What Happened to the Good Old Days?

Oh man. I'd really like to know what happened to the good old days when all I had to do before I went to bed was brush my teeth and wash my face, and in the morning just plain take a shower and wash my face while showering.

Now, at night I have to put on a white lab coat in order to pre-wash my face, wash my face, mist with hydra something or other, then put on a serum of some kind, and then finish with a moisturizer!!!! OMG!!! SERIOUSLY!!!!!! And the answer is yes, seriously. Plus after all that I still get pimples and wrinkles. I can only pray they are fewer but I'm too afraid to stop the routine to find out. I'm afraid if I stop my face will slide off my skull like in a Steven Spielberg horror flick.

Now let's talk about the morning routine. It varies no lab coat because I do most of it before, during, and directly following my shower. Don't go there...seriously don't even think about my nakedness. It will scare you to death. It does me every single solitary morning. Okay, pre-wash my face, get in the shower, rinse, facial scrub (only every 3 days), rinse, wash my face, rinse, and then apply a microfoliant (really don't know what that is I'm just supposed to use it), get out, put on a vitamin mask for  15 minutes (once a week), rinse, hydra mist, and then moisturize! Again, seriously!!!!!!

Is This My Future...Really?

So New Years Day I went out for breakfast. I went by myself, and this is an activity that I will do regularly. Due to my job, retail, my schedule has me doing a lot of things by myself because my days off are different than most of my friends. Anyway, I go to a little diner around the corner from me and ask for a table for one. I'm thinking how nice it was to be there, and how relaxed I was. I couldn't wait to get in and have my favorite omelette and a delicious bloody mary. When I am finally led to a table I see several women eating alone too. I've never seen this many women eating alone in my entire life. These women were much older than myself which doesn't mean anything but they all looked so sad and pitiful. You could just see them eating their little breakfast, all of which weren't celebratory. Some just had toast, some scrambled eggs, and you just knew that they couldn't wait to get home to their cats that they had knit cute little outfits for.

I looked around me and thought: well I guess this is my future. Given it was early for New Years Day, and the revelers from the night before hadn't risen yet. I just felt awful. I've never felt this way before when eating out alone but this was horrible. I looked just like these pitiful women, and I learned that if you are going to eat out alone do not do it on New Year's Day!

I also have to pose this question: Why do men look less desparate then women when eating alone? When you see a man eating alone unless they look like they are a hundred don't you usually think; oh he must be a truck driver, or a business man away from home, or the family must be away on vacation. You see a woman eating alone you think aaaawww. Isn't she sad? Poor thing is all alone. I bet she has at least four cats, and she can't stand being away from them. I wonder what's wrong with her that she is alone. All I can say is I hope that someone will put me out of my misery before I start sewing or knitting things for pets, or eating TOAST for breakfast when I go out for breakfast.

Sisterly Wisdom

Okay ladies in one of the many discussions I have with my sister the embarrassment of escaping gas, and no, I am not talking about an automobile gas leak (wink, wink). I have found that as I get older I will just unwittingly let out gas. It isn’t that I know that the gas is there, and I am just rude; it is that it will rear its noisy head whenever without my knowledge of its presents in the first place. How horrible is this?

I was telling my sister my concerns because, and forgive me my dear customers for this upcoming confession, I will be talking at work and oops what just happened?! I will probably talk a little louder than usual, or I’ll erupt in a blowout laugh in order to cover up, and the hopes of pretending that it didn’t happen. I don’t say excuse me because what if they never heard it, and I’m confessing an embarrassing moment when in actuality no one may even have heard it. Now, they are never silent, and I may be deluding myself , but I believe that they have no aroma.

So anyway I’m talking to my sister about my quandry as to what I should do: excuse myself or pretend it didn’t happen when she relays this next story to me. Now let me make it clear that my sister does not want me to write what I’m about to so I will change her name to protect her identity. I will refer to my sister as Skywalker (a wink goes to my sister). So I tell Skywalker this and she tells me that she has the same problem. She was walking in Memory Grove, a great park located in downtown Salt Lake City when a colleague of hers, who rides his bike sometimes in the same park, came up to say hi. She thought how nice, and maybe he was interested in her because he has stopped and walked his bike next to her at other times too. As they proceed to walk up the path every step that Skywalker takes she is farting! I mean every single step! She didn’t know what to do either. The first couple of times she thought he possibly may not have heard the farts so she said nothing but when they continue to erupt she finally had to say something so she quietly squeaked out, “excuse me.” At which point the gentleman pedaled away after politely excusing himself. Skywalker had no idea whether he had heard her eruptions or not but he did hear the apology. She even tried to disguise the farting by scuffing her sneakers on the cement, hoping that the sound would be, assumedly, her sneakers.

After this tale and great laughter we decided that pretending that it just isn’t happening is the best choice.

Disclaimer: to my customers every time I may be louder than usual or I burst out into laughter does not necessarily indicate that I have farted!

Poet's Corner

This poem is 3 poems in one if you read the normal type that is one poem, the italics another, and when you put them together you get how hard it is to write in another poem. I couldn't format the way it should be so you could visually get the context thus the explanation.

Sirens
by
Jaidene Anderlini

Dry thoughts of cracked leaves
I shouldn’t have reacted so harsh.
Bleed into my mind,
I should say I’m sorry.
Like smoke and anger
Out of control, and burning.
Will he ever love me?
Rest that’s all
why does she have it all?
Water to peace the thoughts.
I love my dogs so much.
Colorful and falling
Smoldering to black.
My bills aren’t getting paid.
Dowsed. Just quit.
But no,
my coffee’s getting too hot.
They continue to crack.
My dogs are shedding a lot.
My house needs to be cleaned.
Burn
I hate my job.
No peace for water.
Will I always be alone?
I love the sounds of crickets.
Candlelight is peaceful.
Sleep is tossed with
I wish I looked like a model.
Tortured scorched leaves
No more.
I wish I could really write.

Existential Corner or Something To Think About

Slum Spa and Nudity

Why are we (women) so ashamed of our bodies? It doesn’t matter what women look like skinny, emaciated, full-bottomed, flat chested, hippy, curvy, whatever; we hate our bodies. There seem to be two instances when women aren’t ashamed of what their bodies look like. The first instance is when they’ve had a plastic surgery, i.e boob jobs, lypo-suction etc. and the second time is when we are all naked together.

I will now address the latter instance: being naked together. There is a place that I go to that I lovingly call the slum spa. This establishment is really called Lakeside Steam, and it has been family owned and operated for decades. They have ladies days Monday and Thursday. Clothes are not an option. You have to be naked, and everyone is. I recall the first time I went there, and it was about 7 years ago. I was very freaked out. I am a very modest person. I don’t even sleep naked and I live alone! I have a robe that I wear when leaving the bathroom after a shower. That is just how I roll. So, when I chose to go to this place I was a little wierded out by it.

When I drove up to the place and saw the exterior of the building I have to admit I didn’t feel any better, but I ventured on. I walked in and went up the thread bare steps to the desk upon the person there simply gave me a ratty looking key, small towel the size of a large washcloth, and a huge white sheet. No instruction but a door to my right that I went through. I entered another world. Women young and old, fat, flabby, loose skin, saggy boobs, large bellies that hung very low, perky boobs, droopy bums, round bums, thick waists, skinny waists; and they are all walking around with no self consciousness. It was wonderful! Not a person complained about their bodies. Of course we are women, and we always talk about dieting, unfortunately, it is still a topic in this environment. But it was so refreshing to see women embrace the bodies that they have. All walking around naked, laughing, talking and with no judgment for the other women around them. Such acceptance.

The large sheet that you are given is to wrap up when you go to the snack lounge for some junk food, chicken salad, water, vending machines. I have to admit: it would be gross to eat with a naked woman across from you or naked anyone for that matter.

I have taken colleagues, and even my sister, Jane, to this place. Jane was under duress but, just like me, the minute she went through the door on the right. This place is a haven that is inexpensive. You go there and embrace the body that you have, get a fabulous steam, sauna, and hot tub for as long as you want to stay for $15.00. You can add an hour massage for $30.00 more. With tip you can spend an entire day for $55.00 with tip! There is also a naked Mexican lady that gives you a salt scrub if you are so inclined. I will tell you I took part in this salt scrub after going for 5 years. Once I did though it felt really good even though her naked boob would graze me every once in a while (eeeewwww).

The question remains, however, why can we accept our bodies in the presence of other women who are also baring it all? Is it that we are all saying here I am with all my physical imperfections, and I know that you have them too. I find this to be very interesting.

It Has Arrived....Finally!

Last Thursday I was getting ready for work when I suddenly began shaking and felt weak. I sat down on my futon, and without warning a serge of heat ran through my body and out the top of my head. My hair got damp with sweat and then cool due to the perspiration, but it was strictly at my roots. It was one of the weirdest things I've felt in a very long time. I know you that have experienced this know exactly what I just had but for those of you that don't; it was my first hot flash; marking the entrance into menopause. I say YAHOO! I have been waiting for this since I started my period at the tender age of 12 or 13. I truly hated having a monthly bother to my life. I was a tomboy, and these monthly episodes robbed me of my athletic abilities (what little I possessed), made me moody beyond comprehension, and I felt physically miserable to boot; not to mention the messiness of it all.

Now at 12 or 13 I thought I'd have children so I endured. Then when I reached 35, and I had been divorced for nearly 10 years, and there were no real prospects of a serious relationship my period really became intrusive to me. I felt that I was never going to really utilize my eggs, ovaries, or uterus for anything, and I really became resentful of my damn menstrual cycle. If I were never going to really use it then I didn't want to be bothered by it anymore. I remained hopeful that I'd have children but at 40 I no longer wanted children. I know how hard kids are, and let's face it, I became selfish in my old age and I didn't want to be nearly 60 at my first child's high school graduation. Now for 6 years I've really been waiting for signs of menopause. Menopause would indicate that my monthly "visitor" would stop coming by to say hello. Hell I've already started growing hair on my face (I've actually thought about joining a freak show as the bearded lady) so let's get this thing over with. Let menopause begin so these ovaries can dry up, and I no longer have to be at the mercy of tampons, pads, or panty liners (maybe the liners have to stay, but that's another essay).

I say toast menopause! Our lives (set by society norms) as women, are: 1) Learn to be adorable little girls with cute charming ways (I failed here), 2) Learn to be attractive so that we can find a partner and reproduce, 3) Reproduce whether you choose to do it traditionally with or without a companion, 4) be mothers, and finally 5) Go through menopause. Which means our bellies will get thick, we will grow beards, age will give us wrinkles and it is time to PAR-TAE! Eat, drink and be merry because being gorgeous is for the young, and the minute you have to struggle to be beautiful, and spend an exponential amount of money on beauty products and the gym really means you should take all that money plus the money you save from not purchasing feminine hygiene products, and purchase and eat cake! Lots and lots of cake. Whatever you enjoy doing; do it with vim and vigor! I love eating! I love NOT working out! I love and adore watching television. I'm not a big lover of alcohol but I like to imbibe now and then. Plus if you are able to maintain your libido go, go, go! You no longer have to worry about pregnancy! I'm not advocating unsafe sex but if you know your partner then you don't have to worry about birth control…another something to save money on that you can put to your cake purchases!
Ladies, go fearlessly and vibrantly into "that goodnight"! Here's to menopause (visualize that I'm raising my cake and toasting the computer screen). Life is just beginning!

Existential Corner or Something to Think About

Have you ever been guilty of looking at others your own age and thinking, surely I can't look that old. Then read on:

My name is Alice Smith and I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I notices his DDS diploma, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haiared boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 30-odd years ago.

Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then? Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to hve been my classmate. After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High School. 'Yes. Yes, I did. I'm a Mustang,' HE gleamed with pride.

'When did you graduate?' I asked. He answered, 'in 1975. Why do you ask?'

'You were in my class!', I exclaimed. He looked at me closely. Then, that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled, fat ass, gray-haired, decrepit son-of-a-bitch asked....."WHAT DID YOU TEACH ???"