Hot Mom Problems

On occasion I like to open up my Snarky site to a guest blogger so they can share their thoughts.  I was approached last week by a woman who thought I was incredibly unkind to the much maligned minority group known as Hot  Moms.  I thought she had a valid point so today our guest blogger, who’s going by the name “Hotter Than You,” reveals the hotter the mom the bigger the hot mess.

Even Hot Moms have problems.  You think it’s easy being tan 24/7 365?  Let me tell you it’s so not.  A March spring break only complicates our lives. It means we have to go from being just yoga pant hot to swimsuit super hot practically overnight.  The hair removal issues alone require advanced strategic scheduling.  It’s not like you can just go in and have a head to toe wax job.  Any Hot Mom worth her silver glitter Uggs knows you have to wax in stages spread out over at least a week for maximum hair removal efficiency.  For those of you who don’t believe that anyone as gorgeous as me can possibly have any difficulties in her life – here’s my List of Hot Mom Problems (Spring Break Edition).

Vajazzle glue causes epic lady business rash.  OMG and WTF are salons all buying their vajazzle glue from China?!!  This is my 3rd crotch rash since last November.  Just stop right there, I know what you’re going to say, “Maybe it’s not the glue, maybe your allergic to vajazzling.”  About that – hell to the no.  It’s not me, it’s salons pretending to be high-end and probably using an Elmer’s Glue Stick or worse Gorilla Glue to get those crystals to stay put. This is what’s wrong with America – not $4 a gallon gas, unemployment or the freaking environment, but sub-standard salon service.  When, I ask you, is a presidential candidate going to man up and talk about that?  You’d think Romney with that big old Ken doll mane of hair would have addressed this quality of life issue.  Just imagine the arsenal of styling products he must use to keep that fullness, color and hair height looking so good everyday?  (Off topic kind of – Can you imagine being the wife of a presidential candidate?  There is not enough Zoloft  in the world to make me stand by my husband’s side every damn day and act fascinated with whatever he says.  God, it would be like dating all over again minus the alcohol.  Eww!)

Should I pre-oil or wait till I arrive at the pool?  This is a tough one.  You want to look your best when you make your pool-side debut which suggest that pre-oiling is the way to go.  This way your spray tan is super shiny and just shouts, “Hey look at me. I’m hot!”  But, if you pre-oil that robs you of the opportunity to immediately attract attention by dropping your swim bag, ignoring your children, grabbing your lotion, putting one leg up on a chaise lounge (or using a pool umbrella as an impromptu stripper pole) and begin massaging shiny goo all over yourself.  Is there anything sexier than me in a bikini, one leg propped up high on the back of a chair, my fake wonder breasts trying to escape out of my tiny triangle top, doing an application of sun tan oil super high on my inner thigh while my vajazz peeks out?  The short answer – Hell No! P.S.  Just to prove that Hot Moms are giving, kind people I’ll share with you this secret.  Pour some glitter into your suntan oil so you not only shimmer, but sparkle.  You’re welcome.

Navel piercing belly bling doesn’t match vajzzle crystals – Seriously people who run salons, how hard is it to keep a decent supply of coordinated crystal colors in stock. Like I want to put on a bikini and walk around the resort wearing mismatched crystals.  I want my body bling to tell a color story of supreme hotness not be a hideous Fashion No.

Should I be worried that the esthetician who does my waxing gets more “hands on” time “down there” than my husband? Could I be a more loving and concerned fourth wife to even think about this?  No, I could not.  This proves that I’m hot and I care. Which is the most awesome combination e-v-e-r!  I wouldn’t have even have thought about this except a group of us mega hotties were talking while waiting for our pilates reformer class (mat pilates sooo 24 Hour Fitness) to begin and the subject of sex came up and one beauty mentioned that she did the math and her hoo haa spent more time getting groomed than it did getting boom boomed. (If you now what I mean.)  Is that so wrong?  Is it our fault that hair really does grow overnight or that our husbands are obsessed with their i Pads?

Hair up or down?  Hot Moms want to wear their hair down at all times. It’s part of our by-laws and a big part of our sacred Hot Mom pledge.  Pretty much no matter what the circumstances or sports activity we like to have our hair flowing.  You really can’t even qualify to be a Hot Mom if you gave birth with bad hair.  Seriously, if you were a sweaty mess with your hair in some kind of scrunchie, pony tail hell while in labor then shame on you. I delivered heavily medicated (Don’t tell me you didn’t demand they top off your epidural?) in full make-up. (Waterproof foundation and mascara are key.)  My hair was freshly blown out and I had on some darling hoop earrings and a tasteful diamond necklace (An early push present.) I even had my husband apply some Channel Lip Plumper (I picked a muted pink color so it wouldn’t clash with the god awful blue/green hospital gown) right before the last push so I would look amazing for the delivery photos. If you think having a C-section is permission to look frumpy, think again.  Surgery is no excuse to slack off.  You take your just styled hair, gently fold it into the surgical cap thingy and ta da – after the C surg and combination tummy tuck (Really why waste perfectly good anesthesia?) you take that cap off, swing your hair a couple of times and you’re back in the game.

Wow, I totally got sidetracked.  What I’ve been trying to get to is the whole pool side Hot Mom hair issue.  Yes, you want to wear it down, but the whole messy bun thing is soo in fashion and if your hair is in a messy bun then you don’t have to worry about it trailing over your boobs and hiding your spectacular cleavage that you paid soo much for.  It’s like Sophia’s choice – do you put your hair up for best boob view or keep it down and stay true to your Hot Mom pledge. I haven’t been this conflicted since I had to decide whether or not I wanted a nipple enhancement when I got my last augmentation. It’s things like this that keep me awake at night.  Thank you pharmacy gods for Ambien.

Bad Spray Tan – Yes, bad spray tans happen to hot people.  Trust me if you’re a Hot Mom you’ve, somewhere in your career of being beautiful, have received a tan that can best be described as ashy orange or as us Hot Moms call it assy orange. It’s a tanning hazard that comes with the territory of being amazing.  The first time this happens you’ll go through the Five Stages of Tanning Tears.  Stage one is denial that your tan even looks that orange.  You’ll tell yourself it’s just the fluorescent light in the store or that it will look better in sunlight.  Next, you’ll get angry at your tanning establishment and strike out at them on their Facebook page calling them the “Orange Julius” of tanning salons.  After you get that out of your system you’ll experience Stage 3 and probably drop to your knees and offer a moving pray to the Patron Saint of Hot Moms – Pamela Anderson –  vowing to never ever ask for “extra custom airbrushing” again if she would use her powers to magically change your tan from pumpkin to sun-kissed.  When that doesn’t work you’ll get very depressed and try to perhaps drink yourself into such a stupor that you no longer know your primary colors – making it no big deal that you’re currently the color of a carrot. Lastly, you’ll accept your orangeness, buy a six-pack of St. Ives exfoliating body scrub at Wal Mart mix that with some Comet with bleach and spend a half day in the shower rubbing your skin raw or as I like to call it a “at home full body chemical peel” to knock down your orange to a more acceptable burnt sienna

The Nip Slip – Is it really that bad?  If I’m in a bikini chances are I’m going to nip slip. Sometimes it just happens and sometimes I’ll admit I make it happen. It’s not because I enjoy showing off my stuff, well it is kinda, but it’s more because I believe my boobs have the power to make people happy.  Take last week for example, there I was in my Hot Mom spring break uniform – super skimpy bikini, belly piercing, hair down with a straw cowboy hat, Ugg flip-flops and a trio of David Yurman “statement” necklaces.  Right next to me was this scary mom in a freaking tank suit or whatever they call swim wear that covers you up from chest to thigh.  This lady didn’t even have a sarong or a maxi dress on instead she was wearing navy blue capri track pants OVER her swimsuit that appeared to have food stains on them .(Psst – It was Snarky.)  I was about to hurl and then I noticed she was physically deformed – cankles and a severe case of whale knees . I hope she’s a member of that support group I donated to. What’s it called? Is it Doctors Without Borders? No, no, that’s not it.  Oh, now I remember it’s – People Without Plastic Surgeons. If that wasn’t bad enough she keep on talking to her husband about something called a “brisket taco.”  God, she couldn’t shut up about it. It was all “the brisket was so lean.  The sauce was so savory.”  Who even eats solid foods after Christmas? I gave up chewing for Lent.  To get this rocking bod I’ve been on a protein shake diet for going on almost 4 months.  I felt so sorry for her poor husband that I did an “on purpose” double nip slip.  I’m sure it just about made his year. Why have incredible breasts if you can’t use them to bring joy to others?  – I guess I can check “good deed done for the day” off my “to do” list.

See, I’ve got my share of problems.  All I ask is that the next time you’re so quick to judge me to remember that although I’m immensely better looking than you and my credit card, of course, has a much higher limit, I could be suffering from a crotch rash from hell and that’s all the reason I need to cut in front of you in the school drop off-line – again.

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Breaking News Alert! It has just come to my attention that a few of you do not know what a Vajazzle is. For the love of all the glitters please check out my Vajazz Trilogy: Vajazzle Seriously?, Your Valentine Vajazzle Headquarters and PTA Vajazzle Fundraiser Time Line.

**Many thanks for all of you who “liked” me on Facebook!  May the Snark Be With You.  For those that haven’t done the deed yet to stay up-to-date on new posts and take part in my not so deep thoughts click on this Facebook link – http://is.gd/iEgnJ (That’s the abbreviated link to my FB page) or I twitter @snarkynsuburbs.   Thanks also to all the Pinterest folks that are sharing the Snark. Cheers!

Your Valentine Vajazzle Headquarters

Picture 2I sincerely wish I was the kind of person that could ignore a sign at my hair salon that proudly proclaimed “We specialize in Valentine Vajazzles“, but I can’t. I have a bad habit of being overly curious and maybe just a tad, opinionated. Some might call it having a faulty brain to mouth edit system, I prefer to think that I’m only verbalizing what everyone else is thinking. It’s my one true gift in life (well that and complaining). When I entered my hair salon and was greeted with the vajazzle sign I loudly said, “Yuck!” followed by “Are you kidding me?”

I proceeded to complain to my young stylist and she smartly agreed with everything I was saying.  After she was done trimming my hair I asked her to fess up and tell me the truth about her thoughts on vajazzling. I figured she was in her twenties and prime vajazzle material. This is where I got the shocker, she tells me that it isn’t her age group that gets their lady parts waxed and bejeweled. It’s women my age (middle-aged moms). This disturbing news troubled me into the next day. So much so that when I’m waiting to pick up kids from school I share my disgust of a Valentine Vajazzle with a cluster of other moms. I expected a unanimous response of ick but what I get is one E.S.H.M (Elementary School Hot Mom.  Think skinny jeans, Uggs, tight shirt with full cleavage exposure and half gloves.  It’s like she thinks her fingers or so sexy she doesn’t dare cover them up.) who enthusiastically says, “Oh no, it’s a great present! My mom got me one last year for Valentine’s Day!”

My first reaction is that I must have misunderstood her, so I ask nicely without a trace of revulsion in my voice, “Did you just say your mom?”

“Yes,” she quickly replied, “My mom gave me a gift card for a Valentine Vajazzle. It was awesome!  They had all these cute heart-shaped crystals and I had them placed in a heart design where the point of the heart pointed to my, you know, opening.”

This doesn’t happen often, but I was rendered speechless. Then the bell rang and kids starting herding out of the school which meant the time for me to make a comment and/or have a follow-up question was over. I had no choice, but to head to my Facebook page to share my horror, but even that couldn’t calm me. I became obsessed with finding out more about the Valentine Vajazzle and the woman who get them.

The very next day, to quench my curiosity,  I get on the phone and call the owner of the salon I go too and ask for an interview. I tell her I’m writing a story on Valentine’s Day and want to add in the Vajazzle angle. She told me to come right in. I showed up with a notepad and pen and began my descent into hell the world of vajazzling.  As soon as I get there she asks me two questions that got a great big NO!  Did I want to see someone being vajazzled and did I want a complimentary vajazzle? I’d sooner see someone give birth than watch a vajazzling and I’d almost sooner give birth than be vajazzled. I quickly took control of the interview and shared with her the question foremost on my mind. What kind of client opts for a vajazzle? Her response left me feeling soiled and deeply ashamed for my demographic – Yes, dear God it’s true – the vajazzle clients are women my age and older! Once, my breathing returned to normal I said, “What do you mean by older?”

The salon owner smiled and said, “Well, we call it the Granny Vajazzle.”

Keep breathing ladies, inhale, exhale, deep breaths and soon everything will be alright. Are you better yet? I hope so because I must, in the spirit of good journalism, keep reporting.  I tried not to show my fear and followed up with the only question I could think of why? “Why would a grandma get a vajazzle?”

The salon owner said it was simple economics.  “A vajazzle can cost upwards of $300 and not many twenty-somethings have that kind of disposable income for a treatment that, at best, lasts a week.  Now, our older women tend to have two things – more money and more time and the vajazzle is a fun little thing to do.”

I’m thinking to myself wouldn’t a “fun little thing to do” be taking your grandkids to the movies? When did a vajazzle become a ladies who lunch hobby?  Now that I was in deep vajazzle territory there was no going back I had to plunge forward, “If you don’t mind sharing what’s the oldest age woman you’ve given a vajazzle to?

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” she said. “I’m guessing our oldest is probably 73.  She comes in once a month.”

Deep breaths, readers, deep breaths. Suddenly, a mother buying her daughter a Valentine Vajazzle gift card all makes all kind of sense.

I left the salon feeling nauseated and fearful for womankind. What does it say about us if our grandmas, our nanas, our own mothers are getting their down unders, de-foliated and adorned with crystals?  I’ll tell you what it says. It says vajazzles are now a health crisis. I strongly believe, with my one semester of required college level health sciences, that a vajazzle is now one of the foremost signs of dementia, perhaps pre-alzheimers. Ladies, I think the time has come to tell our mom’s to drop their drawers. In the name of science and geriatric health, it’s our duty as daughters, to make sure our moms are vajazzle free and if they are sporting a jewelled hoo ha, then you know what you have to do – schedule an M.R.I. stat!

***For all things wonderfully Snarky go to www.snarkygear.com where you can find the new winter Snarky line of clothing and accessories. (Flannel Snarky P.J.’s anyone?) Plus, there’s my book – Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School. (Click here for purchase information.)

Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good.  Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival.  If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you. To stay up-to-date on new posts and take part in my not so deep thoughts click on this Facebook link – http://is.gd/iEgnJ (That’s the abbreviated link to my FB page) or I twitter @snarkynsuburbs.