VaJazzle!

Please don’t ask how on earth I even came across it, but I will tell you that while it did occur while at work, I was most certainly “on a break”.  I also really have no excuse as to why I clicked on the link, except for sheer curiosity and my commitment to my now full blown mid life crisis.

While I certainly expect a few raised eyebrows, you and I both know damn well that there are few ladies out there who would be able to ignore VAJAZZLES! in glittery pink font without clicking on it.  I am not one of them.

I am all for keeping your girlfriend in tip top, fully groomed, as pretty as she can be, on a regular basis, shape.  I can recite to you all of the latest and greatest hair removal techniques, and which one I would recommend for your particular breed of hair, as well as tell you the pain factor involved with each.  I have excitedly made appointments to be waxed, only to have sweat dripping from my palms as I pull into the parking lot wondering who the f@(k thought that this was a good idea, and why do I give 2 shits what anyone cares about how MY who-ha looks?

Well I do care, that seems to be the problem.  As I get older, and good lord does it seem like that is happening faster and faster lately, I seem to care a ridiculous amount more then I used to.  It seems like for every chin/neck hair I find and tweeze, the urge to groom other poor, defenseless places just grows and grows. 

That being said, I feel as if I have exhausted all of the available choices on how to groom my little girlfriend, and while I am quite happy with my current state of hardwood floors, the chance to kick it up a notch without piercing something and scaring the bejesus out of my unsuspecting husband was more then a wee bit intriguing.

VaJazzling, from what I can tell, is the equivalent of Lee Press On Nails for your kittyboo.  Apparently you can pay someone to apply a very intricate design, or DIY.  The latter not being the best plan for someone like myself who struggles to paint her own toe nails.  You can VaJazzle for a variety of reasons, anything from trying to cover up a c section scar or covering up post waxing rashes, to needing to feel a little pretty after a breakup (google Jennifer Love Hewitt).  I am still puzzled by a few details; such as how long does it lasts, what happens if a stone falls out, and so on and so forth.

Interesting to say the least.  Expensive if you are cheap when it comes to decorating your lady parts.  That’s not to say I have completely ruled it out.  Sometimes a girl has to go to extremes to be cutting edge.  But I worry that it would become addicting.  Is it like getting your nails done?  Will I need to change my design to keep up with the next holiday?  Is it patriotic to plaster an American flag on sweet little Virginia in honor of Memorial Day?  Would it be wrong to decorate the honey pot in honor of the girls’ upcoming birthday party themes?

Oh the crap that runs thru my head.

Does the mom hair cut lead to mom jeans?

This morning while I was getting ready for work, running late as usual, and had absolutely nothing important to think of, I stared at myself in the mirror and made the very life changing decision to get hair extensions.

Those of you, who know me well, know that I love my short hair.  The ease of styling, the ability to wake up from a nap that included both drool and dreams and not have it look any different, the shampoo savings, I could go on and on, all make my “middle aged mom” do all that more satisfying.

However, as I move towards fully embracing my midlife crisis, something this morning made me want to justify having long, gorgeous, flowing hot chick locks.

Maybe I made the decision to love such short, low maintenance hair under a lot of freaking pressure, ok?  How many people out there have to live thru my daily personal hell?  How many of you have a husband who thinks its ok to take a crap while you brush your teeth? Is there something wrong if I just want really hot, sexy, easy to tousle hair, dammit? It could change my life, right?

Maybe it's the fact that I have to put a hand towel down on the sink in order to prevent my spare tire from resting against the cold tile countertop?  The fact that pretty much daily I have to dig thru my bathroom drawer to find the “good” tweezers to pluck the newest offending chin whisker?  That when I dare pick a pimple, there is a good chance that it will leave a scare, or worse, a wrinkle?  One of the benefits of being “fluffy” is that you don’t show as many wrinkles, but sheesh, what a compromise that is to make!

Every morning when I bend over to shave my legs, and yes, my toes, my back pops and cracks and reminds me of the torture I exposed it to in my younger days.  My poor ta tas angrily refuse to look up any more, punishing me for days when I thought bras were optional, and for relinquishing them to a very aggressive baby Mia.

Beautiful, chocolate brown, layered extensions could fix all that, right?  One flick of gorgeous hair over a somewhat supple shoulder and my husband will want to forget about taking the trash out and the dishes in the sink and throw me over his shoulder and carry me romantically into the bedroom, wouldn't it? 

My girls, who at many times have seen me curled up into a fetal position, banging my head against a wall,  or in a corner with a box of wine, would look at their gorgeous mommy with her long, lustrous hair with new eyes, stunned by her new found ability to be super mom, super wife and super employee all with one good blow out.  Not every mom in the Boosters club could pull it off, could they?

How hard could they be to take care of?  It’s not like I am that busy??  You can justify charging real hair on a credit card, can’t you?  Don’t get me wrong, I would never think of charging synthetic hair, that just wouldn’t make sense.

I went to the mall at lunch to return a pair of shorts that didn’t fit, to Torrid.  I groaned as I walked in and remembered once being delighted to wear the smallest size in the fat chick store.  As I waited impatiently for the clearly under trained sales associate to figure out how to credit my debit card, I studied the poster of the model on the wall above the cash register.  Obviously, the fact that she was probably a size 10 in a store full of chicks who wear elastic waist bands way more often then we would like to admit helped her look pretty smoking hot.  But guess what else she had?  UHHHHHHHmazing freaking hair! 

I came back to work to google my new must have accessory.  I know that my stunning hairdresser can work magic, but at what cost??

Apparently a pretty high freaking cost.  Sigh.  So what if people may think it’s a little selfish, and ok, kind of crazy.  How many years of poopy diapers, taco bell dinners, thankless children and a husband who accuses you of maybe sneaking oxycotin left over from your c-section should a girl have to endure before she can justify such a splurge?

My fantasy quickly ended when the cheap side of me remembered the stash of wigs buried somewhere deep in the depths of my closet.  Way underneath the piles and piles of dirty laundry, and clothes from many, many sizes ago.  Those will just have to deal for now.  But if one day soon one you happen to see me smiling broadly with my new Frederick’s of Hollywood do, make sure you help a sister out and leave a casserole of some sort on the doorstep of the Mongrain Baby Farm, because I am sure that we will all be tired of eating mac and cheese @ that point!

Parenting via TV

Last night while I was drifting off to sleep at about 11:45, knowing that 5:06am was going to come all too quickly, the ever faithful DVR’d version of Monster’s Inc was playing on our bedroom tv.  Proof that one of the minions had insisted on falling to sleep in mama’s bed instead of her own.  I flashed back to when I was pregnant with said minion and reminisced about all of the tv shows I used to have time to keep up on and enjoy on a regular basis.

During the last term of my pregnancy I was pretty much bed bound, and Annabelle only went to preschool on Mon & Tues, so it only made sense to spend the rest of the week hanging out and catching the latest episodes of Tori & Dean’s Home Sweet Hollywood, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, and of course TLC’s The Baby Story, supplemented with Days of Our Lives, and if really desperate or in the early am, The Food Network.  Diabetes or not, how can you not love Paula Deen?  And the husband from The Neelys??  Yummo!

While my sweet Belle has owned my heart from the first day I saw her in the NICU, all teeny, tiny, red and sick, it was really over that summer that I fell in love with her all over again.  It was lying in bed watching the famous table flipping scene from the RHONJ that we bonded for good.  She was the first person to tell me that a water birth was really the way to go, since the babies came out cleaner that way, and clearly, who wouldn’t want to have their brand new baby come out all clean and shiny versus cheesy and icky?  She explained to me that Dean loves Tori so much because she cooks really well, throws great parties and really knows how to decorate a house.  In between trips down the stairs to stock up on Diet 7up and popsicles, we discussed the pros and cons of Extreme Couponing, and whether Carol’s Corner Café was worthy of a visit from Guy Fieri of Diners, Drive Ins & Dives.  After snacking, we would doze peacefully, her woodstove of a body cooking and snoring away as I would watch her sleep.  Waking up to watch Oprah and see what Dr. Phil & Nate Berkas’ latest pitches were was a great way to start the afternoon.  We would head down to the kitchen to try out new food network recipes for Daddy & T’s dinners. 

To this day, Annabelle loves movies, and tv as well.  She always has.  I really don’t watch anymore, but I have to admit, every time she grabs the iPad and snuggles down to watch something from Netflix, my heart skips a beat and I remind myself of those days, that seem like so long ago.  I remember looking at her tiny, baby hands, the only chubby part of her body, blink and look at my now 7 yr old who is becoming a young woman.  Mind blowing.  I know that I should not worry about baths, jammies, vitamins and etc, and just snuggle in and watch with her.  Even if it is another freaking episode of The Suite Life.