Let's start four weeks ago (roughly).
I'm in TJ Maxx with my three kids shopping for nothing. I know, nothing like dragging a 2, 4 and 6 year old around for your me time, right?
Anyway, there I am, headed to the dressing room. 5 items, yes I would like the handicap stall * (after all, if kids aren't a crippling nuisance, what is?), cram all four of us in there, threaten the kids not to move and to please not stare and I finally start to try on some clothes.
Now, I'm not sure if TJ Maxx lighting is universal, but I'll tell this story assuming it is.
I try on shirt number one and turn towards the mirror (I like to take off and put on clothes with my back to the mirror so it's a sort of "reveal" when I turn around). Since I can't see anything if I'm not wearing my glasses I take a couple steps towards the mirror until I'm about 5 inches away.
Staring at the shirt I decide it's not half bad, I'm going to get it. Then I make the dreaded mistake. I look at my face. I look at my face 5 inches away and under TJ Maxx microscopic lighting, no less!
ACK!!!!!!!!!! (channeling Kathy, here)
My face! It's got hair on it! OMG! I just wrote that on my blog!
ACK!!!!!!!!!!
Ok, calm down. It's more like fuzz, but I'm not going to lie, it wasn't all peach colored.
That was enough for me, I was humiliated. How would I walk out of that dressing room!? I will most surely bring shame on my family, the bearded mother!
Next stop, Target. Health and Beauty section, Sally Hansen Waxing kit.
It says it can take care of even the most fine of hair.
Ignoring my 6 year old's questions of 'what is that box for? What's the stuff inside do?' I take my prescription of de-shame home.
Later that evening I show my husband. I tell him while staring at the floor.
"I'm going to go wax my face now."
Husband: "What!? Why?"
"Because I look like a man."
Husband: *makes some sort of silly grunt towards me* "Whatever, I've never noticed."
"Hmph, you weren't at TJ Maxx. Terrible store, btw-I'm never going there again."
Husband: "Ok, well...can I watch?"
STOP EVERYTHING.
This, this is what the whole point of this posting is. (Sorry for the long drawn out back story)
I'm constantly hiding from my husband! I lock the doors when I shave. I hurry through embarrassing parts of my shower in case he decides to "drop in". I ask him if he's going to be using the bathroom any time in the near future before I go #2. I don't burp or fart in front of him and in return I get him asking if he can watch me rip hair out of my face!?
I'll spare you the details, and him the humiliation, but *mostly* he doesn't share my need for discretion.
Honestly, I think most people don't.
Why?
It's not because we're such modern deep feeling people that we don't care about outward appearances, on the contrary! Honestly, I can't really pin down the reason we've all stopped caring.
I only know that I wish we would start again. Keep the romance, the wonderment and the mystery alive.
I want my husband to caress my baby soft skin and not think about how much time goes into it! I don't want him imagining me exfoliating! I don't even do it in front of a mirror!
I'll stop rambling now and just leave you with this. What's wrong with a little secrecy when it comes to delicacy's like these? I say, nothing. I say, shut the door when you poop. I say, keep your burps burried deep and go somewhere other than the dinner table to release that gas.
I say, please, please act like you actually care what people think of you. It's really not as terrible as people make it out to be.
*Disclaimer:
Just in case you were about to browbeat me about the handicapped stall. I never ask for it, the kind dressing room attendants always shuffle me in without questions and I always remember to remind them to tell me to scram if a truly disabled person is waiting. After all, my kids have leashes, I can always tie them to the hydrant outside while I do my shopping.
I'm in TJ Maxx with my three kids shopping for nothing. I know, nothing like dragging a 2, 4 and 6 year old around for your me time, right?
Anyway, there I am, headed to the dressing room. 5 items, yes I would like the handicap stall * (after all, if kids aren't a crippling nuisance, what is?), cram all four of us in there, threaten the kids not to move and to please not stare and I finally start to try on some clothes.
Now, I'm not sure if TJ Maxx lighting is universal, but I'll tell this story assuming it is.
I try on shirt number one and turn towards the mirror (I like to take off and put on clothes with my back to the mirror so it's a sort of "reveal" when I turn around). Since I can't see anything if I'm not wearing my glasses I take a couple steps towards the mirror until I'm about 5 inches away.
Staring at the shirt I decide it's not half bad, I'm going to get it. Then I make the dreaded mistake. I look at my face. I look at my face 5 inches away and under TJ Maxx microscopic lighting, no less!
ACK!!!!!!!!!! (channeling Kathy, here)
My face! It's got hair on it! OMG! I just wrote that on my blog!
ACK!!!!!!!!!!
Ok, calm down. It's more like fuzz, but I'm not going to lie, it wasn't all peach colored.
That was enough for me, I was humiliated. How would I walk out of that dressing room!? I will most surely bring shame on my family, the bearded mother!
Next stop, Target. Health and Beauty section, Sally Hansen Waxing kit.
It says it can take care of even the most fine of hair.
Ignoring my 6 year old's questions of 'what is that box for? What's the stuff inside do?' I take my prescription of de-shame home.
Later that evening I show my husband. I tell him while staring at the floor.
"I'm going to go wax my face now."
Husband: "What!? Why?"
"Because I look like a man."
Husband: *makes some sort of silly grunt towards me* "Whatever, I've never noticed."
"Hmph, you weren't at TJ Maxx. Terrible store, btw-I'm never going there again."
Husband: "Ok, well...can I watch?"
STOP EVERYTHING.
This, this is what the whole point of this posting is. (Sorry for the long drawn out back story)
I'm constantly hiding from my husband! I lock the doors when I shave. I hurry through embarrassing parts of my shower in case he decides to "drop in". I ask him if he's going to be using the bathroom any time in the near future before I go #2. I don't burp or fart in front of him and in return I get him asking if he can watch me rip hair out of my face!?
I'll spare you the details, and him the humiliation, but *mostly* he doesn't share my need for discretion.
Honestly, I think most people don't.
Why?
It's not because we're such modern deep feeling people that we don't care about outward appearances, on the contrary! Honestly, I can't really pin down the reason we've all stopped caring.
I only know that I wish we would start again. Keep the romance, the wonderment and the mystery alive.
I want my husband to caress my baby soft skin and not think about how much time goes into it! I don't want him imagining me exfoliating! I don't even do it in front of a mirror!
I'll stop rambling now and just leave you with this. What's wrong with a little secrecy when it comes to delicacy's like these? I say, nothing. I say, shut the door when you poop. I say, keep your burps burried deep and go somewhere other than the dinner table to release that gas.
I say, please, please act like you actually care what people think of you. It's really not as terrible as people make it out to be.
*Disclaimer:
Just in case you were about to browbeat me about the handicapped stall. I never ask for it, the kind dressing room attendants always shuffle me in without questions and I always remember to remind them to tell me to scram if a truly disabled person is waiting. After all, my kids have leashes, I can always tie them to the hydrant outside while I do my shopping.
