Okay, so sorry for the vanishing...mourning during the holidays is not recommended. I just returned from the big A, spending time with my mom and making a combined pledge with her and my sisters that 2009 will be a year of rejoicing and fun. Being sad is way too tiring.
So, my holidays were busy and filled with food, family, and messes to clean and more food. I am cheeseballed-out and if I don't see a dip featuring sour cream and something green for a year, it will be too soon. We got all things Wii and to the suggestion of all my employees, my husband got me a navigation thingy. Now I can find my way directly to every restaurant in every town I visit. The Wii Fit remains safe in her box and I will unleash her when I unpack from Amarillo. Maybe.
My mom lives in this beautiful cottage-like traditional home and has every square inch of it decorated like the pages of Southern Living, with her bathroom being the spa retreat from Heaven. Amelia and I spend like an hour in there just rummaging through all her lotions and masks and exfoliates and oils and, well, you get the picture. I only have one, okay two complaints.
Her bathtub was made for 90 pound midgets.
I cannot soak because the cramps that develop from not being able to point my toes is unbearable. Porcelain is freakin' cold in the panhandle and when you AREN'T a 90 pound midget, every inch of you touches the damn thing. Seriously, I have gravy tureens bigger than that tub.
Then there's the full-length mirror with the heat lamp illuminating all that stands in it's view.
The mirror and light that makes everything a reality. The reality that my C-section isn't noticeable. Not because my surgeon was a genius, but because my belly hangs over it and hides it. The reality that my saddle bags won't fit on most average-sized horses. The reality that I missed a couple of places when I gave myself that Brazilian shave job because hot wax scares the hell out me. The reality that my cellulite on my thighs have some dimples so deep that I could seriously serve crab dip in them. The reality that the varicose veins shimmer and shine against the chalk white skin they bulge out of. The reality that the hair on my upper thighs I convinced myself was blonde isn't. The reality that tiny small bosoms actually can droop. The reality that sideways AND naked, I look even worse. The reality that that damn Wii Fit I begged for will be opened. As soon as I click publish.
Happy 2009. Now I gotta go breathe heavy and sweat. That will happen just opening the box.