Lately, I’ve been studying women’s chins.
It’s not a new fetish (though I’m always working to develop those). I’ve been making note of some of the ways gravity and aging are unkind to human skin.
This is where the chin fetish comes in. Some women develop a bit of a wattle with age, and while I look forward to this as a place to store loose change, I’d like to delay the onset if I could.
So I did a bit of googling and found a simple exercise that likely has no effect on chin definition, but I’m going to keep doing it for another reason.
Ready?
Stand in front of the mirror. Stick out your tongue. Attempt to touch your tongue to your nose. Repeat until you are laughing so hard at yourself that you realize you don’t really give a crap if you have the most hideous turkey neck on the planet.
I found myself in this state a few months ago when I started doing the tongue-to-nose touch whenever I visited the ladies room at the day job. As I stood there in front of the mirror, I had that fleeting thought I’ve had many times before.
What if this is a two-way mirror? What if someone’s watching me do this?
The idea made me giggle even harder than the exercise itself (which probably just adds to the laugh lines, though I’ve already decided are my best feature. OK, second best feature).
Remember the movie Ghost? Patrick Swayze dies, but hangs around in a ghostlike state spending a disturbing amount of time spying on his girlfriend. In the movie, she’s always perfectly posed and beautifully mournful in the apartment all alone.
In a Saturday Night Live skit based on the movie, actress Victoria Jackson showed the more likely scenario. The girlfriend sits around the house belching, farting, singing off-key, and using a discarded toenail clipping to pick her teeth.
Disgusting, but also reality. If you don’t think you’re being watched, why the hell not?
For now, I’ve given up the tongue-to-chin touching exercise. It’s not that I really fear a two-way mirror in the bathroom (though if there is one, I hope someone enjoyed watching me fish my iPhone out of the toilet).
It’s just that I’ve grown rather fond of chin wattles after studying them all this time. Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed by the urge to reach over and pet them.
Wait. Maybe this really is a fetish.
What’s the silliest thing you’ve caught yourself doing when you think no one’s watching? Please share!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(
Atom
)
19 comments :
Trying to comb all my highlights into a gold fauxhawk.
Bellydancing in the library elevator.
And trying to do the choreography to the On the Rocks (UO's men's acapella group) version of "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."
Choreographing my own steps to "time warp"...it was actually pretty good exercise. But given the nature of the song--and by extension the dance moves--combined with my penchant for singing along, I certainly wouldn't have wanted anyone to view it.
I did show it off once to my two besties, while completely hammered. One, to her credit, started dancing with me. The other didn't know the song and watched in complete shock.
She knows it now, so I'm betting next time we're all drunk, she's gonna join in.
I love acting like noone's watching in front of security cameras. Like singing and dancing at the atm. If some ppor dude has to watch those tapes at 3 am, I might as well give him a smile. :)
I'm never alone anymore. I have a two-year-old. I don't even get to go to the bathroom by myself.
Fortunately, toddlers are good at silliness, so we spend a lot of time singing into hairbrushes and quoting Rainbow Brite.
In other words, pretty much the same things I did before I was a mom.
I sing. If you'd ever heard me sing, you'd know just how embarrassing that is. ;)
When there are no cars around, I run like Phoebe on "Friends"- arms flailing, ponytail swishing, and legs hopscotching.
Squeezing blemishes. Plucking stray hairs.
Holding entire conversations with characters in WIPs.
And (Linda),I also sing at the top of my lungs because I'm my only fan.
Wait. You mean I shouldn't belch and fart in front of my friends?
That explains a few things...
I always have this problem when I'm masturbating in public bathrooms. Like "what if someone hears me?" Or, "what if there is a ghost in here?"
Seriously though? One time in a public bathroom a guy tried to pass me a small bottle of whiskey under the stall. No, I didn't take it. But I wanted to, just to see what might happen.
I change shoes in the elevator (only if it's empty). The peace of mind that my expensive heels aren't being trashed by the horrible pathways only slightly exceeds the embarrassment factor if someone were to walk in on that scene.
Singing... dancing... singing songs about strippers/hookers/general sex whilst living next door to a church...
I also have been known to mumble whatever I'm writing out loud.
But, yeah, I work with 3 and 4 year olds, so most of my silliness is on display :P
In an attempt to work in more exercise throughout the day, even if it's just a minute here and a minute there, I might be known to kickbox my way to the bathroom.
There's also jumping up and down while waiting for the microwave, which would make an interesting move in front of a two-way mirror.
I'd like to thank you for not commenting on my chin wattle when we met up in Savannah. LOL It is a gif tmy daughter gave me; I developed it after pregnancy/child birth. It sucks. I hate it. I do these ridiculous exercises, but I'm sure they do nothing to help. And I make sure my hubby never, ever sees me! ;)
I talk to myself while cooking - like, full-on Rachael Ray monologue. The dogs know about it, but unless they start talking like the Golden in Bush's baked beans ads, I think the 'm safe...
no one's gonna read this, right?
bahaha! Omg, I need to see that SNL skit. I always think that with movies like that. Speaking of work bathrooms- I had come to work one day and realized I had totally forgot to look at the back of my hair to make sure it wasn't mashed to my head or there was a big gaping hole at the top. So I got to the bathroom, trying to figure out how to look at it. There was a smaller mirror hanging, so I took it down and looked at the back of my head in the long body length mirror. Everything was fine (nice and teased, no humongo knots) so I went to put the mirror back. Except it was then that I realized the screws had ripped out of the wall with the mirror. I stood and stared at the holes in the wall for a second, praying no one would come in. Finally I just set the mirror on the floor and left. Later on when i went to the bathroom someone in there commented on the mirror. I was like, huh, I guess it fell. Several days later it got put back up. Teehee.
My fiance (here-fore referred to as "Feyonce'" because its classier.) is 5' 100# and has a particular slinky little stretch dress. I picked it up off the floor one day (looking more like a scrunchy than a dress) to discover to my amazement that it would also accommodate someone 6'2" 210#, and was the perfect attire for singing "happy birthday" in the slinky style of Marilyn Monroe.
Feyonce' was very impressed with my near mirror-like impression and performance, but when forced to endure "Mama Mia" with her sometime later, my little number was nowhere to be found for an overdue encore.
She explained in her true spirit of selfless charity, that the dress was donated so others less fortunate could share in its joy. To Feyonce', our happiness is an overflowing chalice.
Now I am constantly buoyed by that moment when I WAS truly beautiful, fluttering alight from the bonds of man. A moment like that, brief as it was, can stick with a guy forever.
But though the experience sparked my personal renaissance, it was also probably best that my Dad and hunting buddies weren't there to see it. Some corners of our souls are buried far too deep, and we do the best we can to accept that others we love may not understand.
I make faces at people's children, especially toddlers, when the parents aren't looking.
Don't judge, I stop if they start crying.
I sing at the top of my lungs and dance like a crazy person. I LOVE to sing. I wish I was good at it.
Sometimes I pretend I'm a ballerina or an ice skater and try to do the moves - not very well.
Hubs and I and goofy and weird all the time. We often say how we're glad no one is watching us.
Sometimes I stick out my gut like I'm pregnant, imagining what it would be like (I'm not a mom yet). It works really well after I eat a big dinner.
I clearly have no shame, as I sing and dance in front of everyone. I actually bopped my way through Target with my earbuds in, lip-synching and shimmying.
I may have been a little excited to shop sans kids. Maybe.
About the only thing I won't do is adjust my boobs in public. Don't laugh. Post-nursing (more than one kid, at that) boobs need careful placement to look okay. Think of it as the mama's version of ball-scratching. Not at all publicly acceptable, but necessary and strangely satisfying.
Post a Comment