This morning my husband brought my daughter into our bed around 5:45AM hoping for a little bit more sleep.
Her big eyes were staring right back at me and her cute smile right underneath it.
No more sleep but some precious cuddling.
I have two older sons and am very cognitive of raising her to not really care what she looks like, but rather, focus inward.
I kissed her and the boys and then headed out the door. To get waxed and my nails polished before heading to BlogHer. I had already made a promise to myself, you will not Instagram your nails for BlogHer. That’s so 2009. You have moved beyond.
Then I also thought, as I drove, why the hell did I obsess over the color of nail polish I would shake Maria Shriver’s hand with when I found out last May she’d be at my house the next day at 10AM.
And by the way Lindsay, what color nail polish are you wearing?
And had I ever remembered what color nail polish a woman had worn?
I am a woman who used to wear flip flops and tennis shoes out. Does vanity make me stupid? Yet, somehow as I age and especially after having 4 pregnancies I realize I like my body healthy and yes, sexy, however that is I deem it.
First I headed to spin class. In my Lululemon pants.
Before you judge me, oh judge me whatever. I needed to get there and help alleviate my anxiety. It has grown tremendous the last month.
It can offset my heart and cause an SVT attack.
I wore my Expressing Motherhood shirt and the teacher said, you came here with an intention, what was it? For me it was to get my heart rate up. I have an SVT and I need to keep my heart healthy. I looked at my reflection and looked at the heart my friend has in part of the design.
Healthy heart.
I wanted to get off the bike a hundred times. But I stayed. Sweaty, I left feeling good. Off to the nail salon.
It’s a salon I haven’t been to in years. I asked if I could get a bikini wax.
A woman said yes, she had time for me.
OK, I promised no Instagrams of my nails but I’m headed into bikini waxing, stay with.
“You want regular or Brazilian?” She said in a heavy accent.
“Oh, well, oh geez, just regular…” that’s when she started taking over.
“Let me see. You will be so happy Brazilian is no big deal,” she said.
“Oh, well, I’m a mom of 3 so this is pretty no important, you know, I’m just busy,” I started rambling. Half apologizing and half just doing what I do.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“A conference, for women/mom bloggers. Maybe I’ll go swimming?” I made a funny face. Then she really took over.
“You have three kids,” this is where I thought she would say, you need to have time to yourself instead she said, “Men get bored, they go out and start looking around. Men are bastards anyways.” Then there is pain and holy smokes she has started what I am assuming is a Brazilian plan.
“Holy smokes,” I laugh and cringe as I am sweating. But she is so utterly entertaining me that I let her continue on.
Look how relaxing I make dinner with three kids look.
“You have had babies, you can do this,” she says. “Men go out into the world and now they see the ladies who look like this and this is what they want.” I giggle, inwardly as I think of my shy husband who works from home walking around LA seeing this.
“Men are dogs,” she says right before a part I’m utterly terrified of happening happens. Then she throws me a curve ball, “I had only one man, can you believe that?”
“Oh, wow, how long?” I politely say, sweat building on my forehead.
“40 years,” she says.
“How did he treat you?” I asked.
“Very good. Like a princess. That is why I don’t want to date. I got spoiled. Plus after a while, sex is like a chore for a woman.” I think of Mommy Tonk and how much material she is giving me.
“Did you divorce?” I asked.
“No, he died, 10 years ago. He was volunteering over in Iraq as a doctor and his camp was blown up.” Suddenly I felt no more pain.
She had me captured.
“Turn over,” she said.
“I’m so sorry to hear about that. Did you have kids?” I asked
“Yes, she said, I had them very close together, two sets of twins 14 months apart,” but the way she phrased it I didn’t want to ask more questions. I had a feeling something painful and much more raw would come up and I didn’t want to probe.
“Look, look how good you look,” she said as she handed me a hand mirror. I looked thinking, holy shit, this woman is awesome and being a woman is hilarious and wow, just what happened.
“See you did it,” she said.
I thanked her and tipped her big.
Then I got my nails done and she did the toes of a fellow older woman whom obviously was a regular.
This time the woman who waxed me listened to the woman talk about her family and her upcoming travels.
At one point the waxer said “Life is sad, what can we do,” when they were talking about the clients ailing mother in law.
The way the two women hugged each other after the pedicure ended made my heart warm.
Two women in bodies they probably never thought they’d have. Aging bodies, essentially.
The waxer caught my eye and smiled. I left the salon and on my drive home I passed a model in Griffith Park, taking off her dress and stood without any modesty in her underwear and bra until the other dress was handed to her.
She was young and perfect.
I didn’t really envy her. I wondered how she would stand up against the test of time. I wonder this a lot lately. And more I think of it internally. Because man it’s hard. You have to become so brave to age. All of the things you see happening to your loved ones and to find out new ailments about your body which can be sometimes, very scary.
I adore older women who are happy.
I had one more stop on my day.
To my dermatologist office to get some saline put into some spider veins I suddenly have.
Despite my day of “beauty” what I care about and fear about of course is my family. For health.
These minor distractions, such as my nails, waxing and fighting the inevitable aging of my body are just things I do to make me feel good.
It doesn’t mean any depth is lost.
Oh, I forgot to add one more quip from my fabulous waxer. She said, “Tonight, after you do the Chugga Chugga you might need some hemorrhoid cream.”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
All I know is that it made me laugh.
I had a hard day yesterday, controlling my anger with my kids and husband.
Sometimes I just want and need some peace and time to myself.
All of the writing, the nails, the silliness, the depths of my soul, which I wish I could make lighter, enjoy the superficial sometimes.
Yet, sometimes, what appears superficial is just me taking care of myself. And by the way I totally enjoy people’s nail photos from Instagram. BlogHer related or not.
Suddenly feeling a little insecure about the post. I knew I could make it strictly comical but they un-folded with such femininity I decided to just add it all in.
I will return to “The Waxer” I enjoyed her stories. I want to ask her more questions when I’m feeling a little braver. It takes balls to grow older, that is for sure. Just not hairy balls.
What, I couldn’t resist.
