me a strange look, raising his eyebrows just a bit.

"I promise you, I did brush my teeth," he said.

"It isn't your teeth. I think the spaghetti smell is just radiating from you."

"Radiating from me?"

"Yeah - kind of like Eau de Spaghetti!"

"Really!"

"It isn't a bad smell or anything. I like spaghetti," I reassured him.

"I guess there are other smells that could be worse."

"Yeah - like dog shit baking in 110 degrees from the California hot sun wafting in our backyard!"

"Wow! That's specific!"

"Well, that does smell worse! I bet it was all the garlic I used in the spaghetti. I had to tune out the really tomatoey taste from the fresh tomatoes!"

"The sauce was good though," he reassured me.

"Yeah, it was! Spicy too. You could really tell I used those Red Pepper Flakes. And I didn't even use that much. Not like the garlic! I just dumped that in!"

"You did use a lot of garlic."

"It didn't smell bad, though." I half asked and half stated.

"Well - no - it didn't smell bad. At least nothing like dog shit baking in 110 degree temps."

"Wow!"

"We have awesome pillow talk!"

Who said romance leaves after kids are born. Isn't it obvious by our obvious bedroom conversations? 

Hope your conversations are just as fun!