Friday the 13th
It seems like a great day to get our household goods, right? Nothing bad could happen on Friday the 13th...
At least it's not raining. Yet. It will be sure to rain at some point today. Dear Japan: thanks for screwing around with us every day, weather-wise. It was sunny out yesterday and it has been a tiny, minute, eensy bit cooler so I thought "Oh, why not try to dry out my hair today?". Yeah, no. The minute I went outside: twang! All my little cowlicks flipped up and out. Looking forward to getting the flatiron and showing those brats who's boss!
I'm tired of fashioning it into various ponytails...it's just at that length where I have this stubby little ponytail like some kind of punk rat or something and my (WHY, oh why did I ever do this?) bangs are allllmost long enough to get scraped into the ponytail. It all looks good until I walk out the door and then...
Sproing! I have tried headbands, bandanas, bobby pins (and don't worry Hans, I didn't wear the bandana outside the house). Nothing can secure the fury of my baby fine, thin hair. I never knew it had so much personality!
I hate to say it, but the only women who have good looking hair around here are the ladies with weaves and/or braids. And Filipinas and Japanese, obviously. The good Lord intended for their hair to endure this climate. The good Lord intended for my hair to live in northern Germany, in a cool climate, where it would get appropriately stern looks for being out of line.
Hair. It's important right now. It's hard to feel even a little bit attractive. I know that's not what I should focus on because I have bigger fish to fry, like finding child care in this wasteland of daycare and preschool--really, the Sahara Desert and Death Valley probably have better childcare options--but you all know me.
Mama needs to feel a little pretty...age is straining the vain out of me, that's for sure. Stress and the move, children, my husband and his job. I'm starting to get wrinkles. And under-eye circles and some...sagging in my facial area. C'mon ladies, we've all done it, right? Pulled the skin back on our faces and said "Oh, yeah...that's what I looked like in college!". Except with firmer abs and perkier bosoms. And less responsibility and the ability to drink Jaegermeister shots without stopping for hours.
Side note on the bosoms: Will is into telling everyone about his muscles. Yesterday we were at the NEX in the checkout line and Will was admiring a very (whew, VERY) well-cut, shirtless (whew, wow) man on the cover of "Men's Health". Oooh, all his muscles. Will was posing in apparent comparison and then started going on about this man's "boobies".
"He has BIG boobies, Mommy!".
Muttering under breath: "Pecs, Will...they're called pecs".
Flashing amused smile at the candor and wit of my precocious three-year-old for the benefit of store clerks and folks waiting in line (who definitely don't think that I work the pole for a living--see above rant about wrinkles, sagging and undereye circles). I wouldn't want anyone to think that he got the word boobies from, say, mommy's job or something. He certainly didn't get it from looking at MY chest. The Men's Health guy definitely has bigger boobies than me!
Will just continued to go on and on about the man's big boobies. Out the store, down the sidewalk, halfway back to the car.
To be fair...that guy did have some amazing (sigh) boobies!
Someone...send me a wig.
At least it's not raining. Yet. It will be sure to rain at some point today. Dear Japan: thanks for screwing around with us every day, weather-wise. It was sunny out yesterday and it has been a tiny, minute, eensy bit cooler so I thought "Oh, why not try to dry out my hair today?". Yeah, no. The minute I went outside: twang! All my little cowlicks flipped up and out. Looking forward to getting the flatiron and showing those brats who's boss!
I'm tired of fashioning it into various ponytails...it's just at that length where I have this stubby little ponytail like some kind of punk rat or something and my (WHY, oh why did I ever do this?) bangs are allllmost long enough to get scraped into the ponytail. It all looks good until I walk out the door and then...
Sproing! I have tried headbands, bandanas, bobby pins (and don't worry Hans, I didn't wear the bandana outside the house). Nothing can secure the fury of my baby fine, thin hair. I never knew it had so much personality!
I hate to say it, but the only women who have good looking hair around here are the ladies with weaves and/or braids. And Filipinas and Japanese, obviously. The good Lord intended for their hair to endure this climate. The good Lord intended for my hair to live in northern Germany, in a cool climate, where it would get appropriately stern looks for being out of line.
Hair. It's important right now. It's hard to feel even a little bit attractive. I know that's not what I should focus on because I have bigger fish to fry, like finding child care in this wasteland of daycare and preschool--really, the Sahara Desert and Death Valley probably have better childcare options--but you all know me.
Mama needs to feel a little pretty...age is straining the vain out of me, that's for sure. Stress and the move, children, my husband and his job. I'm starting to get wrinkles. And under-eye circles and some...sagging in my facial area. C'mon ladies, we've all done it, right? Pulled the skin back on our faces and said "Oh, yeah...that's what I looked like in college!". Except with firmer abs and perkier bosoms. And less responsibility and the ability to drink Jaegermeister shots without stopping for hours.
Side note on the bosoms: Will is into telling everyone about his muscles. Yesterday we were at the NEX in the checkout line and Will was admiring a very (whew, VERY) well-cut, shirtless (whew, wow) man on the cover of "Men's Health". Oooh, all his muscles. Will was posing in apparent comparison and then started going on about this man's "boobies".
"He has BIG boobies, Mommy!".
Muttering under breath: "Pecs, Will...they're called pecs".
Flashing amused smile at the candor and wit of my precocious three-year-old for the benefit of store clerks and folks waiting in line (who definitely don't think that I work the pole for a living--see above rant about wrinkles, sagging and undereye circles). I wouldn't want anyone to think that he got the word boobies from, say, mommy's job or something. He certainly didn't get it from looking at MY chest. The Men's Health guy definitely has bigger boobies than me!
Will just continued to go on and on about the man's big boobies. Out the store, down the sidewalk, halfway back to the car.
To be fair...that guy did have some amazing (sigh) boobies!
Someone...send me a wig.
Comments
As for Will's comments, I'll bet the onlookers thought he was funny. I wouldn't worry about it.
I love your posts, Rachel.