hairy monkey arms.......

Remember when I told you about my gaw-ge-ous dress that I got for the wedding? Beautiful, right? I LOVE it. I would wear this dress everyday if I could.

But you know, a special occasion like this wedding doesn't come along every day, so it requires a gal to do a little more "polishing" than usual, ya know? The nails and the pedicure are really just the begining.

Let's talk hair removal, gals.

Forgive me for being candid for a moment, but lets face it ladies, I am dangerously close to 40 years old and hair removal has become of paramount importance. I do it like it was a full time job. The waxing, tweezing, shaving... at various times,I hit it all. I log in some serious hours.I have a schedule. (Incidently, all you just-turned-30's.....write it down. You heard it here first.)

So here's the thing:
The dress is arm-bearing.
Now, I think that we can all agree that nothing says, "I'm a freak-hermit with no life", like hairy, monkey arms protruding from a lovely silk dress. Nevermind that the hair is blonde (thank-you Lord)...it still looks like a boy I sat next to in 5th grade. I used to stare disgustingly at his bushy, blonde haired arms during reading group. Ew.

I digress.

I was running short on time. We were frantically cleaning up from Easter,unpacking the kids from Mom and dads, unpacking Race from his trip, and PACKING for Florida the next day. So I figured I'd take a short cut on the arm hair. Just before I got into the shower I spread my arms with Neet. Nice and thick. 3 minutes go by.
Ouch......is it supposed to be painful???
Oh well, many hair removal methods are painful, so....no biggie.
I step into the shower.
OUCH! Damn it. That HURTS! I don't think it's supposed to hurt like that.

When I get out of the shower, I gingerly dry my arms and as I examine them I see that they are indeed, hair free. Unfortunately, they are also completely covered from shoulder-to-wrist in painful blisters and large red splotches!

Race looks at me incredulously. He's speechless.

I dress myself, trying hard not to cry out as the sleeves of my shirt rest on my raw, red appendages.

The Wedding is day after tomorrow.
Ah..yes....nothing says "I'm a strung out, needle-using drug addict" like blistered, raw, splotchy arms protruding from a lovely,silk dress.

I wimper to myself while slathering on aloe and hoping for the best.

While driving my 1/2 the next day, I had to hold my arms in a certain position on the steering wheel and keep the air on full blast, blowing on my arms in order to keep them from bursting into flames. Jack, of course wanted to know, "MOM! WHat HAPPENED to your ARMS!!?" The answer probably didn't move me very far up the intellectual ladder for him.

That night, in the hotel,I examined the damage again. Well, the blistering looked better, but unfortunately the rest of my arm looked as if I had been in a really bad skateboarding accident. That's right: Road Rash. I slathered the aloe on, once again. It was on so thick that my arms were green and slimy.

So there I was, in some nameless hotel room with my slimy, green arms laying motionlessly on the outside of the covers for the entire night.......I must not be touched. My wings of flame could not bear it.

The next morning Race got us up early to get on the road. I was less than sunny in my disposition that morning, and I let him know about it on several occasions. As I sat in the passengers seat, he returned from checking us out. He opened my door and handed me some coffee as he tried to divert his eyes from my hideous stumps. "Thank-you for the coffee" I said coldly. "What do you want me to do?" I asked. "Nothing, babe. You don't have to do anything" He said speaking in a voice like you would use for the mentally deranged. "You don't have to do anything, just sit there and look hot like you always do", he cooed. He stepped back and grabbed the edge of the door to close it and added, "And don't speak for the rest of the trip". And he closed the door. *grin*

The Wonderful Magical Aloe Vera saved my life.

By the time of the wedding, the pain was completely gone, and the road rash not very noticable. Of course had anyone stroked my arm, it would have felt like heavy grade sandpaper, but....you know....no one did. And after a few drinks I didn't even remember about my awful monkey arms.

So I don't know what the moral of this story is. Can you think of one?
Don't rush hair removal?.......... Is that a moral?

Do you ever wonder if he's just hideously ugly??

CHEERS!!!

Melissa