Late last night, as I laid my tired bag of bones into bed and snuggled up next to Hubby, an thought flashed through my brain.
“Ugh — I missed my blog’s 5 year anniversary today!”
Other bloggers have cute little countdown buttons to mark their “blog-o-versaries.” Me? Well, based on the post I wrote yesterday, you can see why a blog anniversary was not at the forefront of my mind.
Nevertheless, as I intertwined my ankles with those of Hubby’s, I tried to think of what I should write to belatedly commemorate the event. You know — sweet, sappy snippets that would reveal the journey of the past five years. I would be clever, humorous, and — for the first time ever — profound.
Then, I noticed something. Something quite alarming . . . even more so than the fact I’d missed my blog-o-versary.
My leg hair was the. same. length. as Hubby’s.
YE GODS — how did this HAPPEN?
I reached a tentative hand down to my calf, hoping that truth was really just fiction. Nope — a soft forest had grown on the terrain of my legs.
How does a woman let herself GET like this? I’m young — a “relatively” newly married woman (still well under the 10 year mark). WHAT HAS MY WORLD COME TO?
I blame two people: Jack Frost and Mr. Boy.
To be completely honest, I’m not the most conscientious shaver during the winter months. Why bother with daily (gulp, yes — I wrote daily) grooming when it is too cold to wear anything but sweatpants and blue jeans? What if I were to get stranded on I-10 here in Houston? Our temps have actually gotten down into the thirties this winter — multiple times. I might have needed a little extra insulation as I braved the chill and traffic. Ya never know.
And then, there’s Mr. Boy. He is the reason why my legs were glassy smooth for nearly ten months straight. 1) I was freakishly hot all the time and needed to wear skirts, shorts, and capri, and 2) I had to make regular visits to my OB. While my sweet OB has probably seen a hairy leg once or twice since she went into practice, I did NOT intend on my legs being among that number.
Then Mr. Boy was born — and I declared myself razor free after my 6 week check-up. I did not want to worry about it anymore . . . although, I certainly had no intentions of going SIX MONTHS without saying hello to my razor. (Ok, it hasn’t been a full six months, but you’d never know that if you saw my legs.)
Knowledge is power, so they say; what am I going to do with my newly acquired, horrific knowledge? Race upstairs the very MINUTE my kidlets take a nap, find a few new razor blades (’cause we all know just one isn’t going to “cut it”), and get busy.
While I do that, you get to see the syrupy side of this blog-o-versary. My five-year journey in pictures — as I went from a newlywed blogger (who really had no clue what a blog was — yeah, don’t read the posts from my first year. Ugh), to a new teacher, to a new mommy . . . and to a new mommy again!
Happy Friday everyone. . . and here’s to blog-o-versaries and Gillette. They make life fun and pretty.
