Well, while my hubby is away, Suzie gets to play!
With his car that is.
He recently bought a used Mazda Miata.
It's his mid-life crisis car. Mine now!
He told me to drive it as much as possible since we are selling my car soon and we don't want Sue to smash it or anything.
(He's gone for about 6 weeks).
Yes it is very California to drive a convertible, but I feel really strange when I drive it.
People tend to always look at you when you are cruising with the top down.
I wish they wouldn't.
I fear I am just a huge let down for many.
They are expecting some young hot size zero blonde babe in something low cut and slinky.
What they will find in this green Miata is a middle aged mama (is 44 middle aged?) with an afro ("wind blown" mop headed curls translates into an afro) who lives in jeans and clogs and hardly ever wears makeup.
I always look around when entering or exiting this vehicle.
It is VERY difficult to look graceful as you slide your way into the seat.
I usually slide in and plop down. Even though I have lost weight this year, I am far from svelte, and getting into the Miata, well...oh nevermind. It's too depressing!
Getting in is hard, but getting out is even trickier.
If no one is looking, I will open the door and push my self out of the damn car.
Today I pretended that the eyes of the world were upon me and I swung both legs to the side and bent from the thighs. No pushing needed. Aha! Got it.
Today drove the eency car to the mall to have my eyebrows waxed (and buy a birthday present).
It's so funny how often when we communicate, we very rarely say what we REALLY mean. When I asked to have my eyebrows waxed, what I really wanted to say was, "could you wax my face, please?"
I followed the beautician to a small room and she asks me, "eyebrow wax?" and I say, well, I also need my "uppper lip" [which is actually code for "moustache"] and chin done.
I swear, by the time she had finished, she nearly HAD waxed my entire face! I mean she outlined what could have been a goatee with the wax. If I didn't get these waxings, I would probably be touring with some circus as a bearded lady with a unibrow or something. Nah, I'm kidding. The woman went a LITTLE overboard, I think.
God definately must be a heterosexual male. Why He must make us suffer the world's worst pain during childbirth (and facial waxings!), give us cramps and bloating for a week every month, let us sprout beards as we crawl toward menopause, where we will be greeted with hot flashes and violent mood swings among God knows what other bodily dysfunctions is beyond me.
Imagine a world of opposites: as we age, our metabolism increases! Your friends will say, "girl, you better watch yourself, you are just wasting away!"
I'll shrug and say, "I know...old age. Not a damn thing I can do about it."