the barbarics of modern life

whew!  *big sigh*  it's Friday, and I'm feeling some relief about that (thank the lord-ish) after existing in nervous anticipation (and not the good kind) about it for most of the last several days.  This is the first Friday in at least six months that I haven't been able to rely on BFO relieving me of my responsibility for Spiderman.  And after a week like this one, that's been a difficult reality to face.

I've made the mistake of taking Spiderman's difficulty adjusting to kindergarten personally until now and upon releasing that (just in time) we found our flow again.  Poised for a happy, healthy weekend I (and you) am spared from having to bitch and moan about the (lack of) efficacy of Kaiser therapists, the failed collaboration with afterschool program staff, and whatever other ways I was projecting my self loathing onto other people and things.


Tonight's Blue Moon:
a "Blue Moon" isn't really blue.  It's the second
full moon in any month that has two.
The first in August was 8/1, and tonight's on 8/31.
*Astrology/Astronomy lesson over*
Now I just get to sit here, with the Blue Moon in the corner of my eye, looking forward to the Spiderman-Momma-love-fest to come, and laughing about the absurdity of modern life.

I had a physical today.  And sitting in the lab while the phlebotomist drooled over one particular vein she spotted in the outside of the crook of my left arm I started thinking about how barbaric "self care" can be.

Let's play a game for Labor Day!

We work hard and as a reward for that labor we need to relax and take care of ourselves every once in a while.

See if you can match the descriptions of the self-care activities I've embarked on (to make myself feel at "home" in my body--sorry people, I'm trying here) lately with their common names: 

a. Strip naked from the waist down while a woman I have no relationship with (other than for this purpose) spreads hot, sticky goop onto my genitals with gloved hands and, after it cools, tears it off ripping the hair that grows there out at the root.
b. Strip naked from the waist up and let a man I have no relationship with (other than this one) systematically inspect my breasts with his fingers after he's congratulated me from moving from "severely obese" to "just obese!"  (he was so excited about it too.  it was almost cute) and then give me the privilege of placing my arm on a cushy wedge only to have another strange remove blood from it.
c. Expose my underarms to another strange(r) man who proceeds to press a blazing hot wand against it that also applies light suction zapping the hair follicles beneath the surface of my skin.
d. Strip completely naked and lie on a rubber covered table in a tiled room with a bathroom stall divider surrounding it while an older woman in matching black mesh bra and panties pours buckets of water over me, vigorously rubs some kind of grain (buckwheat?) into my skin, and eventually beats me over the back with her hands and arms.
e. Lie face up on a table with a cloud of steam choking any natural attempt at respiration while a woman paints creams and chemicals over my face and neck culminating with her looking at my face through a high powered magnifying glass whose light source generates too much heat and squeezing environmental evidence out of my pores.
f. Lie both face up and face down under a thin sheet in the dark with the sounds of chanting, drums, and bells in the background as a woman digs her fingers, hands, and arms into the tender sites of tension in my body while encouraging me to drudge up painful memories from all corners of my personal history.

1. facial
2. laser hair removal
3. physical exam
4. healing massage
5. bikini wax
6. body scrub

life is silly.

Happy Labor Day!

(the answers: 1e, 2c, 3b, 4f, 5a, 6d.  There is a lot of nakedness involved in "self care" no?)