Afterwards we have a bonding moment.
She told me after I was awake, downstairs and was cleaning blood off the bat whacker that she heard my grandson fussing in his portable and she got up to have a look see at him. She was leaning over him when WHAP! She gets it upside the head by an unknown flying object. She turns around and sees it's my nemesis, THE BAT!
Daughter: "I wouldn't have been out for blood until it did that, but now it made it PERSONAL." My sweet daughter hollered up the stairs at me at 4:00 this morning
She threw open the door, and propped the screen door open. With the broom in hand she followed it into the kitchen and watched in disgust as it flew upstairs where I was sleeping. Knowing how I am, she threw up this warning to me:
"Momma, GIT UP! there's a b-a-t up there and I'm out to kill that motherfucker!"
I took my natural stance in such a crisis. Cowardly cowering under the covers, pillow over my face, and shouted to her, "DO IT!"
I heard the fuss in the little bedroom. I heard her curses, "Die motherfucker die!" Sensing the swiftness of the demise of the winged heathen, I got out of the bed...tippytoed and with utmost fear in my voice asked her, "Did ya kill it baby?" Bat pulp smeared the floor and walls of the little bedroom upstairs when she was done. She was in an adrenaline rush and with arm pumping the air the yelled, "Hell YEAH! It's a dead motherfucker now Momma!" I gave her a towel and she scooped up the semi-liquid remains and we headed downstairs. Pats on the back and much adoration thrown her way, I thought, "That damn thing should never have messed with a very tired, very pregnant, very pissed off woman! YEAH!"
I forgave her unladylike language. She had slain the beast that stalked me, the same one I thought had flown out the door last night.
She is my Hero.
and I am smiling...
love me later ~ tj
I need to start this a few days ago, so you understand why my grandson was with me in the kitchen alone on a Thursday night...
It's nothing ... really.
I had a little medical issue on Wednesday. My heart was racing, I was having palpitations, sweating and flushed. I was getting a tad confused. I was scared. It happened on and off all day and by 2:00 in the afternoon, I left work and took myself to the hospital. I was strapped to monitors, injected with IV's, oxygen forced up my nose. Then my daughter called.
Daughter: "Whatcha doing momma?"
Me: "Just laying down, thinking of taking a nap."
Daughter: "At work Momma?"
Me: "I'm not at work right now, I took the rest of the day off work."
Daughter: "Why is that momma? Where are you?"
Me: "In the hospital, I'm sorta tangled up in IV's and wires, this air thing in my nose is annoying me."
Daughter: "I'll call you right back!"
I did take a nap. About an hour later my precious daughter walked in the room. I filled her in on my day. She was white with worry. I assured her there is nothing to worry about, so far the tests are all good.
Daughter: "Momma, I tell you what, I'm so mad at with you right now, I could spit nails. You call me when you have a cold, but you let this slide by?"
Me: "Sorry. I was gonna call if there was something wrong with me."
Daughter: "There is...."
Me: "I mean with my heart." The verdict is in...I am normal.
Nothing could be found that was abnormal. I was sent home with a heart monitor strapped to my chest for 24 hours. My daughter drove me home. She called my mom to come get her, she wanted to stay and needed to go get the baby. Then the hospital called me. You need to come back to the hospital tonight, they told me. There was something wrong with my heart, but it wasn't my heart that started it. As is turned out, my potassium was so low it interfered with my heart. Two huge potassium pills later and I was good to go. My daughter wasn't convinced. She remained glued to me since Wednesday afternoon. I really am okay. Thank God it was an easy fix.
It's difficult walking with children glued to me.
So I went through my next day at work, with my grandson and daughter by my side, making sure I wasn't going to die. I didn't and we had fun. I was back at the hospital after 5:00 p.m. to get the monitor off. Then we came home, ate dinner and played. Booger loves my red broom. He loves to "clean" my kitchen. He doesn't let it go when he's here. Later in the evening my daughter went to the store for milk. She left me and Booger in the kitchen. I was drinking coffee and the Boog was in his highchair having chocolate milk and Ritz crackers. The broom propped next to his highchair. Then out of the depths of hell came the sound I know I dread. . .
"Wha-pa wha-pa, wha-pa ee-ee-ee"
The broom dance begins at 9:30 on Thursday night.
Three thoughts ran through my head simultaneously.
1.) RUN!
2.) Don't scare the Boog.
3.) OH SHIT OH SHIT Oh Shit Oh Shit oh shit oh shit ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit!!!
I snatched up the broom, did the door dance, and ran to stand guard over the Boog. My thoughts were fierce, "I dare you motherfucker, to come near him." The bat swooped by us and I crouched down swinging the broom over my head. It flew into the living room, circled and flew back. I gripped the broom tighter and swung it. The bat went into the laundry room. I snatched the baby out of the high chair and ran outside. I stood waiting for my daughter. This was not the night for her to go visiting!
The skeeters were biting him, he didn't want to be outside. He wanted to be inside with Ritz crackers and chocolate milk. Shit! After about 15 minutes, I took him inside. I put him back in the highchair. I did this with hairs standing straight up on the back of my neck, goose bumps running tracks around my body. I sat, made high squeaky baby-talk to him. Boog just looked at me confused. He didn't like the "Granny Broom Dance" I had performed for him. The crackers caught his attention, and then...."Wha-pa wha-pa, wha-pa ee-ee-ee" ... it was back. I ducked and covered the Boog. I swung the broom and out of the corner of my I saw it fly out the door!
VICTORY WAS MINE!!!
Oh, I bragged to my daughter when she walked in, milk in hand. I called my mom who shared in my victory. Sweet victory that took an 18 month old baby to help me overcome a deep seeded fear. I guess my deep seeded need to protect overpowered the fear of the winged devil.
Ding Dong the bat was gone, the wicked bat, the ungodly bat.. .
I went to sleep with a smile on my face.
love me later~tj
I sent a question to an advise blogger a while back. I should have waited for his answer before venturing to the on-line dating scene. I admire his honest answers and have become quite smitten with him. I told him I would like to find me a man as studly as he, and to give me the advise I sought. His byline reeks of his credentials as an Prominent Advisor...
"i am smart n i lik to give gud advise. let me hep yew."
Cletus McGillicuddy, sow holler, Tennessee US
After sharing a terrifying ordeal that he himself had with online dating, he offered me this advise:
"so enyhow ta maik uh long story short yew kin tell them thare fellers enythin ya wannna cuz everwon on the innernet lyes enyway."
My next day off of work is a week from this Saturday.
So tonight I am re-writing my profile for my online dating service. I need to get this done quickly if I am going to snag a date for my next day off work; that is just a week from this Saturday! I thought about the men that answered my ad in the first round of on-line dating. I went and re-read all those profiles to see if any one of them mentioned words like Daddy, Loser, Exhibitionist, Abhorrent, Swinish or Morally Depraved. Nope, ok, So where to start....
My pencils are sharpened, my paper is blank... Think!
Old Tagline Looking for someone to share a life with... Well this got me nowhere. I need something snappy, something ....powerful and eye catching. Steamy Leathered Lady Desires Bondage.... hmmmm, not a good start. Ok, THINK! What is it that men really want? Oh sure they toss around words like, Romantic, Candlelight, Stable, Intelligent, and Humorous; when they really mean WHAT?. Duh! I think I have it! The perfect on-line dating profile!
How do you spell tittylateing?
New Tagline: I am a Nymphomaniac! Who am I looking for?
My turn-ons?
I love a man who wears sloppy sweat-pants that shows the crack of the moon! Hairy chests and beer belly excite me! I find the sound of a beer can opening titillating! There's nothing more sexy to me than a man in old worn out boxer shorts, sitting in a recliner with a remote in one hand and a beer in the other! Belching and scratching stimulate me! Ball caps and greasy hair are the quintessential duo to take me over the edge of desire!My hobbies?
Cooking, sex, cleaning, sex, waiting hand and foot on my man, sex, raising other people's children, sex, repairing vehicles, sex, houses, sex, and appliances, sex, shoveling snow in the winter, sex, and mowing the lawn in the summer, sex, and I love bobble-head collections! Did I mention sex?If you think I am the woman for you, tell me so! Until we meet...
XOXOI wonder if Cletus would approve?
and I am smiling....
love me later~tj
Tagline: Looking for someone to share a life with.....
Profile: "I want to meet someone who lives nearby. I own my own home, I have my own income, I don't need a man to make decisions for me or to help me get through life, I am self-sufficient and self-reliant. I'm not looking for you to take care of me, I just want to find that someone who can share a life with me. I'm too old for head games, fuck-buddies or just hanging out without a goal in mind. I have 2 kids who have their own lives. I have a couple of grandchildren who I adore. I am a big gal... I've been every size there is under the sun, and fate says big. I am who I am. If your into fit, athletic and thin types, click "next". If you don't have a job, have no goals in life, drink like a fish, inhale, inject or seek an altered reality click "next". If you have ever been busted for a DUI, domestic abuse, theft or are on any existing sex offenders list, click "next". I am a redhead and ornery and fiery. I love with passion and give all that I am in the right relationship. Think you can handle me? Drop a line.....I might send a line back."
I looked at the sessions they had to offer. Web seminars on topics of interest such as "How to Catch and Keep a Man", (sounds as good as catching an std from a man 'eh?) "Dating Advise" (No dates in months and none on the horizon so I guess I need the advise), "Profile Reviews" (claimed I was too picky, and that I needed to show a little desperation), and the all inclusive "Broken Hearts" (hmmmmm). I did a personality test to determine I suppose if I was datable. I finished the Compatibility Test. Was this test to determine with whom I was most compatible? Let's see....
The Compatibility Test measures five broad dimensions of personality that are each essential for building a romantic relationship. It's not the case that a person must be "high" on each of the personality characteristics to be in a relationship. Instead, what is important is how your personality interacts with the personality of your romantic partner on each dimension. Or what is commonly called "chemistry." Based on decades of empirical research in psychology, the Compatibility Test captures the five key ingredients that can determine whether or not two people have the "right" chemistry.
With the research done and my new found knowledge, I set off to find my Mr. Right....
Mr. 100% wanted children, that little piece of info turned him into Mr. 0% fast! Mr. 99% was a loud mouthed bigot who thought I might be interested in his opinions, and a "spanking behind a bush"?!? Then there was Mr. 91% who stopped listening to me after the word "Hello?" was uttered from my mouth. He thought that photos of caskets and disgusting songs of equally poor taste of dead people and one sided conversations of autopsies were a turn on to me. (I should have added that to my profile....duh!)
Okay, I thought, let's try a different approach to this...Mr. 27% "NASCAR Enthusiast Seeks Woman to Rev His Engine!" is what his tagline said.... So I looked further and read his profile. It went something like this.....
"Hulo im Bubba. I wan 2 luv a gurl that luvs cars and beer. Mi gurl wood wan 2 wair blak lase win she cuks, and cleens. Mi gurl wood luv lawn art. O & mi gurl wil luv mi hed... yeehaw! Mi gurl also must no ho to kownt & role penys. I hav a rite many inna jar inna udder room. U wana no abote me? Im a rite gud lokin man. I gots me a ballcap kolecshun & mosly all mi teeth. I wurk inna geeraje chanjin orl inda cars. I gits me a regalr paychek so U hav no worees I wil treet U gud!"
Okay, now then, ahem, maybe I shot at too low on the compatibility test rating scale. So I look some more .... Mr. 89%... successful, income, shelter, no little children, wants no more children.......I'm intrigued.....I emailed him, asked why he doesn't have a photo of himself online, he adds me to his friends list and Instant Message's me, a minute after hello, he offers me to view his webcam. Interesting I think as I accept his invitation. The screen goes from black to focused, and what am I looking at when I finally see him..... No handsome face to put with that profile? NOOOOOOooooooo!, I see nothing but a hand, stroking it. So I watched the show, and add him to my ever increasing ignore list on my Messenger.....
Here's a fellow, Mr. 87%... Caring, honest, funny, loving and smart.....hmmmmm He failed to mention sweet, handsome, giving and kind to his list. He was those things as well. Would make any woman happy....if they didn't mind a man who can't drive, who for whatever circumstances lives with mom, and lives quite a distance away .... (didn't I mention I want a fellow who lives NEARBY?) okay, I gotta admit, leaving this fellow behind hurt a tad, but I wouldn't see past the distance of it, couldn't see past the chauffeuring of it. After two dates I knew it wasn't meant to be for us.
So the night I said goodbye to Mr. 87% I logged into the site I placed my ad on and politely deleted it. I have come to the conclusion that Mr. Right doesn't own a computer.
and I am smiling....
love me later~tj
Chiroptophobia
It was late at night....2:00 in the morning. I was sleeping on the couch, not well, but sleeping.
Belzebub's Hidyhole is in my bedroom.
I was on the couch sleeping not so well because I moved my bed upstairs. My once-upon-a-time boyfriend started making a closet up there for me, but got only as far as pounding a board in the wall and taking off my attic door. I called that opening "the maw for night creatures" when I slept up there. Shortly after moving my bed upstairs, I asked my alcoholic good-for-nothing, ex-boyfriend. not-in-my-lifetime-fiance', to move out. I wasn't overly polite about it. A drunk is a drunk-is a drunk. he left without finishing the closet. With the Passageway to Hell gaping in my bedroom and the fact that I have never in my life lived alone, and I was all but a little freaked about sleeping in my big house unaccompanied, I found myself on this particular Thursday night, cuddled under the blanket on the couch with my cat - poorly doing the deep sleep.
That's when I heard it ... Wha-pa wha-pa, wha-pa ee-ee-ee.
That sound froze my breath. My hair stood on end. My cat flew from my arms - I was squeezing the life out of him. The blanket sailed over my head. When my heart began to beat again, it started in at hyper-speed. It was beating in my throat. I started to shake. I knew I was going to vomit. I was gasping for air. I heard these horrible little choking noises and realized they were coming from me. It was so dark under the blanket, but there was danger lurking outside of this shelter I had thrown around me. I snuck my arm out slowly, slowly, slowly, so that no one would see the movement. I felt for my phone. Gingerly I touched it and snatched it back into the hastily made sanctuary with me.
I dialed 911. The conversation went something like this:
911 Operator:
"This is 911, what is your emergency?"Me:
- gasping for air, quietly so no one would hear - trying desperately to give sound to the voice that was squeaking from my mouth -911 Operator:
"Hello, is anyone there? Please state your emergency."Me:
- squeaking and hyperventilating - "I am her-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrre. PLEASE send the police."911 Operator:
"State your emergency please."Me:
"There's an intruder in my home! Send a cop to get me out."911 Operator:
"You have an intruder in your home ma'am? Where are you?"Me:
- still hyperventilating and now crying as well - "I'm u-u-u-nder the co-co-covers on mymymy co-co-co-couCH!"911 Operator:
"You are hiding under the covers on your couch ma'am?"Me:
- hicupping, hyperventilating and crying - "Y-Y-Y-Y-Yes!"911 Operator:
"Why?"Me:
"Sotheintruderdontgetme."911 Operator:
Let me see if I have this right ma'am. You are hiding under the blankets on your couch at 2:10 in the morning so the intruder in your home won't get you?Me:
"Yes. That is exact-ly-ly-ly ri-ri-right! Send someone PLEASE."911 Operator:
"Does the intruder have a weapon ma'am?"Me:
"Yes! Teeth, BIG TEETH!"911 Operator:
"Ma'am could you please calm down, I'm having a difficult time understanding you. Did you say teeth is his weapon?"Me:
"Yes! Oh, my GOD! Oh MY GOD, oh my god, ohmygod, ohmygodohmygodohmygod."911 Operator:
"I have your information pulled up here, ma'am are you Tammy?"Me:
"Yes, Tammy, that's me."911 Operator:
"Tammy can you tell me what exactly is in your home?"Me:
"A b-b-b-b-bat-t-t-t-t-t."911 Operator:
Chuckling - "We can't send an officer to remove a bat Tammy."Me:
"OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO!!!!! Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo OH MY GOD!"911 Operator:
"Tammy, if you don't calm down, I will send an ambulance."Me:
"Will they get it out?"911 Operator:
"No, but you need to calm down."Me:
"ok."911 Operator:
"I can tell you what the animal control states to do in a case like this, are you still with me Tammy?"Me:
"uh-huh."911 Operator:
"First, open your door, and prop the screen open."Me:
"But that means I have to get out from under the covers!"911 Operator:
"Yes."Me:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!"911 Operator:
"You can do this Tammy, Is there anyone you can call to help you?"Me:
"Yes, I called you to help me."911 Operator:
"I'll stay with you here Tammy, you need to do this, you have yourself so worked up you are going to need an ambulance if you can't settle down. Now, first thing is get off the couch......"I enjoy camping out in my truck every now and then.
I did as the 911 operator instructed. I got up, leaving the blanket draped over my head. I ran crouched low, the hundred miles to the door, flinging it wide open, and in that same motion I flung open the screen door and pushed the lever to hold it. I sprinted out to my truck and sat in it at 2:45 in the morning finally talking sanely to the 911 operator. She told me I sounded better - Well duh! I wasn't in there with IT. - She offered all kinds of animal control advise. I just sat on the phone with her, my new best friend. No I told her I won't go back in there if IT is in there. Yes, I told her, I would like to sleep in my truck instead. No I haven't seen IT fly out. Then she spoke of a man......
Laughter is an expression or appearance of merriment or amusement.
The 911 Operator called him for me. He lives a piece away from me. He charges $50.00 to come out at 3:15 in the morning. The Critter Guy. Send him, oh lord yes send him to me! She did. Bless her soul, she stayed on the line and waited on hold while I talked to him when he called me. No, I'll be okay now I told her, I'll wait right here. No I haven't got my coat on, jeez, I was trying to sleep when I was attacked I told her. Yes I'm in my truck at 3:45 in the morning with a t-shirt and panties on. I have my blanket I said, I won't freeze. No I can't turn on the heater in my truck - the keys are in the house with IT - She laughed out loud at me. She really did. A great Guffaw came pounding into my ear. Glad you find it humorous I told her. I wasn't anywhere near laughter. I was 6 months away from laughter.
What kind of specialist needs a tennis racket?
The Critter Guy showed up at 4:30. I had been diligently watching the door. No IT had not flown away. No I never took my eyes away from the door. He used all the tools of the trade he had brought with him. A stick and a tennis racket, a cloth and a flashlight. He searched my house. Every nook and cranny was examined at my insistence. The Critter Guy did not locate the object of my demise. He assured me, ASSURED ME that the bat was gone, flew the coop while I wasn't looking. Okay then. I'm tired and I need to be to work in an hour and a half.
Coffee, spades and a goodnight's sleep is on order in that order.
I took a long shower and went to work. I worked late into the evening and got home about 9:00 that night. I was exhausted. I came in the house, got a cup of coffee and my broom and sat down at the computer. I just started a game of on-line spades with a couple on-line friends, when I heard it - Wha-pa wha-pa, wha-pa ee-ee-ee.
Self-Preservation - Self-Motivation
I flew from my chair, grabbed my broom as I pushed open the door and jammed the lever of the screen door home. I stood outside breathing hard, nearly crying. I heard the 911 Operator's voice echoing in my head - You can do this Tammy - I couldn't. A neighborhood boy came up to me and asked me what was up? A bat I told him. Oh Momma he says, you're a big scardey cat! Yup. I shore 'nuff am. He went in the house. Searched high and low - again, no bat.
God had a nightmare when He created IT.
10:30 same night. Same trying to sleep but not sleeping on the couch. Same Wha-pa wha-pa, wha-pa ee-ee-eeeeeeeeeee. This time, I rise to the occasion. I grab my newest accessory, still in its cellophane wrappings, I call it a bat whacker, It's a racquetball racket. I do the door dance, I stand outside on my sidewalk facing the door. That's when it happened. ~ Thee biggest, hairiest, scariest creature God ever put on this earth flew straight at me. Whoosh - I felt my hair move as it veered upwards - just missing my face. I felt the goose bumps come. First on my neck and they worked their way down my body, as did the shudder of relief that came moments later.
... "thee abode of Satan and the forces of evil; where sinners suffer eternal punishment are hurled headlong...To bottomless perdition, there to dwell"- John Milton
I sleep a little sounder now. Still on the couch, as the gates of hell stand open in my bedroom - my handyman is booked until January - The couch tends to get a little crowded at night though, there's three of us there... me, my cat and my bat whacker, at least until hibernation season comes...
love me later~tj
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now.. The WAX
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner,, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:
"Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax", yeah! right!) I lay the strip across my thigh, hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! Ok, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With the next strip I move north. After checking on the kids I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip). I inhale deeply and brace myself…RRRRRRIIIIPPP!!!! I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!..... OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe..... OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy ... a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX????
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair should be on the strip's not! I touch. I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something so I put my foot down. Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!"
What can melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!*
I get in the tub; the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment; I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter ..."So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?"
She's laughing out loud by now;I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!!! Right!!
I should be the joke of someone's else's night.
While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace: the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair: THE HAIR IS STILL THERE!!!..ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color!!!
Go ahead laugh ... it's hilarious!
love me later ~ tj
