I'm going to take a break from my awkward childhood to share my awkward week with you. It may not be as funny as my childhood, simply because I'm great at adapting and handling embarrassing situation now, depending on the severity. Don't worry, next week I'll send you back to my devastatingly awkward childhood.
So I made a stop at a convenience store this last week for a small purchase. As I left the store to return to my car, I held the door for a lady to enter and then headed toward my car. I was looking down at what was not in my hands and not paying attention to where I was going. You're probably thinking I tripped and fell flat on my face right? No...
So I open my car door which without first unlocking it, which is very abnormal since I always lock my door. I didn't sit down yet but saw over to the passenger's seat and saw someone sitting there. This was very strange since I arrived alone. A tinge of fear went up my spine as I wasn't sure why there was a passenger in my car all of a sudden. I put two and two together and realized it was likely that this wasn't my car. But I was confused because it sure looked an awful lot like my car. Turns out it was just the same interior and exterior color. I quickly apologized to the man in the car preceding it with "this isn't my car!" He just started laughing and said it was fine.
I went back to my car still confused but glad there wasn't anyone actually in my car. I assume the lady I held the door for was driving that car and probably got a good chuckle when her passenger recounted it to her.
Moral of the story, if you are a passenger in a car waiting for the driver to return, lock your doors or some crazy nutjob might accidentally get in and drive you away and not even know what she's doing...I always lock the door if I wait in the car for my husband. Sometimes I don't get them unlocked in time for his return, but no strangers have driven off with me yet.
January 25, 2009
January 12, 2009
How to Walk Like a Lady
I was the youngest of two kids. I had a brother 3 years older than me. This meant that I looked up to him while growing up, and since I was a tomboy, I think I must have looked to him for how to do many things including how to walk. This meant I had some kind of stroll/swagger combo that didn't resemble the dainty prance of most girls. This never bothered me, in fact I figured it somehow added to my speed when running and/or ability to play sports. So I didn't care. I didn't really notice this to be a problem until after I finished college.
The hospital I was working for was throwing its annual gala to raise money, and my department head bought a table for first come first served in my department. Being fresh out of college and indoctrinated with the importance of networking, I reserved a free spot at that table. I had the perfect "standout" dress, with the personality to pull it off. I say that because it was some sort of bright orange, which is a hideous thought for a formal occasion for most people. But most people would tell you that I pulled that dress off, but they wouldn't be caught dead in it themselves.
So I really wanted to present well in the midst of this networking opportunity, but knew I had a tendency to be awkward and goofy, especially in heels. This is because I routinely ran in the parking lot with heels on. If running in heels had been an Olympic event, I'd have been world champion. Those that know me, or knew me then, will agree that I was the antithesis of a lady. My husband doesn't quite get it, although I swear I made my unlady-like side very clear to him before we married just to make sure he still wanted to marry me. Anyways I wanted to soften myself so I turned to a friend who'd been to charm school or had been properly trained in the ways of a lady and acting lady-like for a crash course in presenting myself as a lady. Just enough to fool a bunch of "important" people for one night.
We started with walking. Lesson one I believe was something to the effect of stick your boobs out. What??? My intention was not to whore it up for the night! I did not want to draw unneeded attention to my chesticular area, I wanted to downplay it as much as possible without turning into a man. But that's what I thought the dress was for. Although as I recall, the actual words may have been to "put your shoulders back." Doesn't matter, they both came to the same result. Nonetheless, this was part of lady-like etiquette, so I humored my teacher friend and went with the flow.
Lesson two had to do with leading with your hips. Again, What??? I thought your legs led you. Oh if only there had been a camera there to catch my first several attempts at leading with my hips. If I had been a weaker person, I would have given up after the laughter it caused. However I do believe I was involved in the laughter as well. The point was to not give up. I didn't have to be perfect, but I had to get to a point where I could feel and look as natural as possible.
The next step was to combine the shoulders and the hips while wearing the heels I would be wearing. It is quite likely that this resulted in the most awkward, jerky/rigid, not lady-like walk across the room ever witnessed by anyone. It took practice but I finally got to the point where it flowed ok and I knew the look and the feel that I would practice at home later.
Other lady-like things we covered included what to do with your hands while standing around talking. But I can't really remember what that was. We also covered how not to eat like a slob and other ancillary lady-like items that I needed to brush up on for my big networking opportunity. By the time the big night arrived I was an expert lady faker.
Here's the thing, while I didn't disappoint my teacher and I learned valuable lady lessons that I would take with me to this day, all my ladyness never produced a better job as a result of my networking. No one at that gala that I talked to ever got me, or offered me a job. Maybe years from now, one of them will remember that awesome orange dress worn elegantly by that smart young lady, and offer me the job of a lifetime because of that one night. Only time will tell. For now I am grateful that I can at least fake being lady-like when necessary, like in an interview, or at church, or anywhere else where acting lady-like might be considered beneficial or at least in good taste.
The hospital I was working for was throwing its annual gala to raise money, and my department head bought a table for first come first served in my department. Being fresh out of college and indoctrinated with the importance of networking, I reserved a free spot at that table. I had the perfect "standout" dress, with the personality to pull it off. I say that because it was some sort of bright orange, which is a hideous thought for a formal occasion for most people. But most people would tell you that I pulled that dress off, but they wouldn't be caught dead in it themselves.
So I really wanted to present well in the midst of this networking opportunity, but knew I had a tendency to be awkward and goofy, especially in heels. This is because I routinely ran in the parking lot with heels on. If running in heels had been an Olympic event, I'd have been world champion. Those that know me, or knew me then, will agree that I was the antithesis of a lady. My husband doesn't quite get it, although I swear I made my unlady-like side very clear to him before we married just to make sure he still wanted to marry me. Anyways I wanted to soften myself so I turned to a friend who'd been to charm school or had been properly trained in the ways of a lady and acting lady-like for a crash course in presenting myself as a lady. Just enough to fool a bunch of "important" people for one night.
We started with walking. Lesson one I believe was something to the effect of stick your boobs out. What??? My intention was not to whore it up for the night! I did not want to draw unneeded attention to my chesticular area, I wanted to downplay it as much as possible without turning into a man. But that's what I thought the dress was for. Although as I recall, the actual words may have been to "put your shoulders back." Doesn't matter, they both came to the same result. Nonetheless, this was part of lady-like etiquette, so I humored my teacher friend and went with the flow.
Lesson two had to do with leading with your hips. Again, What??? I thought your legs led you. Oh if only there had been a camera there to catch my first several attempts at leading with my hips. If I had been a weaker person, I would have given up after the laughter it caused. However I do believe I was involved in the laughter as well. The point was to not give up. I didn't have to be perfect, but I had to get to a point where I could feel and look as natural as possible.
The next step was to combine the shoulders and the hips while wearing the heels I would be wearing. It is quite likely that this resulted in the most awkward, jerky/rigid, not lady-like walk across the room ever witnessed by anyone. It took practice but I finally got to the point where it flowed ok and I knew the look and the feel that I would practice at home later.
Other lady-like things we covered included what to do with your hands while standing around talking. But I can't really remember what that was. We also covered how not to eat like a slob and other ancillary lady-like items that I needed to brush up on for my big networking opportunity. By the time the big night arrived I was an expert lady faker.
Here's the thing, while I didn't disappoint my teacher and I learned valuable lady lessons that I would take with me to this day, all my ladyness never produced a better job as a result of my networking. No one at that gala that I talked to ever got me, or offered me a job. Maybe years from now, one of them will remember that awesome orange dress worn elegantly by that smart young lady, and offer me the job of a lifetime because of that one night. Only time will tell. For now I am grateful that I can at least fake being lady-like when necessary, like in an interview, or at church, or anywhere else where acting lady-like might be considered beneficial or at least in good taste.
January 3, 2009
The Hedges Aren't the Only Bushes that Need Trimming
I can't take credit for that title and my friend can identify herself if she chooses to in the comments with a simple "you're welcome." She's probably shocked I used it, but then if she thinks about it I've always been very good at being very awkward and a wee bit embarrassing. I promise to pay you something if I get a big fat book deal. She's tolerated a lot from me :). Anyways I thought it was a genius title as titles aren't my strong point.
I actually did have this topic on my list of things to discuss focusing more on the legs, but we'll start here and keep it short and as disturbing free as possible. So this is definitely a topic my mother never discussed with me. I think I developed a clue about it probably from girly magazines, but I got an education from the male perspective hearing a bunch of crass boys talk about it constantly when I was in Italy. These were not all Italians, they were mostly American boys. There were way more boys than ladies in my school program, so we were way outnumbered and they were really bored and horny. They kept dropping lines like landing strip and bald and finally informed us all that they were guessing how all the girls groomed. Gross!!! none of their business!!! Well from my perspective. But that didn't keep me from listening in on occasion.
Probably my first real educational experience came in Brazil. Let's just say I don't recommend a bikini wax at all. But if you've already tried it without crying in pain and/or distinctly remembering the pain, by all means, continue. I find it interesting that I had to leave the country to learn about grooming this area. Maybe we really are prude here in America. But I'm ok with that in most cases.
Now onto the the legs. My mother never taught me about shaving my legs or armpits either. One day I just decided to give it a try. What, you ask, caused me to make this decision? Well I was in either 4th or 5th grade, I think, and I decided to try wearing a skirt to school. I had a really hard time being comfortable in skirts mostly because I was a tomboy I guess. But I still wanted to try being a wee bit girly after watching all my friends wear their cute skirts and what nots to school. So I put on my skirt and went off to school feeling all cute and confident. As confident as a girl with humongous glasses could feel.
So our class room was set up with groups of 4 or 5 desks . There was this boy in my group, who I happened to like at the time, and he commented on my hairy legs. I don't remember exactly what he said but I remember feeling my face get all warm and I can only assume turn really red. I was humiliated and never wore a skirt again to school until once or twice in high school. (I only wore dresses and skirts church at this time and because I always wore hose to church and it didn't seem to be an issue until I discovered, probably at this time, that your hair actually pokes through the hose!!!! What!!!! What good are they then?) Come to think of it, my brother might have made fun of my hairy legs one or twice back then too, but who cares what your brother thinks or says? So from then on, I decided it was time to start shaving my legs.
I just looked for a razor in the shower and lathered up a little soap and went to town. I feel sorry for who's ever razor that was. It couldn't have possibly been my brother's. I don't think he can grow hair on his face to this day. Let's just say I've never seen a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. Or a noon the next day shadow. But I haven't lived with him in about 12 years now, so I suppose things could have changed since then.
So I started shaving....terribly, but none-the-less I was shaving my legs. For the next 7 or 8 years I suffered through patches of hair left behind, which I noticed when I wore shorts, and was convinced it was so bad that everyone was laughing and pointing behind my back. I also suffered through countless cuts, nicks, and painful skin peels. You know where the blade catches a piece of skin and rips it up until you see the blood or feel the pain and stop, but you were going so fast that it's half way up your leg by then. There weren't enough band aids in the world to stop my bleeding. This also defeated the purpose of skirts and shorts for that matter, because who wants to show off their legs covered in bloody band aids? Yeah, nothing says sexy, like dried blood running down your legs.
Was I the only person that had this problem??? I can't imagine that I was alone in that struggle. Anyways, I tried everything from shaving cream to a brand new razor, but none of it worked. I could cut myself just as good with a new razor as I could with an old dull used razor. But they are the worst. Nothing solved my problem until they invented the razor with 3 blades. I'm not really sure why that worked. I suppose it's possible that at the exact moment that I used one of those razors, my legs decided I had been through enough tragedy and torture, and that I had had a sufficient amount of practice and decided to have mercy on me and toughen up. I choose to think it was because of the genius who added a third blade to the razor. It is possible that those razors had been around for years before I noticed. But I would prefer to think that they were brand new and there was no possible way for me to prevent my torture until that exact moment in time. Please spare me the pain of knowing this if you know it to be true.
I'm not sure what all my mom could have taught me about shaving other than letting me know that it was time if I was going to wear skirts sans the pantyhose. But I'm sure seeing your baby grow up isn't easy so if they ignore it/pretend it isn't happening, then their daughters won't suffer. But they do in so many ways. But again, what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger....or is it bitter??? hmmm....there's a fine line between the two I guess.
I'm not sure what all my mom could have taught me about shaving other than letting me know that it was time if I was going to wear skirts sans the pantyhose. But I'm sure seeing your baby grow up isn't easy so if they ignore it/pretend it isn't happening, then their daughters won't suffer. But they do in so many ways. But again, what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger....or is it bitter??? hmmm....there's a fine line between the two I guess.
December 28, 2008
How to Put on Makeup Tastefully
I was very much a tomboy growing up, but that didn't mean I wasn't interested in makeup. Before I was officially allowed to wear makeup, the only time I got to put on my mom's makeup was if I was "dressing up as a clown" or something like that. So that's how I got my curiosity fix until I became "of age" to wear makeup in my mom's eyes.
The magic number was 14 if I remember correctly. So for my birthday my mom loaded me up in the car and we went to Hypermart. (For those of you that didn't know the joys of Hypermart, it was a Super Walmart before Super Walmart was Super.) We went to the makeup aisle, which was like a giant super buffet of makeup. How is one supposed to choose from all of this? Well it was the early 90's which means left over 80's for moms especially I think. My mom wore wet-n-wild hot pick or any hot pink derivative there was for lipstick. I am not a hot pink girl especially when it comes to makeup. I knew this then and I haven't changed much in my color preferences. So rather than pick out some bright red lipstick, my mom thought it was a genius idea to get the green and orange lipsticks that are supposed to magically formulate with your lips to make the perfect color for whoever was wearing it!!! I knew nothing about makeup so who was I to argue?
Next it onto blush. My mom wore it, my friends all wore it so I figured, you are supposed to wear blush. Right? So we got some shade of pink blush because that's the only color you have to choose from for blush.
After blush came foundation. I still don't know what foundation is supposed to do for a 14 year old girl but we got some. I just remember lots of girls looking splotchier and oranger, or pinker than they did without it. So we picked a color by putting it on my forearm. Funny thing about the forearm, it's not exposed to the sun like the face it. hmmmm. No wonder high school is filled with a bunch of girls with a clear line around their jawline that changes colors.
Let's see. Eyeshadow. Oh wait, mom didn't wear eyeshadow so there wasn't much of a need for this. So I'm pretty sure we didn't get eyeshadow on this shopping trip, but it's possible that we got one of those multicolored eye shadows. But I would have received no instruction on how to put it on or make it look nice. But I know that we did get mascara, because a girl with full eyelashes has a need for even fuller eyelashes that will flake into her contacts causing her to pick off the rest of the mascara off her eyelashes leaving them only naturally full rather than extra full. But at least she can see again without constantly blinking or picking at her eyelashes. Come to think of it, my eyelashes aren't nearly as full and beautiful as they once were. Thanks Mascara!!!
So I had all this makeup and didn't really know how to make it complement my face rather than look like a clown. This is because my practice was strictly clown related. That didn't mean that was the look I was hoping for on a daily basis. We went over the basics but really I'd been watching my mom and my friends apply it so all that was left really was practice. So this is what I learned about my new makeup either immediately or over the years:
1. If the lipstick is green or orange, and specially formulated to blend with your chemistry to find the perfect color for you, it will turn out hot pink, or some derivative of hot pink. Avoid these at all cost. Go somewhere you can test colors on your lips.
2. Foundation will actually magnify your acne problem, making it look worse than it is. It was not for me.
3. Concealer will do the same as foundation to draw attention to your acne problem.
4. Blush in combination with the green or orange lipstick will make you look more clownish than when you dressed up as a clown. Blush was not for me either. Still isn't.
5. Mascara just wasn't meant for me. (see above discussion about mascara if you don't know why yet)
6. Mastering the art of eye shadow would take many years of practice, and asking people who seem to apply it well just how they do it. Watching them if you get the chance helps too.
7. Translucent, colorless powder would do the best job of accomplishing my main goal, which was absorbing oil, without drawing too much attention to my acne problem and giving me a hideous makeup ring around my jawline. Once pharmaceuticals came into the picture, I realized just how little I needed makeup.
8. I needed a job if I was going to get the makeup I wanted.
9. Perfecting the art of making up my face without looking like I have a load of makeup on is a challenging and continuous process as I age and my skin changes.
10. Pick a feature to emphasize and go easy on the rest to avoid the clownish look. For example, in high school I chose lips. Now I prefer the eyes, sans the mascara. This is because lipstick has to always be applied and/or gets clumpy. Eye shadow done well, can be applied once and you're good to go all day long.
It took me several years (after college, I think) to come into my own and get comfortable with makeup and the look I wanted. That's not to say I didn't use it in the meantime. It just took that long to run into people that gave me tips and tutorials that I liked for features I liked as well as product recommendations. My mom took me to do a few makeovers in high school, so it's not like she didn't try to give me the help I needed, and she didn't force her colors on me. I think makeovers just generally result in the whoreish look since they want to subsequently sell you everything they use on you. So it really was more of being patient and finding things that I was comfortable with at each time in my life rather than feeling like I always had to be made up perfectly, or use every product that my friends did.
The magic number was 14 if I remember correctly. So for my birthday my mom loaded me up in the car and we went to Hypermart. (For those of you that didn't know the joys of Hypermart, it was a Super Walmart before Super Walmart was Super.) We went to the makeup aisle, which was like a giant super buffet of makeup. How is one supposed to choose from all of this? Well it was the early 90's which means left over 80's for moms especially I think. My mom wore wet-n-wild hot pick or any hot pink derivative there was for lipstick. I am not a hot pink girl especially when it comes to makeup. I knew this then and I haven't changed much in my color preferences. So rather than pick out some bright red lipstick, my mom thought it was a genius idea to get the green and orange lipsticks that are supposed to magically formulate with your lips to make the perfect color for whoever was wearing it!!! I knew nothing about makeup so who was I to argue?
Next it onto blush. My mom wore it, my friends all wore it so I figured, you are supposed to wear blush. Right? So we got some shade of pink blush because that's the only color you have to choose from for blush.
After blush came foundation. I still don't know what foundation is supposed to do for a 14 year old girl but we got some. I just remember lots of girls looking splotchier and oranger, or pinker than they did without it. So we picked a color by putting it on my forearm. Funny thing about the forearm, it's not exposed to the sun like the face it. hmmmm. No wonder high school is filled with a bunch of girls with a clear line around their jawline that changes colors.
Let's see. Eyeshadow. Oh wait, mom didn't wear eyeshadow so there wasn't much of a need for this. So I'm pretty sure we didn't get eyeshadow on this shopping trip, but it's possible that we got one of those multicolored eye shadows. But I would have received no instruction on how to put it on or make it look nice. But I know that we did get mascara, because a girl with full eyelashes has a need for even fuller eyelashes that will flake into her contacts causing her to pick off the rest of the mascara off her eyelashes leaving them only naturally full rather than extra full. But at least she can see again without constantly blinking or picking at her eyelashes. Come to think of it, my eyelashes aren't nearly as full and beautiful as they once were. Thanks Mascara!!!
So I had all this makeup and didn't really know how to make it complement my face rather than look like a clown. This is because my practice was strictly clown related. That didn't mean that was the look I was hoping for on a daily basis. We went over the basics but really I'd been watching my mom and my friends apply it so all that was left really was practice. So this is what I learned about my new makeup either immediately or over the years:
1. If the lipstick is green or orange, and specially formulated to blend with your chemistry to find the perfect color for you, it will turn out hot pink, or some derivative of hot pink. Avoid these at all cost. Go somewhere you can test colors on your lips.
2. Foundation will actually magnify your acne problem, making it look worse than it is. It was not for me.
3. Concealer will do the same as foundation to draw attention to your acne problem.
4. Blush in combination with the green or orange lipstick will make you look more clownish than when you dressed up as a clown. Blush was not for me either. Still isn't.
5. Mascara just wasn't meant for me. (see above discussion about mascara if you don't know why yet)
6. Mastering the art of eye shadow would take many years of practice, and asking people who seem to apply it well just how they do it. Watching them if you get the chance helps too.
7. Translucent, colorless powder would do the best job of accomplishing my main goal, which was absorbing oil, without drawing too much attention to my acne problem and giving me a hideous makeup ring around my jawline. Once pharmaceuticals came into the picture, I realized just how little I needed makeup.
8. I needed a job if I was going to get the makeup I wanted.
9. Perfecting the art of making up my face without looking like I have a load of makeup on is a challenging and continuous process as I age and my skin changes.
10. Pick a feature to emphasize and go easy on the rest to avoid the clownish look. For example, in high school I chose lips. Now I prefer the eyes, sans the mascara. This is because lipstick has to always be applied and/or gets clumpy. Eye shadow done well, can be applied once and you're good to go all day long.
It took me several years (after college, I think) to come into my own and get comfortable with makeup and the look I wanted. That's not to say I didn't use it in the meantime. It just took that long to run into people that gave me tips and tutorials that I liked for features I liked as well as product recommendations. My mom took me to do a few makeovers in high school, so it's not like she didn't try to give me the help I needed, and she didn't force her colors on me. I think makeovers just generally result in the whoreish look since they want to subsequently sell you everything they use on you. So it really was more of being patient and finding things that I was comfortable with at each time in my life rather than feeling like I always had to be made up perfectly, or use every product that my friends did.
December 21, 2008
Your First Kiss Will be Oogy
I suppose everyone's experience at their first kiss ever is different, but the kind of kiss I'm talking about is not the kiss on the cheek or peck on the lips that many kids experience in elementary school. I might be the only kid who didn't have that elementary first kiss on the cheek. Anyways, I'm talking about your first real kiss involving tongue action. Commonly called french kissing by the youngsters.
My mom made sure I knew all the biology involved with sex, meaning how babies were made and that sex was for marriage. But we never talked about all the ancillary stuff that gets you there such as kissing. So my first kiss came my senior year in high school. I'm ok with that by the way in case you all are appalled that I was such a late bloomer on the dating scene. I'll probably get into that in a later post. My "boyfriend" (I have always and still do hate the terms boyfriend and girlfriend and usually referred to any "boyfriend" as "that guy I'm dating or seeing" because boyfriend and girlfriend have always sounded so juvenile to me.) had never kissed anyone before either, so this was the first kiss for both of us.
I'm sure the lack of experience on both of our parts probably affected the experience for me. But it finally came down to the moment of truth, even though we danced around it a bit from shear terror on my part. Terror because I had no clue what I was doing. Terror, because I had no clue what to expect. Terror because I was about to enter a whole new world that included swapping spit with guys. Terror because I didn't know what kissing leads to. Terror, because my life of innocence was about to end.
So we closed the deal and kissed, which only lasted for a few seconds. It was squishy, slobbery, and gross. This was as much my fault as his. I just thought it was the strangest feeling and I didn't understand at the moment why anyone thought making out was so great. How is putting your tongue in someone's mouth such a wonderful thing? I just remember having the moment be so built up in my head as being the greatest moment in my life, and it turned out to be such a let down. It was such an awkward moment. I was just not prepared for this, that's all.
Lesson learned; Practice makes perfect. Then is not so gross, and it's actually a lot of fun.
My mom made sure I knew all the biology involved with sex, meaning how babies were made and that sex was for marriage. But we never talked about all the ancillary stuff that gets you there such as kissing. So my first kiss came my senior year in high school. I'm ok with that by the way in case you all are appalled that I was such a late bloomer on the dating scene. I'll probably get into that in a later post. My "boyfriend" (I have always and still do hate the terms boyfriend and girlfriend and usually referred to any "boyfriend" as "that guy I'm dating or seeing" because boyfriend and girlfriend have always sounded so juvenile to me.) had never kissed anyone before either, so this was the first kiss for both of us.
I'm sure the lack of experience on both of our parts probably affected the experience for me. But it finally came down to the moment of truth, even though we danced around it a bit from shear terror on my part. Terror because I had no clue what I was doing. Terror, because I had no clue what to expect. Terror because I was about to enter a whole new world that included swapping spit with guys. Terror because I didn't know what kissing leads to. Terror, because my life of innocence was about to end.
So we closed the deal and kissed, which only lasted for a few seconds. It was squishy, slobbery, and gross. This was as much my fault as his. I just thought it was the strangest feeling and I didn't understand at the moment why anyone thought making out was so great. How is putting your tongue in someone's mouth such a wonderful thing? I just remember having the moment be so built up in my head as being the greatest moment in my life, and it turned out to be such a let down. It was such an awkward moment. I was just not prepared for this, that's all.
Lesson learned; Practice makes perfect. Then is not so gross, and it's actually a lot of fun.
December 17, 2008
Tampons Are Your Friend
Ok at some point in time on this blog I must bring up the incredibly awkward topic of tampons. Now is as good of time as any to discuss it. I have never understood the girls that were excited about starting their period. I didn't look forward to it, and knowing what I know now, I wish I had been one of the lucky ones that started at 15, 16, or 17. But I'm a very average girl and despite being athletic and active, 12 was my lucky number. What a drag!!!
So when I entered womanhood, my mother gave me a package of pads and I thought that was it for me. This was how I was supposed to tolerate 13 whole weeks out of the year. No I wasn't one of the lucky ones to have one visit for only 2 or 3 days out of the month. It was 7 whole days not a minute less. But occasionally in an act of hate a torture a few days more. Also I didn't just need two or three pads a day, I need that many an hour for the first few days. So tampons would have saved my life and a whole lot of embarrassment through the most awkward years of my life.
I spent the first few years as a woman living in morbid fear that I would suffer leakage problems. And then when the inevitable leakage happened, I lived in morbid fear that everyone would notice. Even dark pants and long t-shirts did not always do enough to hide my problems. No wonder many people call it the curse. You are cursed to spend the first several years figuring out how to contain it until it no longer causes you great humiliation. Even tampons were not the full answer to this, but they sure helped a whole freaking lot!!!
No my mother did not introduce me to a life of swimming and riding horses and running on the beach, a friend did. I never asked my mother and she never offered. We were going to the lake for some kind of school or church outing to ski and what not. I love the lake!!! I did NOT want to miss out on the lake!!! But in my current situation at the time, I was going to sit in the boat and watch everyone else have fun. Anyone that knew me, knew that was NOT NORMAL, so therefore they could deduce one of two things, I was on my period, or I went insane. I would have preferred the insane as the thought of people knowing I was on my period, especially boys, was more embarrassing than anything I could think of at that time in my life.
So we spent 20 or 30 minutes in the bathroom while she tried to talk me through it from outside the stall. I don't know how sisters handle these kinds of situations, but I do not have sisters so that was as much help as she could give me. Finally I figured it out and my life has never been the same since. So girls, my best advice to you is to talk to your mom about them early on in your life as a woman if she doesn't offer them to you at the beginning.
If you're anything like me, you read the directions, warnings, and labels and tampons were no different. Being a closet hypochondriac, I immediately developed a fear of Toxic Shock Syndrome. I didn't understand what it was, I just knew if you left one in too long, you could get this dreaded disease which could lead to DEATH!!! I did decide that the reward outweigh the risk, but I did worry about this for many years. One time I lost one up there. When I got home I couldn't find it to save my life and I remember waking my mom up to tell her. She told me not to worry about it that it would come out in time. Well that was easier said than done. I thought this was an emergency. The next day I was either bored or trying not to think about it and so I went outside to jump on my trampoline. Lesson number 2 girls; If you get a tampon stuck "up there," don't freak out. Find a trampoline and jump on it until you feel it dislodge. It will all be ok. You can probably get to this before TSS sets in. If the trampoline doesn't work, well me being a closet hypochondriac, would advise going to the ER or your doctor.
Well that's all I got on what might be the most awkward recurring event in a girl's life. I survived and so will you. In fact you might even be able to go through a check out that a boy is working at to purchase feminine products one day. But maybe not. But that's ok too.
So when I entered womanhood, my mother gave me a package of pads and I thought that was it for me. This was how I was supposed to tolerate 13 whole weeks out of the year. No I wasn't one of the lucky ones to have one visit for only 2 or 3 days out of the month. It was 7 whole days not a minute less. But occasionally in an act of hate a torture a few days more. Also I didn't just need two or three pads a day, I need that many an hour for the first few days. So tampons would have saved my life and a whole lot of embarrassment through the most awkward years of my life.
I spent the first few years as a woman living in morbid fear that I would suffer leakage problems. And then when the inevitable leakage happened, I lived in morbid fear that everyone would notice. Even dark pants and long t-shirts did not always do enough to hide my problems. No wonder many people call it the curse. You are cursed to spend the first several years figuring out how to contain it until it no longer causes you great humiliation. Even tampons were not the full answer to this, but they sure helped a whole freaking lot!!!
No my mother did not introduce me to a life of swimming and riding horses and running on the beach, a friend did. I never asked my mother and she never offered. We were going to the lake for some kind of school or church outing to ski and what not. I love the lake!!! I did NOT want to miss out on the lake!!! But in my current situation at the time, I was going to sit in the boat and watch everyone else have fun. Anyone that knew me, knew that was NOT NORMAL, so therefore they could deduce one of two things, I was on my period, or I went insane. I would have preferred the insane as the thought of people knowing I was on my period, especially boys, was more embarrassing than anything I could think of at that time in my life.
So we spent 20 or 30 minutes in the bathroom while she tried to talk me through it from outside the stall. I don't know how sisters handle these kinds of situations, but I do not have sisters so that was as much help as she could give me. Finally I figured it out and my life has never been the same since. So girls, my best advice to you is to talk to your mom about them early on in your life as a woman if she doesn't offer them to you at the beginning.
If you're anything like me, you read the directions, warnings, and labels and tampons were no different. Being a closet hypochondriac, I immediately developed a fear of Toxic Shock Syndrome. I didn't understand what it was, I just knew if you left one in too long, you could get this dreaded disease which could lead to DEATH!!! I did decide that the reward outweigh the risk, but I did worry about this for many years. One time I lost one up there. When I got home I couldn't find it to save my life and I remember waking my mom up to tell her. She told me not to worry about it that it would come out in time. Well that was easier said than done. I thought this was an emergency. The next day I was either bored or trying not to think about it and so I went outside to jump on my trampoline. Lesson number 2 girls; If you get a tampon stuck "up there," don't freak out. Find a trampoline and jump on it until you feel it dislodge. It will all be ok. You can probably get to this before TSS sets in. If the trampoline doesn't work, well me being a closet hypochondriac, would advise going to the ER or your doctor.
Well that's all I got on what might be the most awkward recurring event in a girl's life. I survived and so will you. In fact you might even be able to go through a check out that a boy is working at to purchase feminine products one day. But maybe not. But that's ok too.
December 14, 2008
Babies Can Explode Poo
Many of us took babysitting jobs when we were younger to earn extra cash. My first job came at 11 and I babysat a 5 year old boy 2-3 days a week for 8 hours a day. In reality I was being paid to hang out with him, keep an eye on him, feed him, and call 911 in case of an emergency. He didn't wear diapers so no bid deal right. It was a breeze. The lesson I learned, kids are great, kids are wonderful, kids are easy.
A few years later I took the job of babysitting a baby. I didn't care for the diapers but I liked having a job. Shortly after, a 2nd baby came along in the family and then there were two.
One particular night when I went over to babysit, one of the kids was a little sick. They both might have been for all I know. But the parents weren't concerned. They'll just sleep. It'll all be fine. Well as soon as they left I'm pretty sure I remember both of them crying nonstop. (It's entirely possibly that I'm remembering the 2nd child only because the first child was so inconsolable that it seemed like two babies were crying. I know they had a 2nd baby, I just can't guarantee that it was there this particular night as my memory is terrible these days.) I did everything I possibly could to get this baby to stop crying. If only I'd brought earplugs, it might not have been so loud.
Next thing I know, I'm changing this baby's diaper and he explodes poo while the diaper is off of him!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! I WAS NOT GETTING PAID NEARLY ENOUGH TO TAKE CARE OF AND CLEAN UP EXPLODED POO!!! None the less, one thing my mother did teach me was to be a conscientious person and worker. A slightly lesser person would have just walked out or called 911 or perhaps even called the parents to say they were out of there in 5 minutes whether they were there or not. Not me. I probably had all kinds of horrible thoughts running through my head as I cleaned up the baby and his poo, and the surrounding casualties of his exploded poo. Remember, he exploded poo between diapers. Oh let's not forget he was still crying and screaming. You would be too if you exploded poo everywhere.
I don't ever recall my mom telling me just how disgusting babies can be. Especially when they are sick. How awkward or potentially dangerous to learn this lesson without being prepped for it. How do you explain to the parents that you are just too busy to come over again? EVER!! No matter how far in advance they call you. "Your kid pooed all over me and you didn't reimburse me for the trauma." This is the last time I remember babysitting, but that is likely because it was the most memorable babysitting session. I do know I started a tax paying job as soon as I turned 16 which would have prevented me from babysitting any more. YAY!!!
The lesson I walked away with was "I'm NEVER having kids." Loads and Loads of people have told me it's completely different when it's your own kid. Maybe, but the exploded poo still stinks regardless if it comes from your kid or not. Anyways after many many years, I've potentially softened, or not, but the new lesson to be taken away from this is to make your sons and daughters babysit a sick baby before they are allowed to date. They may need to babysit it several times. But the baby needs to scream and cry the whole time and explode poo at least once or twice. This will be the best possible birth control you can give them. Don't hesitate to give them a booster session if you think they need it.
A few years later I took the job of babysitting a baby. I didn't care for the diapers but I liked having a job. Shortly after, a 2nd baby came along in the family and then there were two.
One particular night when I went over to babysit, one of the kids was a little sick. They both might have been for all I know. But the parents weren't concerned. They'll just sleep. It'll all be fine. Well as soon as they left I'm pretty sure I remember both of them crying nonstop. (It's entirely possibly that I'm remembering the 2nd child only because the first child was so inconsolable that it seemed like two babies were crying. I know they had a 2nd baby, I just can't guarantee that it was there this particular night as my memory is terrible these days.) I did everything I possibly could to get this baby to stop crying. If only I'd brought earplugs, it might not have been so loud.
Next thing I know, I'm changing this baby's diaper and he explodes poo while the diaper is off of him!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! I WAS NOT GETTING PAID NEARLY ENOUGH TO TAKE CARE OF AND CLEAN UP EXPLODED POO!!! None the less, one thing my mother did teach me was to be a conscientious person and worker. A slightly lesser person would have just walked out or called 911 or perhaps even called the parents to say they were out of there in 5 minutes whether they were there or not. Not me. I probably had all kinds of horrible thoughts running through my head as I cleaned up the baby and his poo, and the surrounding casualties of his exploded poo. Remember, he exploded poo between diapers. Oh let's not forget he was still crying and screaming. You would be too if you exploded poo everywhere.
I don't ever recall my mom telling me just how disgusting babies can be. Especially when they are sick. How awkward or potentially dangerous to learn this lesson without being prepped for it. How do you explain to the parents that you are just too busy to come over again? EVER!! No matter how far in advance they call you. "Your kid pooed all over me and you didn't reimburse me for the trauma." This is the last time I remember babysitting, but that is likely because it was the most memorable babysitting session. I do know I started a tax paying job as soon as I turned 16 which would have prevented me from babysitting any more. YAY!!!
The lesson I walked away with was "I'm NEVER having kids." Loads and Loads of people have told me it's completely different when it's your own kid. Maybe, but the exploded poo still stinks regardless if it comes from your kid or not. Anyways after many many years, I've potentially softened, or not, but the new lesson to be taken away from this is to make your sons and daughters babysit a sick baby before they are allowed to date. They may need to babysit it several times. But the baby needs to scream and cry the whole time and explode poo at least once or twice. This will be the best possible birth control you can give them. Don't hesitate to give them a booster session if you think they need it.
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