Oh, hello.

I'm going to Hawaii today. Jealous?

Caution: scandalous blog ahead.

Shawna and I had this bright idea recently: at home bikini waxing. Brilliant, right?

Wrong. SO WRONG.

Do not read this if you are faint of heart, or at all opposed to the use of the word "vagina" multiple times. Let me begin this by saying that I am not opposed to waxing--I wax my own eyebrows, and have no problems. Eyebrows and vaginas, it would appear, are incredibly different things.

So, we bought some wax, Shawna took a shot of rum, and there we were. Just us, the wax, and our courage. Shawna was in the bathroom and I was in my bedroom, which are conveniently located right next to each other. I'm sure the neighbor really appreciated our yells of, "OH MY GOD, SHAWNA, WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS?" through her wall.

I decided to be brave and go first. Clearly, this was the wrong plan. Why didn't I learn from Shawna's mistakes?!?!?!?

The first strip wasn't as bad as I was expecting. And then came the second strip. And the third. And finally I noticed blood coming forth, and I nearly cried.

At one point I had some stuck on there that wouldn't come off, and was yelling, "Shawna, my vagina looks like a patch work quilt! What do I do?" I've come to an important conclusion as a result of this experience: my cooch does not want to be waxed. It is not in favor.

I gave up much earlier than Shawna, patchwork vag and all, and heard her in the bathroom saying, "Oh dear. Oh damn." Next thing I know, she's telling me that she somehow has wax on her foot, and needs cheeseburger.

Vagina wax = 1 Shawna and Leslie = 0

Plus note: the wax we bought makes excellent eyebrow wax. Just don't get it anywhere near your hoo-hah.

My flesh hurts.

I went for a run with my running buddy this morning, while Shawna and our pal Anne biked alongside us... We were very hardcore and ran for 1:20, with plenty of hills, and were very fast and awesome.

It was also very sunny, and I didn't think to put on sunblock because I got so used to the rain and storm clouds.

Ouch.

I really, really need to take sunblock to Hawaii.

Currently I'm sitting around in my swim suit (I wanted to see how badly my sports bra sunburn line would look--ridiculous, btw) and Shawna and I rubbed lotion on our lobster-like skin.

Lesson learned.

Take THAT, bathing suit!

So, part of the reason I love my heterosexual life mate Chelse is that she talks sense into me when I'm being ridiculous, and also because she puts up with me when I'm telling her about how my swim suit still does not fit and I only have 13 days until I leave for Hawaii (!!!) but still plan to make that happen somehow.

Last night I found myself conversing about this very fact with her, and she reminded me that around marathon-season last year I was particularly small, but that I am by no means moving in the other direction at a ridiculous speed. Which is what I feel like, frequently.

This led to a fashion show in front of my mirror, where I tried on my swim suit and discovered that the bitch FITS! Not as well as it did, and not as well as I'd probably like, but it goes on and my belly doesn't hang out like it was doing last time I tried it on. I have no idea what I weigh right now, or what I weighed when I tried it on--all I know is I've been trying to kick up the workouts a notch because it makes me feel good and definitely makes me feel better about how my clothes fit. Sure, certain areas are a little squishier than they were before, but I'll handle that. P.S. the new swimsuit (purchased online) is pretty cute, luckily, and fits as well as last summer's swim suit. Slightly squishy, but no one is perfect, right? In 13 days I'm not going to tone up all of a sudden, so I'm just going to roll with it and enjoy my trip wearing whatever the hell I decide to wear. Maybe I'll feel like swimming in a winter coat? Or naked? One just never knows. And frankly, I do not really care, because did I mention I'll be swimming in HAWAII? With my super cute boyfriend who will turn 30 while we are there.

My next mission are a certain pair of jeans... They're a size 11 (junior size, someone gave them to me, which makes them better because they're free), and I have no idea what size they are in real woman world, but they are cute and I would like them to zip, please.

I like having a mission. Listen up, cute pair of small jeans that make my butt look good--it is on!

Shawna's sweet 26th = success!

Yesterday we spent the day touring a local brewery and then celebrating Shawna's birthday with events such as an impromptu dance party in our courtyard. Behold:



Our plans to wear old bridesmaid/prom dresses led to wearing our dresses to dinner (that's a friend's senior prom dress that I'm wearing in the photo, Shawna has on her senior prom dress partially covered with a t-shirt from a local bbq joint). We all changed afterward because holy heck, those things are uncomfortable. Still, we looked awesome.

I can't say for sure, but it's entirely possible that I almost got kicked out of a bar because a friend decided to pick me up and haul me over a seven food wall rather than letting me walk around to some stairs to come up to where they were sitting. They didn't necessarily like that at the bar, nor did they like when our friend stood on a chair to sing happy birthday to Shawna. Luckily, I have pals like Shawna who pull my dress down for me while I'm mid-air to avoid showing my ass to the world. I can't be responsible for what happens after two shots of tequila.

Ice cream and sushi--oh my!

Turns out that my body does not enjoy the gastronomically pleasing combination of sushi followed by Coldstone ice cream for Shawna's birthday.

Holy tummyache and weird dreams. I hardly slept all night.

I think this may be the combination of food that eventually causes insanity. Just a theory.

I'm sleepy now.