Speaking of nakedness.
I was at a spa. After kneading and sloughing and showering, I wanted to look uber-hot for MTM. I locked myself in the bathroom, and I did what I almost always fail to do at home. I used products. And a hair dryer. And yummy lotions.
All while the curling iron heated its phallic protuberance to a setting called 'hell-hot.'
It was Cayleigh's 11th birthday. And, for her special day, she and her mother met me for Cayleigh's First-Ever Big-Girl Pedicure.
I think I was more excited than she was. After all, it was only three pedicures ago that I got Cayleigh's mom to visit the nail salon with me.
It's still sandal season here. I don't want garish toenails to detract from my footwear. I've spent years amassing a collection of cute strappy sandals, and I still get a little giddy when someone screeches, "I just LOOOOOOOVE your shoes!"
I'm not adventurous when it comes to nail color.
A tea-stained river, with a leafy window to the sky.
What do you want me to wear, Dear?
Well, it is supposed to be 88 degrees with at least that much humidity, so I would say a dress, Sweetheart.
Fat legs. Jiggly legs. Cottage cheese legs. Saddle bag legs. Blinding white legs. Sometimes, hairy legs. This week, sore legs.
But hey. I'm glad I've GOT legs.
So glad, in fact, that I asked MTM to buy me that bastion of 1980's fashion: a pair of leggings. Black, to slim the possible fattening effect on my mid-life appendages.