I'M NOT EVEN GONNA type some crap about why I haven't blogged in months..
I'm just f***ing busy.. busy being overwhelmed, with an eternally messy house and a kid who thinks he owns the laptop every time it opens. YouTube MUST magically appear. That's what you get for using YouTube to entertain your kids, you lazy f***s. Myself included.
* Side note: If you're poor like me and cannot afford babysitters.. you get a ..kind of sort of pass. Afterall, YouTube is a close second. It's also a plus if you're not stealing the wi-fi from your neighbors.
Moving on...
You know you're losing it and throwing in the towel when you're kids are coloring the top of the toilet seat with crayons and you're like who gives a f***? I just need 30 more seconds to finish brushing my teeth.. as long as the lids closed.. it's FINE. Yeah.. fine. You wanna dump a whole bunch of Advil and Q-Tips into the bath tub? SUUURE! Go ahead. As long as it buys more silence.. I'm down.
I feel like like lately .. I'm throwing in the towel A LOT. And guess what? I DON'T CARE.
Because.. I can't care. I have to choose between my sanity and a semi-clean house. My sanity and a schedule. My sanity and ...laundry? My sanity and a toilet seat cover free from black crayons?
Which is worse?
The fact that my apartment has a pink toilet seat or that it's colored on in black crayon?
I wanted to come to y blog to tell you that I'm reading a book by Nora Ephron.. Titled, "I Feel Bad About My Neck... And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman"..
Normally, these "thoughts on being a woman" books nauseate me.
A lot.
Not interested.
But something about the cover.. I'm a sucker for a good cover..So.. I picked it up and read a few sentences. I think this can apply to me.. I thought. Nice cover.. witty, funny, easy reading, about aging.. and since I just turned 39......
Ok.. to the point..
Nora Ephron writes that she went to a dermatologist about her aging neck.. only to find out that there's not much they can do for the aging, sagging neck. The dermatologist told her that the neck starts to go at age 43.. and there's not much that can be done to revive it to it's glory..
There's an excerpt that I think is good enough to share with you that I'm willing to retype it here and now.. even after two.. (ok, FOUR) glasses of wine.. That's serious effort, people.
"According to my dermatologist, the neck starts to go at forty-three, and that's that. You can put make-up on your face and concealer under your eyes and dye on your hair, you can shoot collagen and Botox and Restylane into your wrinkles and creases, but short of surgery, there's not a damn thing you can do about a neck. The neck is a dead giveaway. Our faces are lies and our necks are the truth. You have to cut open a redwood tree to see how old it is, but you wouldn't have to if it had a neck."
Holy Crap.
That shit was... SO TRUE. Superficial. Deep. Shallow. Real.
Yeah Real.
Real Shitty.
I have about four years left til it's all turtlenecks and scarves from here on out.
I need technology to catch up with vanity.
I also think I need vanity to catch up with my sweat pants and greasy hair .. but that might be a whole other topic.
So.. Our faces are lies.. and our necks are the truth.... Where does that leave the thighs?
Just wondering.
These are questions I might need answers to.
And Nora Ephron's dermatologist said I only have about four years to figure it out...
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