Tonight, a group of friends went to dinner at Augusta. No, not the Augusta with Amen Corner and the Butler Cabin. Evidently, I'm the only dumb ass to make that mistake. This is Augusta in Oxford, Iowa. It's a quaint little restaurant started by some New Orleans residents who ended up in Iowa after Hurricane Katrina. Good times with good friends and good food. And, did I mention that the New Orleans Hurricanes were superb?
So, after coming home liquored up with three of those Hurricanes, I put on my little jammie outfit that I bought on sale at Von Maur several years ago. I look in the mirror at myself every day, but why is it when you've got several shots of alcohol coursing through your veins you look at yourself in a whole new light? So, these jammies consist of a little camisole top and shorts. What the hell? Am I really just noticing for the first time that my boobs totally do not land in the little triangle of material that connects to the spaghetti straps? Jesus...they are seriously pointing straight to the ground. Where is Christian Troy when I need him. "Carol, tell me what you don't like about yourself?" Hello -- do you see my boobs pointing to my toes? That's what I'm talking about. At the rate I'm going, gravity will wreak havoc on all my body parts before it's over. I actually recall seeing a picture of my great grandmother Horsfield when I was a little girl and thinking her boobs came out of her stomach. Welcome to my future.
Maybe this doesn't make sense to you. Let me illustrate. Let's just say I *do not* look like this pic. But, you get what I mean when I say my boobs do not fit in the little triangle...instead, they are a compass pointing to the South pole.
Well, enough about my boobs.
Last week, I went to get a hair cut. My last cut was in November. Now, that didn't seem that bad as I've been liking my longer hair, but I knew I could use a little trim to clean up the edges. My stylist, whom I've known since first grade, says, "You need to come in for a color." OK, I get that you are trying to drum up business, but that doesn't make me feel all that good? Now, I'm paranoid that my gray hair is excessive. What the hell?
I also had a spa facial last week, and the facialist (is that what you call them??) said I had "really dry skin." Seriously? Is that why you had to squeeze the hell out of my nose to clear the pores and why I have no less than three pimples on my face this week? I'm so conflicted -- dry skin + acne. What is up with that?
As I noted...I'm three Hurricanes in tonight. Of course, in the morning it will feel as if I drank a dozen. Another side effect of aging. More than two drinks throws my system off kilter for two days.
I'm also reminiscing about the old days when weekends meant sleeping in until at least 10 or 11. Bailey doesn't understand Saturday, so she promptly wakes me up at 5:15. I do go back to bed, but I seriously cannot stay in bed past 7. I'm turning into my grandmother. Just let me drink my half a can of Bud, listen to the Cubs, and take a nap on the davenport.
Life is good.
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