It just hits a little different.
Technically, we are still newlyweds. Old (ish) fools at a new game, as it were. I think there are rules for your first Valentine’s Day as a married couple and they involve googly eyes, chocolates, champagne…the works. But, as we know, rules are meant to be broken. We decided to have our Valentine’s date night last night – it was Saturday afterall and today (Sunday) brings a winter wonderland to the south so best to celebrate while the celebratin’s good, we figured.
So, we drove to our favorite restaurant in Baton Rouge, Parrain’s, and filled our gullets with char-grilled oysters and a little bit of booze. This was both a celebration of Valentine’s and the fact that we both made it through a Sugar/Alcohol fast for 40 days without killing each other. Oysters and Chardonnay have never tasted so lovely.
Somewhere around my second glass, things started to take a turn.
It was then that I noticed the group at the table next to us included a woman who looked very much like my lovely husband’s ex (it wasn’t) and then started the slightly off kilter Valentine’s Day conversation which spanned from past relationships to sex trafficking and ended with pretty much a full bore argument on why he shouldn’t spend two hours at the gym and, instead, should do my 20 minute or less workouts. Oh, strike that. That wasn’t the end. The end came when we debated whether or not we “needed” two desserts to take home with us. I thought it was unnecessary to indulge to that extreme and he thought, it’s Valentine’s day…we earned it and, “Lindsey, you don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want.” I guess I won because we left for home with just bread pudding.
The good thing about us or one of the good things about us is that we don’t fight for very long (and they’re not “real” fights). I’ll leave out the specifics but, suffice it to say, there was a very lovely Valentine’s smooch before we even got in the car to depart. I am setting the stage here…work with me.
When we arrived home, fat and happy and, well…at 9 pm, already pretty tired (see reference to oldish above), we sorta settled into our routine of pajamas, true crime tv, and silly banter.
Then it happened.
Quite suddenly, I remembered what was in the CVS bag! Earlier that morning I had gone to grab a few last minute add-ons for my Valentine. You know the stuff I’m talking about – corny heart shaped boxes of chocolate, an overly sappy card, and of course a purple stuffed sloth for Izzy, the fur-Valentine in our lives. For me, CVS is sometimes like Target but without t-shirts with trendy iron-on sayings. (Side bar, can we all agree that if you’re under the age of 40 and you wear a t-shirt with an AC/DC logo that you must actually know at least one of their songs? Ok, thanks!) While trolling the aisles and wondering, does beef jerky count as romantic, I naturally encountered a few must have items for myself. There was clear nail polish, pro-biotics, hair scrunchies, and….wait for it…AS SEEN ON TV facial razors/exfoliators. I’m 99% sure exfoliators is not a word. I’m also pretty sure these things have never been seen on TV but I digress.
Now is where you might be thinking that diving into shaving your face for the first time ever while under the influence of 3 glasses of wine could be a bad thing. You might be right. You might be wrong. Time will tell.
All I can tell you, dear reader, is that one minute I was laughing with hubby and getting ready to snuggle in for some true crime binging and the next minute, I was hacking away at stray upper lip hairs.
Here’s the exact one that hopped in my basket at CVS. Flawless by Finishing touch. I am not here to review products but I’ll be honest, I thought these were pretty cool and if you’re considering doing this yourself, I’ve seen a lot of reviews saying that dermoplaning hurts – it doesn’t. Stop being such a cry baby. For the record, dermoplaning is likely not a word either.
I wish I could accurately describe my excitement. I was giddy as I watched years-old peach fuzz slough off into the sink. Even better, I bragged with glee to hubby as I scraped away at my beard and mustache. What I’m trying to say is, this is what makes Valentine’s Day in your 40s a little bit different. I am comfortable in my skin (literally) and blissfully happy with this totally relatable and real relationship that I have.
Before I wrap up, let me just say…I am not a yeti. Sure, every person that has ever waxed my eyebrows has passionately suggested, “Ma’am…you want lip too?” But I have always demurred, believing that it was totally unnecessary until the hairs turned black and witch-y looking. Who cares about a little blonde peach fuzz anyway? Outside of Miss Hanh at Beautiful Nails, no one had ever called out that I was starting to look like Tom Selleck.
My Valentine’s Day started with Irish coffee and kolaches and ended with my husband spoon feeding me bread pudding while I was standing in the bathroom shaving my face and I gotta say, I’m pretty damn happy about that.
What’s your cupid-day story?
P.S. My husband says my face is puppy smooth and so far, I don’t seem to have any razor burn so I’d say it was a great success! Also, the bread pudding was to die for. Who needs cheesecake anyway?!