Sketchy | {NiceGirlNotes}

Category Archives: sketchy

Girl vs. Suburban Bathroom

Written on March 12, 2012 in sketchy, storytelling

Sometimes, the thought of something is a lot more glamorous and luxurious than its real-life execution.

Like taking a bath, for example. The idea of it is so therapeutic. Hot water, quiet music, relaxing until well past prune-y, and then wrapping yourself up in a big cushy robe. Ahhhhh.

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In actuality, the water runs cold, I nicked my ankle while shaving my legs, and I’m currently freezing, dripping wet while trying to dry off with my three year old’s beach towel with the fishies on it.

I rarely take baths, because I feel like after all of that soaking, I have to follow up with a shower. I have no idea if that makes sense or not.

I do find hot showers to be wonderful, especially at this stage of pregnancy. I turn off all the lights, but light a candle so I don’t, you know, trip and end up in the ER or something.

I lean against the wall and let the hot water hit my lower back, and then I sit down and it’s sort of like… lying down in hot rain. I’m aware that I’m making my dry skin drier and my hard-to-manage hair even more hard-to-manage. BUT. It is so worth it. Try it sometime, and report back if you don’t feel weird about emailing people about your showers.

Now that I think about it, this whole post is probably a little strange.

Moving on. I ordered face scrub I love from an online shop. They sent me a couple of extra items, including a bar of soap, but with…. nubs? on it. I was all, ohhh heyyyy it’s a massage bar of soap. So great for my daily showers! I’ll sit in the hot rain and scrub myself with this and be extra relax-y!

So that’s what I did, right before bed. Lights off, one candle glowing, hot water on. I carefully lowered myself into the tub – be advised, my stomach is sort of huge, so I have to do all of these things rather gingerly – and sat in the hot rain. Grabbed the bar of soap and started scrubbing.

scrub scrub scrub… This thing smells amazing. scrub scrub… And it’s so great for my achy leg muscles. scrub scrub… Neck, back, arms, huge freaking abdomen. scrub scrub… Wait. There’s no lather. And… this soap isn’t washing off….

Oh. That’s because – as it turns out – this isn’t a bar of soap! It’s a massage oil bar, something that I have apparently been unaware of despite my enjoyment of all things spa-like.

I just spent the last three minutes rubbing oil all over myself.

Rubbing oil on myself while lying down in a bathtub without one of those super-responsible traction mats that prevent slips and falls. All I really needed to do was stand up and wash myself off with real soap. I tried propping myself up on my hands, but they slipped out from underneath me. So I tried flipping over, to get on my hands and knees, and pull myself up.

Gah.

I was like a greased pig in a porcelain barrel, just sort of rolling around in massage bar oil. The girls were sleeping, and Jack was in the kitchen listening to the news all super loud, so my cries for help went un-met. Thankfully, persistence won this fight. I was like Bear Grylls in Man vs. Wild, minus the whole camel carcass thing.

So a hot tip for your Monday morning. Sometimes soap isn’t soap.

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First World Problems (Part Two)

Written on November 21, 2011 in sketchy

A continuation of problems that aren’t really problems. Do you have running water? Clean food? Do you generally live day-to-day without fearing for your life? Check, check, check?

Some tongue-in-cheek cartoons a few days before we take a day to reflect on all the things that make us truly grateful.

Yeah, I know. A little too mushy. *wipes lipstick off your cheek* MUH-OMMMM!

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You know when a company has a really good product, and then they CHANGE the formula of that really good product? Sally Hansen Airbrush Legs, I’m talking to you, darling. (The new formula has glitter. Which is fine, but I really don’t need flocks of tween girls coming up to me and asking why I’m so tan since I’m obviously a vampire.)

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I can’t update my status. I can’t upload a new picture. I can’t stalk every boy I’ve ever had a crush on since third grade. I can’t RSVP to the 32nd Ugly Sweater or Festivus Party I’ve been invited to. Sigh. Let me listen to Adele and eat as many brownies as I can during the chorus.

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Note that I used a dog and not a cat for this next picture. (“Noted, Roo. Noted.”)

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Tell me you understand. Pinterest is making me resent my way-less-than-Pinterest-cool wedding. And now I want to throw a really expensive fancy party every six months or so. “NO JACK DO NOT TOUCH THAT STACK OF DOILIES FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY!”

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But I already know how to duplicate Kardashian hair and apply blush on dry winter skin…!

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{See Part I of First World Problems here. I hyperlinked your first world self. You’re welcome.}

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First World Problems

Written on October 3, 2011 in sketchy

Problems… that aren’t really problems. :) I mean, they are. But they shouldn’t be.

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I don’t care how great a return policy is. I just don’t have the wherewithal to take that trip and stand in that line…

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Seriously, are you SURE that’s skim? Because I recently fought with a pair of Spanx, and I don’t want to have to do that again… (In actuality, I love whole milk with all of my heart.)

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What do you mean her wedding pictures are ‘Friends Only’?? *throws laptop in disgust*

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I hate packing. Clothes, not heat. Duh. But in actuality? I hate packing jewelry. Doesn’t matter if you use a jewelry roll. Doesn’t matter if you clasp your pearl necklace ahead of time. Doesn’t matter if your chandelier earrings seem really straightforward and uncomplicated…

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I am comfortable in saying that 90% of the craigslist transactions in which I’ve taken part have made me question my life choices. I’m just throwing that out there.