Sisterhood of the Yoga pants. . . .

For the longest time now Abigayle and Amelia have been begging, pleading, and at some points downright demanding that I buy them yoga pants. Why, I ask, must you HAVE yoga pants???

Abigayle then shares-"Everybody at school wears them!"

"I doubt it Abigayle, yoga pants aren't dress code"

"NOOOOObody knows they're yoga pants, MOM!" - (Can you hear it? The tone of her voice?)

And so I was off to the store- Younkers to be exact, to find some yoga pants for the begging chitlins.

I  found, that no yoga pant comes with a plain waistband. The choices pretty much range from neon green leopard print to purple and white skull and crossbones. . . what a fantastic selection! I opted for the least obvious grey and black animal print waistband.

At the check out I sighed, as a pleasant, nearing retirement, lady began to ring up my purchases-

"Oh, yoga pants, I LOVE these!!!" she remarked

"Really? My daughters think they are going to get away with wearing these to school as uniforms."

"Well why not?? For the most part they look like black slacks- all you have to do is pull the waistband up-"

And then it happened, this complete stranger, who I thought was wearing black dress pants, stepped to the side so I could see her full length, lifted up her sweater to reveal not 1 inch, not 2 inches, not 3 inches. . . but a good 8 inches of waistband that covered the length of her torso- right up to her bra- in the hottest pink, yellow and green polka dotted material  I had ever seen. And then she whispered "THEY never know. . . " as her eyes shifted to the ceiling with a head nod and a wink. And then briskly yanked her sweater back down.

I am to assume the "THEY" she was referring to was some sort of big brother in the sky, management, who enforced dress code rules and this defiant employee was getting away with YOGA PANTS! Imagine!!!!

So, feeling a little awkward I took my purchases said "thank you for that" and quickly excited Younkers, not to return anytime soon.

Abigayle and Amelia were absolutely thrilled with their new pants- they've wore them twice this past week and there were only 3 days of school- Amelia was a little more proud of her decorative waistband and did not try to conceal it's existence- Abigayle on the other hand tucked it down in.

The miracle of the morning. . .

I, for one, am eternally grateful for electricity which gives power to my blow dryer, my flat iron and my curling iron.

I am eternally grateful to all the little bunnies, monkeys, and gerbils that endure hours, days, even weeks of lab tests just so that I can safely apply chemicals to my face everyday and products to my skin that highlight, brighten, reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles.

Every morning as I embark on Transformation Marsha - which, without the help of above mentioned items, would be entirely impossible, IMPOSSIBLE I TELL YOU! I say a little thank you for to all of them.

Just to prove my point I decided to snap a few photos this morning to document this transformation. I cringe when I think of sharing, but alas- do I really care?

I will say, after looking over these photos I would never, and I repeat, NEVER apply to be on Survivor nor any other reality show that has participants forgoing showers, grooming, blow dryers, flat irons, SOAP, make-up, tweezers or other hair removal friendly items because these things are my friends, mon amis, mis amigos!!

So, once I have showered all effort is put into blow-drying my naturally curly hair- this is a tedious process that requires a good 15 minutes and the result-- wait for it, wait for it. . . . .

BABAM!! Really people, it's quite frightening! If I were to go wake the kids up looking like this I am  absolutely, ab-so-freaking-lutley for  sure we would have an ambulance flying down our road, prepared to resuscitate 3 little chitlins- and quite possibly a husband!

A week ago at work we had spirit week- I was tempted to just blow and go on crazy hair day- but I wanted to maintain some sort of respect in my position so I decided it best to tame 'er down.

After the blow dryer is tucked away and the hot iron and curling iron are heated to a mere 425 searing  degrees and I've guzzled a full 8 ounces of coffee I can begin the real work- straightening this Afro!

I have, for the past 10 years used a pampered chef chip clip to section off my hair as I feverishly work away at bringing some sort of orderly conduct to what is taking place on top of my head. I love these chip clips! I would highly recommend them to anyone!


10 minutes later and some bit of resemblance to my daily look is forming:

Sometimes another cup of coffee is in order, or occasionally some burn relief gel as I quite frequently burn my neck,my hands, and  my forehead!

The next photo is my attempt at a morning smile- say cheese, your Afro is almost buh-bye (for today at least!)

When it's all said and done- a good hour has gone by, an hour that I will never get back- multiply that by 7 days a week that's 7 hours a week! Sheesh! However, the alternative being photo op 1- I guess that is 7 hours well spent, well spent in deed!