funny

I am 25% Norwegian. Therefore, I have pale skin. In the winter months, I look especially translucent. I am proud of my pale heritage except for one specific moment. Dum, dum, dummmm.... Yes, like 95% of the world's population, with the exception of those who work out and those who walk on a runway, I hate wearing a bathing suit.

I was complaining one day about this very topic when my friend said, "Tan fat looks better than white fat. Why don't you try a spray tan?" I had done a spray tan a couple of years ago and I liked the way it looked. Sitting in the hot sun, wondering the whole time if this is the moment that you are getting skin cancer, is not my idea of fun. Lying out in the sun, for me, is like water torture. The whole time I am lying in the sun, I obsess over the fact that I probably am giving myself cancer while I am burning my skin.

I never actually tan. I burn. Then I peel. Then, I am translucent again. Let's face it, Norwegian people are not known for their awesome tans! Plus, every time I go in the sun I get a new "beauty mark," i.e. a gross mole. (By the way, whoever called these things beauty marks? Thanks anyway. If they really were beautiful, I would be walking on a runway by now. I will just keep it real and call them moles.)

Another reason I do not like lying out in the sun is the sunscreen. I mean, who really knows which one is the healthiest? Lately, they have labeled them all as unsafe. Who knows?

Efficient Beauty?

Anyway, a couple of years ago, I went to a tanning place. i found it kind of creepy. First you enter a dark dressing room and then a recording tells you to hold your breath just as a blast of cold liquid is sprayed on your naked body, causing you to gasp while inhaling the liquid into your lungs! What is this liquid anyway? Probably more cancer-causing chemicals! Then you are told by the recording to turn around and subject yourself to the same torture again.

The only reason I subjected myself to the process is because I am an efficient seeker of beauty. The whole thing was over in five minutes and I was on my way. Sticky, albeit, but on my way. No sweaty beaches, no chemical sunscreen, no sunburn and no sitting in some dumb salon waiting for something to dry while reading a magazine pretending to care if I am wearing the latest fashionable item. Efficient beauty is how I like it.  So what if I spent the next couple of days smelling like vegetable oil! I was happy to have a "healthy" glow.

So this year, I took my friend's advice and made an appointment to acquire a healthy glow yet again. This time, however, I decided to go to a tanning place that uses a real person to spray it on. I thought this would be better than the black dressing room with the recording. Plus, I thought maybe she could paint some tight ab muscles on me.

The Big Day

On the day of the appointment it started raining. I brought my twin seven-year-old boys with me to the salon and made them sit in the waiting room. I went into the spray tan room. No black dressing room today, it was  more like a doctor's office. It was better than the black dressing room, although the lighting was fluorescent and made the atmosphere somewhat clinical. Standing naked in this light was anything but (pun intended) flattering. I was told I could choose to leave my underwear and bra on, but she said most people just leave their underwear on and bra off, so they don't get tan lines on top. I did just that.

The twenty-year-old perky (of course) spray tan girl walked in. Although she was actually very professional and nice, I wished they had hired someone more like Maude from the Golden Girls TV show to do the job. I didn't enjoy having to get naked in front of someone as young and perky as (let's just call her) "Tiffany".  You get the picture! But, I needed to "tan the fat", so I sucked it up. I cracked jokes to distract "Tiffany" from my 41-year-old white, peanut-butter-and-jelly-loving body, which was now shining under clinical lighting.  But who was I fooling! It was really embarrassing! But, I just kept my head held high and acted like this was perfectly normal.

She told me to put lotion on my hands and feet to protect them from appearing orange. Then, she said to stand forward with my arms in the air while she sprayed and then to put my arms down. This went on for fifteen minutes with a myriad of different positions. My favorite was when she told me to face away from her and sort of bend forward, so I wouldn't get a streak of tan under my butt... OMG! Where is the black dressing room with the recording? Despite the humiliation, once she finished I was thrilled. I was so happy to get it all over with in about twenty minutes. Done. Check! The boys were still patiently waiting in the room that was just outside the door. When I came out with my newly tanned skin, Zeke looked at me and said "Mom, did that lady paint you orange?"

Oh, God!

The Rain

As we started to leave, I looked outside. It was now pouring. I do mean buckets. Hard, huge raindrops with wind. The "Tiffany" girl told me to take her umbrella, cover myself, go to the car, then pull towards the door and she would run out to get the umbrella. I told her I would park close so she  wouldn't get wet. Ha! The minute the boys and I got outside, we got hit from every angle. I was struggling to determine which angle the rain was coming from, but I was getting pelted from every direction. As for the boys, they were on their own. Normally, I would cover them and sacrifice myself, but not today little people! "Run!" is all I said to them.

Finally, we got into the car. I kept one arm out of the car in order to close the umbrella. It was getting pelted by the rain. Because my hands had the lotion on them and were slippery I was having difficulty closing the umbrella. Closing it took at least 45 seconds. In the middle of it all, I dropped my keys almost under the car! Now, I had to expose my entire upper body to the wind and rain in order to retrieve the keys. I finally got the keys, finally closed the car door and then looked at my arm. The spray tan was dripping down my arm. It was like bad mascara in a horror movie from the seventies. My tan was ruined! I tried to mop it up with an old napkin that had old ketchup on it from McDonald's that I found in the car. But like any paint job, once you start touching things up the whole thing just looks worse. 

I returned to where "Tiffany" was waiting for her umbrella and I told her my tan was ruined. She asked me to come back in so she can re-do my arms. Once I got in and took off my shirt, I realized the rain had soaked all the way through my shirt. I was as spotted as a cheetah. I pulled up my pant leg, same thing. Cheetah legs. Ugh! No! These gross feet are not mine, but mine looked like these. She told me to use the baby wipes that were on the counter and wipe off all of the tan. She would then re-spray me. So much for efficient beauty. So, I did. I should have counted how many blessed baby wipes it took to wipe it all off. Fifteen minutes later she returned to my mostly-naked, half-spray-tanned, wet-haired, hair net-wearing self. Seriously. Guys, if you had any fantasies about two hot chicks spray tanning each other, hold on to that vision, because it truly was not the reality.

Despite all that happened, I was glad I did it. My funny friend was right: tanned fat did look better than pale white fat.

Image Source: iStock Photo

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.

At my first day in Mommy & Me, I made a new friend. We seemed so much alike; both of us were bubbly blondes and first-time mothers to three-month-old babies. We even shared the same alma mater. “What year did you graduate?” she asked, as excited as I was to find common ground. “1992,” I told her. “How about you?” She paused, seeming surprised. “Um, 2002.” That put her age at about 30. Wow, I thought. What a young mom. As I got to know the other women in the group, I discovered that they were all in their early thirties. At 40, I was the outlier. The weird one.          

Maybe this shouldn’t have been such a shock, but I’ve been living in a bubble — more specifically, Los Angeles.  Our greatest natural resource is beautiful pregnant actresses in their forties like Halle Berry, Salma Hayak, and Kelly Preston.  My own girlfriends aren’t famous, but we’ve been acting like we are.  Our thirties were spent on career building, exotic travel, and even more exotic dating.  Although I was 40 when I finally had a baby, I was the first one on my block.  I thought I was right on schedule.            

Once I realized I was the odd mom out, it was time for spin control.  I badly wanted to befriend these Mommy & Me ladies and feared the age gap would create distance, so going forward, I avoided specifics about my stats.  I referred to spending “a couple” of years in New York (it was seven) and having worked in Los Angeles as a television producer for “a while” (it was a decade).  I hadn’t lied this much about my age since my Match.com days.

Thanks to pretty good skin, I passed as a peer, but inside, I felt strangely insecure.  Who were these confident women who knew what they wanted in life so much earlier than I did?  In some ways, they seemed older and wiser than me, if only because they’d charted such a mature, traditional course.  When they were meeting their Mr. Rights, I was exploring the virtues of one-night stands.  While they were registering for wedding china, I was breaking plates in Greece.  I’d always felt comfortable with my choice to delay settling down, especially since I had been lucky enough to eventually find a wonderful partner and have a family.  But, suddenly, looking at these perky “normal” mommies, I felt a little jealous.  I wanted to be 30 too.  I wanted more energy and less sagging.  I wanted time. 

Hiding my age from my new friends wasn’t sustainable.  The whole point of Mommy & Me is creating a supportive environment to share your deepest and darkest secrets — the stuff you’re afraid to tell your husband (especially when it’s how mad you are at him for not pulling his weight with the baby).  My big fear, the one I yearned to spill in safety, was that the longer I nursed, the harder it would be to get pregnant again.  Of course, the only reason I was in such a rush to get cracking on baby #2 was the fear of declining fertility at my age.

So, finally, I opened up about being 40, and the worries that went with it.  It turned out not to be a big deal.  Everyone had their issues.  Several moms confessed that they sometimes felt resentful about what they’d given up to have a baby — their career flexibility, their free time, their very identities.  I can honestly say that by the time I had my baby, I was too old to feel torn.  In the wilderness of my thirties, I’d had all the freedom I could handle and I didn’t miss it.  Letting down my guard, and getting to know these younger women, whom I truly adore, is what finally helped me appreciate the benefits of becoming a mom at 40.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Image Source: Photo by Amy Wruble

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.

My life used to be organized, washed, dried, ironed and neatly folded. I thought I knew what I wanted in life, what I desired. My nails were almost always painted, my hair usually silky smooth with the flick of a hair straightener, my clothes free of sticky substances and my cups of tea always fresh. (Warning: adult language follows.)

This morning, as I was about to sip my third time reheated cup of tea, I had to stop and sigh... Heids, maybe you could make a fresh one? The thought startled me. What have I become?

My life is such a contrast to everything I knew before I had a baby. My vagina used to be well kept and now it resembles something of an overgrown forest. Which might be a good thing, seeing as how my husband thinks sex is better now than it ever has been! Whoo! Winning in the bedroom. But seriously, a little lady-scaping love down there wouldn't hurt. Not to mention the hair on my head. I can't remember the last time I went to the hairdressers. I tell people I am going 'el natural' and if that doesn't satisfy I say I am sporting a balayage... The only time my re-growth has ever worked for me.

The other day my husband picked me up for an afternoon coffee. I had made the effort to look 'cute:' hair in a braid ('cause I didn't have time to 'do' it), makeup on, a casual dress — yeah I looked pretty good! Of course none of that gets noticed when I am holding the most adorable six-month-old baby girl, who beams at him when he comes into view. I merely nod my head, "Hi Babe"... After we pack ourselves into the car he jumps in, turns to me and says (I can feel the love and affection coming, he is going to notice the effort and tell me I look beautiful), "You have a booger in your nose." Totally cool, let me just fix that... I didn't need a compliment anyhow, cause I am invincible — did you see the size of that thing I pushed out of my tiny little vagina just six months ago? 

Life is a little less black and white and a little more relative these days. The term 'dirty' is a fabulous example — my bra is often sporting a film of stale-smelling breast milk. Yet I keep on wearing it until it is too far gone because I only have two bras I can wear at the moment and the washing doesn't always make the to-do list.

Having said (in a slightly over-sharing kind of way) all that, I wouldn't trade if for anything. Yeah, so what if my reality consists of me walking around in a regurgitated milk haze, spots and stains on my clothes, probably a little vomit in my hair, drool who-knows-where, and let’s not discount the possibility of there being a little poop in the mix? Having a baby definitely puts a spin on life as you know it, bringing a perspective that somehow makes you a little wiser, less pretentious and soft around the edges.

So while I keep losing my dignity, life keeps getting sweeter. My baby has brought so much joy to Chad and I, I don’t know where to put it all. Christmas had a new aura of excitement and thrill now that we have a special little girl to share it with. And as for the new year, well I just hope it doesn’t go too fast, cause I want to relish every moment. I am the happiest I have ever been despite the drastic shift motherhood has brought.

P.S. I managed to actually paint my toenails this morning while bub was having a nap — a festive red. It is all about celebrating the wins, no matter how big or small!

Image Source: Courtesy of Bek Grace Photography

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.

One of the difficult parts of being a working parent is feeling like you're missing out on your child's day. 

Thanks to the efforts of dad Emio Tomeoni, one mom has gotten a special peek at what her tot gets up to all day while she is at work. 

Creating a time-lapse video for his wife Stephanie, Emio filmed his day with their 21-month-old son Xavier. The result is amazing. 

“I do a lot of videos for my wife," Tomeoni said. "She loves them. They’re a little personal glimpse into our life. I wanted to show her something to make her smile.”

Read the whole story at ABC News.>>

Image Source: ABC News

This unexpected duet is guaranteed to put a big smile on your face! Currently going viral on YouTube, the baby-dog duet is just adorable. Watch as sweet 10-month-old baby Lexi gets serenaded by her husky friend Angel.>>

Image Source: YouTube via WXYZ

There's nothing quite like playing with mom, even in the animal kingdom! These adorable photos of a mama polar bear having some wintry fun with her cubs are sure to make you smile. Photographer Keren Su snapped them in the Waspusk National Park in Canada.

Click through to the Daily Mail to see all the adorable pictures >>

Does your little one have snow to play in today? 

Image Source: Keren Su/Cater News via Daily Mail

Have you ever found yourself shaking your head over a sentence or question you just uttered to your kids? We've definitely been there, so we couldn't help smiling at NickMom's round-up of things you couldn't have imagined you'd have to say before you were a mom. Click through to read them all and have a good laugh, and then share in the comments the funniest thing you've said lately. 

See them all here!

Image Source: via NickMom

It’s amazing how becoming a mom can change ones perspective. Do you remember back to your pre-kid days?  You know, back in the days when the 10 signs you're a mom didn’t apply to you? You may need to reach way back in the memory banks but I know it’s there. The days when a screaming child would make you wonder why the mother couldn’t control her kid. All the things you would never allow your child do.

Recently I was talking to a group of women with older children. We compiled a list of items that even now, all these years later, remind us that we’re moms. I’m guessing that most of you can relate to a majority of the items on this list.

1. You think nothing of stepping over a child throwing a tantrum in the grocery aisle to get your jar of spaghetti sauce.

2. Instead of judging the mother of the screaming toddler you’re just happy it’s not your kid, no matter how old they are.

3. The sight of another mother picking a cookie up off the ground, blowing on it, and putting it in her kid’s mouth doesn’t cause you to gag.

4. The sight of a women smelling her kid’s bottom and heaving a sigh of relief makes you smile.

5. You start rocking from side to side when you hear a crying baby.

6. Hearing “Mom!” yelled out in public makes you stop and look around, even when your kids aren’t with you (or have grown up)

7. The emergency kit in your car doesn’t consist of jumper cables and road flares but of handy wipes and cookies.

8. You aren’t surprised by the sight of another woman using a public toilet with the stall door open so she can keep an eye on her kids.

9. The words to your child's favorite TV songs are imprinted in your brain and you occasionally hum/sing them, even if your kids haven’t watched the show in years and have no recollection of the song.

10. You think nothing of reaching over and straightening a friend’s collar, hair, tag, etc. At the same time your friend (who is also a mom) thinks nothing of you doing that to her!

Did I miss any?  I’d love to hear what you would add to the list.

Image Source: iStock Photo

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.

Only crazy people let you stab them with metal! Everybody knows this, yet I am supposed to allow a nurse to stick a needle into my precious baby boy. I am expected to go against all of my protective instincts and willfully pull up my son's sleeve and let a nurse take a jab. They call it a “shot” to make you feel better about it, and for some reason it’s legal. I hate shots!

After weeks of dreading this, Elias’ two-month appointment finally came. I hoped this day would magically go missing from my calendar, but sadly it stayed. Sitting in a cold waiting room, the mural of cartoon characters seemed to breathe down my neck as I tried to muster up the mental capacity to be strong. My sweet 12 pound baby was wrapped in a cozy blue blanket unaware of the procedures awaiting him. I thought to myself, “I am about to let some lady hurt my son…what kind of a mother am I?” and, "She is going to make me pay for this!”

As you can see there were many reasons to want to cry. My thoughts were interrupted by a nurse calling us to a back room.

After waiting a few minutes, the dreaded tray was ushered into the room. The medicines ready for injection. The menacing grin upon the nurse’s face was enough to send me into a speedy meltdown. I tried to remain calm for my son. Looking into his deep blue eyes, I thought if the “parent remains calm so will the child.” Even though I think I saw that on some animal show that really said if the “owner remains calm so will the animal.” Having no parenting experience, I hoped this would work.

“Mom, if you’ll just hold him on the table I’ll go ahead and give him this shot” the nurse stated. “Oh good idea, I’ll hold him down while you torture him. I don’t think so lady!” That was what I was thinking, but “okay” meekly came out of my mouth. Unhappy, I turned my head away and she did it. She pierced his chubby little thigh. A painful cry emerged from Elias’ whimpering lips. That is when the second injection was given. I closed my eyes as another loud cry came. Then tears stung my eyes and began to rush down my cheeks. Blubbering myself, I had to practice “birth class” breathing techniques again so I wouldn’t start howling. Not regularly acquainted with this spectrum of public emotion, I pinned my chin to my shoulder. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was crying, but it was too late. The nurse looked at me anxiously and asked “Are you alright?”  My brain was kicking itself and telling me “I didn’t get the shot” but my mouth just began mumbling non-understandable phrases. Desperately wanting everything to be ok the nurse looked at the build up of tears in my eyes and then at the door. Without hesitating she lowered her head and left quickly. There I was, a sniveling, weepy mess. I just kept thinking “Wow this public display of emotion is new to me. Why am I crying?”

It was my mom and sister who could have won an Emmy for their dramatic falls to the floor and loud whaling whenever tragedy struck, not me. They could have been hired as professional mourners because tears would leak from their eyes and they would give each other impressively long hugs.  But here I was being emotional!

I forced a smile onto my red face and whispered to myself “First Time Mom!” I’m telling you, when someone else’s shot hurts you more than it hurts them; you know you are a mother.

We did survive our doctor visit. I eventually stole Elias away from the pain, and cuddled my sweet bundle of tears until both he and I were comforted by his toothless smile. His little swollen eyes seemed to thank me for rescuing him from that very mean lady.

As we left the doctor’s office a lady in the waiting room looked at me and asked, “Did that little guy get a shot? I thought I heard somebody crying.” I wanted to say “oh no that was probably me– sorry.”

Image Source: Ashley Baker

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.