It's the eye of the tiger it's the cream of the fight...

The high price of beauty my friends. The fight is tough on the 'ole pocketbook and unforgiving to time. I had an extraordinarily hectic morning plucking, shaving, exfoliating, snipping (don't worry with details). The sky gave promise to a nice spring-like day inspiring me to allot an extra 20 minutes to the pain-in-the-ass process of sunless self tanning. Somewhere shortly after my 28th birthday I became an obsessive anti-sun freak consquently giving up on tanning the old fashioned way: the tanning bed. Under these circumstances I am left with two options: succomb to pastiness for life or acquanit myself with the sunless tanning way of living. After looking at pictures of yours truly taken last weekend in the overcast city of Dallas I quickly opted for #2. Applying sunless tanner, which is an art I have hardly perfected, is a chore. I came close to throwing in the towel following my recent jounrey for color resulting with arms and legs of an oompa loompa and my own bofriend delicately suggesting I "put on pants" when he noticed my orange ankles as I walked outside one Sunday afternoon in a mini dress and sandals. Rejected by my own boyfriend?

I kept myself in check this morning during the expedition for glow, reminding myself more is less - or in the case of sunless tanner is more essential? I am so bad when it comes to necessary details. I continued my daily morning ritual as my nude bod marinated in the Sublime deep tan lotion feeling a little silly but a glimpse in the mirror proved the stuff was kicking in like Flynn. I deliberately skipped out on deodorant this morning because, as trial and error has shown, I didn't wanna end up with what would look like filthy underarms due to a bad concoction of Sublime and invisble solid. Trust this girl, it happens. Around 11:30 this morning my body bluntly reminded me with a boldness of my lack of anti perspirant. Luckily for those with whom I work I rememebred to pack a stick of shower clean Degree this morning. The bottle states, without room for disagreement, Invisble Solid. By invisible they must mean as you apply the product transforming to detectable the second you drape your bod with clothing. Every morning I end up with white smudgy shit on my top and every morning I find myself fighting time trying to remove the white smudgy shit from my top before heading out the door.

Let's recap. Sun, bad. Beauty games are a bitch. Lotsa money spent. All that jazz. So during lunch I spent a guilt inducing, large sum of cash on anti-aging lotion. This was not an impulse buy - premeditated. I am not too humble to admit that one of my worst fears in life is aging - not in number rather the physical sign of making the transition from young to middle aged. Some call it vanity, but I think it's our need to look good to feel good. I am trying to adopt the "grow old gracefully" mantra but while that's trying to soak in I'm taking all measures available, sans going under the knife, to prevent that I've had a tough life look I tragically see on aged faces. I am not one of those girls that will declare I will never have surgery because I don't know what my 40's and 50's will bring to my face, but I am doing all I can now to get that 23 year old face back. I completely took my skin for granted during the years of my youth. I did. It wasn't until my late 20's before washing my face at night became a religious regimine. I can remember sunbathing and making every attempt possible to get my face as dark as dirt. On one hot summer day when I was 17 I anxiously prepared for a date by sunbathing all day while struggling with a remedy to doctor a gigantic pimple that was growing with urgency on my right cheek. I drenched my bod in baby oil and hopped on a towel on the back deck of my house directly under the sun while a stridex pad draped my cheek attempting to medicate my face while toasting my naked skin for 4 hours. No exaggeration: the result was shockingly similar to a 4 degree burn victim. I remember the look of terror on my father's face when I walked insdie. I recall there was even talk of a hospital visit. I was reprimanded and told I was going to have serious problems with scarring "for life". That was a little outlandish dad but yeah, I would have preferred the zit to looking like freddie crougar on my date that evening. I honestly didn't know how to explain the situation when asked about it and no one in their right mind could get away with trying the I'll pretend I don't notice stunt.

[REWIND 17 HOURS]

I struggle to write as my fingers are completely numb from the cold. It's as if I am typing with someone elses' deceased fingers. It's sick, I agree.

Tonight after happy hour I was cooking a batch of french fries in the conventional oven when out of nowhere my great friend Ellie B's voice popped into my head. Inspired by this revelation I decided to write a bit about what I love about some of the dearest people in my life. Cheesy, sure. I've been in a fantastic mood this week and allow me to share some sunshine with you. Oh goodness that made me nauseous.

Why do I love Ellie? I love that high pitched country girl voice she gets when she's had more than 2 beers. It's the "did ya get ya hair did" voice. She is always the life of the party the few times we get to hang out anymore. If you are ever in need of the most random item no matter where you are, Ellie has it in her purse. This girl ain't shy and she is always willing to help without complaint! Ellie low rides like no other.

Nikki is the nurturer. Nik is a cheerful gal. She bestows all sorts of good qualities but she won't hesitate to tell you what she is thinking no matter how potentially painful. I like to think Nik's real daddy is African American because of Nikki's mmmhmmm's and her regular use of mmm mmm mmm as if in immense disbelief. She has a habit of trying to finish sentences with regulatiry almost turing it into a game. It's like she is trying to guess what I am going to say next. Nik has mad dance skillz and makes a mean tequila shot. I can't wait until she moves back to town. [wink]

Good 'ole Jessica. What's not to love? Her constant switch from negative to positive in her painfully witty way? Jess' laugh resembles that of Kitty on the 70's show. Jess has a tendency to make out with randoms. Oh geez, not true. Not usually true. Jess is very giving oftentimes putting others before herself. Jessica gets sappy on the wine.

You never know what you're gonna get with Stacie. Being in her presence is like walking on a fine peice of ice. When she's had a little too much to drink she transforms into the one eye texter. I also love that she has no qualms about implemtning crutches and arm slings into her wardrobe on a bi-monthly basis. Stacie has a contagious laugh. Stacie has a tendency to make out with randoms. Oh geez. Relax.

Randall R. is as genuine as all get out. RR has a great laugh and is gifted with charisma. He has a way with words and employs a pouty "woe is me" every now and then that leaves me in stitches. Randall will keep you on your toes. I am still a little upset about that time he pissed my couch but let's let bygones be bygones shall we? That time Randall and I won the dance challenge back in '07 for our choreographed "midnight justice" routine is one of the best moments of my life. I really wish Randall had consulted with his physician before breaking it down Tabitha style. One question Randall: what in the world did you ever do with my favorite pair of rock-n-republic jeans?

Matt C. I love his doggy style but more than that I love it that he's finally admitted to being a lesbian. My new nickname for Matt is the redcard bandit being the only man - well human being - I have seen get kicked out of an entire season in a recreational adult soccer league. He means well. Except for that time he followed that guy to the Clinton library....you're my favorite.

Jacob Z. Two hours ago I might have skipped over this dude but I've since forgiven the 30 year old boy for trusting his instinct that sunflower seed shells should be thrown down the side of the sink that doesn't drain. I'll admit it bothered me when my napkin failed to retain all the saliva soaked seeds that ended up on my bare hand, but I managed to keep my cool. Okay for a split second I recall maybe shouting "f'ing disgusting" and "how dumb can you be and how are you a highly educated accountant" but I realize in retrospect it was all due to shock. Jacob, like every other member of my family, is witty and kind even though he doesn't have a neat freak bone in his body. I still wonder how he convinced his girlfriend to EVER set foot in that bedroom of his. Jake has a very kind heart and spent a lot of money at my birthday dinner at my fav steakhouse and I try to remember moments such as my birthday when I'm taking out the trash for the third time in a week. Oh, roommates. We love to hate them. Reverse it. No scratch it.

I'm sweating bullets now as a result of Friday fever. I'm out like the count.