Leahtard

Not actually a tard.

Archive for October, 2007

For the sake of beauty!

Posted by leahtard on October 19, 2007

Now I have to say I did not wright this and I do not know who did, but it was e-mailed to me the other day and I had to put it here because is was so funny I almost peed myself.

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of
easy, painless removal – The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and
now…the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner,
play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully
in
my mind for the next few hours: “Maybe I should pull the waxing kit
out
of the medicine cabinet.” So I headed to the site of my demise: the
bathroom. It was one of those “cold wax” kits.

No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in
your
hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg
(or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss.
How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically
inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each
other
stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in
so
I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (“Cold wax,”
yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around
it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but
it
wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!

I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth
skin
extraordinaire. With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking
on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair
fighting
championship.

I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same
procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini
line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the
inside of my butt cheek. Yes, it was a long strip. I inhale deeply
and
brace myself………RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!…. OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the
strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is
swirly
and spotted. I think I may pass out………..must stay
conscious…Do
I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal. I
want
to see my trophy – a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so
much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the
glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!

There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see
the
hair…. the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am
touching
wax. CRAP!

I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now
covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake…….remember my foot is still
propped
up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot
down. DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina?
Sealed
shut! Butt?? Sealed shut!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and
think to myself “Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may
pop off!” What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts
wax!!
I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in,
immerse
the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it
off, right???

WRONG!!!!!!! I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than
that
used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. I
sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued
together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom
of
the tub…in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold
wax.

So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had
cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! Thank God I brought my cell
phone with me in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some
secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter

“So, my butt and who-ha are glue together to the bottom of the tub!”

There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for
removal
but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know
exactly where the wax is located, “Are we talking cheeks or hole or
who-ha?” She’s laughing out loud by now…..I can hear her.

I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side
of
the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s
night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping
the
wax off with a razor . Nothing feels better then to have your girlie
goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot
water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is
not
working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going
to
need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving
grace….the oil they give you to remove the excess wax.

What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and “OH MY
GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens
out
of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care. “IT
WORKS!!
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my
grief and despair….THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF
IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now.
Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I’m going to try hair color……

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Posted in Adult, life | 4 Comments »

I’m a crappy mom! (Just last week)

Posted by leahtard on October 16, 2007

So here is my story the good and the bad. As many of you may know I am developing my basement. It has mostly been a lot of fun probably due to the fact that our contractor is a really nice guy and well lets just say kinda cute. Sort of like Holmes on Homes but different, ( and if one of you pretends you do not have a serious crush on the Holmes on Homes guy, I will not believe you for a second.)

All my problems started one morning a couple weeks ago when I dropped Alex off at school. On my way home I had realized I had done nothing to make his start of school special. I might add that for every first day of school that Viv has had (3,) that I have taken pictures from the time she got dressed all the way to school and then on the way home. It became obvious to me that I had been seriously remiss when it came to my number one son. I devised a plan, on Thursday his next school day I would dress him up and take pictures of him like I was Japanese. I thought that he definitely wont remember in 10 years and it was entirely possible I would not either. So either way it was win win for both of us. With these thoughts in my head I made my way home happy in the that I was only going to look like a bad parent for a very short period of time.

Once home, (about 10:00am) I did what most moms do. Clean up after breakfast, get ready for lunch chat on the phone ex cetera. Around 10:45 my contractor came upstairs to ask me a few questions, I naturally was more than happy to accommodate. Soon we were chatting about kids, family and such, in between my phone ringing. Now, this should not be a big deal who cares if your phone rings…..not me, and I rarely answer my phone if I have guest over. Either way here in lay my disaster.

After our conversation is over, my phone rings again, (I have a snooper phone) so I look at the number and it is unfamiliar, so the battle in my head starts. “To answer or not to answer.” For another fraction of a second I am content in my life, knowing that all is right in the world, that my only problem is, should I answer the phone…….bliss. Then, WHACK! You realize you are a idiot. Well, this is me. Holding the phone in my hand, I look up at the clock and read the time. It’s 11:45am and Alex was done school at 11:30am. The phone had stopped ringing and I now have this feeling of sickness in my heart as I recognize the number from Alex’s school.

Most normal moms would call back and say they were on their way. Not me, I wanted the teacher to think I was caught up in traffic or something. I run out the door, speed all the way to the school, (it’s only 6min away, so I made it in 3.) During my three minute car ride I devise a story about how my bathroom set was being delivered and I didn’t want to leave these “undesirables” in my home unattended.

I should have be chastised, condemned, my child kicked out of this “prestigious” private nursery school. Nooooooooo, that is not what happened. The teacher told me it was not all bad because she wanted to talk with me privatively. She wanted to know if I would sub for her whenever she was sick or had a appointment. Shock of shocks! I said. “Susan, how can you trust me, I can’t even make it on time to pick up my own kid, and you think I should be teaching your class.” Her response was. “Well why not.”

Susan of course did not realize I was late because I was chatting up my contractor and then lied about it so as not to look like some kind of brazen hussy. While my precious little boy who I forgot to take pictures of on his first day and had contrived to fix by “pretending” to have another “first”day was also forgotten at school. Wow, I suck!

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »