Thursday, August 30, 2012

Laser Hair Removal: Go Fourth and Prosper

See what I did there?  Go fourth... like forth... get it?

Okay, I'll quit explaining my jokes like Mr. Incredible does....

This past Tuesday was my fourth session of laser hair removal.

Because it's me, and because I can't go anywhere without some kind of calamity following me, I have another story.

Yeah, I couldn't believe I would still have a story after the fourth session either.

It all started as I arrived at the med spa.  I pulled in, parked, chose to take the stairs (see?  I did something for derby today... and that will be lost on most of you...), and approached the door.

I can hear the television through the door.  It runs on a loop and tells you all about the myriad procedures you really NEED because you are getting OLD and OLD is SURELY a DISEASE and a FAILURE and something you should AVOID at ALL costs (I was having fun with caps.  I'm probably done for right now).  Anyway, it's essentially a commercial that points out everything that is wrong with you and plays on every insecurity you may have.  It's interesting to sit in the waiting area and watch the other women respond to the information on the screen.  During the segment on facial resurfacing, I once watched a woman pull a compact out of her purse and look at her crow's feet.  And then smile and frown.  And smile and frown.  She was checking to see if she needed the procedure based upon the images she had just seen.  She didn't, although I'm pretty sure she thought she did.  She looked like she was about 30, and she had Plano Barbie Trophy Wife written all over her--crazy expensive shoes and purse, giant rock that made her hand drag the ground with its weight, size 25 bling jeans, and long, stick straight blond hair.  She was gorgeous and needed nothing, but I'll bet she has bought a package of facial resurfacing.

I've gotten really off track and I'm going to get off the soapbox now, too...

So....  Standing at the door of the med-spa, I stuck my hand out and grasped the handle.  I tried to turn the handle.  Nothing happened.  I jiggled it a little.  It didn't turn.  I took my hand off the handle and looked at it.  Then, I tried again because surely I did not drive all the way to Plano to find that no one was there and the door was locked.  Ahem... I tried to open that door three times.  It was still as locked as it was the first time, and I'm not sure why I thought it would change.  I guess I was checking to make sure I still knew how to open a door.

The door was locked.  I knocked.  No one answered.  I knocked again.  I stood there in the hallway listening through the door to the soothing voice tell me that I had unsightly spider veins and that no man could possibly ever be attracted to anyone who had such an imperfection on her body.  It was 10:55, and my appointment was supposed to be at 11.  I decided to call the aesthetician directly. 

Well, although I know I have called before, I quickly realized that I had never saved the number to my phone.  And I had no appointment card to refer to because I always put the appointment in the calendar on my phone.  I had to Google it.  And the connection was slow.  Eventually, I found the number and dialed it.

Two rings.

"Hello.  Med-Spa.  This is [Aesthetician].  How can I help you"

I replied, "Hello.  This is [Reckless Housewife].  I have an appointment at 11.  I'm standing in the hallway because the door is locked."

She giggled.  "Oh, I'm so sorry."  And then I could hear her rushing toward the door to unlock and open it for me.

And she did what I did.  She tried the handle several times because she was sure it couldn't possibly be locked.  It had been locked though.  She apologized profusely and said someone must have turned the lock as they exited.  She looked embarrassed and perplexed.

I was just thankful that I had not driven to Plano for nothing.  Or to find that my Med-Spa had gone under and run off into the night with the balance of my package. 

I sat for a moment, and then she called me into the room.

She asked me about the results of the previous treatment.  I explained that I had only had to do a minimal amount of shaving ONCE since I had been in.  It's really working.  She looked pleased and surprised.  She began the treatment.  Zap, zap, zap. 

She stopped.  "I'm going to turn it up a little.  If it is too painful, tell me.  I'll turn it back down."

Zap, zap, zap.

"Your pain tolerance level is very high. You are good at this."

Well, it's nice to be told you are good at something, but not wimpering while having your hair follicles singed to death is probably not going to rank among the accomplishment of which I am most proud.    

Zap, zap, zap.

"Why aren't you getting full hair removal?"

BROKEN FREAKING RECORD. 

Seriously?  She remembers that I play roller derby and am generally covered with bruises on my thighs and calves, but she can't remember that I DON'T WANT TO LOOK LIKE A PREPUBESCENT GIRL. 

So I say, "I don't want to look like I'm nine.  And my husband doesn't want me to look like I'm nine either."  Hmphf!  Why am I explaining myself to this lady?  Again?

(I'm going to follow a little side path off the main trail here for a minute: Let's talk about pubic hair.  Most adults have it naturally.  A few people I know of Native American ancestry are pretty much sans hair down there.  But, it's textbook for most of us who have navigated the painfully awkward waters of puberty.  Although I think it fine if women (or men) want to change the landscape, so to speak, and mix it up by taking it all off or changing the outline from time to time, I want to know what is with the current cultural push for women to be entirely hair free.  I really don't get it.  I figure God put that hair there for a reason.  I have no real idea what it is, and it can be a little annoying at times. That is beside the point.  I look at the arrangement of a woman's body and think, "Hey, this patch of hair down there is like a arrow that says, 'Here.  Right here.  This is where the good stuff lies hidden.'"  I may just be old and old-fashioned. 

I'm there at the Med-Spa getting a little taken off the edges because I get embarrassed beyond measure when I'm at the pool and look down to see that something is hanging out of my suit.  I realize no one is has probably noticed or cared, but this goes back to high school when I NEVER went to the beach without a razor in my beach bag.  I was known to RUN to the bathroom if a hair was visible and scrape it off.  I would have been mortified for a BOY to know without a shadow of a doubt that I had pubic hair.  If he imagined it in his head, I could do nothing about it, but if he saw it with his own eyes surely I would fall over dead of embarrassment.  My then D cup breasts were certainly enough of a sign that I was maturing in the normal course; I didn't need to show anything that wasn't protuding from my chest. 

And all that may go hand-in-hand with the time one of the boys I liked and his two friends accidentally pantsed me as they were dragging an unwilling me into the ocean.  I was fighting going into the cold Pacific with all my 110 pound might.  Which may have caused my bottoms to fall down to my knees exposing my lower half to the multitudes on the beach at T-Street on a Sunday afternoon and most of my youth group from church.  And the boys may have all dropped me onto the sand and turned their heads away.  And we may have never spoken of the event and pretended it didn't happen.  But it did.  And it apparently scarred me for life. 

Or not. 

As a forty-one year old, I have the wallet and the technology to change this for myself.  I don't have to carry a razor and later have that sensitive skin broken out with a razor burn that looks infectious.  I don't have to smell Nair.  I don't have to have my hair pulled out at the roots every few weeks. I can remove the troublesome hair and live my life.

I realize that my choice is not for everyone.  If it doesn't bother you to have the hair that is growing down to your knees out and about for the whole beach or pool or lake to see, good for you.  That's a no-can-do for me, and I will continue to shave my armpits until I die, too!

Aside finished.      

Back to our regularly scheduled programming...)
  

And then she tries to sell me on facial resurfacing. 


ARGH! (In my head, this sounds just like it did when Charlie Brown screamed it.)


I say no.  I think my skin is just fine.  "However, I will book an appointment for a plain old European facial for next Friday."

Just so you know, a facial is my favorite pleasure at the spa.  Feel free to gift me in this capacity at any time.  It feels great, and there is no nudity whatsoever.

Zap, zap, zap.

The procedure is complete.  And she didn't even tell me I was going to need more than six treatments. 

ROCK ON! 

Finally, she doesn't call me Sasquatch to my face. 

Small victories, people.  Small victories.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Picture This

 
So Monday was the first day of school in these here parts.  And can I just say thankyouverymuch and amen.  A week ago I was a little sad about school starting again, and then right on cue, I had a terrible, horrible, no-good day involving the temper of Bonus.  I decided it was time for school.
 
Everyone got up and ready on time.  Yes, including me!  So, at home the morning went off without a hitch.  Each child had lots to tell when they got home, and the younger two were cranky, cranky, cranky because they had been up since before dawn. 
 
 
Calm, cool, and casual, Miss Proper is ready to rule the school in eighth grade.

The obligatory front step shot.  RNR is in 4th this year, and Bonus would tell you, "I didn't get held back."  First grade will hopefully be friendlier to my child. 

"You are so cute.  Let me take your picture out of the window before you walk away."  I think the face says, "Really, Mom?  Can you please hurry up before someone sees?"

"Mom, I'm already late.  Can you take my picture and get out of here already?"

"I'm trying to pretend she isn't still here.  Do you think it's working?"

 
 


But Tuesday was a whole 'nother ball of wax.  RNR and Bonus resumed their usual bickering at the breakfast table, and I had to do what I refer to as "divide and conquer."  Why do they insist on irritating the snot out of each other? 

After they had been delivered to their campus, I returned home to find Miss Noteworthy in the kitchen waiting for me to fill out approximately 9,000 forms.  Mind you, I had asked her on Monday evening if she had anything I needed to fill out, and she had replied, "A couple of short forms."  Also, mind you, we had been up to her school the week before school began to fill out another 9,000 forms.  So, I wrote until my hand cramped and told her she could was going to have to pack her own lunch.  It didn't hurt her a bit. 

But here's where this day gets really comical....  Tuesday was PICTURE DAY at Miss Noteworthy's school.  Yes, pictures on the SECOND DAY OF SCHOOL.  My father would roll down his window and call the people who scheduled this morons. 

While I'm filling out this ream of papers, I notice that Miss Noteworthy has on this epic black t-shirt.  One of her favorites.  It looks like it has a name tag stuck to it that says, "Hello.  My name is  Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father. Prepare to die."  Since I am a huge fan of The Princess Bride, I think the shirt is awesome, but I wouldn't wear it for PICTURE DAY.

So, I ask Miss Noteworthy, "Are you sure you want to wear that for Picture Day?"

And, of course, she says, "It will be fine.  You never see my shirt in the pictures anyway."

I say, "Okay, if you are sure."

She says she is sure, and we head out the door for school.

At pickup I ask her how pictures were.  She laughed a little hysterically and told me that this year they took a full body shot.  She said she was at least glad she had worn an outfit that matched.  But, she was pretty remorseful that she had not listened to her mother and changed into a blouse. 

She also told me a wonderful little story about how her hair had gotten very bushy and out of control through the day, and she panicked as she was waiting in line to have her picture taken.  She recruited some friends to fix her hair.  When you see the yearbook, that will be my child with her hair in a side ponytail.  Wearing an Inigo Montoya shirt.  Please know that I did not encourage this look. 

Fortunately, she has a friend whose woes far surpassed hers.  He picked picture day to wear a shirt that said, "I'm a Brony."  For those of you who do not speak Rainbow Dash, this translates into "I'm a dude who likes My Little Pony."  That makes a side ponytail and Inigo Montoya look like a really smart fashion decision.  Anyway, that image made me laugh uncontrollably. 

We're off and running....

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Sound the Alert

After thirteen years of shunning green vegetables, tonight at dinner Miss Noteworthy ate sauteed zucchini and LIKED it.  She even got seconds. 

The zombie apocalypse must be beginning.  Run for your lives.


Friday, August 24, 2012

Thursday, August 16, 2012

"Mama, I think this is stuck"

Don't try this at home.


If your six year old tells you he is bored and you then tell him that he is responsible for his own fun, be prepared to use force to remove round Legos from his canine teeth. And have your phone handy so you don't miss the photo op. 






Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Postcards from the Edge (of the Atlantic Ocean)

It's seven p.m. Sunday evening, and I would like to collapse in my bed. As per usual, I could use a vacation to recover from my vacation.

We have just returned from a week in Crescent Beach, Florida, and I have the dark legs and peeling back, chest, and shoulders to prove it. 

Oh darn!  It's hard to take a picture of your own legs... Green toes, green dress... proves it's me!  My dad might have a picture of my face.  Dads are good for things like that. 


Aside from a few thunderstorms, the weather was glorious.  The temps were in the high eighties, and the breeze was divine.

"Hurry up, Mama!" 


And, GASP!  RNR and Bonus had moments where they actually enjoyed one another. 


Well, they weren't fighting anyway... RNR was at least happy to be on a walk with me.


Miss Noteworthy spent the week trying to build the ultimate sand fort.  She was a girl on a mission.  Time, tides, and thunderstorms thwarted her efforts until the last day.  Her perseverance paid off, and we all enjoyed her success.

Miss Noteworthy sporting her cool 80's shades from surf camp


The final product 
 
We were face to face with wild creatures more than once....
Our tortoise friend who walked out of the dunes and right through the middle of our beach spot to cool off in the water.  How cool is that?   

Ok, so these birds weren't so wild.  We got them to catch pieces of buffalo cheddar popcorn mid-air.

The girls also had dolphins swim by them while they were at surf camp.  RNR was amazed!  We also spotted crabs, baby sea turtles, fish, and, apparently, one baby shark.  I wasn't around for the shark; I'll have to trust Bonus on that one. ;)

More to share later when Grampy sends his shots.

Wish you were there!



Thursday, August 2, 2012

Roller Con 2012

First things first.  Mr. Incredible fixed my laptop. He gets a gold star!  Yay!  I have really missed having the ability to hole up in a quiet place to think and write.  My kitchen is not so quiet in the summer!

Maybe I'll be more consistent with my blogging now, and maybe not.  I just don't have the blogging bug right now.  

Let's get to the GOOD stuff though!

ROLLERCON

Well, it was definitely bigger and better than last year.  The rumor was that it had grown from about 3500 last year to about 5000 this year.  There seemed to be quite a few more skaters in my age range, and there were defintely more "dangles"--male skaters.  Some amazing skaters were there... Suzy Hotrod, Teflon Donna, Deranged, Quadzilla LK, LuluDemon, Dirty Deborah Harry, Matomic, Demanda Riot and many, many more.

I had *slightly* sprainedmy ankle during Muerta practice the Thursday beforeRollerCon.   I tried to skate on it at Roller Con for the "over 40 only" session with The Hot Flash.  The floor was completely spongy, and I had 93's on my skates, which means I really had to push.  I did a few laps, warmed up with the group, and then tried to do a crossover during a snake drill.  Mistake!  My ankle just wasn't ready, and I decided it wasn't worth a re-injury.  I took off my skates and watched.  Afterall, I have a championship to skate in August 4th!  The Muertas need me for the bout more than I needed to skate at RollerCon.   

I sat in on some on-skates training sessions as a spectator and tooks some notes.  I really love how Dirty Deborah Harry explains skating skills.  Nikki Styx and I are planning on employing some of her techniques with new skaters in our league.  I watched her breakdown a 360-spin, and then yesterday, I tried it out on my own.  I was so excited that I could do it!  I was also able to teach RNR how to do plow stops and Miss Proper how to turn around using Dirty Deb's tips.

RollerCon does have a few kinks that still need to be addressed.  Probably the biggest issue is the token/ticket system for admission into on-skates sessions. The token system is no better than the previous line system for preventing long lines in the halls of the hotel.  I have two suggestions for improving that, and I'll be sure to share them when they send out a survey.

My leaguemates and I weren't all that thrilled that they moved the Black and Blue Ball to Saturday night this year either.  I had an early flight to catch on Sunday morning; attending just didn't make sense for me.  It will be something to factor in for next year.

Because there is definitely going to be a next year for me!  I won a big prize in the raffle... an MVP pass and hotel for Roller Con 2013!!!!  July 31-August 4.  Put it on your calendar now!!!!  I never win anything, so I was completely caught off guard that I won. 

About winning.... I was supposed to be present to win, and I didn't know that.  And since I never win, I wasn't worried about being there anyway.  I went out for a nice Ethopian meal with Nikki Styx.  We were having a really great meal, better conversation, and the most amazing coffee ceremony with incense burning and coffee beans roast just for us.  Seriously, you must have this coffee ceremony at least once in your life.  Even if you aren't a coffee drinker.  Nikki isn't and she drank two cups!

Ethiopian coffee service.  I'm going there for breakfast everyday next year.  I'll walk after though.


But back to winning.... we were eating and Cherry Cyanide Slammer called to tell me I had won and that I needed to run.  Nikki said she would finish paying out bill, and I sprinted out of there.  Down the street, through a HUGE parking lot, around a fence, into the front of the Riviera, through the casino (where I stopped running for a minute when I saw a security guy--I had visions of him taking me down for a second), past the pool, through the convention center, and finally across the floor where Rose City was losing to playing Denver in a WFTDA bout. 

Did I mention it was about 107 outside and 60 in the smoke-filled casino?  I thought my lungs were going to explode. For the next hour.  I hate running.

Ivana Spankin got my info and gave me a RollerCon fannypack (I'm not kidding... they were everywhere) with RollerCon goodies in it and took my picture.   I was sweating profusely and breathing hard, so she asked from where had I run.  I told her the Ethiopian restaurant, and she knew where that was.  She used an exclamation that I won't repeat here, but suffice it to say, she was impressed that I ran all that way.  Which was kinda awesome.  And then I thanked her and hugged her and told her that I had enjoyed her class on wheels and learned quite a bit.  The hugging part was probably a little awkward for derby, but I was a little excited.   


Yep, that's the winning ticket, right there!  And me, hot, sweaty, no make-up and glasses.  It could have been such a glamorous moment... 


Other fun happenings on the trip...  Cherry and I were out shopping on the strip and decided to go to The Sugar Factory at the Paris hotel.  It's the one that has a restaurant.  It just happened to be during happy hour.  And these ENORMOUSly fun drinks (36 oz.) were buy one get one free.  That made them 50 cents an ounce rather than a $1 an ounce, so we decided to each get one.  She had passion fruit punch, and I had a blue drink that had giant gummy sharks swimming in it.  Mine tasted a little like a Blue Hawaii.  I have no idea what was in it, but I knew drinking more than half would be no fun later.   

See those sharks lurking in the bottom?  They tasted disgusting though.

Yes, I do need my own punchbowl.  I will not share.  Isn't Cherry cute?


I also discovered Max Brenner's Chocolate Bar.   I didn't even have room for anything chocolate, but their Yellow Granita (lemonade, fresh mint and ice) was exactly what I needed after all the walking I had done.  I'm going back for the chocolate syringe next time.  And the fondue.  And the ice cream bar.

So refreshing.
These white corn and manchego croquettes were fantastic.  I dug in immediately and then knew I had to take a picture for Pandamom.  I guess it would have been more appetizing if I had moved my half-eaten one first.

      

 Somehow, Phenol Barbie Doll managed to escape my camera entirely.  Boo.  She's so cute.  You should have seen her at the craps table!

Cotton candy at the Treasure Island buffet.   How fun is that?


Yeah, yeah... I ate my way through Vegas.  I'd do it all over again, too.  Three hundred sixty-three days til we can do it all again!