Tuesday, September 28, 2010

X-Mom Adventures: X-Mom vs. The Water Queen

Night falls on the city...

It was bath time and The Kid had just finished taking a shower in her bathroom.  She walked into my room with a towel on her head and another wrapped around her body.  I'm puzzled because I know I have a jillion things flopping around in my head and things tend to get lost, but I know I didn't say, "Wash your hair, too."  So, as I pondered this she said, "I need a towel."  Again, puzzled.  What?  She already had two.  Did she need a third as a jump rope?  And because she's a mind reader she said, "I have water on my floor."  Big whoop, I thought to myself.  I told her to get another towel.  She turned to walk away and paused.  "Did you say to put the shower curtain on the outside when I take a shower?" (A previous conversation)  I said, "No.  Put it on the inside when you take a shower, outside when you take a bath."

I know you're thinking something smelled funky and I should have picked up on it.  But, in my defense this was the same night I was terrorized by the swimsuits.  So, I was occupied with throwing up, crying, texting my girlfriends, and coaxing my self-esteem from under the bed where it was shamelessly hiding with its tail between its legs.  But, after a few minutes I kept hearing water sounds coming from her bathroom.  Curiosity whispered--more like screamed--for me to check things out.  I walked into her bathroom and found her frantically mopping up water with a paper towel.

I cocked my head to the side like a dog because this helps all my thoughts empty to one side of my brain and I think better.  Actually, I just didn't know what else to do.  My eyes spotted something orange in the tub.  Her bathrug.  What the H?  I walked forward to get a better look and the water seized me and pulled me under to take me back to the Water Queen's lair.  I could feel X-Mom clawing to get out and when she broke free we whirled to the surface.  I back stroked past The Kid to reach the bedroom door and saw panic plastered on her face like measles. 

Maybe it was the water sloshing around in my head or those damn swimsuits (their timing was grand, huh?), but I just could not wrap my head around what to do!  I headed for the kitchen hoping a game plan was waiting beside the Lemon Joy.  Nothing.  My utility closet held a Swiffer, a broom, and a dustpan.  Unless there were dust bunnies surfing in her bathroom I was screwed.  I convinced X-Mom that maybe it wasn't that bad.  So, I went back for a second look.

When, I reached the door The Kid had traded in the paper towel for a wash cloth.  Not wanting to fall in again, I eased towards the tub and stepped in about a half-inch of water that pretty much covered the entire floor.  So, it wasn't exactly the Water Queen's lair, but she had enough H20 to fill a friggin' kiddie pool!  Again, I exited the bathroom in search for a plan.  Or, a water noodle.  I opened my linen closet to find neither, so I eyed my towels.  Did I have enough?  I needed a third look.

I went back and found The Kid pushing the Swiffer around.  No cloth, just the naked Swiffer.  She was just pretty much rearranging the water like some form of aquatic Feng Shui.  Great.  I took a deep breath and told her that wasn't going to get the water up.  She left, taking the Swiffer with her, and didn't return.  I sighed and pulled towels from her linen closet.  I set the first towel down and the water ran away snickering as if the towel was "It."  About three towels in I heard a little voice, "I made you a sandwich."  I looked up to see a peace offering dressed up like a bologna and cheese sandwich  hovering in the doorway.  X-Mom weakened.  I thanked her and told her to put it in the kitchen for me.

Six towels, three washcloths (The Kid), a bath rug, a paper towel, and a naked Swiffer later, the Water Queen was defeated and the kiddie pool was closed for the summer.  Her shower curtain is now Super-Glued to the inside of her tub.

Stay tuned for the next adventures of X-Mom and The Kid...

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Enemy Comes in Two’s

The horror stories have knocked at my ears for years, but gained no entry because they held no ground. A few days ago that changed. I blindly wandered into new territory without ammunition. My ego was ambushed and the wounds were deep. The enemy is a two-piece. Bikini that is.

I found a cupcake of a deal online at Express on two bikinis, 8 bucks for each piece. Now, I’ve shared that I’ve been getting into shape. **insert cough** Okay, so not as religiously as I would like, but doing it still the same. I was really excited about the bikinis because they were for my upcoming honeymoon. I always, always look at the reviews of other shoppers for juicy tidbits and thankfully so. Several posts revealed the bottoms run small, so I ordered up a size.

They arrived and I greedily tore open the package to get my hands on them. Very cute. Until I tried them on. The string bikini bottoms were a large—yes, a large—and they covered half of my cheek!  Okay, obviously some people like flashing their cheeks—um, some of us need to like this idea a little less than others—but, those bottoms exceeded my comfort level. If I had ordered my regular size, the only thing those bottoms would have seen was the crack of my ass.  Because that's exactly where they would have been!  I mean, they would be shrimpy on my kid. And she’s 7!

Now, it’s totally possible Petunia Prudepants has gotten into the control room on this, but WTF! Who is making these swimsuits? Granted, if Criss Angel walked behind me and performed an illusion trick that made by butt (throw the thighs in while we're at it!) look firm and airbrushed--then I’d flash my cheeks all day long. But, obviously this is not an option at this time. So, I’m going with the next choice, crying hysterically while returning them.

I was never an avid swimsuit shopper, but when I needed one it was never a problem. I grabbed what I wanted, end of story. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard women rant and work themselves into a tizzy over swimsuit season, but I tuned it out. That was their situation, not mine. Hah! Time is one hell of a comedian.

And I don’t blame the swimsuits. Nope. Add 20,000 cheeseburgers, 1,200 bags of potato chips, 100 pints of ice cream, a jillion candy bars sprinkled with a few years and voila! Hello Miss Jigglebutt!

While my itty bitty bikini days may be temporarily behind me—hey, Denial told me I could hang out with her for as long as I wanted—my swimsuit years are not. I just have to regroup and shop for suits that offer full coverage. Of course, with designers using less and less fabric each year I’d probably have better luck finding Lucky the Leprechaun than scoring an ass friendly swimsuit.

But, hope springs eternal. Just like lipo.