I had more I wanted to post about my vacation week, but the Oscars were beckoning. Glad I watched, because I got to see one of my Boston faves, Ben Affleck, receive the award for Argo as Best Picture (ok, so I didn't watch THAT part until the next day, because who the hell can stay up late enough for the big awards??). J and I decided to watch Argo Monday night; I loved it, but we had to keep rewinding and rewatching parts when I would fall asleep. I have a seriously hard time making it up past like 8:30 nowadays.... Wahhhh! I kept fighting the shutting of the eyes, and I would lie to J when he would ask if I was awake. Eventually, I caved to admitting I was beat and needed to rewind a bunch of sections.
So back to vacation... Some stuff:
1. I like to think that I don't care anymore about getting a tan, but I sort of do. I can't be pleased. I'm pissed at myself if I don't drench my body in sunscreen and if I end up with even a remote burn. I'm super- careful about my face because I am already getting crow's feet and other garbagey, old- lady features on my mug-- including these nasty- ass sunspots that look like I just swept a chimney. So I go nuts with SPF 30, and consequently am whining that I don't have a Caribbean glow. By the fourth day of the trip, I went down to SPF 15. I got some color that way. I like to think I don't care at all anymore about getting a glow, but I feel I look a little thinner with some color, and my teeth look whiter. So, yes, very vainly speaking, I want to have my cake and eat it too-- tan without having to risk the danger of it. I am kind of tan, and now I'm paranoid about a few freckles. Must find a dermie to check them out.
2. I recommend doing any vacation you can all- inclusively. Worth every penny. Walked right up to any resort- owned bar and got as much as we wanted and didn't have to grouse or feel bad if we didn't finish anything. It was so much more relaxing and convenient not to have to traipse around with cash in our pockets ("service fee" AKA tip was already included in package). The downside is I think I drank about 4 Pina Coladas and 5 Balashi Chill beers per day "because I could." So maybe all- inclusive is bad for the waist- line but it is awesome for the wallet and for laziness.
3. I am now afraid of airplanes and this fear didn't even slightly start until 2002. I flew the friendly skies all the time as a kid. My parents had us in airplanes at least once a year-- sometimes twice. And it's a cliche, but I was never scared because I was an invincible kid who was going on trips within the comfortable security of my family unit. Surely my parents would never expose me to danger, right? I flew fearlessly right up through Sept 11, and even after that I had only minor misgivings about hopping aboard a 757. All through my twenties, and even into my 31st year, I was still all good-- even flying to Europe, with only the ocean below for several hours (my stomach just flipped while typing... erggg!) of the trip. Somehow, when I turned 32 and went to Puerto Rico with J, I was transformed into a little bit of a worry- wart on the airplane, but I had to fake confidence because J is a horrible flyer and needed comfort to know we should bother going. Now that we have Mabel, I am just like J, sadly: completely convinced there is no way a plane can stay up in the air for a number of hours; waiting for the one teeny glitch to happen that's gonna steer the plane face down, plummeting into the freezing cold ocean; and sweating at the first bit of turbulence or a strange sound. My reactions waned and reappeared a bunch of times on our four flights to get to and from Aruba: the flight from where we live to Phili was awful because it came first and it was short and we didn't reach a high altitude (hence turbulence). Once we got up high going from Phili to Aruba, I was golden. And landing doesn't scare me too much. But take- off, and really the first half hour or so (when, say, the gas tank malfunctions and fuel starts pouring out and the plane is toast) are almost insurmountable times of fear. "Please let us make it back for Mabel's first birthday... please!" No longer under the sheltering protection of my parents, I am a total wimp now when it comes to air travel. I'm not going to let the fear preclude my traveling, as I have to assume exposure to safe flights will eventually assuage my pains. And don't tell J-- because I still maintain a game face for him. (When the flight attendant somewhat brusquely told us, "Please make sure your safety belt is still securely fastened," J told me she didn't sound confident and something was obviously very wrong.) I know people who fly weekly for work-- maybe that's the kind of exposure therapy I need, but I think I would need some Xanax or like 5 wines to knock me out first. My mom always says that air travel is the safest kind and you are way more likely to get in a car accident; I see that point, but at least I have SOME level of control over my car. And people can survive car accidents sometimes, whereas if a plane goes down, there's only one result.
4. Yes, I can fit everything into a carry- on bag. When visiting the Caribbean, ladies, you do not need jeans. You do not need shoes. You need flip- flops, a few dresses to wear at night, and some bathing suits and cover- ups. You are not going to want to flat- iron your hair, so leave all those tools home. And you don't need five pairs of pajamas. When will I learn not to overpack? Also, I get irrationally mad when I overpack-- looking at the unworn clothing with contempt and disgust. Then it's like I have to try to wear as much stuff as possible so I didn't pack in vain. Mind games.
5. It really doesn't matter what you look like in a bathingsuit, and you'll never see these people again, but it's okay to still fret a little, because what if Bradley Cooper ends up on your beach? Now that I'm 34, I'd like to think I've made some peace with my body. I know there's lots I can change about it (no, not with plastic surgery-- with EXERCISE!), but there are things that are unchangeable unless I want to spend some serious money and I am not THAT vain. For instance, I have huge ears. I also have a large area above my boobs but below my neck-- what's that called- some fancy word that starts with a d and sounds French. I always feel when I wear something strapless like that area of skin is just so large. And I have to bleach my fore- arm hair every month because it is brown not blonde and I think that is just so nasty looking on women. But anyway, I guess to a certain point I have started to accept some stuff. Still, I always find myself in that pre- vacation rut when I try on bathingsuits-- "Man, I have a lot of side- boob spillage-- should have done those chest press exercises. And my thighs, ewww. And why is everything just loose looking?" Then I tell myself I am a 34- year- old woman, and these things are not worth worrying about and I need to have fun on the trip. Inevitably, I get to my destination and see some really heavy women in string bikinis and I feel way better (I know it's unhealthy to base one's self- image on a comparison to others, but let's be real and admit we all do this.). But THEN I see chicks with these amazing bods, and I feel like an old lame- ass in my straw- hat and SPF 30 with side- boob and a droopy body, and the whole stupid cycle starts back up. I think, though, that I need to submit to caring a little. Caring or being a little vain might be the only thing that will get my droopy ass to the gym any time soon.
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