I just got out of an extra long, extra soapy shower. After putting Georgia down for bed, I said to myself "Self, it's Friday. Live it up. Party like a rockstar." So, while Stuart and Jeremy sat in the living room working on a guitar and mandolin Irish-ditty-duet, I snuck into the bathroom for some quiet time. Oh, was it a joy. Guess what I did? Okay, I'll tell you:
I shaved my legs. Why, oh, why do I avoid doing this like I do? I'll tell you why. Because I have really really soft leg hair. It's not pokey. It's like baby hair. Plus, it's blond. Easily forgotten and avoidable. But every time I shave, I remember that silky goodness. I remember how nice it is to have smooth, bald legs. So simple. So rewarding. So feminine! It transforms me from a hairy, caveman into something resembling a female. It makes me feel like I need to go strut around in some rockin' high heels. However, I have never NEVER been able to walk in high heels. Not once. Not even a little bit. I'm not even close. At all. So scratch that idea. I'll just go strut around in my slippers instead. Oh ya.
Guess what else I did.
Okay, I'll tell you. I painted my toes. Which I haven't done since Georgia was born. Oh lawdy, was that wonderful. They look like ten wee-little cherries all lined up in a row. I keep staring at them because they look so....so....girly. And I like it! I went with a "firecracker red" because heck, it's Friday and all.
Then....I flossed. Because rockstars floss. Man, things are getting wild!
After lathering up in a lotion of coconut oil (TRY THIS...oh my) I went to step out of the bathroom in my towel until, whoops, I remembered my brother-in-law was visiting. Rewind I go...back into the bathroom I crept. I forgot to bring my jammies in with me...dang. Lucky for me, Stuart has a habit of not picking his clothes up off the bathroom floor. *Sniff* *Sniff* I gently smelled the armpits of his white tee shirt that lay strewn on the floor. "Not too bad for a guy's armpits" I thought, so I put it on. The sweatpants looked pretty clean, so I snagged those too. As feminine as I felt after shaving my legs and painting my toes, I am now dressed in a man's tee shirt and sweats (which fit me wonderfully).
Because Stuart and I wear the same size almost.
Quite laughing. It's not funny.
Seriously. I have a complex about the fact that he can fit into my jeans.
Quite smiling while you picture that in your head.
At this moment, I am so thankful to have had thirty minutes alone. I have transformed from a hairy legged, pale-toed, dirty mouthed caveman to a bald, cherry-toed, man-pajama-wearing princess with clean teeth.
Thank you Lord, for this moment.
Cheers to feeling feminine my friends.
