Vanity…

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5

I’m smart and nice to a fault. I’m funny, and I’ve never met a stranger. People tell me their life stories, and I’ve gained a lot of wisdom through a lot of hard lessons and my friends trust me enough to come to me for advice.

By all means take my advice, I so seldom use it myself.

I’m learning to stick up for myself because I want my daughter to do the same. I’m living by example again instead of living on the warpath.

I’m happy happy happy… and I express it enough that people comment on it.

But I’m still just a chick…. with the same girlie crap we all experience. Not feeling pretty enough, thin enough or smart enough. Something we all feel at times.

So we paint things, and pluck things, and wax things, and suffer through toxic fumes, heat lamps, wax burns, etc.

Not really paying any attention to whether he cares or not- because ultimately it’s about you- not him. You have to be comfortable. You have to feel beautiful. All the love in the world can’t make a woman feel comfortable in a bikini if she’s not. Trust me on this.

I spent the morning trying on panties and heels. Contemplating a bikini… and again right out of it. Not happening. Maybe by August. I look in the mirror and realize I am white as a ghost. Porcelain white with the blue of my veins standing out. We all look better naked with a tan. Honestly… and I don’t have time in my schedule to use the tanning bed.

!!! Spray tanning. Eureka.

One phone call and I’m in. Shave, exfoliate, no lotion or make-up. Check. This is easy enough.

I really have no idea what to expect. None. All I can think of is the scene in Bride Wars where she climbs into a machine.

Whatever- It’s my only option… and I’m curious.

I walk in and she takes me to a curtained off corner of the salon, tells me to undress and put the shower cap on and she’ll be back. Hell you only live once- why not. Standing in your panties in a beauty salon is definitely bizarre, no matter how you slice it. Greeting this new friend in panties is oddly normal. She laughs and says she hates it when people are awkward if they run into her at the grocery store because she’s seen them naked.

I don’t tell her about the Brazillian I got from a guy in California. I’m still trying to repress that memory.

It’s a series of moves with your arms out, like a half naked robot being airbrushed. It’s not bad. Sort of cold, but if anything… a little strange and it smells like a cross between make-up and vanilla ice cream. Maple syrupy and a little sticky. It settles my nerves a little, and she’s completely professional and hell… this can only help, right?

It’s sticky sweet tan paint spray-painted on…. She goes over your body from the front and back, twice. You stand in front of a fan for a few minutes after she’s finished- sexy robot style so you don’t crease your tan. Chin up, arms at your sides, legs spread. From polar white to golden in minutes.

I step in front of the mirror and I’m shocked. I look like I spent a week in the sun. Whoa. I move the lace edge of my panties and I am beyond ghosty under this new honey brown glow. Niiiiiiiiice. Much better. I can’t touch water for 24 hours and if I scrub with anything it will rub a hole in my paint job…

I’ve morphed into a Barbie brown, my nails look gorgeous and my eyebrow wax is coming up. This taking care of myself for a change is a nice break from burning the candle at both ends.

I had to wait in the car for the rain to stop when I got home  and my fearless friend says “You’re orange AND you smell funny? Put that on the list of things never to do. I told you not to do it.

So did he…….

But my lily white thighs spoke the loudest of all… and everybody looks better with a tan. This whole spray tan thing is the right up there with getting your eyebrows waxed. Instant results, minimal effort & cost… but priceless in the grand scheme of things.

Vanity is pointless… but if being a chick and letting someone airbrush you brown makes you feel better- do it.

I’m sticky… I smell like a cookie and I’m chilly cold in the light weight dress I have on…

But damn it I look good.

Thank you very much, spray tan lady. I’m sold.

I had to stop at the store on my way home and the cashier asked me if I’d just gotten back from Mexico…

Winning! :)

He could care less if I blind him with my lily white porcelain glow, but thanks to vanity fueled beauty products… his eyesight is safe. It pays to try new things, you never know when you’ll stumble across a miracle like spray tanning!

Sabotage

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2

Yep…

I hear you… really. I appreciate the emails. I know I’m flailing in my own little blogosphere. I know I’m choking… daily.

Every stupid deep seated insecurity I’ve ever had in my whole fucking life… is magnified.

Examples? I’ve been on the straight and narrow to a ridiculous degree.

My cigarettes? Gone.

Vodka? Gone.

Boys? Gone.

Pasta? What’s that?

I never met a carbohydrate I didn’t love… and the boys in the kitchen spoil me with tortellini.

The kitchen is under strict orders to hold out on me. No bread, no pasta, no fries. Trying to cut my winter 20 off in February is fucking misery and I’m freezing to death as a result. They all know that I’m living on salmon and salad, and one of them in particular makes it better than any. I caught him before he was off the other day and begged him to make my lunch before he left when I saw that one of the other guys had started it…

J- Crap… will you help him with that? I don’t know what you do, but it’s just better.

A- Ok…

I hear him in the kitchen say “I’m commandeering this salmon”… and look up to see one of the guys walk out pouting, his arms crossed and scowling at me.

C- Is there something wrong with how I cook your salmon?

Shit. Uh…. well….

He goes stomping back into the kitchen and I hear him demand the details from my salmon king… and I nearly choke when I hear him say…

A- You just need to melt butter on both sides, that’s all.

I hear them all start laughing as I walk in with a horrified look on my face.

C- She’s being good, that’s the whole damn reason she’s eating salmon.

J- BUTTER??????

A- Yeah, melt it on both sides and sear it so it’s perfect. She likes it overcooked, 7 lemons, romaine & grilled mushrooms.

They’re in fits of giggles looking at my face.

J- God dammit, are you kidding me? No wonder it’s better.

A- What are you so damn worried about?

J- Everything. Every damn imperfection is magnified when you’re out to impress the man of your dreams.

Now they’re really laughing.

J- It’s not funny, damn it… I’m naming these thighs after you both and blaming you directly- I gave up pasta to look good naked, now you’re fucking with my salmon.

C- Ok… go ahead. Take your clothes off and we’ll tell you what we think.

Fuckers… they’re enjoying every panicked moment I’m swimming in, while sabotaging my diet.

C- You worry too much. Relax. Be yourself. If you’re willing to take the risk, be confident about it….nothing is sexier than that.

He reaches for the butter and I shake my head NO at him… He shakes his head yes and smacks me on the ass as I stomp out of the kitchen.

I walk back in and hear him laughing so hard he can barely say my name.

C- Ohhhhh Princess… your boring ass lunch is ready!!!!!

There on the plate with my mundane pile of lettuce, mushrooms and salmon…. is the pesto tortellini I love.

C- You’re beautiful- eat the damn tortellini and quit freaking out.

I’m surrounded by a bunch of comedic saboteurs who are delighting in my uncharacteristic abject terror.

C- How many days?

J- Fuck off, all of you.

They’re bent over, howling with laughter and immune to my frustrated glare as I stomp out with my salad.

Guy friends are priceless when it comes to teasing you out of your own girlie insecurities, because as I sat down to eat my lunch, he came walking out grinning, with a basket of fries…. barely able to contain himself…

C- Here… have some fries with that shake. Ha ha ha….

Can’t a girl panic a little?

Nope.

Not when you’re truly loved by the best of them. ♥

I’m in love…

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9

with my new tattoo. ♥

I know there are people in and surrounding my life that don’t get it…. and up until the most recent, my daughter wasn’t much of a fan either.

It’s the one selfish area of my life. I love them- and nothing beats a few hours under the needle… and I hate needles otherwise.

It doesn’t hurt that one of my favorite people is the tattoo queen herself. I haven’t seen her in ages, and I’ve been looking for just the right thing.

I generally get a new one when I’m inspired, and I’m beyond inspired these days. There’s a countdown in progress and I’m downright annoying and freaking out. Absolutely as nervous as it gets.

Therapy. We all need it. Whether yours comes in the form of laying on a couch and talking or getting a shiny brand new tattoo… it’s all the same.

I just have something gorgeous to show for mine when it’s all said and done.

I found the perfect tattoo… and made the call… and sweet, sweet, sweet… I can get right in!

It speaks to me, and it’s how I feel about my life these days. It’s sexy fantasticness and fits beautifully into all my favorite heels. My cute little red liked it so much she painted my toenails to match… complete with little anchors ♥

Southern Gentlemen…

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4

Be still my heart… I love my job sometimes. Yeah I know… I was dreading it just the other day…. it doesn’t take much to turn the tides.

It was painfully slow today. The 2-4 solo stretch is exhausting and I’m still getting back in the game, following my salmonella salad.

Two beefy guys in Carhart jackets come walking in smiling, and sit at the bar.

1. How’s your day, beautiful?

Oh my… nothing makes me more malleable than a southern accent and these boys are alllllllllll sorts of twang.

J- Where are you gentlemen from?

1 & 2… Georgia. Nice to meet you.

Hats off, hands outstretched. I raise an eyebrow and smile… and they both laugh.

1 & 2: We were fixin’ to kill each other and figured we should get something to eat & drink first.

J- I’ve always wanted to see Savannah. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.

1 & 2: Only if you’re a tourist, ma’am.

Jesus, Mary & Joseph… is there anything better than a man calling you ma’am, purely out of respect- even if he’s older than you?

My Grandmama comes out in the company of my sweet southern boys…

J- Y’all hungry?

They grin at me.

1- Yes ma’am.

Sigh. It never gets old.

They order and I bring their burgers out and smile. One of my favorite regulars is at the bar, selling me to these new boys in town.

D- She’s a farmer too. Hey do you rent out your barn?

J- I could, it’s empty.

1. You have a barn?

J- And a wood shop.

D- And she’s single.

J- No I am not single.

1. Honey you need to put a sign out with all that. You’d have a husband in a minute.

2. I bet you have a boat and like to fish too, doncha?

I’m laughing…

J- Nope… my hippie ex boyfriend took it.

They simultaneously put their hands over their hearts and flinched.

2. Told ya she had a boat.

D- She has a half acre garden too.

1 & 2. And you work?

1. I’m peekin at ya myself.

J- Sorry boys… I’m off the market and the day I have to put a sign at the end of my driveway to meet someone, please shoot me. Please.

2. Do ya like to hunt?

J- No.

2. See… they’re always missin’ somethin’.

J- I’m a big fan of shaving & suits too…

1. You’re ruinin’ it. She was perfect a second ago.

They were adorable and sweet and completely over tipped me with a wave and blown kisses. Making me grin with one last goodbye from each of them.

1 & 2- Goodbye Miss Jenni…

Shiver… and my goodness… they should all sound and be, so sweet.