My lips are parched and shriveled (someone needs to invent lip caulk), my fingers are cracked and bleeding, even my nose is...well, let's just say that, besides the occasional bloody nose, there is no other "running" going on. In fact, in someone were to grab me by my honker, chances are pretty good that there would be some serious "shard" damage done.
But here's the captivating thing...my stretch marks...YES, I said stretch marks, all have their very own, individual peels! Not even kidding. They have inherited the hoarding gene, too, it seems. I'm kind of proud.
I would dare say the stretch mark situation is a gift from above~for being so delightful, probably~because Heavenly Father knows how much I love a good skin shucking~(not corn though, and that's important, because corn cobs have earwigs. Ew.)
Anyway, one of my most favorite memories is when Sterling went to the tanning clinic right before we were married. He was the poster child for The Farmer's Tan at the time, and just knew his beautiful bride (that would be me) would want her man sun-kissed and glowing for that all important first...presentation. (He didn't know that would be the furthest thing from my mind. At the first unveiling, I was fully engulfed with thoughts of self preservation~but that's another blog.)
To continue, Sterling has a rather, oh, shall we say~impatient nature~sometimes...and this was one of those sometimes that came back to burn him in the fanny...literally. (And just so you know, when I write literally, I don't mean the world's uneducated 'literally' that actually means 'figuratively,' as in "I will slap you into tomorrow~literally!" Yeah, no. Far as I know, time travel slapping isn't possible yet, so that would be a perfect example of 'figurative'~but anyway~) Back to literal speak. He decided that he was the one rare, sturdy individual who could handle a full 25 minutes on his first tanning clinic visit...and apparently there was no adult supervision there to save him from himself...so he did just that.
TWENTY FIVE FULL MINUTES, FOLKS.
WITH BRAND NEW BULBS.
The stripes would have made a barber shop pole proud.
So the weeks preceding our marriage were fun and fancy free~and filled with him laying down in the middle of the family room floor, baring his back and partial bum (no pre-nuptial nudity, folks, just a smidgen of crack) so that I could peel beautiful, long, satisfying strips of flesh, to my hearts content. An early wedding present from my impending groom. So thoughtful~it made me love him even more. (head tilt and heart pat)
Back to my stretch marks~and who doesn't want to hear more about them? Too bad. So I was jumping into the shower yesterday, scaling and scratching, when I happened to glance down at my protruding abdomen (yeah, like I could miss it.) Every single rip in my tissue had an independent dead skin border! Like they'd all been individually packaged, in their very own wrap, and now the paper was pulling away, ready for removal~like a gift!
As a result, I did what any self-aware woman would do...let's just say that chimps and all manner of monkey have nothing on me when it comes to grooming. I stood there for about a half hour~fully engrossed in picking and preening~my gut shoved out to almost full term proportion (another maternity reference...but NOT foreshadowing) and my chin resting on my chest. A beautiful sight, to be sure.
Sorry you all missed it.
In conclusion, I need a new vacuum, as I've clogged the filter several times trying to suck up the piles of dead dermis~a lovely term~and one that you're welcome to use whenever you see fit.
You're welcome. (another head tilt and heart pat)
9 comments:
The funny thing is ... that the AD you've allowed to follow this blog is ALARMINGLY about STRETCH MARKS! :) No lie.
Ok - we must be on the same scaling schedule - because just yesterday I used the towel in a VIOLENT manner as I SCRUBBED AND SCRUBBED my body until it was RED and slightly BLEEDING ... but OH THE PILE Of dermis that lay on the tile floor (did I mention I HATE tile. Any form of it. Hate it. Dig it out!) It was like a SNAKE. I was CRAWLING out of my own body - one little roll/dermis/dead/bitty boo scale at a time. It was GROSS. Even baby maby said "ooooo yucky kin. (skin)."
But I was proud. Very proud of my other "self" I see laying on the floor. Mostly because I realized I COULD clone myself.
Seriously! Do the advertisements hone in on how many times you used the word "skin" or "dermis". You've go ads for stretch marks, acne and skin resurfacing. Tomorrow try writing about another body system, lets say the lower disgestive... and see what kind of advertising pops up. Just good fun.
Isn't that funny? I'm going to test that theory...be prepared for all sorts of bodily functions to be discussed. This will be fun!
BB, glad you're still connected to me somehow~even if it's rolled off dead skin. Maby's right~yucky kin.
How can I be more impressed by you? I already knew that you were an excellent write BUT I am impressed truly impressed by your use of "Literature Lingo" that I have read in a few of your blogs. It makes my heart glad, sing in fact, that 6th graders may one day grow into adults who can write and write intelligently (sp?). Figurative language reference, metaphors and similes abound, AND foreshadowing. I will bet you money that most of your readers have no idea how funny your foreshadowing comment was. How you say? Because I teach children AND their parents what these terms mean-we don't value a good literature education anymore. I have been trying to mend my own impaired education.
Thank you, goddess of words, for the laughs and for the hope.
Kim~I can die happy now. You're one of the top contenders to eulogize me for the funeral, so as soon as you send me another couple examples of your work (think 'effusive praise of Lisa') then I'll be able to whittle the list down and let you know.
Seriously, I consider it high praise indeed from someone with your character, education and keen mind.
OKAY, PEOPLE! DID YOU ALL HEAR HOW FANTASTIC KIM SAID I AM? LET'S SEE IF YOU ALL CAN COMPETE WITH HER ASSESSMENT.
(That was terribly self-serving...I know. Sorry.)
Though I do not consider my self worthy to enter into the Eulogy Contest, I am, as we speak, preparing my interpretive dance that I will perform. Complete with a costume styled as a Leave it to Beaver '50's house wife Robin's egg Blue Polka Dot dress with a beautiful lace and ruffle trimmed Yellow apron and RED Mary Janes...not a speck of Brown, see I do love you!
Interpretive dance?!! Just the visual that conjured up put me into hysterics! I'll likely sit up in my casket to witness that. And the love being shown with the red, blue, yellow and lace is enough to make me shed a tear. :)
Uummm, just so you know, someone else is posting "anonymous" and it wasn't me "Anony"!
Just so you know.....
Love ya!
The TRUE Anony :)
(GASP) An "anonymous" imposter? What?! You will now need to sign off anony, so I know which nameless ghost is which. However...you could go wild and ooze filth and foul, since NOBODY will know which one you are.
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