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Sunday, February 8, 2009

2/8/09 I Swear it's not a Hickey!

We went out to a nice restaurant with some neighbors this weekend. I’ve been looking forward to this as I’m starting to feel like a shut-in. Well, except for the million or so doctors appointments I’ve been to, between me and the rest of the family, the past few months. As a stay-at-home Mom, with no kids at home during the day anymore, you get a little starved for adult interaction in the wintertime. Top that off with the fact that I am still sorting papers and making new files (my LEAST favorite job…guess that’s why I still have huge piles to go through) and I REALLY was looking forward to going out.

As usual (and all you still-fat peeps…OK anyone who was ever fat will be able to relate), I poured myself into my best black jeans (I was proud I didn’t have to lay flat to zip them up this time) and was greeted by the lovely ‘muffin top’ which is now the opposite of what my waist once was. So into the closet I went after camouflage. After about 20 ‘costume changes’ I finally picked a two layer long, flowing ditty that didn’t make me cringe…it cover the muffin, but my arms felt like they were in sausage casing…sigh. It was getting late, so on to getting beautified. I quickly plugged in my giant curling iron and started my makeup. DD gave me one of those huge barreled curling irons and I swear it can get so hot that your hair is smoking. Uh-Oh, DH is calling me, better hurry! I fly through my hair with the curling iron turned all the way up so it will curl more quickly…then it happened…d@*n! I can’t ever use that thing without burning myself! It’s the same with the glue gun (and as an ex-art teacher I use that a lot too). OWW, OWWWWW! D@*N that hurts! I unplug the stupid iron and run downstairs.

We get to the restaurant a few minutes late and after hugs/kisses all around (did I imagine some strange stares *quickly check my tops for wardrobe malfunctions*), and ordering drinks I excuse myself to the ladies room. As I’m washing my hands I check the mirror…HOLY C#*P! There on my long pasty-white neck are two red hickeys!!...and I left home so fast I forgot my purse and makeup!!! D*@M that curling iron. OK, I’m not 16, surely no one else will think…but d*@n they sure look just like a hickey! I returned to the table with my cheeks bright red and slowly work it into the conversation that I burned my neck with the curling iron…Did I just hear sniggers??!

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