Skin

A good old-fashioned 3-for-1 special:



I used to be a heavy girl, weighing in at 195 pounds. I've always been pear-shaped, this was extremely exaggerated in my fat days. Now, at 135, I'm about five pounds heavier than I was at my lowest weight but I haven't much issue with it. I'm proud that I've kept the weight off for well over three years.

There's something about planning a wedding that sparks some biological need to lose weight in women. This is not entirely true for me. I'm pretty sure that if I put on my dress (yet to be selected, mind you) in its final alteration form, I'd be smokin' hott. Yes, with two "t's."

The thing is, the fiance has his sights set on Hawaii for the honeymoon. The last thing a girl wants is to frolick about in Hawaii for the first time sporting a tankini. Nope. What she wants is a smokin' hott bikini bod.

In spite of the fact that it simply is not going to happen, I find myself prepping for dieting again, trying to find the exercises that will turn my pear into an hourglass, and searching for the most effective combination of jumping rope and skin creams that will minimize the dimpling on my ass. Good luck with that.




I know that there are so many levels of ridiculous to the Twilight saga. Vegetarian vampires, teenage werewolves, and Edward's goddam diamond skin. I know that the books are an assault on all that is beautiful in literature. I know that all of my intelligent friends put me in a narrow minded category created especially for the idiots who like those dumb vampire movies.

Sue me. I like the Twilight movies. I stand in line an hour before midnight, having secured my tickets weeks earlier, on release night waiting to see what happens next. And, I'm going to be quite frank, here. I'm excited that my preteen daughter's dad didn't take her to see it during his summer visitation. I am thereby obligated by my parenting contract to ensure that she sees the movie and will be doing so in approximately 100 minutes, along with all the friends who saw the movie at midnight with me.

We're excited to see Eclipse again and we refuse to hide it. We are allowing ourselves to be entertained by the movies even though they are not true to the historical fictitious depiction of vampires. Movies don't always have to be earth-shattering relevations of mind-blowing proportions. They can be a simple, mindless reminder of the fact that some of us are moved by a good eternal love story.

And guess what? I'm still a smart girl.




I have sensitive skin. When I scratch an itch, run into something (I'm a klutz), or play volleyball, whichever part of my skin that is contacted reminds me of its disdain with a nice red welt that goes away within an hour. My face is a study in adult acne. I know which products keep it under control. Unfortunately, these products conflict with my urgent desire to STOP the aging process on my face.

It would seem that anti-aging products forget about the little guys with adult acne because whenever I use them, I break out.

My favorite anti-aging product is rather pricey. But it does not make me break out. Sadly, if I don't break it up every few months, it seems less effective. So, I like to use it for a couple of months and then use something else for a month before going back. I look at the month break as a chance to nurse my budget. But the skin care section at my local Target doesn't seem to carry anything budget friendly that doesn't make me break out. Bitches.

Oddly, I don't want to get old AND I don't want to look like a teenager. Sigh.



I'm currently reading:
This is part of my effort to tackle a good classic a few times a year. I love Flaubert's writing style thus far and do not think this book is going to be a labor at all.

The Irony of Independence

"Where are we going?" I was mildly curious as to why we were turning around, I was in no hurry to get home.

"I want to check that park out back there."

We had been on the motorcycle for a total of about an hour and had stopped about twenty minutes back for fountain pop, it being a ridiculously hot day. I had been ribbing him to take me on a long bike ride for a while as I hadn't been on the back of the bike nearly as much as I would like this season. In spite of the heat coming from mechanical parts I don't begin to understand, I was happy to be sitting behind him with the wind whipping at us at 55 miles per hour.

Even when I'm tired of sitting back there after a trip, it's always a bittersweet end.

He pulled into Lexington Park, one I had heard of but never been to. I hopped off the back, took off my helmet, removed my earplugs, and stretched. We headed in the direction of the lake and found some steps down to the beach.

There were about twenty-five people in the water, not too many. The shore was small and littered with driftwood, not a great place for sunbathing. However, the depth was shallow for quite a way out with no current, making it an excellent place to take children. In fact, half of the beach's occupants were waist-high, climbing on large rocks in the water, pretending they were private islands.

When I had seen all I thought I needed to see, I looked at him and saw him still studying the beach goers. So I waited.

I could hear nervousness in his voice when he looked at me and said, "I brought you down here for a reason."

I stopped breathing.

"I have something for you in my pocket."

With that, he fished for a little gray velvet box in his pocket and dropped to one knee and asked me to marry him.

And even though it had been a couple of months since he took me to the jewelry store to pick out a ring, he surprised me. I had no clue and my body felt the physical symptoms of minor shock. I began shaking, fighting back tears, and generally feeling like I couldn't stand up by myself. I nodded my head, I maybe said the word "yes," and I threw my arms around his neck while he was still on the ground and kissed him.

When he got up, I told him I loved him and I put the ring on my finger. He was as shaky as I was and we were both laughing and saying little nervous things that I already can't remember three days later.

I do remember one important thing he said, "Yep, you're just different."

Then, to lighten it up, "you're the only one who I wanted to marry." Or something like that. It was one of those silly, nervous things.

In the end, he did everything right. I will remember Independence Day of 2010 for the rest of my life. He didn't say anything contrived to be magical. He didn't take me to a fancy dinner. Instead, he took me out for one of my favorite ways to spend a day, something that wouldn't tip me off as to just how wonderful this day would end up. His tiny bit of anxiety, so uncharacteristic of him, said more than his words ever could. So, maybe just this one time, I will acknowledge that language is arbitrary. In very little speech, everything I could ever want to have spoken was, indeed, said.






I just finished reading:

The afterword was dry but the narrative and addition of supplemental documents was terrific.