I look in the mirror occasionally and get taken by surprise. Somehow, when I was asleep or on hallucinogens or something, I managed to turn into some sort of ersatz version of “that girl”.

You know her, the prissy Princess, with everything fixed just so. Yeah, you hate her too, just like me. With her matchy matchy outfits, or at least tastefully coordinated. And her perfectly done lipstick. And her hair never undone.

And when I see her I shudder. Because she’s a grown up and in my heart I am not.

I’m that girl in the tee shirt and shorts, with the freckled face and the head covered in curls, shouting in a voice hoarse with screams of laughter “come on, I dare ya, let’s do it again!”

And then I look in the mirror again, and just behind the edge of the lipstick I see that grin. In between those curled and mascara’d lashes, I see that impish sparkle.

And then I breathe a sigh of relief, and I pat the hair into place once more. And then the two of us go out to face the world once more.

Together.

Location:Derbyshire Ave,Lakeland,United States

So, um, well, you all already know I’ve lost some weight. Yeah yeah yeah… I know… quit yammering about it already… I got it. Anyway, this isn’t about all that, really. It’s about a side issue that loss has created. The whole “dang none of my clothes fit anymore, this truly sucks!” problem. Because I can tell you that even if you weren’t already aware of my loss (all three of you with dialup – yeah, I’m talking to you!), Goodwill certainly will be. Because I’m cleaning out the closets and there’s a bunch of stuff that’s rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ right on outta here. And, yes, I know there is a certain risk involved in getting rid of the wardrobe this soon. After all, we don’t really have the money to replace them if I pork up again. So this means I’ll be naked. And fat.

There, that’s a visual that’ll stay with you a while… don’t know about you but I think I may need a stick. You know, so’s I can insert it into my head and poke out my mind’s eye right about now? Are you next in line?

But anyway, guess I’ll be living dangerously and moving this stuff on out. Even if it means saying good bye to some old cuddly friends I love a bunch. Some of it will be heading to ebay… since I’m having a serious allergic reaction to giving away designer stuff that’s barely worn. So look for Omar’s Tent auction… we gots some deals I tell ya!

And that’s enough about that, I’ve got bigger problems. In really awkward areas. Because the most annoying thing about the weight loss isn’t all the clothes I’m losing. Oh no indeedy. My biggest pain in the butt – quite literally – is the thing I never even considered, my saggin’ baggin’ underpants. Most of the time I feel like one of those hippity hop guys, only without cool jeans, and with some cheapazz drawers very nearly shining! So, yeah, the shrinkage of my aforementioned behind has forced the purchase of some new drawers. Because of butt-shrinkage, which has created new roominess in my nether regions. Apparently I was the one woman source for the world’s cotton shortage? And I’m worried, because I don’t think my butt looks any smaller, so I’m wondering exactly what it is that I’ve lost. But back to the butt pain – the reason I’m really twisted up is Bunch and Wad. Yep, they’re the worst set of twins in the world and just so we’re clear – we hate them and we want them out of our pants! Now! But just so we’re clear on this part, it’s not the measly $7 bucks a 6 pack that’s killing me here. It’s the fact that- despite the ginormous size of some of them- I had them all broken in and comfy. So yeah, very sad, like I’ve lost some of my best friends. And in a way? I have.

And, for all you younger lady readers, just so you know, this is where your world is headed after you get to the Mom Jeans stage. Instead of those cutie patootie undies over at Vickie’s Secret, you’ll be picking out a nice white 6 pack of cotton panties at Target. Get your head in the game girl! You’ve already caught the fish, what’s the point of buying bait and tackle?

And another thing… did you know you can lose weight in your feet? Yep… you can. I have anyway. Amazingly, not a skinny inch in the boobs, but my feet have shrunk. I tell you, there is no justice in this world. Dammit! My feet were fine just like they were. All cute and shapely. Not my opinion, you understand. I was told that by some strange Foot Fetish guy when I was in Chicago on business five years ago. But now? Not so much I’m afraid. Because now my favorite Clark Loafers are too big. Flapping around on my feet actually. And I’m really afraid of what’s next. Anybody have plastic surgery coupons? A deal on airplane tickets to Brazil? Because if my feet and butt are shrinking, next comes wrinkles. Since all that lovely luscious fat was keeping those at bay.

Crap.

Yeah, this is a girly post and a little bit techie post, so if you are neither then click on that button that says NEXT BLOG.  Okay, you’re still here? Fine, then look at this site if you like kittens, or maybe this if you’re a guy and you’re into guy stuff… me, not so much, since I have my own and all that.  Seen one set, seen ‘em all I always say.

Anyway, for everybody who’s left here reading, here’s my progress so far. 

Clothes – check!

And yes, I’ve got the "perfect clothes" pulled together for this big event.  Complete with labels that say "perfect clothes".  Just because they are, and I’m like that, mkay? And by perfect, I mean that they are not too stylish, not too painful, not too Mom-i-fied, and not too young but not too cougar-y.  See?  Just right!  Perfect!  And we all know that "teh perfect clothes" are vitally important because, really, looking good is just as important as being there.  Right?  Um, er, yeah, right. 

Cute Shoes – check!

Yes, from the vast collection known as my attic, I have covered the conundrum formerly known as "what shoes to wear with "The Perfect Clothes"?  OH, and here’s a news shocker, I will be rocking some majah cute shooz for the cocktail party! No Jimmy Choos or

All together now, and a 1, and a 2 – yay for cute shoes!

Pedicure – TBD

Because I still have to get a pedicure.  Cute shoes demand cute toes, right?  Now I just have to figure out the where and when… yoo hoo – blogger girlz, any ideas? More importantly, if you’ve got room for girl-time this week then "Face" me and we’ll figure it out.

Transportation – DOUBLE-CHECK!!!!

Not sure whether I’ve mentioned this yet ;-> but we’re rolling to BlogHer courtesy of GM.  And, why is that, you ask?  Oh, could it be maybe because GM ROCKS!!!  Oh yeah, they frickin’ rock!  And because they rock so much, they chose us to be the "face" for their Saturn Vue Hybrid.  Impeccable taste on their parts, I think.  So, because of their inspired decision, this stylin’ whip will be delivered directly to our van down by the river on Saturday afternoon:

And, as if the coolness of the car itself wasn’t already too much, all the gadgets and gizmos are activated on it.  This means that we can enjoy the XM or get lost or whatever as much as we want.  Hey Neverlost! Better practice your mad skillz!  We’ll need you by Sunday!  The Bob and I plan on spending Saturday evening cuddled up in the car, staring at all the nifty new gauges and blinking lights by moonlight, and soaking in that new car smell!  Now that’s a date night to remember!  We will do our best to not drool on the upholstery, I promise.  Oh, and I forgot, I think I meant to tell you again that GM ROCKS!!! 

Laptop, Camera, Ipod & other gadgetry – check, well, sort of

I’ve got the lappy ready to go, after spending several hours cleaning crap out of it.  You know, because The Bob is very browser-ADD.  So there were 8 different browsers on that computer.  Yes, 8! I counted them as I took them back out.  Because none of them worked properly.  None of them.  I’m just trying to decide whether I’ll need a thumbdrive or a port. harddrive.  Yes, us gear queers are freaky.  I know.  Yeah, I know.  Oh, and the Ipod is loaded with everything I should need, including a book, and music that doesn’t show up in commercials.  Sarah should appreciate that.  The camera bag is packed, with too much stuff.  A sign that you’ve partially resigned your girl card is when your gadget bag is bigger than your shoe bag – or it’s a sign of the apocalypse, one or the other, you decide. 

So, that’s the packing.  The excitement builds! I’m ready!  Are you ready for us DC?  I sure hope so, ‘Cause ready or not, here comes BlogHer!  Yoo hoo, Waiter?  I’ll take a CheezburgHer and a Martini as big as my head!  For everybody!  

Just read this over at WBIR.  And, sadly, it pretty much fits with exactly what I have long believed to be the truth about the Pro-Life movement.  I’m sure more than a few of you who read that are simply amazed that the only person who doesn’t support this research is the Right to Life activist, but I’m not.  Instead, his reaction of negativity and suspicion at the survey results lets me know I’m right.  Because, for many years I’ve believed that a large portion of the Right to Life movement isn’t so much about saving babies.  Instead, I think their focus is more toward punishing all of those "Whore of Babylon" mothers who made their birth control choice when they spread their legs and got themselves into that condition to begin with.  I know, shocking, that good Christians would judge like that.  But they do.  I can truly and honestly tell you, they do.  The phrase "making your birth control decision when you spread your legs was actually spoken to me by a former member of the Knox County Commission.  And, the comments I got last week on my Obama posts are more evidence of the crazies that inhabit that movement.  If you don’t believe me, then email me, I’ll send you copies.

To be clear and upfront, for the three people who might not yet know this, I am most assuredly Pro-Choice.  For a number of reasons, but mainly because I feel that the day we open the doors to our Doctor’s offices up to governmental regulations and allow the government to tell us what we can do with our bodies, is only one day before the Government tells us what we can’t do with our reproductive rights.  I’m referring to China, where there is federal law in place that prevents more than one child per family.  Yes, dear readers, taking away a woman’s right to reproductive freedom and putting it in the hands of the government has the potential to go in a completely different direction than originally planned if that right is put in the hands of the wrong government.  And, though you might not think so given the last eight years, our country was founded for and about freedom.  And having choices is part of the responsibility of freedom.  Even if we don’t agree with the choices our fellow Americans make, like all those fools in Galveston.  But we’re free to make bad decisions.  People do it every day.  And then we have to live with the consequences that follow.  It’s as simple as that. 

Regarding reproductive rights and choices, for some of you it may come as a shock to learn that as a dedicated member of the Pro-Choice movement, I am not pro-abortion.  In fact, almost none of the people I know who share my beliefs are pro-abortion.  Actually, most all Pro-Choice advocates like myself look at abortion as the last choice that any of us would ever want to make, for ourselves or any of the girls and women in my life.  However, as realists, we know that things happen that you don’t plan for.  Pills fail.  Condoms break.  Stupidity happens.  And, if you have no other choices, no support group, no healthcare, no place to live, no way to feed or clothe a child, then your choices are limited indeed.  If your minimum wage job offers no insurance, no maternity leave, and no child care assistance, what other choice do you have?  If you are young and scared, or poor, or both, then sometimes there really isn’t any other choice.  To be frank, I want to see the day when I am truly living in a world where our girls and women are given real choices.  Choices like a real sex education (like my step-daughter gets at the private school she attends).  Choices like real options for continuing your education and not being left illiterate if you make an error in judgement.  Yes, a child is more than a choice, but if you have no tools for caring for it or raising it then it becomes simply a problem.  I want to live in a world where having a child isn’t a problem, isn’t a poorly disguised punishment for some perceived moral failing of it’s Mother.  And that’s why I am Pro-Choice, just like my Mother and her Mother before her.  But, as I learn more, I’ve come to realize that quite a few people in the Pro-Life movement are anything but that.  Because, if they were truly Pro-Life, then they’d be the ones leading the research and coming forward with the assistance programs for all women so that they wouldn’t ever have to choose abortion again.  But they aren’t.  They’re only concern is the biology part of the equation.  They don’t care about the life that child is born into, or the mother whose life  is permanently interrupted because of the birth of that child.  So the next time somebody says to you "I’m Pro-Life", ask them what being "Pro-Life" really means.  Be prepared, the answer will shock you.  

This time it was at Nama, and again we had the amazing Overtly Trite, the delightful Ms. Retro-Modern, the charming My Crazy Mixed Up World, and with an added bonus of Curiously Kaylea who was hanging with the grownups for the day.  The food?  Oh man, the sushi at Nama is beyond good!  And kaybug had Tempura Shrimp that looked suspiciously like Godzilla had transmogrified into food – huge, rawr!!!  She also tried Ms. Retro’s Mochi and I think she liked it.  Very adventurous for a nine year old! 

We talked blogs, tech, life, and everything.  Caught up on everything that’s not "on air", and generally spent an hour plus just hanging out.  Being grlz.  Said yay to Ms. Overt’s C – which is respectable when it’s in Statistics, I don’t care what "C" says.  We talked about Cinco de Julio, coming up very soon here at our house, evites are out, check your email.  We just talked and it was nice.  I miss my girlfriends I had in Florida.  A lot.  And I miss my girlfriend Kathy from Asheville.  So it’s really nice to have a group of girls that I can hang out with.  A group of girls that I consider friends already.  No matter how unconventionally we met.  It’s nice.  It’s fun.  We’re not total geeks, in fact we’re far from that.  But we like blogging about life, and sharing it in real-life.  That’s what blogging has brought to my life.  A circle of friends who listen when I need to talk (or rant).  And I listen in return.  It works.  It’s good.  Join us. 

Warning – hoo haa post!  Abort now.  You’ve been warned. 

So this week? Oh, it’s pre-men-stroo-al week.  Um, yeah, and I just sounded like that weird Health Teacher we all had back in 4th Grade.  You know, the one that really shattered my faith in adults.  Because I remember that lying bee-yotch specifically promising that I was gettting a cycle.  She forgot to specify what kind.  You can imagine my dismay when I found out it wasn’t a Honda like my cousins got from Santa, or a damned Kawasaki either.  It was a menstrual cycle.  Man was I mad over that.  You sure can’t ride that thing anywhere!  I never knew adults would lie to you about important stuff like that!  But, yeah, instead of something really cool, I got a menstrual cycle.  Like, who really needs that shiznit?  Yeah, okay, I hold a grudge for like forever.  Part of my charm, sorry.  Yes, readers, from my tone here, you would be correct in assuming that I still hate that damned cycle.  Cheap junk!!!  Whenever that thing starts up, I know that the whole cranky, acne, sugar/chocolate now, damn-my-boobs-hurt thing is right around the corner.  And the sugar jones is bad.  Beyond bad.  I get so bad that I’m not picky about the what, as long as it’s sweet.  No form of the sweet stuff is safe – sugar cane, sugar cubes, even the Lemon Sugar Scrub in the bathtub isn’t safe!  And yes, I tasted it, yuck, learn from my mistakes. 

So anyway, all this week I’ve been needin’ the sweet stuff like a fat kid needs cake.  Wait, cake!  Mmmmm, that sounds really good!  I’ll be right back…   Okay, mfhmmf, I got cake, now where was I?  Oh yeah, riding that damned cheap-ass Menstrual cycle down to Kroger to buy some candy bars or cookie dough, or about to anyway.  Now because I’m a celebratin’ fool, I felt that an occasion this large and in charge deserved a dessert all on it’s own.  A celebration.  Because I am woman, hear me roar, and I’m not hot flashing yet, so I should celebrate my continued fertility and youth.  Um yeah.  So I made Brownies on Monday night.  A large pan of Brownies, with Walnuts, because you know that’s my favorite kind and this week it’s all about me.  Me me me.  Not that this ever changes, but at least this week I’m being honest about it. 

So, let’s see, it’s me week, I have brownies, they have nuts, so far there’s only three large zit eruptions, altogether a pretty good week, right?  Um, not so much.  Because this morning, when I said good morning to my chewy, chocolaty, pals in the Brownie pan, I found to my shock and horror that there are only 4 left.  Yes, 4.  As in less than 6 but more than 1.  And I know I couldn’t have eaten them all.  No way.  I’m sure.  I’d remember that.  I think.  No, the only thing this can mean is that my dogs (you know, the dogs that love me more than anything in this world and only want to poop in Bob’s shoes because they don’t love him as much? Yeah, those dogs) have somehow managed to grow opposable thumbs which they used to open the pan and eat up all the Brownies.  I know Science will try to debunk it, but sometime during the past few days when I was outside tuning up my cycle, those dogs evolved, all on their own.  Who knows, by next week they could be walking around on two legs and using a toilet!  Amazing!  Somebody contact the media!  I would, but I’m busy.  I’ve got to get on my cycle and ride to Kroger.  Those dogs owe me some brownies, and with their new thumbs working so well, they can make the next batch. 

Hmmmm, next batch.  Mhmmmm.  Gotta go, the fate of the world hangs in the balance!  Ooohhh, Balance Bar! Yum.  Can I have some more sugar please?  Ladies, start your cycles!!!  

Okay, Dad, and anybody else who really doesn’t want to read about female stuff, just click the button that says next blog.  Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.  Okay, did you click it yet?  Well, hurry the hell up, I’m getting ready to talk about girl parts and girl stuff and you really need to move the eff along.  That is, unless you want to get scarred.

Okay, so, is the room cleared now?  Hope so, because I’m blogging about my hoo haa – you know, my girly parts- and I really don’t think everybody wants to read this.  Well, okay, there are lots of weirdos out there, so maybe you do?  Shaking head here… so sad, but apparently they do.  Regardless, I’m starting now, so ready or not, here goes.

So, you see, there’s this blog I read - The Queen of Shake Shake - and the Queen is truly a riot.  Really.  I wish I could blog out loud about everything like she does, but I’m just not good with that.  And besides, then the KNS will put it in the weekly roundup and I’ll have people from Timbukthree finding me when they google Hoo Haa (which is the word for empty the refrigerator in their language) and then things will most assuredly go all wrong.  Just kidding about the KNS, please don’t think I’m feeling harassed.  However, with the google crack, you know all this stuff does end up there, so I guess I should go ahead and say howdy to all you Timbukthreeians out there!  Welcome to my humble blog, watch your feet, and don’t kick the dogs!  Anyhoohaa, one day I was reading her and this post was the offering du ‘jour.  Yep, that girl can really do a Hoo Haa post, let me tell you!  But, it did get me all intrigued and stuff, even though the subject of “Our Monthly Friend” honestly isn’t something I’ve spent very much time contemplating prior to now.  And, to be clear, I will never, in any way, shape or fashion, be called a root chewing Earth Muffin girl.  For one thing, I like the Sephora and assorted dayspa treatments way too much for that to happen.  And just yesterday the Thi Thi and I went to Girl Disney Sephora and  we played in the eyeshadow pots for a long time, just like we did when we were 5 and 9.  I also dropped $60 on a little, eensy bag of treasures, but that’s beside the point and we aren’t discussing it any further.  However, if you see me, be sure to compliment my newly refreshed eyes… they look at least 2 years younger which totally justifies 21 bucks if you ask me.  But again I digress, back to my original point, which was that to think of me as the environmentally conscious type is sort of laughable.  But, I’m telling you, the way the Queen talked about her Diva Cup, well, it was really intriguing to me.  Not intriguing as in, damn it folks this might just save the planet!  No, not that at all.  More like intriguing from the angle of finding a different approach to the monthly nightmare.  And, while girls like their accessories and all that, all the boxes and bags and wings, and damn it did I put some in my purse, and the varying absorbencies to cover the post-hoo haa drip as well as the flood of biblical proportions that is days 1 & 2.  Yeah, altogether it’s one giant pain in the, well, in the hoo haa, for want of a better place to put the pain.  So, being intrigued, and being the good little geek girl that I am, I did some research.  Just a note to Homeland Security – if you are watching my internet usage, please be assured that googling vajayjay cups is a first for me and I’m not planning on repeating it again, now go ahead and sign off.  So, anyway, after I did more research on this device – The Diva Cup – I found out that this thing really could help save the planet.  No, I’m not kidding, it’s truly that good.  So, by now you are all visualizing a little plastic cup in a cape, right?  Well, that’s sort of right, in a wrong kind of way, but we’ll go with that image anyway.  So, I found this silicone superhero at Earthfare, plunked down my $28.00, and took the plunge into environmental consciousness.  I have to confess, it’s a cute package, all pink and aqua and girly-looking, and the little cuppy-thing is silicone and comes with a cute fancy storage bag and a nifty lapel pin that I can’t get the Bob to wear for the life of me.  It also comes with some very detailed instructions but I’m not going into all that on here.  I figure some things still must remain sacred but suffice to say that you do not have to have an engineering degree in order to use this product.  Even a Rocket Surgeon like me can do this!  The product review concludes with this:  I’m into my first usage and so far so good.  No leaks or malfunctions, It works well, nothing has gone horribly wrong, my cup hath not runneth over, and I think one really can’t ask for any more than that.  And, as for the Bob, well you know he’s a thrifty kind of guy, on things like this anyway, and, he’s happy at the idea that not only have I reduced my Environmental footprint but I’ve also stopped the “bags and boxes and wings” expense/nightmare.  So, everybody, including my hoo haa, is happy ovah herrre in this house.  And now that I’ve made my vajayjay all environmentally friendly, I think I should get my next bikini wax done like this!

Ahh, bikini waxes, now that’s another tragic tale that I will save for another day!