Being Beautiful is a First World Problem

Today I have three hours scheduled at the salon.  This trip will include, hair cut, coloring, styling, waxing (lip and brows), and a manicure.  All of it except the manicure are a necessity.  The lip wax is definitely overdue. I look okay in the mirror in the bathroom, but then I get in the car and look in the rear view mirror and go, "Eesh."  I do the manicure only because I have so much hair that it takes forever for the color to process, so the manicure is something to do while I wait for that.

After all of these years, I should understand the necessity of the time required for "maintenance."  It only gets longer.  It's one of those things that women's magazines and style shows say, "This is good for you -- spending time on yourself is important."  Bleah.  I would rather lay around in my pjs all morning.  I could lay around in my pjs all morning and make the appointment for the afternoon, but then that would cut into my afternoon nap...

In fact, I feel guilty spending so much time on myself.  I feel like I should be doing something more "productive" even though the beauty maintenance is, technically, productive.  Or rather, more productive than playing a computer game, watching videos and Packers.com, surfing the internet, or watching the avalanche of crap on TLC.

And all of this whining reminds me that being beautiful is a First World Problem:

Dear Taylor Swift...

When this rant began in my head, I was surprised at myself.  I was surprised because my original premise was, "Girl you are bringing all women down!"  That surprised me because my college years happened at the beginning of the very politically correct nineties and I had so much crap pushed on me about what a woman should be that I almost became an anti-feminist.  I believed that the "ideal" was pushing women toward forgetting their femininity and abandoning their individual identities.

In fact, my definition of "equal rights" was best summed up by the Golden Girls character, Blanche Devereaux, "Oh honey!  We don't want to be treated the same as men, we want to be treated better!"

Yet ... I found myself still annoyed.

I Must Be a Goddess....

There is no good story here....

I was sober.

I was wearing flat shoes.

There wasn't any ice.

The pavement was even.

I just must be very special...  Goddess-like, even.

Btw, this is a nasty looking wound, but it doesn't seem so bad in this photo.  How is my scabby knee more photogenic than my face?

Modern Medicine Probably Has a More Effective Treatment

This happened last week -- but it's only been in the past few hours that I've been able to actually research this and find that I was wrong.  I don't like to admit that I am wrong -- especially to Mr. Man because I'm usually wrong when we debate something.  This is one of those times where I was incorrect.  So I thought that, instead of admitting to him that I was wrong, I would admit it on an internets blog that he knows nothing about.  It's like admitting it to the Universe but not having to take responsibility.

I have not been shy about expressing my love for the Packers or the young man pictured at right.  Additionally, their well being contributes to my own well being in that I am less grumpy because they play well, etc.

Sssoooo...  Last Monday night, Mr. Man and I were snuggled on my couch watching the College Football Championship game between Alabama and Notre Dame.  Well, he was watching it.  I was trying not to snooze because, as I told him later, "If no one is running around with a green and gold 'G' on their helmet, I'm not really that interested."

Because I was bored, I did the 'chick' thing which is to talk while the game was in progress.  In my defense, I was talking about football.  The topic was Aaron Rodgers' post game press conference after their game against the Minnesota Vikings the previous Saturday: