As many of you know, I became a mother exactly one month ago today. It's been a month of adjustment. Not only have I had to deal with getting used to caring for another person, but I've had to recover from having a c-section and some minor setbacks relating to it. Prior to this, I had never been hospitalized, let alone had major surgery. Heck, I hadn't even seen a doctor for about 10 years prior to my pregnancy.
But let me get back to the mothering part. Every day since that fateful day in January when I came home from lunch and took a pregnancy test more or less on a whim to determine whether or not I should go out that night, I've wondered exactly what will I do to fuck up my child. Every parent does something that will somehow scar their kid, perhaps only a little or quite possibly a lot. Usually and hopefully, this is not a deliberate act. But given my propensity for selfishness, fear of growing up and general lack of empathy at times, it's only inevitable that I'm going to somehow cause this child to need some sort of therapy someday. I find that most people can benefit from therapy. And most likely, this need was created somehow by their parents.
Here are what I believe to be my major causes:
Gross hypocrisy - You'll never guess where I'm going tomorrow. Church! That's right. My recovering Catholic ass is going to load my baby into a car seat and sit through a UCC service. Why? Because I've come to realize that while I'm still not really buying into the whole God concept, my earliest childhood memories revolve around the lessons that I learned in church. It isn't even necessarily scripture related. I just mean that it's where I learned to behave in public and tolerate a lot of bullshit (I mentioned the Catholicism thing, right?). I even learned to protest in my early teen years when the priest wanted us to sell carnations to promote some pro-life organization and I politely declined. Even back then I was pro-abortion (not even pro-choice) due to my general hatred of the human race. So while some might think that going to church is a good thing, I can't help but snicker at the fact that I seem to be doing it for all the wrong reasons. I mean, what am I supposed to tell my kid when she asks me why the unicorns never made it on to Noah's Arc?
"Well, sweetie, God just hates freaks."
Isn't that what a lot of churches teach?
Let's get back to that hatred of the human race - I'd like to think I haven't always been so bitter towards my fellow man. At some point, I'm sure I was wide eyed and accepting, never letting the faults and stupidity of others get to me. But that person disappeared and faded into obscurity much like Natalie Halloway. The fact of the matter is that I have little patience for others and I'm annoyed easily. I fear that this will be a major obstacle in teaching my child to be outgoing and how to make friends. I'm afraid she's going to be a loner because she'll pick up on my snicker when Susie speaks with a lisp or my disgust when Brandon picks his nose and eats it. What if she ends up being a snob or an elitist and alienates herself from everyone else? Or worse yet, what if she gets annoyed and angry with others?
Because my knee jerk reaction is to swear like a construction worker - Well, I do work in the construction industry. And it will be a miracle of miracles if her first word is not "twat waffle." This one requires no explanation.
When I told a college friend of mine back in June that I was expecting a girl, her first words to me where, "Oh she is going to be just like you!" Upon hearing this I beamed with delight. How bad could that be? I'm terrified of illegal drugs and have never touched them. I'm ambitious and well educated. I like to think I'm smarter than the average bear. And most importantly, I didn't get pregnant until I was 31 years old, after I had been married for over five years, owned a home, finished my MBA and was financially independent. Sure, I didn't become fully confident and sure of myself until my late 20's, but I never let anyone take advantage of me. And if they came close, they quickly lived to regret it.
I know that's not what she meant. Let's face it. I'm a bitch on wheels. And she probably will be, too. And that's ok as long as she uses it to get over obstacles rather than letting it be an obstacle itself.
And here's to hoping that she does not get my eyesight and Paul's hearing, my aptitude for math and his aptitude for English, my sleeping habits and his cleaning habits and most importantly, his love of the band Foreigner.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
FAQ's from my first pregnancy
Sorry I've been so distant lately, kids. I just don't have much to report. However, I have been getting a lot of questions regarding my little bundle of joy. So I will try to answer some of them here so that you don't have to ask and I don't have to repeat myself constantly. I love that you all care so much and truly appreciate it. But I'm starting to feel like one of those dolls that you pull a string out of its ass and it says the same thing over and over. Here goes.
How are you feeling?
Possible answers:
"Fine"
"Tired"
"Fat"
"Like I have to pee"
"Hungry"
"Like my insides are trying to escape through my belly button"
"Like kicking the next person who asks me how I'm feeling"
"Frustrated that I can't have a margarita"
The answer I will probably give you:
"Fine"
When is your due date?
September 28th is 40 weeks, although my FMLA paperwork says October 1st. But I will most likely go on any given Sunday between September 21st and October 12th during an Eagles game.
Do you know if it's a girl or a boy?
It's a girl!
Aren't you cheating by finding that out ahead of time?
Are you kidding? I read spoilers on my favorite tv shows. You think I'm going to wait nine months to find out what I'm going to be stuck with for the rest of my life?
Do you have a name picked out?
Yes.
Well? What is it?
I stopped telling people when my sister responded with, "You know that's the name of the ugly step sister in Cinderella, right?"
What room are you using for a nursery?
The guest room. That way, when people come to visit they can take care of her for me.
Just kidding. You're still welcome to stay and sleep on the pull out couch.
Are you going to paint the room?
Fuck no. I'm too lazy for that shit. Besides, once the market picks up, I'd like to sell the house and move the fuck out of Berks County.
You really should paint. You'll be sorry when your kid pees on the walls and you have projectile vomit everywhere. You'll never get that out of the builder's paint. Why won't you paint?
Um, first off, little girls don't quite pee on walls the same way little boys do (maybe I should consider getting a new carpet instead?). And under the projectile vomit premise, I may as well paint the whole damn house then, shouldn't I? And, genius, the reason why you're having so much trouble getting stains out of your walls is because they are colored and you can't use a Magic Eraser on them. Now that the Magic Eraser has been invented there is no reason to paint your walls if you have kids. You're better off keeping them white.
Does the baby kick?
Yes. And so do I. If you put your hand on my belly you will find out which one of us kicks on purpose.
You sure are getting big, aren't you?
Yes. Thanks, dick.
Are you sure there's only one in there?
I mentioned that I kick, right?
Are you excited?
Sometimes. Other times I'm terrified. And still other times I question if I've completely lost my mind.
How are you feeling?
Oh....shut the fu-
Fine.
How are you feeling?
Possible answers:
"Fine"
"Tired"
"Fat"
"Like I have to pee"
"Hungry"
"Like my insides are trying to escape through my belly button"
"Like kicking the next person who asks me how I'm feeling"
"Frustrated that I can't have a margarita"
The answer I will probably give you:
"Fine"
When is your due date?
September 28th is 40 weeks, although my FMLA paperwork says October 1st. But I will most likely go on any given Sunday between September 21st and October 12th during an Eagles game.
Do you know if it's a girl or a boy?
It's a girl!
Aren't you cheating by finding that out ahead of time?
Are you kidding? I read spoilers on my favorite tv shows. You think I'm going to wait nine months to find out what I'm going to be stuck with for the rest of my life?
Do you have a name picked out?
Yes.
Well? What is it?
I stopped telling people when my sister responded with, "You know that's the name of the ugly step sister in Cinderella, right?"
What room are you using for a nursery?
The guest room. That way, when people come to visit they can take care of her for me.
Just kidding. You're still welcome to stay and sleep on the pull out couch.
Are you going to paint the room?
Fuck no. I'm too lazy for that shit. Besides, once the market picks up, I'd like to sell the house and move the fuck out of Berks County.
You really should paint. You'll be sorry when your kid pees on the walls and you have projectile vomit everywhere. You'll never get that out of the builder's paint. Why won't you paint?
Um, first off, little girls don't quite pee on walls the same way little boys do (maybe I should consider getting a new carpet instead?). And under the projectile vomit premise, I may as well paint the whole damn house then, shouldn't I? And, genius, the reason why you're having so much trouble getting stains out of your walls is because they are colored and you can't use a Magic Eraser on them. Now that the Magic Eraser has been invented there is no reason to paint your walls if you have kids. You're better off keeping them white.
Does the baby kick?
Yes. And so do I. If you put your hand on my belly you will find out which one of us kicks on purpose.
You sure are getting big, aren't you?
Yes. Thanks, dick.
Are you sure there's only one in there?
I mentioned that I kick, right?
Are you excited?
Sometimes. Other times I'm terrified. And still other times I question if I've completely lost my mind.
How are you feeling?
Oh....shut the fu-
Fine.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Why this bitter and cynical feminist if voting for Obama
It took me long enough to decide.
Tomorrow I will be riding the O Train to the polls. I assure you that I've put more thought into this decision than what college I was going to go to or what wedding dress I was going to wear to walk down the aisle. I've read a lot, watched MSNBC every night for the last four month as well as all the debates and even watched the cadidates speak. Up until a few short days ago I was undecided and even featured in a widely read newspaper as a result.
I can hear your thoughts right now:
How could you possibly be a feminist and not vote for a woman? Aren't you betraying your gender?
I ask you, what kind of feminist would I be if I voted for a woman who only got where she is because of who her husband is? I won't begrudge her the hard work and dedication she has put into her career. But face it, we only know who she is because her husband paved the way first. Show me a woman who did it on her own and I might be more inclined. I might also go so far as to say that she only stayed with him through the tough times in an effort to boost her career. And while I give kudos to the ultimate "lemons out of lemonade" story, I just don't see any feminist aspect of voting for a woman just because she's a woman. She needs to earn it in her own right.
Barack is an elitist and puts down the people from the small towns that you've lived in all your life.
Have you actually read what he said? Let's take a look at the quotation taken directly from the Huffington Post:
"You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them," Obama said. "And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."
I'm failing to see anything untrue in this statement. At the heart of what he's saying is that people feel hopeless about losing their jobs and downturn in the economy. There's nothing that they can control. Both Democrats and Republicans have done wrong by them. So they turn to social issues, things that mean something to them, as a sort of "tie breaker." Where they fall on these issues is how they determine their vote, sometimes not realizing that they're really missing the big picture.
And while we're on the subject let me just say that I find it extremely ironic that the mainstream media criticizes these remarks, but goes on to hold a debate where no questions of substance are asked. Nothing proves that he was right better than the fluffy questions that ABC news asked in an effort to reach the American public.
He is associated with a racist reverend.
And you agree with everything your religious leader has ever said? Obama didn't make those remarks. Someone else did. I'm sick of the whole guilt by association excuse. And the truly cynical part of me almost believes that someone from his campaign brought the issue up to defend against the internet rumors of him being a Muslim.
While we're on the subject of that email going around, you know he doesn't wear a flag pin, right?
OMG! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Well, that right there is just wrong. I mean, obviously, you have to wear a flag pin to qualify as the leader of the free world. And Kangaroo sneakers! And of course, jelly bracelets and all the other things that I wore in the third grade because that's about the level of logic you're using. Come on. Do you think George Washington wore a flag pin?
Isn't he a hypocrite? One day he's denouncing Geraldine Ferraro's opinion that he is where he is today because he's black and the next day he's making a speech about race that only he could make.
Geraldine Ferraro was only half right in that sense. Only a person who is of mixed race could make such a speech. So I guess you can say that he only received the attention because he's half black. And maybe he has played the black card at times, but he's also done it in a way that brings people together. At the rally I attended yesterday, people of all races talked to each other and related to each other. Young, old, black, white, everyone came together. And that's what we need right now.
The Clintons did more for the economy when they were in office. They have a proven track record. I was rolling in cash ten years ago.
And has it ever occurred to you that maybe part of the reason why the economy isn't doing so well now is because of NAFTA? And where did NAFTA come from? I'm not going to say that that's the only thing dragging us down, but we've lost a lot of jobs because of it. And it's definitely weakened our dollar.
Ummmmm....He's a shitty bowler?
Yeah, and I'm worse. I once bowled a 28.
Don't give up on Hilary. She still has a chance.
Not really. It's nearly impossible for her to catch up with him in delegates. Granted, with super delegates, she may have a chance. In my heart of hearts, I would like to see the super delegates vote the way their constituents would like them to vote. However, another part of me still hates the fact that certain areas of this country are worth more in the election process than others. I worry that if the super delegates go against the popular vote in general, it will destroy the party and the American dems will never be able to truly trust their leaders again.
So let's not let it come to that. PA democrats, I urge you to do what we can to put an end to this right here right now. If PA votes for Barack, it will make it significantly harder for Hilary to mathematically win the delegates she needs. Every day this primary continues, the Republicans get stronger. Fighting amongst the candidates gives the Republicans more fuel to steal as well. The candidates are sinking way too much money into the primaries. These are funds that could be used in November.
To my friends who aren't registered to vote, I love you, but I wish you would reconsider for November. It's a slap in the face to the people who founded this country and fought for your right to represent yourself and be represented. You don't have to be an obsessive political junky. You just have to take some to who see who matches your beliefs best. And with the internet, this information is so readily available, it's a sin not to take part. It may be too late for tomorrow, but not for our future. Please vote.
Tomorrow I will be riding the O Train to the polls. I assure you that I've put more thought into this decision than what college I was going to go to or what wedding dress I was going to wear to walk down the aisle. I've read a lot, watched MSNBC every night for the last four month as well as all the debates and even watched the cadidates speak. Up until a few short days ago I was undecided and even featured in a widely read newspaper as a result.
I can hear your thoughts right now:
How could you possibly be a feminist and not vote for a woman? Aren't you betraying your gender?
I ask you, what kind of feminist would I be if I voted for a woman who only got where she is because of who her husband is? I won't begrudge her the hard work and dedication she has put into her career. But face it, we only know who she is because her husband paved the way first. Show me a woman who did it on her own and I might be more inclined. I might also go so far as to say that she only stayed with him through the tough times in an effort to boost her career. And while I give kudos to the ultimate "lemons out of lemonade" story, I just don't see any feminist aspect of voting for a woman just because she's a woman. She needs to earn it in her own right.
Barack is an elitist and puts down the people from the small towns that you've lived in all your life.
Have you actually read what he said? Let's take a look at the quotation taken directly from the Huffington Post:
"You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them," Obama said. "And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."
I'm failing to see anything untrue in this statement. At the heart of what he's saying is that people feel hopeless about losing their jobs and downturn in the economy. There's nothing that they can control. Both Democrats and Republicans have done wrong by them. So they turn to social issues, things that mean something to them, as a sort of "tie breaker." Where they fall on these issues is how they determine their vote, sometimes not realizing that they're really missing the big picture.
And while we're on the subject let me just say that I find it extremely ironic that the mainstream media criticizes these remarks, but goes on to hold a debate where no questions of substance are asked. Nothing proves that he was right better than the fluffy questions that ABC news asked in an effort to reach the American public.
He is associated with a racist reverend.
And you agree with everything your religious leader has ever said? Obama didn't make those remarks. Someone else did. I'm sick of the whole guilt by association excuse. And the truly cynical part of me almost believes that someone from his campaign brought the issue up to defend against the internet rumors of him being a Muslim.
While we're on the subject of that email going around, you know he doesn't wear a flag pin, right?
OMG! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Well, that right there is just wrong. I mean, obviously, you have to wear a flag pin to qualify as the leader of the free world. And Kangaroo sneakers! And of course, jelly bracelets and all the other things that I wore in the third grade because that's about the level of logic you're using. Come on. Do you think George Washington wore a flag pin?
Isn't he a hypocrite? One day he's denouncing Geraldine Ferraro's opinion that he is where he is today because he's black and the next day he's making a speech about race that only he could make.
Geraldine Ferraro was only half right in that sense. Only a person who is of mixed race could make such a speech. So I guess you can say that he only received the attention because he's half black. And maybe he has played the black card at times, but he's also done it in a way that brings people together. At the rally I attended yesterday, people of all races talked to each other and related to each other. Young, old, black, white, everyone came together. And that's what we need right now.
The Clintons did more for the economy when they were in office. They have a proven track record. I was rolling in cash ten years ago.
And has it ever occurred to you that maybe part of the reason why the economy isn't doing so well now is because of NAFTA? And where did NAFTA come from? I'm not going to say that that's the only thing dragging us down, but we've lost a lot of jobs because of it. And it's definitely weakened our dollar.
Ummmmm....He's a shitty bowler?
Yeah, and I'm worse. I once bowled a 28.
Don't give up on Hilary. She still has a chance.
Not really. It's nearly impossible for her to catch up with him in delegates. Granted, with super delegates, she may have a chance. In my heart of hearts, I would like to see the super delegates vote the way their constituents would like them to vote. However, another part of me still hates the fact that certain areas of this country are worth more in the election process than others. I worry that if the super delegates go against the popular vote in general, it will destroy the party and the American dems will never be able to truly trust their leaders again.
So let's not let it come to that. PA democrats, I urge you to do what we can to put an end to this right here right now. If PA votes for Barack, it will make it significantly harder for Hilary to mathematically win the delegates she needs. Every day this primary continues, the Republicans get stronger. Fighting amongst the candidates gives the Republicans more fuel to steal as well. The candidates are sinking way too much money into the primaries. These are funds that could be used in November.
To my friends who aren't registered to vote, I love you, but I wish you would reconsider for November. It's a slap in the face to the people who founded this country and fought for your right to represent yourself and be represented. You don't have to be an obsessive political junky. You just have to take some to who see who matches your beliefs best. And with the internet, this information is so readily available, it's a sin not to take part. It may be too late for tomorrow, but not for our future. Please vote.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Ten things you should never say to me (unless you’re stupid and/or have a death wish)
1. "Calm down." This usually results in the opposite of the desired effect. And have you ever noticed that the person telling you to calm down is usually the asshole who pissed you off in the first place?
2. "Here is your moment to shine." This is much like 1. It loosely translates into, "I fucked up royally and need you to get me out of a jam. Look at all the glory I'm giving you in my lame attempt to suck up."
3. "Wanna know what I think?" The answer to this is always invariably and emphatically "No."
4. "I can't believe you're up already." Are you aware that the very latest I wake up is 6 AM? And I am sooooooo not a morning person. Sometimes (and really, try to wrap your head around this one), I have to get up at 4 AM to travel to work. I used to come home from a long night of drinking later than that! But really, it's not *that* unbelievable.
5. "Are you pregnant?" This is a "pet" of mine. Unless you are a medical professional or a SCUBA diving instructor, I'm hard pressed to think of an appropriate reason to ask this question. First, someone is either noticeably pregnant or not. It has been my experience that a woman who is not noticeably pregnant will tell you if she's expecting if she wants to tell you and she thinks you need to know. Otherwise, it's none of your business. If she hasn't told you the news and you ask, I can only assume that you think she looks pregnant. That's pretty much the same as calling her fat in my book. And it goes without saying that you NEVER tell a woman she looks fat.
6. "Your eyebrows are not supposed to look like that." Sorry. I couldn't resist that one.
7. "You people." I have always hated this because it creates such an "Us and Them" air. And I really fucking hate Pink Floyd. Seriously, you're not going to accomplish anything by using divisive language like that. It's only going to put the other side on the defensive and make things worse.
8. "You're too young to..." or "I have kids older than you." Ok. That might be true, but I'm still a thirty-something year old woman with a lifetime of experiences behind her, possibly more experiences than your stupid geriatric ass. You don't see me saying, "By the time my mother was your age, she broke her hip." Being the youngest in the family, I always thought that someday I would reach a point where people would stop saying this to me. But it hasn't happened. And I'll never catch up. This may never be rectified without this public service announcement.
9. "I'm sorry," when it is not sincere, especially when accompanied by a big smile. Fuck you. You're not sorry. Don't be fake.
10. "You'll be really sorry when..." after a sincere apology, especially when accompanied by a ridiculous consequence. Case in point - I recently took a chartered bus to Canada. Everyone on the bus had to get off the bus to go through customs at the border. We were waiting in a small vestibule for everyone in the group to finish going through customs or using the facilities (Bus potties are gross!). We started filing out and back to the bus when I recalled my friend mentioning on the bus about a half hour before we went to customs that she was thirsty. Realizing that I had change in my pocket, I started putting coins in the soda machine in the vestibule while the rest of the group entered the bus that was right outside. The bus driver came back in, just as I was putting my second to last coin in the machine.
"You can do that at the hotel!" She scolded.
"I'm sorry. I just put my money in. I'll be right there."
"You'll really be sorry when they keep us here!"
Let me get this straight. The Canadian border patrol is going to detain me for buying a Diet Pepsi?!?! Really?!?!? Does that mean I can apply for citizenship? Besides, the hotel was at least an hour away and there was no vending, just an overpriced minibar. Liar.
I guess I should have been so lucky to have been detained. You'll notice that "ay" did not make the list.
2. "Here is your moment to shine." This is much like 1. It loosely translates into, "I fucked up royally and need you to get me out of a jam. Look at all the glory I'm giving you in my lame attempt to suck up."
3. "Wanna know what I think?" The answer to this is always invariably and emphatically "No."
4. "I can't believe you're up already." Are you aware that the very latest I wake up is 6 AM? And I am sooooooo not a morning person. Sometimes (and really, try to wrap your head around this one), I have to get up at 4 AM to travel to work. I used to come home from a long night of drinking later than that! But really, it's not *that* unbelievable.
5. "Are you pregnant?" This is a "pet" of mine. Unless you are a medical professional or a SCUBA diving instructor, I'm hard pressed to think of an appropriate reason to ask this question. First, someone is either noticeably pregnant or not. It has been my experience that a woman who is not noticeably pregnant will tell you if she's expecting if she wants to tell you and she thinks you need to know. Otherwise, it's none of your business. If she hasn't told you the news and you ask, I can only assume that you think she looks pregnant. That's pretty much the same as calling her fat in my book. And it goes without saying that you NEVER tell a woman she looks fat.
6. "Your eyebrows are not supposed to look like that." Sorry. I couldn't resist that one.
7. "You people." I have always hated this because it creates such an "Us and Them" air. And I really fucking hate Pink Floyd. Seriously, you're not going to accomplish anything by using divisive language like that. It's only going to put the other side on the defensive and make things worse.
8. "You're too young to..." or "I have kids older than you." Ok. That might be true, but I'm still a thirty-something year old woman with a lifetime of experiences behind her, possibly more experiences than your stupid geriatric ass. You don't see me saying, "By the time my mother was your age, she broke her hip." Being the youngest in the family, I always thought that someday I would reach a point where people would stop saying this to me. But it hasn't happened. And I'll never catch up. This may never be rectified without this public service announcement.
9. "I'm sorry," when it is not sincere, especially when accompanied by a big smile. Fuck you. You're not sorry. Don't be fake.
10. "You'll be really sorry when..." after a sincere apology, especially when accompanied by a ridiculous consequence. Case in point - I recently took a chartered bus to Canada. Everyone on the bus had to get off the bus to go through customs at the border. We were waiting in a small vestibule for everyone in the group to finish going through customs or using the facilities (Bus potties are gross!). We started filing out and back to the bus when I recalled my friend mentioning on the bus about a half hour before we went to customs that she was thirsty. Realizing that I had change in my pocket, I started putting coins in the soda machine in the vestibule while the rest of the group entered the bus that was right outside. The bus driver came back in, just as I was putting my second to last coin in the machine.
"You can do that at the hotel!" She scolded.
"I'm sorry. I just put my money in. I'll be right there."
"You'll really be sorry when they keep us here!"
Let me get this straight. The Canadian border patrol is going to detain me for buying a Diet Pepsi?!?! Really?!?!? Does that mean I can apply for citizenship? Besides, the hotel was at least an hour away and there was no vending, just an overpriced minibar. Liar.
I guess I should have been so lucky to have been detained. You'll notice that "ay" did not make the list.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
To my friends - in case I don't express enough gratitude
I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who gave me words of encouragement, flattery, advice and humor over the last few days. It's so sweet of you. And some of you just crack my shit up.
A little aftermath:
I talked Paul down from printing out my blog and going to the spa's management office with it. I'm not looking for any kind of compensation from them as I don't intend to go back there. I also do not want a refund. As far as I'm concerned, I requested a service and they performed it. They should be paid. I'm not obligated to tip, so I didn't. Had the experience been more positive, I definitely would have.
While the texture of my face felt smoother yesterday, visually, I saw no difference. In fact, I have a few new zits and some of my facial scarring seems more pronounced now. My skin is roughly back to its regular texture today. The long and short of it is that I tried getting a facial and didn't like it. I'm sure I can find lots of other uses of my time and money. I think I'll live just fine without another one.
My eyebrows actually look worse. I couldn't tell that they were uneven before. I can definitely tell now. Luckily, my bangs will most likely cover them until they grow back to normal. That woman was out of her skull.
I don't believe Niculina is actually Russian. I'm not apologizing for my Russian slurs though, because I think I was funny. My mean and sarcastic humor is usually one of the few things that make me feel better when I'm having a bad experience. I looked up her credentials on the spa's website and it seems that she was educated at the Medical Institution of Bucharest, leading me to believe that she's Romanian. *Insert your own "Romanian women are really hairy joke here.* I'm now convinced that the Medical Institution of Bucharest is one of the following:
1. A mental institution in which patients experience occupational therapy by popping each others' zits and putting the lotion in the basket and all that.
2. Some sort of equivalent to the University of Phoenix or DeVry Institute.
Also, according to the website, one of Niculina's specialties is Brazilian bikini waxing. If she was that harsh about my face, I shudder to think about what she'd say about my nether region. Although, at least I really do shave that.
Someone else suggested that the whole eyebrow thing was a sales ploy to get me to purchase the additional service of a wax. It's possible. But given her reluctance to do it, I kind of lean towards that not being true. I would totally fall for something like that, though. I'm a marketing person's wet dream, after all. If that was her intention, it totally backfired. Not only did she not get her tip, she totally lost future business.
Anyway, it's not my fault that bitch was too fat to be a gymnast. Nadia Comaneci really shouldn't be taking the fact that she was already kicked off Celebrity Apprentice out on me.
Ok. I'll let it go now. Thanks again for being such wonderful people! You all have very special places in my grinchy little heart.
Mwah!
A little aftermath:
I talked Paul down from printing out my blog and going to the spa's management office with it. I'm not looking for any kind of compensation from them as I don't intend to go back there. I also do not want a refund. As far as I'm concerned, I requested a service and they performed it. They should be paid. I'm not obligated to tip, so I didn't. Had the experience been more positive, I definitely would have.
While the texture of my face felt smoother yesterday, visually, I saw no difference. In fact, I have a few new zits and some of my facial scarring seems more pronounced now. My skin is roughly back to its regular texture today. The long and short of it is that I tried getting a facial and didn't like it. I'm sure I can find lots of other uses of my time and money. I think I'll live just fine without another one.
My eyebrows actually look worse. I couldn't tell that they were uneven before. I can definitely tell now. Luckily, my bangs will most likely cover them until they grow back to normal. That woman was out of her skull.
I don't believe Niculina is actually Russian. I'm not apologizing for my Russian slurs though, because I think I was funny. My mean and sarcastic humor is usually one of the few things that make me feel better when I'm having a bad experience. I looked up her credentials on the spa's website and it seems that she was educated at the Medical Institution of Bucharest, leading me to believe that she's Romanian. *Insert your own "Romanian women are really hairy joke here.* I'm now convinced that the Medical Institution of Bucharest is one of the following:
1. A mental institution in which patients experience occupational therapy by popping each others' zits and putting the lotion in the basket and all that.
2. Some sort of equivalent to the University of Phoenix or DeVry Institute.
Also, according to the website, one of Niculina's specialties is Brazilian bikini waxing. If she was that harsh about my face, I shudder to think about what she'd say about my nether region. Although, at least I really do shave that.
Someone else suggested that the whole eyebrow thing was a sales ploy to get me to purchase the additional service of a wax. It's possible. But given her reluctance to do it, I kind of lean towards that not being true. I would totally fall for something like that, though. I'm a marketing person's wet dream, after all. If that was her intention, it totally backfired. Not only did she not get her tip, she totally lost future business.
Anyway, it's not my fault that bitch was too fat to be a gymnast. Nadia Comaneci really shouldn't be taking the fact that she was already kicked off Celebrity Apprentice out on me.
Ok. I'll let it go now. Thanks again for being such wonderful people! You all have very special places in my grinchy little heart.
Mwah!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I wish I could tie you up in my shoes, make you feel unpretty, too
I really hesitate to write what I'm about to write. First, I don't want anyone to think that I'm fishing for compliments. I assure you I am not. Second, this is going to be painfully embarrassing and humiliating to share. But I've made new year's resolutions to open up more and also to write more. And since I feel like a giant raw nerve at the moment, I can't really think of a more appropriate circumstance.
I had my first facial today. No, you sick perverts, it wasn't *that* kind of facial. Although, I think I may have preferred that. It probably would have been much less demeaning.
My sweet and wonderful husband gave me an extremely generous gift card for the Bell Tower Salon and Medi-Spa as an MBA graduation gift. Being a bit on the shy side when it comes to people touching and fussing over me, it took me some time to bring myself to make appointments to use the card. Paul and I enjoyed their Couple's Escape package a few weeks ago. I still had some money left on the gift card and decided to use it towards a facial since I had never had one. A friend of mine suggested a specific person to request for the facial, but unfortunately that person was unavailable due to maternity leave. Since I didn't know of anyone else who worked there, it really didn't matter to me who did it.
My appointment was scheduled for Saturday, January 5th. I was quite sleep deprived last week due to the New Year's Eve activities and having to take my sister back to the airport at an ungodly hour on Thursday. I would have loved to stay in bed all day, but I was a trooper and drove to the spa for my appointment thinking that it would be soothing and relaxing anyway.
When I arrived, I discovered that my appointment had been cancelled due to a "scheduling error." I was never notified of this cancellation. But I kept my cool, smiled, shrugged and said it wasn't a really big deal. I'd be happy to come back. This gave me the chance to get my drivers license photo taken. Who knew that experience would actually make me feel more attractive than a day at the spa?
I returned tonight for my rescheduled appointment with Niculina. She had just entered the waiting room as I was glancing at my watch, noticing that she was roughly 10 minutes tardy for our appointment. Again, I didn't say a word and shrugged it off. What was I doing anyway?
She was a cold tempered woman of eastern European descent. To say she was unfriendly would be like saying that oompa loompas tend to be a little on the short side. As instructed, I removed my shirt and necklace and took my place on the table, covering myself with a sheet and blanket. She asked me a few questions about what I use on my face, but really didn't seem to listen or really be interested in what I was saying. My appointment was for an acne facial, which I thought I would need since the only time my face has ever been free of zits was back when I was in high school and on birth control pills. After my initial cleanse, she told me that my pores were severely clogged and that I should do a purifying facial instead. Whatever. It really didn't make a difference to me and I trusted her expertise. She also said she would take care of "the white ones" on my face, I guess referring to the breakouts that I was there to solve in the first place. She then put my face under some harsh lights to get a better look.
If you're skimming, here's where it gets nasty.
This bitch, in her thick as Natasha Fatale accent said with an equally thick tone of disgust, "You need to grow your eyebrows out and redo them. They are NOT supposed to look that way." Excuse me? God? Is that you? I can't imagine anyone else being in any other sort of position to tell another human being what the fuck their face is "supposed" to look like. She went on, "Do you shave them?" Um, no. I told her that I usually have them done every few weeks when I get my hair cut. She reiterated, in case I missed her horrible criticism of my face the first time, "They shouldn't be like this. Grow them out and come back. I will fix them for you." My! How fucking gracious of you, bitch! How will I make it through the next few weeks without your precious gift?!?
Of course, this is what I say right now. At the time, I panicked. I have a fancy shmancy work shindig on Saturday. "Is there anything you can do now to fix them temporarily?" She sighed, as if I had asked her bleed a vodka tonic for me, "Well, you really should grow them out. They are uneven here and short there..." I told her that I had something going on for Saturday night and she eased, "Well, I can see what I can do. Maybe." I guess this was going to be a really big challenge for her.
As if my eyebrows weren't a crisis enough for this woman, she put on rubber gloves and preceded to squeeze and pop every microscopic bump that was on my face. She was popping the wrinkles in my fucking forehead. And it hurt! Badly! She kept squeezing my nose and I struggled to breathe through my unusually small nostrils (a feature that I have because I never picked my nose as a child). Between the physical pain and the emotional sting, I began to cry when she had completed the first half of my face. "Are you ok?" She asked. I couldn't respond. She asked again. With a cracked voice, I told her I was fine. "I will stop if you do not want me to continue," she said sounding exactly like Uncle Junior's one legged housekeeper. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say? "Please stop and only do half of my face so that I'm uneven and look like Juliet Lewis's character in The Other Sister after her make over?" I told her to continue. "If only you could see what I am doing right now." Great. That made me feel even better. Just call me Chrissy Pus Face.
Then she asked for my hand. She took my finger and thumb, placing a tiny ball of pus between them, much like you would feel if you ever popped a zit. "This is what I am removing from your face." Great. Now my face makes me want to puke. I can only imagine what the rest of the world thinks. I continued to cry.
"How often do you get facial?" Nureyev in a skirt asked. When I told her this was my first one, she shrugged and nodded as if I was less than human.
"You want me to fix your eyebrows, but the wax is also going to hurt," she warned. This really pissed me off. I told her earlier that I usually did wax my eyebrows and here she was speaking to me as if I had never done it before. I reminded her of this. I continued to cry. "I just feel really ugly," I said. She then proceeded to tell me that this was nothing personal (no shit, bitch. I'm an awesome person...I just look like Quasimodo, apparently) and that she was giving me her professional opinion. She said that there was nothing wrong with my skin and that after being in this line of work for 20 plus years she has seen just about everything. You would think that after 20 plus years of experience, she would have a better bedside manner. But who am I to expect service with a smile? I'm just another ugly face.
And did you notice how she didn't tell me that I *wasn't* ugly?
She handed me a mirror so that she could show me exactly what was wrong with my face, but I told her that I felt so ugly after the way she spoke to me that I really couldn't even stand to look at myself. When she finally did wax my brows, it not only hurt less than the squeezing and popping of my crater face, but it also hurt less than when my hairdresser does it.
She continued with the facial, bringing out a buffering machine, "I am about to bring out machine. I must ask you at this time if you are pregnant." I'm sure she has to ask this of everyone, but while we're at it, why not just remind me that I'm fat, too?
I told her that I'm not pregnant. She buffed my face. When she finished, I asked why the machine could not be used on pregnant women. "They told us we are not to use the machine on pregnant women." Ooooookay. But why? I pressed further, but she just repeated herself. So I guess the reason is that she is just following orders, much like the Nazis did when they killed her people. What a shame that they missed her lineage...
I kept these thoughts to myself for the rest of the time, however. She had chemicals and sharp objects. And I'm fairly certain that a person of her position and intelligence might not be aware that the Cold War is over. So I remained uncharacteristically polite. When she offered me a glass of water, I responded with a meek and defeated, "Yes, please." She gave me some samples and reiterated that she was not trying to demean me, rather just give me her professional opinion. She pulled a hand held mirror out of a drawer and asked if I would like to look at how much better I look now that she fixed my face. I declined. She left the room so I could get dressed and then walked me to the counter as if I would storm out without paying.
When the sweet and perky blond behind the reception desk asked me how everything was I responded with an "Okay."
"Just ok?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything we can -"
"No," I said firmly, but not meanly. I really have no desire to ever return to that place, regardless of how great my other experiences were there and especially since they just opened a medi-spa within walking distance of my house. I paid my bill but didn't tip. The money that I planned to use for the tip will be going towards years' worth of therapy. I walked out with my head down and hair in my face while everyone behind the counter stared at me like I was as ugly of a circus freak as I felt.
When you are in a business like a medi-spa, you are selling the experience. People want to walk out of there with their heads held high, feeling stunning and beautiful. I couldn't feel anything further from that right now. And I can't stop crying. I know this whole thing sounds so annoyingly self absorbed and overly sensitive. And clearly most of you look at me on a regular basis so you've been well aware of my hideousness for so long that I'm sure what she told me is no surprise to any of you. I've never felt like an attractive person in the first place, but at least I've felt fairly confident over the last few years. Now all of that is shattered as well.
I had my first facial today. No, you sick perverts, it wasn't *that* kind of facial. Although, I think I may have preferred that. It probably would have been much less demeaning.
My sweet and wonderful husband gave me an extremely generous gift card for the Bell Tower Salon and Medi-Spa as an MBA graduation gift. Being a bit on the shy side when it comes to people touching and fussing over me, it took me some time to bring myself to make appointments to use the card. Paul and I enjoyed their Couple's Escape package a few weeks ago. I still had some money left on the gift card and decided to use it towards a facial since I had never had one. A friend of mine suggested a specific person to request for the facial, but unfortunately that person was unavailable due to maternity leave. Since I didn't know of anyone else who worked there, it really didn't matter to me who did it.
My appointment was scheduled for Saturday, January 5th. I was quite sleep deprived last week due to the New Year's Eve activities and having to take my sister back to the airport at an ungodly hour on Thursday. I would have loved to stay in bed all day, but I was a trooper and drove to the spa for my appointment thinking that it would be soothing and relaxing anyway.
When I arrived, I discovered that my appointment had been cancelled due to a "scheduling error." I was never notified of this cancellation. But I kept my cool, smiled, shrugged and said it wasn't a really big deal. I'd be happy to come back. This gave me the chance to get my drivers license photo taken. Who knew that experience would actually make me feel more attractive than a day at the spa?
I returned tonight for my rescheduled appointment with Niculina. She had just entered the waiting room as I was glancing at my watch, noticing that she was roughly 10 minutes tardy for our appointment. Again, I didn't say a word and shrugged it off. What was I doing anyway?
She was a cold tempered woman of eastern European descent. To say she was unfriendly would be like saying that oompa loompas tend to be a little on the short side. As instructed, I removed my shirt and necklace and took my place on the table, covering myself with a sheet and blanket. She asked me a few questions about what I use on my face, but really didn't seem to listen or really be interested in what I was saying. My appointment was for an acne facial, which I thought I would need since the only time my face has ever been free of zits was back when I was in high school and on birth control pills. After my initial cleanse, she told me that my pores were severely clogged and that I should do a purifying facial instead. Whatever. It really didn't make a difference to me and I trusted her expertise. She also said she would take care of "the white ones" on my face, I guess referring to the breakouts that I was there to solve in the first place. She then put my face under some harsh lights to get a better look.
If you're skimming, here's where it gets nasty.
This bitch, in her thick as Natasha Fatale accent said with an equally thick tone of disgust, "You need to grow your eyebrows out and redo them. They are NOT supposed to look that way." Excuse me? God? Is that you? I can't imagine anyone else being in any other sort of position to tell another human being what the fuck their face is "supposed" to look like. She went on, "Do you shave them?" Um, no. I told her that I usually have them done every few weeks when I get my hair cut. She reiterated, in case I missed her horrible criticism of my face the first time, "They shouldn't be like this. Grow them out and come back. I will fix them for you." My! How fucking gracious of you, bitch! How will I make it through the next few weeks without your precious gift?!?
Of course, this is what I say right now. At the time, I panicked. I have a fancy shmancy work shindig on Saturday. "Is there anything you can do now to fix them temporarily?" She sighed, as if I had asked her bleed a vodka tonic for me, "Well, you really should grow them out. They are uneven here and short there..." I told her that I had something going on for Saturday night and she eased, "Well, I can see what I can do. Maybe." I guess this was going to be a really big challenge for her.
As if my eyebrows weren't a crisis enough for this woman, she put on rubber gloves and preceded to squeeze and pop every microscopic bump that was on my face. She was popping the wrinkles in my fucking forehead. And it hurt! Badly! She kept squeezing my nose and I struggled to breathe through my unusually small nostrils (a feature that I have because I never picked my nose as a child). Between the physical pain and the emotional sting, I began to cry when she had completed the first half of my face. "Are you ok?" She asked. I couldn't respond. She asked again. With a cracked voice, I told her I was fine. "I will stop if you do not want me to continue," she said sounding exactly like Uncle Junior's one legged housekeeper. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say? "Please stop and only do half of my face so that I'm uneven and look like Juliet Lewis's character in The Other Sister after her make over?" I told her to continue. "If only you could see what I am doing right now." Great. That made me feel even better. Just call me Chrissy Pus Face.
Then she asked for my hand. She took my finger and thumb, placing a tiny ball of pus between them, much like you would feel if you ever popped a zit. "This is what I am removing from your face." Great. Now my face makes me want to puke. I can only imagine what the rest of the world thinks. I continued to cry.
"How often do you get facial?" Nureyev in a skirt asked. When I told her this was my first one, she shrugged and nodded as if I was less than human.
"You want me to fix your eyebrows, but the wax is also going to hurt," she warned. This really pissed me off. I told her earlier that I usually did wax my eyebrows and here she was speaking to me as if I had never done it before. I reminded her of this. I continued to cry. "I just feel really ugly," I said. She then proceeded to tell me that this was nothing personal (no shit, bitch. I'm an awesome person...I just look like Quasimodo, apparently) and that she was giving me her professional opinion. She said that there was nothing wrong with my skin and that after being in this line of work for 20 plus years she has seen just about everything. You would think that after 20 plus years of experience, she would have a better bedside manner. But who am I to expect service with a smile? I'm just another ugly face.
And did you notice how she didn't tell me that I *wasn't* ugly?
She handed me a mirror so that she could show me exactly what was wrong with my face, but I told her that I felt so ugly after the way she spoke to me that I really couldn't even stand to look at myself. When she finally did wax my brows, it not only hurt less than the squeezing and popping of my crater face, but it also hurt less than when my hairdresser does it.
She continued with the facial, bringing out a buffering machine, "I am about to bring out machine. I must ask you at this time if you are pregnant." I'm sure she has to ask this of everyone, but while we're at it, why not just remind me that I'm fat, too?
I told her that I'm not pregnant. She buffed my face. When she finished, I asked why the machine could not be used on pregnant women. "They told us we are not to use the machine on pregnant women." Ooooookay. But why? I pressed further, but she just repeated herself. So I guess the reason is that she is just following orders, much like the Nazis did when they killed her people. What a shame that they missed her lineage...
I kept these thoughts to myself for the rest of the time, however. She had chemicals and sharp objects. And I'm fairly certain that a person of her position and intelligence might not be aware that the Cold War is over. So I remained uncharacteristically polite. When she offered me a glass of water, I responded with a meek and defeated, "Yes, please." She gave me some samples and reiterated that she was not trying to demean me, rather just give me her professional opinion. She pulled a hand held mirror out of a drawer and asked if I would like to look at how much better I look now that she fixed my face. I declined. She left the room so I could get dressed and then walked me to the counter as if I would storm out without paying.
When the sweet and perky blond behind the reception desk asked me how everything was I responded with an "Okay."
"Just ok?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything we can -"
"No," I said firmly, but not meanly. I really have no desire to ever return to that place, regardless of how great my other experiences were there and especially since they just opened a medi-spa within walking distance of my house. I paid my bill but didn't tip. The money that I planned to use for the tip will be going towards years' worth of therapy. I walked out with my head down and hair in my face while everyone behind the counter stared at me like I was as ugly of a circus freak as I felt.
When you are in a business like a medi-spa, you are selling the experience. People want to walk out of there with their heads held high, feeling stunning and beautiful. I couldn't feel anything further from that right now. And I can't stop crying. I know this whole thing sounds so annoyingly self absorbed and overly sensitive. And clearly most of you look at me on a regular basis so you've been well aware of my hideousness for so long that I'm sure what she told me is no surprise to any of you. I've never felt like an attractive person in the first place, but at least I've felt fairly confident over the last few years. Now all of that is shattered as well.
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