Making my own sugar scrub and imagining my death scene

We went to the beach about 2 weeks ago and for the last few days my gorgeous tan has started to peel like glue on a preschoolers fingers.

As I reached for more lotion I wondered how hard it would be to make a scrub.

I’m a tall girl and not tiny. I’ve got curves in the right places (plus some, whatever). The point is you won’t see me buying enough fancy scrub for my whole body. They don’t sell tubs of the stuff big enough anyway.

I did a little search and *voila* a recipe with simple enough ingredients I could probably whip it up and scrub up these flaky legs.

It couldn’t hurt. I mean what’s the worst that could happen?

I grabbed the big container of coconut oil and a spoon. As soon as the spoon touched the smooth white surface it stopped. The stuff is solid. So I think to myself I will microwave it. Pop it in and look for the sugar.

By the time I realized the container was still in the microwave I had found a bowl, measured sugar, spilled some, wiped it up and wondered to myself where the coconut oil went. Ooops.

I get it out, it’s no longer solid but a clearing mess with white globby things of unmelted goop floating around. I scoop the goop chunks and start stirring it in the sugar.

It smells fainternet-meme-of-cat-at-spa-with-cucumbers-on-eyes-and-wearing-a-bath-robefabulous. I start feeling crafty and wonder if I could be famous for sugar scrubs one day. It could happen.

I don’t remember what the recipe called for but I thought it was about half and half so I kept eyeballing sugar and oil scoops until I thought it was just right. I put half into a cute little jar and the other half in an empty plastic container to take to the bathroom with me. One can never be too thrifty.

Plus we only had one tiny jar.

I was feeling extra fancy so I lit the beach scented candle and started the bath.

I perched on the toilet and grabbed a little scrub and started to rub it on my legs. It wasn’t quite liquid, not quite solid, but definitely messy. Some dropped on the floor to make little sugar splats and the rest coated my shins like a sour gummy candy.

I thought it best to probably get over the tub so not to make a mess. I tried to balance with no such luck. My one foot landed into the super scalding running water. In my genius I jump in with the second foot because balancing wasn’t working out.

* pro-tip: your oiled up hands will not hold you up on linoleum. 

I hurry to the front of the tub and turn the water to cold, at this point getting out of the tub seems more dangerous than boiling to death in it.

Remember those dropped sugar globs? Death waiting. I’m not going out there yet.

I get the water just right and settle in. I smoothed the scrub all over my legs and it feels so heavenly I think I should do as much of me as possible.

There is now coconut oil in my eyeball. How does this even happen?

The bathroom is really starting to get a tropical feel. I had closed the door but not turned on the fan so it was getting really steamy. Really stuffy.

Suffocating really.

My entire body is covered in oil and my pores can’t breathe. My lungs are filling with what Yankee Candles considers the beach. This is starting to seem less and less fancy. This might have been a bad idea.

I rinse off. Actually  considering how well water rinses oil I just moved water around but we’ll say I rinsed. I drained the tub and stepped carefully onto a towel in the floor.

Then it hits me.

That light headed, I don’t think I can make it to the bathroom door, dizzy feeling. The one your mother warned you about; the sitting in a hot tub for too long kinda feeling. The one where things get fuzzy and your legs feel weak.

I consider what my dead body will look like when my wife finds me. I’ll be collapsed in a bath towel – right there in the hallway. This will not due.

I wonder if she does find me dead if she will notice my ridiculously moisturized skin.

I have my doubts.

She will probably just wonder where all the sugar went.

Bravely I made it to the bedroom and collapsed into a heap on our bed. I let my body temperature cool while searched for more scrub recipes.

Next time? Adventures in coffee grounds and safflower oil.

I just might make it big one day.

I can’t wait.

I’m ready for another vacation … please

I’m back!

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My love.

Okay. I’ve been back for a few days.
It doesn’t look much like it though.

I still have half packed suitcases. Several in my bedroom, each opened and rifled through, with random colorful articles hanging half in and half out into the floor. One would think I am living out of them. One would be mostly right.

It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I still don’t have that hand maiden / personal assistant / volunteer slave I’ve been asking for.

I’m really busy catching up on my shows on the DVR, deleting voice mails and dragging myself back to work. Ironically I’m doing the same thing there, deleting more emails and cleaning out my email inbox trying to catch up on work gossip.

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I simply don’t have time to unpack and clean up after myself let alone my family. There should be vacation time after a vacation just to pull yourself together. A few days maybe to detox your liver and unpack. Time to hang up all your flowered shirts to the back of the closet again, and to wash and put away display proudly all those obscenely large souvenir drink glasses.

All this vacation crap. I need to do something with it besides ignore it and take a nap.

It’s a glamorous life I’m living.
We are approaching day 5 of post vacation and I had to pull my sandals from a pile of rumpled tee shirts declaring a successful Daytona trip from the bottom of a sandy suitcase.

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We definitely brought some sand back with our suitcases, gear and souvenirs.

Just add it to the normal house clutter we left when we exited the house to go on vacation in the first place.

The clutter that still needs to be cleaned up from 2 last weeks ago. I don’t know where it all came from.

The sand I mean. I’ve got an idea about the clutter.

We rinsed and shook and otherwise left enough sand in and around the hotel that I was sure we weren’t bringing any back.

Now I see I was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong.
The dust bunnies are building sand castles in the corners of the stairwell.

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There are still clothes to be unpacked and washed. The beach gear is still in the front room, stacked in a corner. It will continue to wait, either be put away or carried back to the car for the next trip. Chances are it will still be there for next time.

You wouldn’t know I took a week in the gorgeous sun, day drinking on the beach and crashing pool parties by night.

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except for the dark circles under my eyes

and the tell-tale peeling of my sun burned shoulders

Cardigans over my summer dresses and some concealer under my eyes. Working magic over here.  I look tan, refreshed and pulled together. Except for the fact I’m talking to myself about the fact that I’m still mess under this disguise.

Being a woman is sorta awesome, you can go from ship wrecked and floating on a board for weeks to paparazzi ready in about 10 minutes. or 30.

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If only I could use my magical woman powers to clean this vacation mess. If anyone has any post vacation tips to share I would appreciate it.

Feel free to leave your comments, I will either mock you or sing your praise.
It’s a 50/50 gamble.

Kinda like finding my favorite shorts in one of these suitcases …