A few really quick bits meant to assuage my guilty feelings about neglecting this space:
- It turns out that, in my case, iritis is nearly as hard to keep dead as this guy:
and nearly as ugly. Long story short, I finished my treatment, got cleared by cutie pie doctor on a Monday, put my contacts in on that Thursday…and woke up the next Wednesday with a bloody throbbing eye. I am now back on both the stinging and itchy-making drops and will be for the next six to eight fucking weeks–also meaning that I am stuck wearing these damned glasses.
I am going out on the 22nd for my birthday…dinner, concert, new outfit…and might just have to slip in a pair of lenses for a few hours. Don’t tell.
- How in the Sam Hell did this get so breathlessly reported as news? A gut feeling–are you shitting me? This clown runs, among other things, the most sophisticated and far-reaching spy operation in the history of the free world and the best he can come up with to scare me is a gut feeling? And it makes the NEWS? That’s like the National Weather Service issuing a tornado warning because my Mom’s thumb swells up.
- As part of my continuing quest to find the perfect lip gloss, I was thrilled to find a surprise ally a few days ago. I’ve been in love with products from e.l.f. for a couple of years–all kinds of makeup and tools, and every item is $1.00–but I’m such a cheap bitch that I dreaded paying for shipping. Besides, it’s hard to pick things like makeup colors from a picture. Now, though, the e.l.f. line is selling at some Target and KMart stores. I spent seven dollars for a bagful: mascara, this cool color stick, and five awesome lip glosses for Summer. Kelly happy.
Yeah, I know it’s shallow and stupid to be so excited about makeup. Here’s the thing: I had a very healthy body image before my disability came along. I took care of my body for the sake of my physical health, of course, but also as part of my mental and social health as a single woman–it was important to look good, too. I spent a lot of time developing a personal style; it was based on clearance racks and discount stores, sure, but it became part of me. For one reason or another, whether for skin integrity fears or side effects of my condition or the nearly-unavoidable weight gain associated with sitting on my ass for nine years, every aspect of that style has been taken away. Except for my face and, to a lesser extent, my hair (since I need help to wash, dry, and style it, I have to keep it short). So I slather my skin with lotions and potions and yeah–I buy a lot of lip goo. Sue me.
- I continue to be amazed at the traffic still finding its way to this site via my dirty dream post. Every once in a while when a hit pops up in my blog stats I imagine that the subject of that dream and so many others has, through the wonder that is the intertubes, found his way here and read it. That’s not a very far-fetched fantasy; I haven’t exactly buried my real identity under layers of poetic subterfuge in these pages and anyone who knows me personally could quickly make the intuitive leap from who I am to who He must be. I thought when I wrote the post that I’d be mortified if he saw it. By now I think I hope he has.
And, if he’s reading this: you aren’t just a sex object. I also had a dream where you were helping me paint my living room. Granted, I think we fucked on the drop cloth afterward…
1 Comment
July 16, 2007 at 5:28 pm
Oh they have it at Target now? Yay!