Smiling Mom

So I’ve been slowly trying to upgrade my work war­drobe in an attempt to look more pro­fes­sio­nal.  I’ve purcha­sed a few new shoes, shirts, and work pants.  A few weeks ago, I was chec­king myself out in the mirror at work just as I was exi­ting the bath­room and noti­ced something quite horrible.

Panty lines.

Like, as in Granny Panty lines.

Not good.

That was the day that I deci­ded it was time to try out the thong, again.  They’ve never been com­for­ta­ble, yet I seem to remem­ber hea­ring, somewhere, that they could be.

And so I began my mis­sion to find the per­fect thong, for cheap.

My search took me to Kohls where I found signs that said things like, “Barely There.” or “You’ll never know they are on!” and, “No panty lines!”

That soun­ded good to me, so I began to investigate.

The fairly benign loo­king pan­ties loo­ked really thin.

check.

No tag.

check.

Cot­tonish.

check.

Inex­pen­sive.

check.

I was willing to try fork over the cash to these girls out. But just to be sure, I bought a pair that was a size big­ger than I would usually buy.  (THE KEY TO A COMFORTABLE THONG, I dis­co­ve­red!! Trust me girls!)

I got home, washed them, and then tried them out.

The result?  I swear.  It’s like I’m not even wea­ring under­wear.  They are so comfortable.

AND no panty lines!!

I began strut­ting around the house, work, and play with an extra skip in my step and bounce in my errr butt.

Fee­ling good, I began chan­ging out of my work pants and into my sweats as I bent over, barely cove­red with my newly don­ned thong, when my son said, “Wooo Mom, your butt has really got­ten BIG!!”

.…

Um, excuse me?  Oh no you didn’t!!  I tur­ned around and asked for him to repeat himself.

And he did.

So, as any good mom would do, I wal­ked up to him, smac­ked him in the back of his head, and promptly chan­ged back into my granny panties.

Ahem.

Kids.

I’m telling you, he is wrong.  My butt is NOT get­ting big­ger…I think.…I just feel more com­for­ta­ble in a big­ger size panty.… I swear! It’s not my butt… it’s the cut.  I hope.

Des­pite the size of my rear, I’m thri­lled with my new find and my lack of lines.

And there you have it folks… my first post in months, about my booty.  Gotta love that!

I am gra­te­ful for my hus­band for many rea­sons.  One thing in par­ti­cu­lar I appre­ciate is his honesty.  When I ask drea­ded ques­tions such as, “Do I look fat in this,” he knows that I actually want an honest ans­wer.  I’d rather he tell me that my muf­fin top is expo­sed than sport a dou­ble waist­line around town.

Most days anyway.

Years ago we were laying on our bed tal­king when he reached out, touched my upper lip and asked, “When are you going to take care of the mus­tache you’re sporting?”

Ahem. Excuse me??

Well, lucky for him, I knew he was swim­ming in an unchar­ted terri­tory and com­ple­tely ner­vous, which I found abso­lu­tely hilarious!

My res­ponse??  I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

And then I waxed.

For years I’ve given him no end of grief abut this, but sec­retly, was thri­lled that he felt it was safe enough to tell me!

From that day on, I’ve reli­giously waxed, not bleached, not igno­red, but waxed that per­sis­tent fuzz gro­wing on my upper lip.

Fast for­ward a few years to this Decem­ber, 2008.  My dear atten­tive hus­band star­ted a con­ver­sa­tion with me with the follo­wing words, “Pro­mise you won’t take what I say next personally?”

Um, NO!!  I can’t make that pro­mise.  I take a lot of things personally!!

As I was telling him that I, under no cir­cums­tan­ces, wan­ted to hear something that may hurt my fee­lings he blur­ted out, “You have really long nose hairs!  You need to trim them!”

????? Um OK?

Thank God for hus­bands like mine, huh?  Can you ima­gine what I’d look like without his help?

Shud­der!! It would not be pretty!!

Any­ways, imme­dia­tely after I was enligh­te­ned to the fact that my unu­sually large nos­trils had hair really long hair pro­tru­ding out of them, I got down to the busi­ness of trim­ming last damn hair I could find.

When I finished the exca­va­tion I sadly rea­li­zed that my nose now itched thanks to the small, stubby hairs that remained.

Now, when I say that I appre­ciate my husband’s honesty, I should also men­tion that this doesn’t give him a free pass.  Once he opens the door, I feel com­ple­tely free to walk through it and con­ti­nue to dis­cuss my imper­fec­tions with him at will.

So, later in the day I wal­ked up to Hub and part whi­ned, part infor­med him how itchy my nostr­les were.

His res­ponse?

“Bet­ter your nos­trils itching than your upper lip!”

Really, what else was there to say?

Hi Ladies,

I did it.  I went to my esthe­ti­cian and got mic­ro­der­ma­bra­sion done, and wrote about it.  Head over to SVMB to check it out.

This wee­kend BC and I are on a spe­cial trip together. eClaire is spen­ding the wee­kend with Hubby at home.  (I think she’s already been to Toys R Us and got­ten a new dolly!)

BC and I took a plane ride yes­ter­day and had a great flight. It’s pretty fun kee­ping a three and a half year old enter­tai­ned on a plane. Way easier than flying with two kids are under the age of two!

Thank good­ness for my Mac! Here’s a few of the highlights.

Hubby cons­tantly talks about my LARGE teeth. This one’s for him:

Supers­tar!

Mom and Son

Hot.

Beetle Juice

Finally!  A rea­son to call BC a butt-head.

I like to call the follo­wing two pic­tu­res, “I’ve got my eye on you!“


And that, my friends is how you enter­tain a thirty-one three year old on an airplane!