Mrs. Nurse Boy here.
So, this weekend we did sneak in some family time and a few naps. My favorite was the naps.
This weekend I realized that Nurse Boy really gets me. We started dating when we were 18 and have now been married for 11 and 1/2 years. After 17 years, he really gets me.
How do I know this? Let me start from the beginning. When we were first married, he complained every time I got my hair cut:
"Does it really have to cost that much? Can't you go to the same place I go? Do you really need to take out a loan for your shampoo? And, who needs conditioner? If Head and Shoulders is good enough for me, why isn't it good enough for you? I am sure your natural hair color is beautiful..."
You get the idea.
When I stopped working, I couldn't even try to justify my expensive haircuts, shampoo, conditioner, highlights, and hairspray. I started paying a friend of mine $15 to cut my hair in my own kitchen. When she was finished, I even had to clean up the mess. I am not going to lie, I didn't always have the best attitude about it. But, I made the sacrifice for my children.
Slowly, I worked my way back into a salon. It was a salon mostly for the blue haired crowd, hence the inexpensive haircuts and highlights. At least I got to leave the insanity of my own kitchen and get all of the updates on any changes in social security. At night I could even wrap toliet paper around my head to keep my hair in place...did anyone else have a grandma who did this? I mean, does toliet paper REALLY keep your hair in place when you are rolling all around in your sleep?
One day, I made the leap into a REAL salon. The best part? Nurse Boy loved my hair and told me to go back. Yay!!! I even started buying real shampoo (most of the time (on sale), I do still have 3 kids at home) and getting foil highlights to keep me looking young (shut up, let me pretend I am fooling someone out there).
Keep reading, it gets better.
So, this weekend we were at a gathering for a special event. Later on we were discussing some of the fun/crazy people we met and saw. Nurse Boy had noticed that this very sweet lady had a full blown mustache. That is right, a mustache. Poor, poor woman. I informed Nurse Boy that this wasn't nearly as uncommon as he might think. Many women pluck, bleach, and wax that area to stay young and not look like a Yetty. I had to confess that this old broad has had to do a lot more plucking as of late. Sad, but true. He looked at me and said, "If you ever need lazer treatments, we can make that happen." I felt so loved at that moment. Really, I did. You see, he gets me. Lord help me if I ever grow a full blown mustache. But, my husband loves me enough to know that this would be worthy of a second mortgage.
I love that we have grown up together. So what if I taught him to be more shallow, at least no one will be asking if I am his mother at our 50th wedding anniversary.
2 days ago
4 comments:
What I love is I get credit for not wanting my wife to look like a man. This is a win win situation for me. Besides, if I don't have money after the treatment how is that different from now?
So I look like a pregnant Yetty.
The hits just keep on comin'.
I have this sort of obsession with hair. I don't believe there should be any, other then on top of my head (and that hair should be properly highlighted, shampooed
AND conditioned).
Therefore I attack any hint of a stray hair with sharp tweezers. I've actually wounded myself doing this (and a bloody scab looks SO much better then a small hair, right?!)
Yes, it's a sad fact for the over 30 crowd.
Now, the real point of this is to tell you what a lucky, lucky woman you are. MotH evidently doesn't care if I grown a full beard complete with sideburns.
I've mentioned the miracle that is laser hair removal to him and I can see his thoughts (yeah, we've been married long enough I can "see" what he's thinking). He's thinking "do you know how many toys I could buy with that money?".
I may have to wear a veil, but he'll have something new to tinker with.
Oh, and I got my highlights this weekend. New salon, not thrilled with them, but oh well. I had to go have them fixed yesterday (she opened for me) because I looked like a member of WHAM highlights (so much for subtle). It was really bad. Think attacked-by-a-frosting-kit bad.
It's tough to be a girl. So much work involved!
Imperfect Mom, you CRACK me up! And, I agree, it is entirely too much work to be a woman! Men jump out of bed and wash the hair that will eventually cover their entire body as they grow older (except for the very top of their head) and THAT'S IT. Not fair!
No joke, I know an older woman who uses an electric razor on her face, just like the guys do. If she doesn't, in about a week she looks like a hockey player during playoffs.
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