The Hairried Truth
Jan 6 2011
I’m not saying I have under-the-chin hairs.
Thick, black hairs that grow out of my lily white skin for everyone to see.
But, hypothetically speaking, if I did have under-the-chin hairs, I’d have to find time in my busy schedule to pluck them.
We moms are a busy breed.
We squeeze in things any way we can.
I, for example, can’t remember the last time I sat and watched an entire TV show without doing something else simultaneously. I work on the computer, bake cookies, sew, edit photos, scrapbook, and wrap presents. I update our calendar, pay bills, and send reminders to my husband to update our calendar and pay bills. All of which happens after kids are in bed, of course, because I can’t even think about sitting while they’re awake.
I bet I’m normal. I know lots and lots of moms who do the same things.
Sometimes, though, I catch myself running at my frenetic pace and dipping into a bizarre set of simultazy. Simultazy = simultaneous + crazy.
So, say a mom has a 20 minute commute to and from her part-time job. That’s a lot of sitting-down time.
That mom is not gonna feel like she can waste that kind of divine gift simply waiting for the light to change.
That mom might keep a permanent set of tweezers in her glove box to pluck chin hairs. Or eyebrow hairs. Or lip hairs. (If, God forbid, she has some.)
Or maybe she’ll do her make-up.
Or maybe she’ll make lists of things to take on vacation.
Or maybe she’ll scribble down blog entries on stained paper found on her passenger-side floor.
That, friends, is simultazy. That has got to stop. That woman is nuts, and someone should tell her so.