Look at me from the side. Do I look different to you?
Warning:
This post involves more than the usual amount of girl talk. Men may or may not be interested in it, but don't say I didn't warn you.
I don't know about most other moms, but I have found that one of the first things that goes out the window upon the arrival of a new baby is excess personal grooming. By "excess" I mean anything that might imply artificially applying colour to hair or skin, as well as anything that might keep me in front of the mirror longer than the bare minimums. Some days, this included choosing an outfit that matched. I was just happy to get out of my pyjamas.
But, as baby approaches that wondrous first-year mark, something magical happens. Suddenly, his wails are not the first sound that drags you out of bed in the morning. Your other children, if you have any, have finally reached an age where they can entertain themselves for a fair amount of time without getting in trouble. And you suddenly have time to actually look in the mirror.
And you shriek, "Oh my GOSH!!"
Then you immediately book an appointment for the hair salon, wondering how it was that you managed to stay married, looking like a slob in sweatpants for nearly a year.
While I may or may not admit to the use of hyperbole in this post (or any post, for that matter. I was raised with a firm belief in blurring the line between truth and dramatic exaggerations thereof), it was so nice to be able to go to the salon today and actually get pampered a little beyond a trim--it was time to rid the winter blahs by adding highlights to my hair.
PLUS!
I think I may have finally found a hairdresser that I like! YAY! Too bad she has a baby due in April, and then I will be punted into the wild again. Hopefully, that gives me enough time to sleuth out another artiste in the hair department--one that does not require a drive to Grand Prairie (2 hours), Edmonton (5 hours), or a one-month minimum advance booking time (downtown Peace River).
Here is a post of my new 'do, taken by Jude about twenty minutes ago after a quick finger-brushing and a long day:
And! Since this is a "girl talk" post anyway, I have been meaning to blog about this for the longest time.
"This" is one of the coolest reinventions to hit the market in a century.
"This" will make you wonder why none of your friends know about it.
"This" will make you want to be the one to tell them.
"This" is the Diva Cup.
Say goodbye to $10/month in feminine hygiene supplies.
Say goodbye to the worry about Toxic Shock Syndrome.
Say goodbye to uncomfortable vaginal dryness.
Say goodbye to messy "Maxi Ultra with wings for Night."
Say hello to taking it easier on your body.
Say hello to taking it easier on the environment.
Say hello to taking it easier on the plumbing.
Say hello to one tidy little pretty cloth bag to carry around with you in your purse, instead of an arsenal of supplies tucked in every desk or bathroom you have.
Picture a diaphragm, but facing the opposite direction. It is not absolutely perfect, but it's the best thing I've ever tried. The only downside is that if someone has particularly weak vaginal muscles (say from birthing too many babies), it can tend to slip up, especially at night. But this can easily be remedied by doing Kegal exercises.
I find I need to wear it with a pantyliner, just for the odd drop that might seep past. Also, the insertion technique took a try or two to master, but the instructions in the box are very detailed, and I soon found it was easier than using a tampon, too.
Girl talk over. If any guys made it this far, e-mail me at talena{at}wintersdayin{dot}ca and I will send you a prize. Plus, you might want to tell your wives, girlfriends, pre-menopausal mothers or post-pubescent daughters. Just sayin'. It might be weird. But they might think that was the best gift you gave them this holiday season. (The information, I mean--unless you are REALLY close and just go out and get them one!)
