Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Bags or Wrinkles?

Now that Amanda's in Junior High, the individual school photos are taken by a more up-scale photographer. I knew we were in a different photographic league when I perused the pricing.

Back when I was in school, the ONLY photo package that mattered, was the one with THE most WALLETS. Remember that?! You HAD to have a ton of wallet-sized photos to trade with all your friends!! Man, those were the days.

So get this: When I asked Amanda how many wallet-sized photos she wanted me to order, she replied, "Wallets? Who cares about wallets?"

WHO CARES about WALLETS?! I was floored. So much so that I mentioned it to a friend of mine who pointed out that there's no longer a need for wallet photos now that there's Instagram and Facebook.

Does anyone find this as sad as I do?  Let's pause for a moment of silence for the now unappreciated wallet-size school photo.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Okay, so the students were given a helpful hint sheet from the photographer to ensure a good picture.  I read the tips to Amanda:  

* Avoid patterned shirts
* Avoid bright colored shirts
* Avoid sleeveless shirts
* Go to bed early the night before and wake up early to minimize bags under the eyes.

Amanda: You should do that.

Me:  Do what?

Amanda: The bags under the eyes thing.

Me:  Gee thanks.

This self-esteem-boosting conversation reminded me of something that happened on our summer vacation.

We were walking an outdoor mall when a very exotic middle-eastern kiosk lady with to-die-for curly hair that hung perfectly across one eye, called me over. She was selling some scrubbing salts from the Dead Sea, as well as some anti-aging serum. To make a long story short, she wanted me to buy treatment for my under eye bags as well as for my crow's feet. Yeah. Nothing makes you feel better about yourself than having a complete stranger point out all your facial flaws.

I explained that I couldn't afford ALL of the product she was pushing, so she said,  "Let me ask you dis, Temi:  would you rather geet rid of de bags or de wrinkles?"

I froze. How does one choose between 2 such hideous imperfections as those? Bags or wrinkles? Wrinkles or bags? AAACCCKKKK!!!! I'm on VACATION!!! No Pop Quizzes are allowed on VACATION!!!

I turned to my daughters for help:  "Bags or wrinkles?! BAGS OR WRINKLES?"

Amanda:  Wrinkles, duh!

Wow, really? She didn't even skip a beat, just yelled out WRINKLES like it was an answer to her prayers or something.

Apparently aging in front of Amanda will be nothing short of humbling.

Pray for me.

Or send donations so I can go back and get that stuff for my atrocious bags.

Monday, August 26, 2013

5:00 AM = MY TIME!!!

I am NOT, I repeat, NOT a MORNING PERSON. Forgive me if I've mentioned this 500 times before. After this morning, it bears repeating.

I've always been in awe of the woman described in Proverbs 31. Especially verse 15 which reads, "She gets up while it is still night ..."  At least, I USED to be in awe of that verse ... until I had children. Then I realized, that the only way to get ANYTHING done for yourself, or have any ALONE time, is to GET UP WHILE IT IS STILL NIGHT!!

This is why I hobble out of bed at 4:45 in the A stinkin' M. It gives me time to do what I need to do in the bathroom, then exercise, then shower and so on. As much as I despise mornings,  it's something I've just had to accept.

So today, after removing my pajamas, but before putting on my workout clothes, I stepped on the scale.

Now. Please tell me I'm not the only woman (or man?) in this country who weighs themselves in their sweet nothings first thing in the morning?! Everyone does this, RIGHT???  I'm going to assume you're all nodding your heads with me and yelling, "You bet your sweet bippy!"

Okay. I believe I've also mentioned before that our bathroom door does not lock, so if I ever want complete privacy, I have to remember to lock the BEDROOM door.

Of course, I pretty much felt like I was safe leaving it unlocked at 4:45 in the morning!!

I'm stupid.

Don'tcha know, RIGHT as I looked down at the number on the scale to see that I was actually down a pound (woo hoo!) HERE COMES MEGAN. SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?

She was quite nonchalant about the whole thing ...

Megan: Hi Mom.

Me:  Uh, hi?

Megan stares.

Me:  Thanks for knocking.

Megan:  Huh? 

I motion to my nakedness.

Megan:  Oh sorry.

It was then I realized that she was there to stay, so as quickly as I could, I frantically began stuffing my 43 year old body into the same workout shorts and sports bra I wore in my 20's. Sadly, I'm not even kidding, because why buy new exercise stuff when we all KNOW I'm gonna' be back to a size 4 in a few weeks? Clearly I'm all about attainable goals.

Me:  Did you NEED something?

Megan:  My alarm went off and it was all, "EEE-oh-EEE-oh-EEE-oh."

Me:  Yes, I heard it. Were you gonna' shower in here or what?

Megan:  Oh yeah.

Me:  Then why don't you get yourself a towel?

Megan:  Okay.

For the rest of the morning, I couldn't stop thinking about her expression as I clumsily stepped off the scale, all uncovered and stuff. I'm guessing she was looking at me, just like I looked at my mom so many years ago when I thought, "I will never look like that when I'm a mom."

I might as well break the news to her now. It happens to the best of us. We think it never will, but then one day you're shopping at a thrift store and the only jeans that fit your current body type, are from Coldwater Creek. And that's when you know ... you're all mom ... and you must ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

The TRUTH, and nothing but ... dang it.

You know how when you go to the doctor for a check-up, and they ask you if you exercise regularly and eat healthy how you tend to fudge the truth a little bit? You DO do that, right? Unless, of course, you're one of those people who actually DO eat healthy and exercise regularly.

In my defense, my annual check-up is always right after the holidays, so while I might eat sort of good during the rest of the year and exercise 4-5 times a week as well, by the time February hits, I've pretty much partaken of every holiday treat offered to me as well as use every excuse in the book for living in a vegetative state.

Not that it even matters, because the doctor scale and cholesterol tests always rat me out. Although, MY doctor's scale is exactly 10 pounds more than my home scale. And I'm not trying to be funny here. I believe it's a total and complete conspiracy: They weigh you FIRST, and THEN take your blood pressure. That's a sure fire way to put someone on meds for hypertension if I ever saw one.

Alright, so my eldest had to have a check-up the other day before starting junior high (JUNIOR HIGH?!?! AAAAAAHHHH!!!!) The medical assistant took her stats, and then started asking her about her diet.

I went numb. Someone should have warned me that kids have to answer these questions too! I mean, I had NO time to coach her on her answers before the appointment!! This meant that she might actually (gulp) tell the gal what she's been eating while mom and dad are away at work!!

I held my breath.

Medical Assistant: So what did you have for breakfast yesterday?

Daughter: A waffle with Nutella!

Okay, now the Nutella commercials claim that this is a good source of ... of ... something, right? Protein maybe? Or was that the sugar they were praising? Ugh.

M.A.: And for lunch?

Daughter: Red Vines and Gummy Bears.

M.A. repeating what she just heard - overly enunciated: RED. VINES. AND. GUMMY. BEARS. Okaaaay, how about dinner?

Daughter: Taco Bell!!!

M.A. looking at me with mild distain: And what did you have at Taco Bell?

Daughter: A Doritos' Taco & Mt. Dew Baja Blast Freeze!! Oh yeah!

At this point, I should have just run. 

M.A.: Alright, the nurse will be in for the exam and to talk to you about NUTRITION.

Which is exactly what happened. She talked about the need for more protein, fruits and vegetables, and I acted like this was the first time I'd heard anything about the concept of healthy eating. Seemed like the right thing to do.

The best part came later while she was performing the exam and my daughter exclaimed:  This is WEIRD.

Oh. My. Word. I wanted to hug her and shout: THANK YOU!! Thank you for declaring what the rest of us women only dare to think! IT IS WEIRD!! There's nothing natural about having a perfect stranger exam all that stuff!! YES!! Three cheers for just saying it like it is, honey!! Ha!!

At least the nurse acknowledged that the exam was, in fact, WEIRD.

After that, she received 3 shots without shedding one tear, and we were on our way ... to Jamba Juice for a Strawberry Surf Rider smoothie.

Hey ... there's fruit in those. I think.