Monday, August 31, 2009

Say hello to my little friend

It's small. It's powerful. It's battery-operated. It looks like a vibrator, but I assure you that it's far more exciting and useful.

It's my face shaver.

Not sure when it started, but one day a few years back while I was pregnant with my daughter, I looked in the mirror and saw a fuzzy goat face looking back at me. Now, I'm lucky because my facial hair is fair, but that doesn't make it any less thick and goat-like. I don't have to bleach it, but I damn sure have to remove it.

That's where the Lumina "Finishing Touch" comes in. (Don't you just love that name? It's such a euphemism. I live in a world in which "finishing my touch" really translates into "shaving my face.") But oh, how I love it.

You literally brush it over your face, and watch as tufts (actual tufts!) of hair fall into your sink. God, it's satisfying. It even has a little light, so you can see the fuzzless tracks appearing on your face. Now, I know what you're thinking: Doesn't shaving your face make the hair come back even worse? But see, I don't understand this argument. First of all, I haven't noticed that effect. But secondly (and more importantly), doesn't this only matter if you're planning on only shaving once and never again? Because if the goal is to continue the hair removal (and I can't see why it wouldn't be), then really, who cares if the hair gets thicker and/or worse? Plus, if this theory were true, I'd run out tomorrow and shave my head so next time around I'd have better hair.

Bye, bye baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Friday, August 21, 2009

From bad to worse to worser

I bought two liters of Biolage shampoo (in bulk to save money, of course) and I'm pretty sure it's making my hair greasy and my scalp itchy.

I saw a mom at Target yesterday and my first thought was, "Frumpy.' My second thought was "I have that shirt."

My daughter walked into the bathroom the other morning and said to me, "Mama, what are you doing?" And I replied, "Shaving my face." (I'll expound on this in my next post...)

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Still Shuddering

Normally my daughter goes to swim class on Saturday mornings with my husband, but yesterday he wasn't feeling great, so we sent in the second string. Me. I suited us both up and off we went.

Ok. So.

It wasn't so much the Land's End swim suit. I get it that it's hard to find cute options when you're trying to hide a few extra lbs. (Though Old Navy and Target do it better, cuter and cheaper. Just saying.)

It wasn't so much the 4-day underarm growth. It's toddler swim class, after all, so maybe there wasn't a lot of effort made. Or maybe her razor was destroyed in a freak shower accident.

Because what did send me home from swim class with a severe case of PTSD was the TWO INCHES of pubic hair emerging from either side of her suit and making a slow descent down her legs.

Wax. Shave. Nair. Thread. Tweeze. Electrolysize. Rip 'em out one by one by hand if you must. But please, please, please deforest yourself before wearing a swimsuit in public. Do I really have to say this?

UPDATE 9/9/09: In case anyone didn't believe me, my husband verified the existence of Sascrotch at last week's swim lesson. Think there's a swim cap for that?

Monday, August 10, 2009

A comment on comments

Apparently, I'm having some issues with my comments section, which sucks because I love comments! Don't give up on me, friends. I will set aside my technophobia long enough to lick this embarrassing problem. Keep trying!

UPDATE: Seems to be working now! Keep the comments coming... I love 'em!

Monday, August 3, 2009

Hairdo Redo

So, I posted here a while ago about unfrumpy moms requiring a hairdo. (As in, one that has an actual name like "The Shag" or "The Bob" or "Posh Spice".) After doing some heavy duty research into the matter (namely, sitting at Starbucks, witnessing moms of both the frumpy and unfrumpy variety order lattes), I've decided to back off of my former position a bit.

The reason? I've seen a lot of just plain old shoulder length or long hair that looks great on moms—both on my friends and just out and about. But, as always, here's the caveat. 1. You must have great hair. (I know this, because I don't.) 2. You must wash and brush said hair.

Long hair is both a blessing and a curse. If you can carry it off, then by all means, do so. But realize that—just as driving a car requires a license—there's some responsibility at play here. Far too often in momdom I've seen long hair turn into a mass of unkempt frizz perched atop a frazzled-looking face. I'm talking about parts that wander aimlessly, grays that are screaming to be covered, and levels of dirtiness that approach homelessness. Or, at the very least, just a sad, limp mess.

I've also seen hair that looks lustrous and healthy, shiny and Farrah-Fawcett-gorgeous. (If I sound envious, it's because I am. Deeply.) It just requires a modicum of upkeep. Like washing, not necessarily every day, just as often as your particular grease levels indicate. And brushing/styling, so as not to look like bedhead parading around in public. You can pull that look off if you're Mary Kay Olsen, sort of, but not if you're pushing 40 and a double stroller to boot.

I recently had a haircut and I'm back to my Posh Spice ways, though I'm afraid I'm careening dangerously into Kate Gosselin territory. I fear I'm just a few badly placed snips away from being her stunt double. I've made up my mind that once I lose the rest of my baby weight—about 8 pounds—I'm rewarding myself with hair extensions. So I too, for once, can have long lustrous hair to make other moms jealous with. Mine will just be fake.