I owe you some updates.
Mama is home and doing well! (Note: If you’re new to this blog, read this post first.)
Actually, I’m pretty sure she’s out eating Mexican with a friend at the moment, but you get what I mean. Out of the hospital. Hopefully drinking a marg or two (although maybe she should just stick to one. She can’t really hold her liquor.).
If you didn’t know (I didn’t), this is what a pacemaker looks like.
On a serious note: My sincerest thanks to everyone who thought and prayed and wished us well.
A laser hair removal update.
I’ve officially started molting. I’m not completely hairless yet, but significant patches of baby-smooth skin are starting to become noticeable in random spots on my legs and bikini area.
If all goes as plans, I should never have to shave my lower legs or nether-regions after Wednesday of next week. (As long as I go to the next eight appointments as scheduled, eight weeks apart.)
The final update that I’m aware I owe you.
I’m sure you’ve been watching (or even if you haven’t, unless you live in an underground bomb shelter with no means of communication with the outside world, there’s very little chance you haven’t at least heard or read), but the U.S. women’s gymnastics team – the Fab Five – won the gold. And yes, I cried when it happened. And again when Gabby Douglas (even though I heard the results ahead of time – damn you, London, for being five hours ahead and not showing it on TV until primetime in the U.S.) won gold for the all-around.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Fun fact that I just read on Twitter: DOUGLAS (as in Gabby) unscrambled spells “USA GOLD.” Mind blown.
And now onto a different topic.
Actual conversation between Boyfriend and I the other day:
Boyfriend: Babe, can I ask you a question about your blog without you getting mad? (Read: This is going to make you mad, but I think that by starting with that phrase, I’m off the hook.)
Me: Um, okay.
Boyfriend: Why do they have to be…so…long?
Recently, I was talking about one of my blog posts, and Boyfriend didn’t know what I was referring to, revealing the fact that he doesn’t read my blog. Which is okay – I know my blog isn’t for everyone – but I wanted him to at least try reading a post or two, thinking he’d be instantly hooked. He is my boyfriend, after all.
So we sat down on the couch together, and I pulled up what I thought was a particularly amusing post (coincidentally, it featured him, which I thought was a fantastic strategy). And as we sat there together, he started…
Not reading, skimming.
So logically, I stopped him with a “Babe, you’re not reading it.”
Boyfriend: Yes, I am.
Me: No you’re not, you’re skimming it. *Takes computer away from Boyfriend to scroll back to the top of the post.*
Boyfriend: I’m reading it. *Continues skimming and scrolling.*
Me: No you’re not. It’s funny. You’re missing the funny parts. You have to read it. *Scrolls back up.*
Boyfriend: I don’t want to read this anymore. *Slams the lid on my MacBook Pro and walks away*
I stopped trying to get him to read my blog after that.
So back to the aforementioned conversation.
What I was thinking: What’s your problem with the length of my blog posts? Do you not have a long enough attention span to read, in its entirety, the hilarity spewing from your girlfriend’s fingertips? Are you just too busy and have much better things to do instead of reading, in its entirety, said hilarity spewing from your girlfriend’s fingertips? Am I not funny enough for you? Is my blog not good enough?
What I actually responded: Um…I guess I have a lot to say?
In light of those deep, philosophical conversations, I’d like to dedicate this uncharacteristically short(ish) post to you, dearest Boyfriend.
Not that you’ll read it anyway.
Not that I’m bitter.