Dr Seuss and Wine.

I saw this play on Dr. Seuss's work and thought it quite cute.



The long holiday weekend is upon us and we are slow here in the office.
The boys are busy but I'm really not.  I like that. It appears from what I saw on the local news, everyone has hit the road already to begin their vacation. The bay bridge, the only way to get to the shore, was at a standstill of traffic at 8am this morning. Wow. Glad I'm not going to the shore.

At yoga last night I was chatting with some women and I told them about my day at the plastic surgeons. I told them I was looking at the ultherapy and they knew someone who had it on their face but they were only 42 and it did wonders. It's something you don't see the results completely for 3 months. Great I am 18 yrs too late. The story of my life. So now I have to worry about my neck falling to where my boobs used to me, knockers tucked into my waistband and my ass is obviously tired and is now lying on the back of my thighs and can't get up.
Pretty huh?

Anyhoo, I was telling them how going to this type of office really messes with your self-esteem. I walked in there in nice clothing thinking I looked pretty darn good and feeling great. As I left that morning Rick even told me I looked nice. He doesn't do that often so that was a nice treat and made me feel good. I walked into the office with my head held high and a zip in my step feeling great.

Then you enter their office about your neck and only your neck. But they proceed to stare at you in a way that is almost creepy. They are close and then they pull back and close again. What the hell is that about?  Does this surgeon need glasses because that is some scary shit and do I want them near my neck with very sharp tools? They tell you how bad it is, how your eyes need this and your cheeks need that. But I didn't ask about those things.  Don't up sell me damn it.  By the time they are done with you, you feel ugly and you walk out of the office deflated with your head down and shoulders slumped and you then turn away from all reflective surfaces.

For some reason, the women at yoga found that hysterically funny. I wasn't trying to be funny. Rick was there and he said I sold it funny. Hmmm....
All the women were nodding and saying, yep, yep, yep.
So apparently I'm not the only one. They began to share stories.
One woman talked about how her dermatologist will get so close to her face and tells her she needs this and that. None of which she has ever thought about or for that matter even seen. She leaves feeling like shit and then when she gets home she stares into the mirror and sees things she never noticed before that the damn Dr. had pointed out. She told me her way to fix this is to never go to the doctor again. I'm beginning to think at this age that might be my best bet.

Yoga was a killer last night. But boy I sleep so well on yoga nights. I'm sore as shit that evening and the next day or two but I do like it. I hate to admit it. Rick was right. I think that makes Rick right now 2 times already this year. He's breaking records. He's got 6 more months to go. Oh, how I love to bust his balls.

I am going shopping this weekend for a dress for my niece's wedding.
I HATE to shop for clothes. Hate isn't even a strong enough word for how I feel about shopping for clothes. All dresses these days don't have sleeves.
What is up with that? I can't wear sleeveless anymore, I have wings.
I'm short and I'm busty. That does not make shopping easy.
I am a size 10 on the bottom and 16 on the top.
They don't make dresses like that for freaks like me.
So I buy a big ass dress for my boobs to fit into and then have to pay the same amount as the damn dress to have it altered. A $100 dress is actually $200 with alterations. I hate shopping. I would rather have root canal surgery. Shopping makes me very very irritable and I wish I had a girlfriend here to go with me.
My friend Susan is the best at this. Too bad she lives 7hrs away.
She has said to me, "Hell no, that makes your ass look big or Yes, this makes you look like you have a smaller waist - buy it!" And then we'd go have a cocktail.
But if I had a friend here I'd probably try to just talk her into stopping all this horse shit of trying on clothes and suggest we go to a bar in the mall. So I guess it's best to do this alone in a poorly lit dressing room with 360 degree mirrors which makes one want to cry. I will shop and come home terribly depressed. But that brings me back to my header, there is always wine to comfort me when I get home right?

Not been a great physical week for me.  Cheers!