Peanut Butter and Conditioner... A Winning Combo

Or not so much.... In 6th grade, my sister suggested that I lather my hair in peanut butter to help increase moisture and shine in my hair.  Looking back, I think I thought if I had nicer hair it might help land me a cute boy.  No dice...have you seen pictures of me from middle school??  I was ugly, and I'm not just saying that...just ask the hubs he will tell the truth.  Now, I think I'm fairly attractive, but back then I had nothing going on for me other than my witty/quirky personality.  Anyway, so I did as she said and coated my hair in PB...so much that it looks like a jar of peanut butter had thrown up all over my head.  Don't fret, I was smart enough not to use crunchy peanut butter.  I let it marinate overnight and then woke up late the next morning and was rushing around like a girl that lives in crazytown (oh, wait that's where I'm currently residing...just ask my family/close friends as of late).  Instead of washing it out with shampoo, I grabbed the conditioner bottle (please do not ask me what my ACT score was...).  My hair was wet when I went to school....and I figured it would eventually dry.

(Side Note:  My Mom went to work at some awful hour before school and my Dad might have thought it was a new trend... I think most Dads don't want to upset a 12 yr old late bloomer blossoming flower like myself).   

It never dried because it was still marinating in a quart of peanut oil.  During 3rd hour LaTonya T.  said, "What do you have a hangover or something?!"  Being the innocent and naive girl that I am was I had no idea what a hangover was.  After LaTonya (and no that is not a made up name to protect the innocent) explained to me that a hangover was a result of drinking too much... I was baffled.  I wasn't old enough to drink... but I guess I was old enough to look like I had downed a fifth of hard liquor the night before.

(Side Note:  I just found out last year what a fifth of alcohol was from a co-worker...Why you ask??? Because one of my clients was downing a fifth on a regular basis... I guess I didn't see what the big deal was because I thought it was 1/5 of a cup.  Wrong.... it's 1/5 of a gallon.  Wowzer, but after living in DC I know why people drink).

And just so you don't think I was a total dirtbag back then, please note I came straight home and washed my hair. 

And I do still listen to my sister for beauty advice...

Here's to a great week....hopefully better than last week. :)

DC Shopping Dress Code...One Step Down From a Black Tie Affair

Yet another DC gem and this one involves furniture shopping...good times at Ethan Allen. With a pocket full of $$$ we set out on an adventure to transform our apartment from college eclectic (aka garage sale decor) to young professional chic (we have some extra cash, but are too poor for pottery barn or even ikea). When living in a urban environment, you are forced to shop at stores based on proximity due to:

1) Extreme laziness (In my opinion, this should be an Olympic sport...not sure if it'd be in the winter or summer games though)

2) Too much traffic rage to venture out to the burbs

And for us that was Ethan Allen.  I had seen commercials on television and didn't think it was anything fancy smancy, but apparently I missed the memo that this is indeed an up scale establishment (I thought that was reserved to the MickeyD's with indoor playgrounds). We walked in and were not greeted for at least 10 minutes. No--- heeeeyyyy y'all or what can I do ya fer today. Last time I checked DC is below the mason-dixie line and I expected some darn southern hospitality.  No dice.  It turns out DC is in its own little world of hostile and snooty. Jackpot!! Wow, in the words or Frank Barone from Everybody Loves Raymond, "what contest in heck did I win?"

"Uuuummmmmm, is there something I can help you with?!" said the guy in the plaid shirt and checkered pants.... I wanted to say looks like you need more help than we do, but decided against it because he could go all DC gangsta on me and bust a cap in my behind (I'm assuming a cap is a bullet, but correct me if I"m wrong). We explained we were looking for a bookshelf and you would have thought we were speaking Pig Latin (going to brag on my mama here...she was president of the Latin Club in high school) or that we had asked a New Yorker where to get Chicago-Style pizza (which so happens to be better).  He just had this look of complete disbelief on his face.  I think the problem was our clothes.  We were fresh off the boat road from a little place I like to call heaven on earth, AKA INDIANA and weren't aware that going shopping in DC meant you needed to be dressed to the nines.  In my defense, I was wearing my best black workout pants.  I guess beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder.

We left outta there pretty quick and decided to make our buck stretch a whole lot further at my second favorite place on earth, Costco.  Buying in bulk just puts a smile on my face and their furniture deals are pretty good too...we purchased an entertainment center, a bookshelf, and end table for less than $700 and love them.  After scoring that deal I kinda felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (don't worry mom, I saw the edited version on t.v) and wanted to go back in there and wave the money at the Ethan Allen guy so he could have known the big $ commission he missed out on (Truth: it was probably enough to cover a 1/8 of his rent).

Good times.  I learned a very valuable lesson that you must dress to impress.

Peace out and have a fantastic week.

P.S--I start my new job tomorrow.  Here we go again...heaven help me.

Excuses are Like ______ Every Woman Has Some.

Feel free to fill in the blanks there...my word of choice and tonight's topic is cellulite.  It creeps up on you faster than a government employee at a table of freebies.  This topic is on my mind a lot....okay, not enough that I lay off the chips and ice cream, but enough to make me feel bad.  People assume that just because you're skinny means you are cellulite free.  And I'm here to tell you it's not true.  No matter what the air-brushed celebrity on the magazine cover promises you, don't buy any of that propaganda. 

The Truth (and I'm no expert...this is from a hard core scientific source called webmd)

It looks like hail damage or a drive-by has just taken place on your backside, but what is it?

"Cellulite is caused by fat deposits that sit side-by-side with tough collagen fibers that are anchored to the muscle beneath. When the fibers pull tight, or the fatty areas grow larger, the fat deposits may bulge out.  Cellulite is related to the structures within the skin, so even slender women are likely to have some cellulite. And if thin skin runs in your family, the cellulite you have will be more visible."


Don't you feel smarter now that webmd has dropped some knowledge on you?!  And it gets better...wait for it.....

"Cellulite is much more common in women than in men."
 Really?!  Doesn't the whole pregnancy/child birthing thing give us a free pass on the cellulite card??? Nope, the cards are stacked against us.

Aside from eating better and exercising or having too much money, I don't think there's much we can do...I say we suck it up and embrace it...make it a new fashion statement and take over the world. Who's with me?  No pictures please, I've got my own [cellulite].

Quote of the Day:
“Do you know what’s also a shame? When you sit down and your thighs squish out to twice their size. That’s a shame.”- Rose Nylund





 

I'll Take That as a Compliment...I think

Went to the doctor's office today because my allergies have been KILLING me, not to mention making me less pleasant to be around (who am I kidding?!  I have zero local friends.  Don't worry, Ma, I have 271 real friends on facebook).  This was my first date encounter with this specific nurse practitioner and like any other professional in the health care field she was direct and to the point (that's how I like my hairdressers not my medical advisers).  Came right in and said, "Wow, you look like an athlete (I wasn't even wearing sweatpants with one leg pulled up), are you athletic?"  The voice in my head said "Not unless you count the time I played catcher for slow pitch girls softball." And FYI--you've got to be pretty darn bad if you play catcher in slow pitch.  My parents paid for me to play each year in the city league and I loved every minute of it (and I'm sure they were embarrassed every minute of it by my lack of skills..I threw a softball like you would a chest pass in b-ball).  I just wish they would have played a little extra $$$ for me to play a more admirable position like shortstop or 2nd base.  NO DICE. 

Now, back to my story.... My real voice said, "Nope, but I jog." She seemed satisfied with my response and moved right along with questions regarding the color of my snot.  I got hung up on what at first seemed like a compliment, but I realized it was just an observation on her part that I looked like a flat-chested 12 yr old boy.  Flashback to 6th grade.  Dun...dun.duuuuuuun.... A teacher had asked me to deliver a note to 7th grade teacher on the floor above.  No problemo, I'm great at delivering messages, but not so great at looking like a girl.  I was wearing a nice floral print dress royal blue (matching) sweatshirt and pants outfit that I spiced up with a little red puffy paint across the chest that read U-S-A (I'm singing Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA as I type this)... While in transit, I passed two, 7th graders and I heard one ask the other, "Was that a boy or a girl?"  Talk about blow to the ego, I thought I was a trendsetter.  Lets' be honest, I was sporting the Demi Moore haircut from Ghost and that probably wasn't helping the situation... nor did it ever get me a date with Patrick Swayze.

Don't worry, I nipped that session of self reflection in the bud right away and repeated 10x's what I tell myself every morning in front of the mirror.

Work, turn to the left, work, now turn to the right
Work, Sashay! Shante!

Please let me know if you need me to translate the above...I realize this supermodel talk.