Remember the last time you went on a date with your significant other? Yeah, me neither. But I’m pretty sure when we do make time for a little one-on-one action, my date night prep routine is always the same. And it goes a little something like this. Hit it! First I take care of some hairy details, like my mom-stache and my unibrow. Facial Nair is the quickest and least painful method. Unless, of course, your 3-year-old has an elaborate snack plan and you leave it on for too long and develop a chemical burn. Then it hurts real bad. Real, real bad.
Now it’s time to hop in the shower!
After evaluating the time frame, I am able to determine what portions of my leg I can shave. If I have a full 10 minutes, I can knock out the entire leg, no problem! But I only have 6, so just to the knee, it is. I can’t remember the last time I shaved above the knee… No, scratch that. I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs at all.
Finding something to wear
The next step is the worst ever. Finding something to wear. I look over at my jeans and then laugh out loud as I pull black leggings from my closet. Now I sift through my tops like I’m searching for the answer to life. Instead, I settle for the answer to “what will hide my post-baby bod?” Loose and flowy with a side of tall boots.
And I must admit, I love doing my own makeup. I’m not a trained professional, but I like to keep abreast of the current trends, learned by the budding makeup artists of YouTube. Ok, it’s YouTube Kids. Fine, they’re actually children. I’m learning makeup tips from children. And I understand that this is archaic, but I don’t own a hairdryer. So I have two options. Run a brush through my hair and just go with the frizzy flow, or pull it back into a low messy bun. I generally start with option one and then transition to option two sometime during the date. I end my routine with some final touches like a dab of peppermint oil behind my ears to keep me awake past my bedtime and hoop ears circa college 2006. Then I take one last look in the mirror, shrug, and head for my honey.
The final reveal
I meet my husband in the kitchen. He always makes a really big deal about how great I look and how he’s so lucky. Outwardly, I tell him to stop and he’s just saying that, but it always makes me feel pretty amazing… even with my elementary level makeup, wet hair, and fuzzy thighs.