#Promagram #TBT #EvenThoughItsWednesday

I wore a dress I designed myself: forest green velvet bodice with a black chiffon skirt. Bryan was too cool to wear a tux; he picked me up in his dad's classic Volkswagen Microbus. There were no seats in the back, so he put down a mattress with a pile of crochet blankets his grandma had made and we parked way out in the middle of nowhere and slept there after everything.

I don't know if his parents know that part, about the bus, but they are my in-laws now so let me just say sorry on this Throwback Thursday and divert their attention to how plump our skin looked back then.

Fast forward to now when we are all paradoxically worried about protecting our private information with encrypted identities and passwords that we forget while simultaneously oversharing our online persona, myself included (especially myself). Because, see? Once upon a Thursday I was younger, my eyebrows thicker, and what is up with my hair? Thank god you cannot actually see the dress I designed. I post this as a #MeToo, but also, admittedly, as a #GiveMeValidation, #ForWhatIDontKnow. I am annoyed with myself while also loving the collective nostalgia that is Throwback Thursday when we all post photos of a time that seemed simpler, dorkier, our skin smoother. Because, see? That is all. Just see me, and I will see you.

(What you cannot see but I will tell you is that it rained later that night after prom and at daybreak we fell asleep on the mattress listening to metal pings of rain on the roof of the VW bus while sticking our toes through the holes in the crochet and somewhere I still have that awful dress in a box.)

7 Truths and 1 Lie

Quick! I have 30 minutes to write a post before I have to jump in the shower to rinse #6N Brilliant Brunette out of my hair before it turns into more of a #6AhHellNo. Trouble is, I got nothing. Just a couple of gray hairs that glint just so in the bathroom mirror at work and a handful of weird facts that don't fit anywhere else, so here goes:

1. There is a genetic mutation called Alexandria's Genesis that causes deep purple eyes, pale skin and no body hair, although it does not affect the hair on your head or eyelashes/eyebrows. Women with this mutation do not menstruate, but are still fertile. (In other words: no shaving, no period, purple eyes = why can't I have this mutation?)
2.  Semordnilap is a word that, when spelled backwards, creates a new word such as stressed/desserts, regal/lager, deliver/reviled. It is also "palindromes" backward. This makes for fascinating small talk, trust.
3. If you ever doubt camaraderie amongst strangers, watch a line of cars band together to prevent an asshole from cutting in line.
4. Freshly shaved legs feel just like dolphins.
5. There should be a gym that makes you pay $10 for every day that you don't go. That's not really a fact, but a free idea.
6. One time, Woody Harrelson came up to me at McDonald's, took a french fry off my tray, looked me in the eye and said, "Nobody will ever believe you."
7. The only place you can tickle yourself is by using your tongue on the roof of your mouth. (Double dog dare you to try it.)
8. The only thing more ignored than the allergy test instructions on hair dye is the warning label on cookie dough.

Oops, it's been 35 minutes.
Adios, bitchachos.
S

Public Service Announcement

Whatever you do, don't buy a bikini wax from Living Social at a place you've never heard of, particularly if that place turns out to be in a strip mall next door to Domino's Pizza. Then? If the lady makes you wait for 35 minutes even though you made an appointment? Don't act as if you're even mildly inconvenienced, seeing as how this is the same person who will be applying hot wax to your lady garden in about 5 minutes.

But wait, there's more.

If that same lady asks you if you want it all off and you say no, but at the exact moment you say no she answers her cell phone, maybe you shouldn't let her start slathering said hot wax on your bits while she has her phone still cradled with one shoulder. Chances are, she is not listening to you. These chances go up if she drops her cell phone on your vagina and picks it up and carries on her conversation as if you are simply a table, albeit a sticky one.

Too much?

Lastly: if at some point she asks you to flip over and you don't want to appear prudish or dumb so you do it, well then. I have nothing more to say about that.

The good news (I am nothing if not an optimist) is that I no longer want to get a hairless cat because, ew. Also? This gif has nothing to do with this story except for the fact that you're going to have to trust me when I say you really don't want a pertinent photo. Plus, I just freaking adore me some pissed off Joan Crawford (she is my spirit animal).

xo,
S