Take the Undie and Run!

Today I was enjoying a blissful shopping trip through the mall with only one child--little man #3, so it was as carefree as it gets for me. We got a balloon from Nordstrom's, enjoyed the club music in the dressing room of Macy's, and went into that famous underthings store for my free lace hipster.

I intended to spend more time in the unmentionables mega-store, but Trace decided he had enough and the balloon burst so to speak on our browsing. After some squirming, squawking and the ever popular back arching in the stroller got to be too much I decided to unleash the child from his chains and held him while we stood in line to check out. The wait was kind of long; all this for a free set of drawers? You took all that time to find the correct size, style and color according to the postcard so you're committed at that point to see the transaction through.

Finally it's our turn. An angry voice calls out, "Excuse me, I've been waiting here a long time!" Oh really? I wasn't paying much attention to you since there are three sets of lines leading to three registers within a maze of lip gloss and perfume displays and we're on opposite ends of the room. I'm not quick to draw so it took me awhile to react, and as the cashier started to help me I just turned and said, "Yeah, I've been waiting a long time too" although I did not mean it as a challenge. But the dual was on and she fires back something about how rude of me and she was here before me. Then I told her I've got a screaming kid and I'm just trying to get out quickly. I realized right after I said that it probably made no sense and the look on her face proved it because now that I'm holding angel baby he's laughing and making friends with all the patrons. On the way out she said something about having three kids under five. Well, lady I've got you beat! You'd think that if anyone would understand, she should that it's not easy to shop with the kiddos and if you happen to be out without the rug rats, give us Moms toting ours a break!

I had so many well-versed comebacks come to mind on my way to the car, and it's too bad none of them came out in the moment. I'm not quick on the draw and that's my flaw, or is it? And why am I still bothered by the mean bra-buying lady? You don't know these people, and what kind of day, week, year, or life they have had, so I guess I'll just feel sorry for her. Thank goodness for the internet vent session because I'm getting over it now. Much love,

Bootcamp and the Bob

I'm about three weeks into the five week bootcamp at Hard Exercise Works, and I believe I am making new friends and stronger muscles. I had myself measured at the beginning so at the end of the five weeks we shall see if I lost any inches. I should be honest and say that I have not adjusted my diet and the daily consumption of baked goods continues; however with the gluttony comes less guilt, because "I be workin' on my fitness!"

The variety of workouts is great and every day is different, but I still have a lot to learn about burpees, cleans, thrusts, and oh yeah an update on the jump-roping... I don't look like a spastic muppet anymore! Since I am nearing the five weeks I have started to ponder my fitness future. What was the point of doing the bootcamp if I wasn't going to continue a regimen of some sort? I don't think I can handle another failed gym membership nor do I have the discipline to "homeschool" myself on DVDs and jogs around the neighborhood. This dilemma is still out for debate. A discussion perhaps, that could take place at the new donut shop in town that just opened?

As for my hair, this weekend I got a $75 haircut to try to salvage what's left from the $16 haircut, and I have to say this stylist had a challenge ahead of her and cut like a champ. I still don't like my hair, but I can at least deal with it while it grows out. Perhaps this should serve as motivation for my diet. Good nutrition for healthy growing locks! Stay tuned...

Tress Stress. I'm Such a Mess...

So, last week I got a really bad haircut. Oh man I hope she never reads this blog. But for what it's worth, I am trying not to place direct blame on the stylist. The cuttery she works at is humble, the prices are cheap and come to think of it I've never actually studied her own style to see if we are working within the same decade. Chalk it up to poor communication and inflated expectations on my part.

This isn't the first time I've had a hair mishap, but it's definitely up there as far as self-loathing and invites to the pity-party goes. Did I tell you that I really hate my hair right now?!

Allow me to sidebar and tell about the time a few years ago I decided a brunette could become a blonde because the box they sell at the store tells you it's nice and easy! Brown hair becomes pinkish orange, and Ms. Rainbow Brite here sports a baseball cap until I can get an emergency appointment at the salon. In the meantime I had to drop off some paperwork at the courthouse and it's busy as usual. The grumpy guard points to my head as I tried to make my way past the metal detectors. "What? Me? Yeah, I like the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, you been there?" is what I'm thinking. He thinks my hat is pretty cool. "YOU," he says pointing again, taking his stance and clearly not impressed with my travels, "Take OFF the hat!" Now we've got a real scuttlebutt here and it's made the needle fall off the record and everybody is looking at me. I tried to beg and plead, shake my head, but no, wait you don't understand...

How does it end? I chose humiliation over handcuffs, and still to date with no arrest history here I am facing a hair-do dilemma again.

Why does my world revolve around this bad haircut right now. I'm so grateful it's been raining for three days to justify a wet head and the bad hair. Or, that clerk looked at me funny, must be the hair. I'm depressed, I want cookie dough ice cream, must be the hair. You get the idea.  I don't want flowers, chocolates or filet mignon this Valentines; please just book me an appointment with the best stylist in town!