I’ve been hemming and hawing.
I could have started a dilly off with, ‘I bruised my thumb slapping Isobel the other night,’ and then gone on to explain my rationale for once thinking I would never hit or spank her, then how I moved on to slapping her hand when she was playing with the hot water tap of our bathroom sink and would not not play with it, then to how violent and malicious she’s become in her abuse towards me in the last week, and finally upon how the other day, I warning her that if she kicked me in the face again, I would do it. And she held her hand out to me and I barely grazed it, but apparently, my thumb joint did and I got bruised. And she didn’t even flinch. So moral of the story, I gave in and slapped my daughter’s hand a few times over the course of a few months and it did exactly shit, so the corporal punishment experiment has ended.
How about a random freak out about how on twitter the other night, a friend said something about manscaping and questioned who doesn’t, nowadays. And how that lead back to my late teens/early 20s when only I and a handful of my sluttierly-swayed friends took everything off. And now, there’s like, this norm of sculpting and waxing and grooming and everything from the clean look to the dorito has been in style. WTF is up with that?
Um, how about I pontificate about how this morning, I finished my assigned blog post for the baby-blog and when I was done, I still had an hour of work time left, so I considered window shopping for sex toys. But, I was in a coffeeshop. With an older lady sitting, like, right behind me. And I didn’t want to leave a window of conversational opportunity open, you know?
Or that I am completely lacking motivation to do much else than spend money. Which I should not be doing, since I have like, a conference to be saving for. Though I was pretty sweet to myself, for this exmas.
And then there’s the thought that maybe my body’s changing and doing weird stuff that seems to start happening around 28, as a friend suggested this evening. Like, how my skin is drying out in patchy bits on my face. My nails have always been crap, so let’s ignore those. My hair changed pretty much 6 months into incubating Isobel, so that’s not the late 20s. Though my metabolism might wanna slow down, since the other night I ate a family-sized bag of white cheddar popcorn and woke up the next morning lighter. Scratch that thought. We’ll just chalk it up to me being a trainwreck, regardless of age.
But instead of any of those posts, I’ll leave you with this thought: tonight, I learned that hydrogen peroxide will remove blood stains from a pristine white duvet.
