Got MILF?

We're on Day Two of our snowed-in extravaganza. I haven't lost it...yet.

Snow days do have their advantages. For one, I don't have to participate in life outside the warm confines of my house. School is canceled. I don't have a job but even if I did, I would have called in. Our snow shovel broke this morning while my husband was trying to make a path to get his car out.

Since I am not leaving the house, I do not have to look presentable to the outside world. Not that I care one way or the other what I look like at the grocery store or post office, but one never knows when one might run into an old friend or worse, an ex-boyfriend. I hate looking like shit when that happens. I can just picture what they're thinking: "Geez, she used to take much better care of herself before she succumbed to "mommy guilt" and quit her job. Sad. Very sad."

Well, fuck you and your small dick.

It's hard to get motivated to keep up on personal hygiene when I'm trying to keep two young children entertained all day. I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. That's not really an anomaly exclusive to snow days, but it just adds insult to injury in this case.

Last night, as my husband and I were brushing our teeth before bed, I took a long hard look in the mirror.

I had washed my hair that morning, but instead of brushing it into a manageable style, I let it dry naturally. My hair has a bit of a wild streak. Normally I can beat the curls into submission, but if left to its own whimsy, I look like I got a perm circa 1984. After a day of rolling around on the floor, playing with the kids and the dogs all day, my hair looked like that of a crazy homeless person.

In addition to my Mariah-Carey-on-crack-esque coif, my skin is depleted of any moisture whatsoever (forced air heat + old house + winter weather = very dry skin). This, in addition to PMS has caused a bit of a revolt in the skin department. "No problem," I thought, "I'll just use a bit of this handy-dandy face mask stuff I have for such an occasion."

My uniform all day pretty much consisted of what I had worn to bed the night before plus a ratty-looking but very comfortable sweater. Another reason staying in the house can be a treat is the fact that I don't have to put on a bra. Sometimes the girls need to breathe, ya know.

If you haven't been keeping score, let me recap:

My hair is caught in a time warp.
I have a smear of white face mask slapped haphazardly across my face.
PJ's from the night before, accented by a sweater that probably needs to be retired.
No bra (which would have been kinda' sexy about 6 years ago, read: pre-babies, but now not so much).

So, my husband and I are brushing our collective teeth at the bathroom sink and I stop and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, toothpaste foam forming a slow crawl down my chin....

"Jesus Christ, wouldya' look at me?"

(husband stops to gaze upon his lawfully wedded wife, most likely frantically trying to interpret my tone)


"Darling husband, I gotta' ask you, how on earth are you resisting all this hotness?"