Tag Archives: Beauty

The pelt between my legs…


The pelt growers

…has been growing for several weeks in anticipation of the infamous Brazilian wax.  My con-artist, er, I mean lovely daughter talked me into enduring this procedure with her under the guise of “bonding.”  When a mother works 40+ hours a week, “bonding” is one of those trigger words.  Ya’know the kind of word that will get the results that the user desires. In fact, all of my lovelies have picked up on the effectiveness of this lingo.

My youngest will often approach me with his best impression of a basset hound and say,

“I want to spend quality time with you.”

HOW can a living, breathing, Mom (because sometimes I am a Zombie) refuse these words?  Often this quality time ends with a purchase from the iEmpire via it’s hedonistic app store.  We have joined the cult with our iPhones, iPads and iMac but I digress…that’s for another day.

Back to my daughter and her need for bonding which, I knew would involve doe, rae, me but never expected the activity I would be spending it on.  I think the conversation went something like this:

“Mom, I haven’t seen you all week so let’s spend some girl time bonding”

“Um, yeah, ok sure.  Sounds good.” [thinking along the lines of shopping, movie, lunch, maaybe a massage or mani/pedi]

“Awesome! So I was thinking we’d get a Brazilian wax.”

chirp, chirp…crickets.


“ANNNDD you know what that involves right?”

[rolling her eyes] “Of coooourrrrse!”

Now, I have been waxed and sugared downtown before but I have never indulged in the Brazilian style.  I figured I’d leave the hairless cat impression to the porn stars.  I’m a 40+ yr old mother of 3 who can still wear a bikini.  As long as that bikini line doesn’t look like Chewbacca is trying to escape….Kudos to me!

But you see, we hard-working, guilt driven parents do things for our kids that normally, if we were home, we wouldn’t do.  Take this scenario back a few years when I was with these lovelies 24/7 making food from scratch (HA, joking for literary drama – I loathe the kitchen).  My response to having course hair, that is more rooted and intrusive than dandelions, yanked out from my sensitive Netherlands would quickly be a,


But fast forward 4yrs and I found myself laying on a table exposing all of my seed planting ground with my legs sprawled open in the “Frog” position.  I’ll spare you the gory details of how the technician applied hot wax in areas that I’m convinced have never seen the light of day…not even at the Gyno’s office.  Of how once hardened on my sensitive inner folds, this wax (referred to as hard wax) was ripped off piece by piece at speeds that resembled those of a turtle while I panted, twitched, squirmed, sweated profusely, foamed at the mouth, and finally heard myself asking for a “Break.”

A break that I never received because the technician smiled politely and kept going saying something about needing to get the wax off.  I think I passed out at about this point because desperation set in as I thought…wait, no seriously, wipe that polite smile off your professional technician face….I wasn’t kidding….I need a freakin’ break!!!

Me, needing a BREAK from painful stimuli?  What is this unfamiliar madness? I have a mutant sky high pain tolerance and am often referred to as a tank.  Childbirth, tattoos, weird piercings, self injections, invasive medical procedures, joint manipulations (the list goes on and on) were mere blips on the pain scale of tank Beth.  But this….this…hard wax Brazilian broke me?

When I finally came to I found myself laying on my side while she expertly kneaded my buttocks like a mound of dough trying to get the wax to “set” in the eye of the black hole.  When she stopped the kneading to position a hand held fan between my cheeks for “optimal setting,” I decided passed out was a good state of existence.

A short time later my daughter and I tramautically hobbled out of the spa looking like we rode one horse too many.  It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that all future bonding time would be free of wax and spread eagle nudeness.

We decided to leave the extreme pelt removal to the taxidermists and porn stars.


Teetering the crazy line

I love to eat.  Eating is my passion and favorite pastime.  When I am in consumption mode (especially with foods that I particularly love) everything else becomes a blur which is why I was not on my A game this particular Friday night.

Late Friday (early Saturday AM) Mr. Pavlov and I took the kids to Eat-n-Park after attending a meeting.  They were claiming starvation and muscle wasting and it would be inhumane to deprive them of a meal – i.e. MY stomach was rumbling. 

Tres, who was barely awake to begin with but didn’t want to miss out on anything, fell asleep promptly after placing his cheeseburger and fries order.  He conveniently sprawled out across the oversized booth and utilized my lap as his personal pillow.

Our order arrived just in time because we were all about to join Tres and go horizontal.  The deep-fried onion rings were serenading me and I entered my food induced state of oblivion.  It was only me and the onion rings and maybe my garden burger from the moment they landed on our table.  My head was in the trough and I was happy.

I didn’t notice the group of young males stalking our table.  I was blissfully unaware of the frequent pass bys and testosterone filled grunts.  I had my onion rings. I was complete.

My beautiful daughter jolted me to her reality with this statement,

“Mom, that table of guys over there keeps staring this way and pointing.”

Then Mr. Pavlov, who was seated right next to her (we had a LARGE booth and he was in the middle of Uno and Dos) replied,

“The one keeps walking by like he stole something!”

Dos, also in awareness mode added,

“Yea, he seems twitchy!”

With fried onion ring crumbs hanging from my mouth I replied,

“Are they staring at you and walking by to see you?”  

Smiling, she glanced over her right shoulder to where an ancient couple was sitting dutifully cutting each other’s blueberry pancakes and replied “W e l l……” 

Wow.  How did I miss this?  I am always on it and my guydar remains in a constant and finely tuned state.  My daughter is a cutie and boys know it!  But before I could wipe away the onion ring crumbs from my mouth and ponder my failure we received visitors….

Two “scruffies” as Dos called them interrupted my our feeding frenzy. Clearing their throats they ventured:

“Excuse me….uh, er, well my friend over there…the one in the corner…well, ah, he wants us to give you this (handing my beautiful baby a folded piece of white paper).  He thinks you’re, um, cute.  It’s his…ah, number and um, well, he wants you to call him.”

The beauty, Uno, smiled and said one simple word…O K A Y.  Mr. Pavlov glared and echoed Uno’s OKAY only in a much more menacing tone.  I finally wiped away my crumb residue and entered the here and now as I watched them walk away giving each other high fives and fist pumping the air.  The “Corner Guy” remained standing in the corner stalking observing Uno and her response.  I believed it was the intimidating glares and peacock posturing of Mr. Pavlov that drove him from the corner and sent him back to his seat with his friends until…..

….we were getting ready to leave when the brazen little punk decided to approach our table himself!   With Mr. Pavlov standing and peacock posturing beside him, he apologized for the behavior of his friends and in front of her entire family, asked our beauty to call him.  Mr. Pavlov gave a nod, the type of nod that says “Boy, you better move while you have the chance” and said,

“Let’s go!”

Corner guy finally retreated without the committment from Uno he wanted.  I guess I was somewhat high on my recent ingestion and wasn’t thinking clearly.  Feeling all warm and fuzzy from the fried food I heard myself call after him,

“You have good taste!”

He smiled.

Uno chuckled and replied,

“Good one Mom, but at least you didn’t threaten him with statutory rape this time!

Now that I am clear in the head and have given the scenario some thought I must ask, can you believe the boldness?  Maybe I am old school but boys would never approach a young girl in the presence of her family especially with her father seated right beside her.  Am I old school?  Is this the progressive style of the youth today?  I don’t like it.  Do you?

The youth of today are bold and daring.  I think the genetically altered, steroid laced food we consume has pumped them up and left them…

…teetering the crazy line!

Tanning beds make my white parts tingle.

My daughter, Uno, has wanted to prostrate herself on the hedonistic bed of lights for a couple of years.  I understand her desire for some vitamin D because I began my heated affair with the sun in 8th grade. Actually, the tan was a bi-product of my devotion to stalking the hunky older neighbor boy during his outdoor activities.

I was a dedicated voyeur who spent hours peering at the bronzed god through my Uncle’s high-powered hunting binoculars and subsequently became very tan!  After experiencing the sun’s kiss, I was a committed follower who didn’t cheat until  reaching the age of 16yrs.  At 16yrs I entered my first tanning bed in the name of Prom preparation.   The then 30 min (gasp) fake bake occurred during an era prior to public awareness of the dangers associated with sun exposure.  Given that education has enlightened me on the evils of tanning, I really don’t want my virgin skinned daughter to fry. 

Being the awesome mom that I am [and showing nauseous pictures of old prunes and oozing skin cancer], I have always managed to divert her longing for skin sabotage.   Plus, the child is 1/2 Filipino.  She merely has to look at the sun and she bronzes.  But let’s face it, winters are too long and that type of parenting [fear based pictures of nauseous prunes threatening oozing skin cancer] only works so well for so long…and I knew it.

The day came when she could not be deterred any longer.  Well, I am PARENT and deterrence is always an option but I figured the bake would be a good learning adventure.  I parent the leave and cleave way. Life must be lived. Lessons must be learned.

Sun trackers

We walked into the tan place prepared.  She didn’t falter even when the girl presented Uno with the sun tracker (stickers applied to track tan progress) choices of a Playboy bunny, heart, star, or Hemp leaf.  I knew the heart and star were nixed and I was hoping she didn’t select the porno bunny.  That left the Hemp leaf.  

Wait, what mother secretly hopes for their daughter to pick a brain cell killing marijuana leaf?  The kind who takes her to a place that kills skin cells.

I waited. 

Uno said, “No thanks.  I don’t like any of them.”  Success!  Now, that’s the beauty of proper parenting and preparation baby!

However, what I wasn’t  prepared for was Uno’s “Hey Mom, will you tan with me ’cause I’m kinda afraid.”  Ugh, I have spent years absorbing UV and have the fine lines and wrinkles to prove it.  Miraculously, I appear much younger than my birth age and I’d like to keep it that way.  

How about you?  Do you guys take the risk and tan or avoid the sun at all costs?

My soon to be 40yr old face

With continued tanning this will be me in a few years

Utlimately the yearning for that UV high of old (and Uno’s begging eyes) outweighed the developing lines and wrinkles. Before I could exhale, I found myself horizontal, butt naked and dermally absorbing some rays.

Uno was happily golden after one exposure and with my white parts tingling, I remembered that I deeply dislike tanning beds.

A life lesson from America’s Next Top Model. Who knew?

It is a known fact that I do not watch a lot of TV.   A quarter of the reason is because I don’t have the time and 3/4  is due to the fact that the people who live in this home are TV pigs.  I can’t seem to get close enough to the Ark of the Covenant…ever.   

However, there are a couple shows I do watch.  One of these shows is America’s Next Top Model. My daughter and I usually prop ourselves up on the couch and watch Tyra demonstrate how to smize.  I quit trying  the technique after several attempts and my daughter’s request to “please stop.”  Apparently the smize was not my look and made me appear like an insane asylum escapee.  My baby however, can strike a pose.  Although this is not what the post is about, here are some shots of her from a few years ago:

Affirmative, I quit smizing. Whatever.  Anyhow, something bothered me on Wednesday’s episode.  Did you see the episode? 

During a time of “getting to know each other” Ondre, the young lady from Michigan, shared of the recent death of her two brothers with a few of the girls.  She was calm and collected as she told of their passing and later informed the camera that although she was sad, she wanted to take the opportunity presented to her.  Ondre further went on to say that this was something she was going to do for her brothers…in memory and honor of them because it was an opportunity that they would never get to experience.  She appeared focused in her approach and seemed to have the issue settled in her mind.  She was the picture of quiet resolve.

During the time of soul sharing a couple of the girls expressed that they did not understand how she was able to participate in the show.  These girls (Note: Competitors) felt as if  the grief would be too raw and they did not think that it would be something they could endure. She listened quietly and digested their words.

At the next photo shoot we witnessed a once determined, focused Ondre crack and break down to the point of withdrawal from the show.  During the next judging panel she informed the judges of her decision to leave.  The judges accepted her withdrawal and instructed the contestants that if Ondre’s photo was the worst photo that week then no one would be eliminated but if it wasn’t then one of the current women would have to leave.  You could see the “Oh darn, we were hoping to capitalize on her grief” spread across some of the faces.  

The entire scenario really bothered me.  Her elimination seemed too easy. So WHAT happened?  

Ondre allowed the enemy access into her head where seeds could be planted.  These seeds seemed like innocent observations or sympathetic remarks but they actually contained poison.  Ondre gave the remarks her attention and allowed them to grow to the point of behavioral modification.

I have witnessed this form of attack many times during my life and have even fallen prey myself.  Sometimes the individual delivering the “message” is an innocent instrument willingly used as a mouth piece for discouragement (or whatever) and at other times they are packing motive, fully aware of their actions.

Once spoken we have a choice of what to do with the words.  We can either come into agreement with the message and allow it to take up space in our psyche and ultimately alter our behavior OR we can recognize the assault and cerebrally shred the contaminated message…access denied!!!

We may have to repeat the process and kick the words to the shredder several times because they will often attempt to apply for residence more than once. This practice becomes more difficult if we really want to agree with the message and modify our behavior.  For example, if stuck in a less than desirable, despised job that is necessary for a season, it would be all too tempting to embrace a message of premature evacuation!  With prematurity comes unanswered questions.

Would Ondre get best photo? How far would Ondre make it?  Could she be America’s Next Top Model?  We’ll never know but we do know that her photo was “not the worst” and had she not withdrawn, she would still be a contestant.

I realize I cannot evacuate these comments without a lot of prayer and wisdom.  Because truly, most people can bring us down but there is One whose desire is to lift us higher.

A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother Proverbs 18:24

When life is screaming The Worst at us we need to remember that, like Ondre, we are still in the running providing we don’t withdraw from the race.

Seeing the light

We kicked the influenza just in time for the Holidays.  We may have been weak and battered but we were determined to rock the seasonal celebration(s).  Now the problem with puking your guts out for a few days is that your stomach shrinks and becomes sensitive for awhile.  Well, this was NOT going to work.  I mean there are soooo many goodies that only come around once a year. Once a year!  Annual!  The cookies, the pasta dishes, the soups, the side dishes, the gingerbread, the food, food, food and did I mention the desserts???  Mouth watering. 

It was proving to be difficult to enjoy all of these treats.  We were pale and our foreheads glistened with sweat brought on by minimal exertion (think chewing).  Not to mention how our stomachs churned with each mouth watering bite.  However, there is just something about food when it calls your name that is absolutely irresistible and we were able to forge on.

We made it through the festivities without revisiting the bathroom from over consumption.  But given the fact that we were on the verge of losing consciousness, and seeing more lights than Christmas offered, I was not able to capture any photos of the heavenly spread…or many photos of Christmas for that matter.  But I did realize more than ever this year just how important the family unit is during these seasons.  Immediate family, extended family, whatever and whomever your family is and however you make it work – THAT is what matters the most.

I see THE light!!

And now it’s hard to believe that another Christmas has come and gone. Here are a few of the photos I was able to capture……until next year!

Christmas Eve.  The youngest is trying hard to hold back on the face making.
Christmas brings out the magic of sibling love.  Yes, it does exist.
The Christmas morning JIG – He got THE game!!
Even dad gets into the excitement when he finds his gift under the tree!
The little guy by the Christmas tree art.
Keeping things in perspective

The feel of fabric

It is common knowledge that my youngest is a fashionista.  From the time he was two he has been picking out his own outfits and they look amazing.  I was in total shock when he began to dress himself and I didn’t have to re-dress him.  He matches prints and colors and takes great pride in how he looks.  He styles his own hair and asked if he could grow it out a little for the “skater” look.  So I was a little surprised when he came out of his room yesterday looking like this…

Plaid overkill that will go in the album as how he dressed himself NOT how mom dressed him
When I asked him what inspired his outfit and hair he shrugged and said he matched the feel of the fabric (cotton) and not the colors or prints.  And the hair, well I was told it was supposed to look that way to go along with the mismatched theme.  True, I was in a state of open mouth awe.  But we were leaving in a few minutes for church and I had to determine whether to let him leave the home like this.  Just so you know, I have been known (on many, many occasions) to let my kids go out in public in their artistically inspired outfit creations.  Once my oldest went to Wal-Mart in the dead of summer wearing neon green shorts with knee-high black leather winter boots.  And you can just imagine the looks I got.  But hey, it was Wal-Mart — we fit right in.                                                                                                                                           
So what to do now…
While I was debating he ran down the hall and came back out for a drink looking like this……
This fashion stuff makes me thirsty
He said he decided that brown pants looked better after all.  Ahhhh, crisis adverted and off to church we went.  So, would I have let him go out looking like that?  What do you think?

Blame it on the Boys!!

Oh, I forgot…did I mention that the L’oreal self tanner stinks?  Most bottled tans do so I was not surprised however, what I was not prepared for was the Neutrogena spray self-tanner.  We used this one as well and turned our bathroom into a thick foggy chemical haze.  It was bad.  When we were done the floor had a sticky residue that even freaked out the boys who usually bring the disgusting into our home and are phased by very little.  When I woke up the next morning and walked into the bathroom I ran into a wall of stench.  It resembled urine and could easily be blamed on the trigger happy males in our home.  However, being mature and responsible  having used self tanners before I knew immediately that this smell was from the chemical in a bottle tan. 

Enter daughter:  “UGH! MOM, The bathroom smells like pee!”  Fighting the urge once again to blame it on the boys, I explained that it was from the spray tan haze we created and that I used Clorox on the floors.  It should get better. 

12 hours later:  The smell is still present and even the boys are complaining.  The sink and every surface have been cleaned.  Clorox has been doing its thing on the floors yet the smell still lingers.

24 hours later:  Rotten, rank — the smell persists.  The youngest has a little Sponge Bob toilet seat (below) that he places on the big toilet seat when he has to poo and occasionally  it will get splashed with pee.  My daughter “Mom, I think it is his toilet seat.  It has to be!”  Low blow.  She tried to blame it on the boys?  Now, where would she get that idea?  I explained that on average there is more nasty on the main toilet seat than his little seat and that it would take a whole lot of gross to stench up the entire bathroom.  So we concluded that the self tanner has to be on the walls, the woodwork, the shower curtain and the bathroom curtains.  Like an alien life form it has permeated our living space and is sinking into the pores of our home.

baby boy's bathroom luxury

Today:  The washing machine is groaning as it runs full speed. I have vowed to eradicate this urine-mimicking chemical from our home.  and if all else fails I can always blame it on they boys or take the high road and pin it on the Sponge Bob seat!