Wednesday, September 20, 2017

My Husband's Porn Addiction


It's not something we talk about.  It's something we live with every day.  The moment he gets up he gets on-line for his first hit.  Sleek lines and hard bodies flood his Instagram feed.  I'm sure he has other outlets to supply him the visual titillation he feeds off.  But, I know better than to search his on-line history, knowing I'll only find more porn.  And there's no way I can live up to his fantasy.

Because I don't look like this...


*surfboard and ocean with surfable waves required 

I didn't know about his obsession with Volkswagens and VW porn when I met him.  I was young and naive then.  I didn't know how many countless hours he'd spend with his head focused on the rear end of the object of his affection trying to make it to purr for him.  The thing about old broads is they're classic, but they're also feisty and unpredictable.  Which is why I've spent countless hours of my life helping my husband revive his mistress by push starting her.  Sometimes I get to push.  Sometimes pop the clutch.  I'll take whatever he gives me to make this marriage work.

There's been more than one side piece he's neglected me for over the years.  There've been several.  But, the first one is always the hardest to get over.  We were living in Hawaii when I found out about her.  She was a few years younger than me.  Aren't they always?  The thing was, she wasn't even prettier than me.  She looked like she'd been around the block a time or two.  Like a painted lady, if you know what I mean.  Everywhere we went on the island people stopped to stare at her.  It was like I didn't even exist.  Leaving me feeling humiliated.  


Through all of this, my biggest fear has always been that he'd pass his roving eye down to our sons.  Which is exactly what's happened; both of my sons are car porn addicts.  It was inevitable, I suppose.  After all, my husband shares this affliction with his two younger brothers.  His two brothers who are flying in today to help my husband resuscitate his old VW bus who flat lined in my driveway about 2 years ago.  So, for the next 5 days my husband will be in the garage with his brothers playing with his pickle.  

Pickle broken down on the side of the road.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Nudes


I'm enamored with nudes.  There's something so sensual and revealing about skin tones.  There's an honesty in having nothing to hide.  In being transparent and real.  About having the courage to expose yourself and not care how anyone sees you.  But, I don't do any of that.  Because I'm a fraud.

I like to give off the appearance I'm naked faced, while I'm actually wearing a face full of make-up in nude colors.  I go to unnatural lengths to appear natural.  To look like me, but way better than I actually look.  Without looking like I tried really hard, even though I did.   My dark circles, blotchy skin, age spots and zits aren't going to cover themselves, you know?

It all starts with the perfect foundation.  Which means it's completely undetectable.  But, I don't care if keeps it keeps my oily skin at bay for 24 hours or makes me look like Kate Beckinsale, I refuse to buy any cover up with the word beige in it.  Because I refuse to be defined as beige.  Now, if the color is called porcelain, buff, sand or tan, I'll buy it even though it's not even though it's no where near close to my skin color.  Simply because they sound more appealing.  Yeah, I know is ridiculous.  And, I know the only one who knows the name of the color foundation I'm wearing is me.  (Because everyone else is fooled into thinking I'm not wearing any make-up, obviously.)  And that the shade of my skin doesn't define me.  I also know I can't even read the name of the color on the bottom of the bottle with that super fine print.  Even with my reading glasses on.  So, it really, REALLY doesn't matter.  But, it still matters to me.  That's how insecure I am.

The eyes are the most important feature on anyone's face.  They are the windows to the soul after all.  So,  I want mine to convey that I'm nice and friendly.  But also, unapproachable and aloof;  to prevent people from talking to me.  Because I'm really awkward and socially anxious thus; prone to say incredibly stupid things when prompted to interact with other humans.  But, before any of that, I have to divert your attention from the dark circles under my eyes.  Which is why concealer is vital.  Lots of concealer, but still not enough to cover them completely.  Ensuring that I never wear blue eyeliner because the combination of black circles with blue eyeliner would make me look like an MMA fighter.  But, I bet if I was sporting the black eye look, I could avoid unwanted conversations even more successfully.  So, maybe I'll consider adding blue eyeliner to my stripped down neutral palate.  And maybe I'll add one of those gorgeous nude eyeshadow collections with 12 shades of naked for my eyelids that I always pine over in the cosmetic aisle.  But, I know I won't.

I'm just as picky and irrational about my lips.  I don't like the feel of lipstick and it looks too obvious, especially if it gets on my teeth.  Also, it always gets on my teeth somehow.  Which is when I realize it tastes awful and makes my teeth look yellow in comparison.  So, wearing lipstick would require that I whiten my teeth, again.  And the only thing more painful for an American with yellow teeth is the pain caused by a whitening strip on sensitive teeth.  That's why I wear tinted lip balm.  But it can't be too dark.  Or too bright.  Or too shiny.  Essentially, I want it to match my lip color exactly.  Which is why getting a tinted lip balm is ridiculous in the first place.  Because my lips are already my lip color.  I could just get a clear lip balm, but somehow that just wouldn't be good enough.

The truth is...
I feel naked without my nude make-up.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Things I Never Imagined


There are so many things that I never imagined would ever happen. Like the demise of truth and substance.  But, this post isn't about that.  This post is about stuff.  Things that I never imagined would be produced, let alone be popular and in demand.  And if there's one thing I know about, it's definitely NOT how to be popular and in demand.  Just ask anyone who knew me in high school, college, a job or in mom's club and they'll say... "who?"  Because I've always been kind of an outsider.  So, what the cool kids like has always both intrigued and mystified me.

When I was little I used to go grocery shopping with my mom and beg her to buy the sugary cereals that she didn't usually buy.  You know the kind.  The ones that are made with really cheap, coarse-grained sugar that tear up the roof of your mouth, but came with a cool prize inside.  Usually it was a bike clicker you'd stick in the spokes of your wheel that made a really annoying sound.  Those were the best.  But, sometimes you'd get a pedometer.  Those were the worst.  And they went right in the garbage.  Because who cares how many steps you take in a day?  Which is exactly why I would never have imagined that people would pay upwards of $60 for a Fitbit.  Which we all know is a glorified pedometer.  And I didn't even want one when I got it for free.

It was about this time in my childhood in the 70's when rompers and jumpsuits where all the rage.  Personally I blame Charlie's Angels for this.  Probably because I wasn't allowed to watch it back in the day.  But, I assume that they wore all kinds of sexy one piece polyester jumpsuits sensuously unzipped to expose some cleavage.  But, what do I know?  All I know is, I bought a jumpsuit from Banana Republic in the 90's from the clearance rack.  (Obviously, it wasn't a popular seller.)  It was beautiful and elegant and it's still hanging in my closet covered in a thick layer of dust.  The first time I wore it, I realized why no one in the 90's was wearing a jumpsuit or a romper.  Because, in order to use the toilet, you had to unzip (a challenge in itself if it has a back zipper like mine does) and strip down to your bra.  And if you're using a public toilet, you know you're going to get the stall with the big gap between the door, so the ladies waiting in line can see you mostly naked sitting on the toilet while cradling the top of your jumpsuit in your lap so it doesn't touch the floor.   So, can someone explain to me why are rompers and jumpsuits are all the rage again?

I remember when the Food Network first started.  And I thought 'you've got to be kidding me...who the hell would want to watch someone cook?'  I mean it's not like you get to taste any of the food.  So, essentially, you're just punishing yourself by watching the most delicious looking meal you've ever seen being prepared while you're on the couch in your sweatpants eating cereal from the box because you ran out of ice cream.  How freakin' sad is that?  Also, how freakin' sad is it that this is basically the majority of what I watch on TV these days?  And to make it even sadder, I'm usually eating seaweed crisps.  Because I already ate all the ice cream and all that's left is the healthy crap.

When Starbucks came on the scene, everyone jumped on the gourmet coffee train.  Personally, I can't get out of my house to go get coffee, without caffeinating.  Plus, you have to get out of your pj's and put clothes on because there's no Starbucks inside a Walmart.  Which is why I never got into going out to get coffee.  So, I just make a pot of coffee at home.  Which saves both time and money.  Not to mention, the planet, with all those disposable cups.  Then, they came out with Keurig so you can have a  fresh cup coffee at home, every time and simultaneously fill the landfills and destroy the environment with seemingly innocuous single serve coffee packaging from the comfort of your own home.  Without getting dressed even.  Cause we're lazy Americans.  Freakin' genius!

Back in the day, looking like a dog was considered a huge insult.  Enter Snapchat.  Where you can intentionally make yourself look like a dog.  Or a cat.  Or vomit rainbows.  Not that I'm on Snapchat, because I'm not.  But the photos and videos from there have migrated onto other social media platforms like Twitter and Instagram.  Both of which I said I'd never join because I just didn't see the point.  That's before I gave in and created accounts and became addicted, of course.  So, don't be surprised when you see a photo that kinda looks like me, only way better, wearing a crown of cartoon flowers next month on my Facebook.  Just kidding, I'm hardly ever on Facebook.

By now you've probably labeled me as both a feminist and an environmentalist.  (I won't mention the other labels to attempt to protect my ego.)  Like someone who would use the environmentally-friendly Diva cup instead of environmentally-reprehensible tampons.  But, this is where you're completely wrong.  I figure me not using a Keurig cup fully entitles me to use disposable feminine hygiene products instead of reuseable ones.  I believe this is called cognitive dissonance.  And lastly, I never imagined I'd tell you about my feminine hygiene product preferences, but here we are.

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...