Judge Not...

...oh, there are so many things in my life that the phrase, "Judge not," could be applied to...

...the fact that I squeeze my toothpaste from the middle.
...I eat peanut butter straight from the container (using a spoon, of course...maybe).
...I never seem to be able to put my laundry away (get it clean? Yes. Folded? Sometimes. Put away? NO.)
...I will drive MILES out of my way for a good cup of coffee.
...I have a crazy, stupid love of fake mustaches.
...I still have a childhood crush on Tom Selleck (might explain the one above).
...I pretend I'm cleaning someone else's house when I'm doing chores.
...I carry on conversations with myself all the time.
...I still think I'm 16 until I look in a mirror.
...if there are tater tots on the menu, I HAVE to have them. Even if they don't go with my meal of choice.
...I've been known to drive 45 minutes for Sonic's tater tots.
...I still want to be a flight attendant.
...I still want to be a rock 'n roll star.
...I still want to join the circus.
...I DO believe that a cowboy will ride into town on his horse, tip his hat, call me "Darlin'," and that will be that. We'll live happily ever after on his ranch (when I'm not traveling with the airlines, the band, and the circus).

But today; today's actions are in desperate need of the phrase, "Judge not." See, today. Today, I got my eyelashes permed. (I see the face you're making, J... Judge. Not.)

I had a Groupon, you see. I had to try it, I just had to! It's not nearly as painful as one might guess; it was actually kinda relaxing, to be honest.

You end up lying on the spa table with your eyes closed for about an hour. Yes, you do smell like the perming solution, and that's a little gross, I will give you that. (But, in my defense, I grew up with that smell. My momma used to give my Nonny home perms every month. Nonny lived two blocks away, and her house was our playground - I think we were in her house more than we were in our own. So, when momma would perm Nonny's hair, we'd always be there, pretend gagging at the smell, and generally causing a ruckus. Nonny's been gone over two decades now; I miss her something fierce. The smell brought back great memories of her.)

So, for an hour, I lay on that table, eyes closed, smelling of childhood ick, remembering my Nonny, and smiling.

Oh, and my eyelashes are perfectly curled, thankyouverymuch.

I can now bat them at my hunky cowboy.