It was like seeing an old friend. I turned it over in my hands, spun its creaky wheels, and knew I wouldn’t be putting it back.

For .99, why not buy a few Little People [...]]]> Well doc, it all started when I spied a 1979 Fisher-Price Little People camper car for .99 at Goodwill.

It was like seeing an old friend. I turned it over in my hands, spun its creaky wheels, and knew I wouldn’t be putting it back.

For .99, why not buy a few Little People on Ebay and surprise my big sister with the gift of tangible nostalgia?

Visiting Ebay opened up a portal to my childhood.

(Image source)

Suddenly, I couldn’t imagine being content with a few measly Little People sitting in a station wagon. Where would they sleep? They needed a home— the beautiful Tudor house with working doorbell (ding, ding!), garage door, and a mountain of chubby furniture! I needed more than the standard blonde family. I wanted redheads, babies, those mysterious angry boys, Little People of color, that dashing woodsman!

(Image source)

YES! The woodsman could live next door, in his CASTLE.

(Image source)

And no neighborhood would be complete without a big, red barn!

(Still available! Image source)

The Little People would visit each other via that bus that jostled its passengers up and down. On weekends, they might overthrow the circus train, liberate the animals, rush them to the hospital for medical care, then bid a tearful goodbye at the airport before the animals flew back to their homelands…  maybe the dragon could fly along for a visit.

Wait, who were these toys for again?

After two hours, I awoke from my internet-induced coma and recalled that I am (contentedly!) childless. My nieces and nephews live more than a thousand miles away. Furthermore, Little People are a choking hazard. And in case you hasn’t guessed, my part-time income does not allow for buying out Ebay.

But golly, a girl can dream.

Do you remember the old school Little People?

I’d much rather tell you how fun it is to find gaudy, dated, who-on-earth-paid-for-this-the-first-time stuff.

A small sampling of fairly tacky junk:

A big deadline cast a pall over my day. I felt cheated… until I remembered that May 8 always fell during Finals Week in [...]]]> Some of you are well acquainted with the Legend of Aardvark Day. Others may dimly recall that every May 8 since 1999, I’ve made an effort to be caught on film.

A big deadline cast a pall over my day. I felt cheated… until I remembered that May 8 always fell during Finals Week in college, so it’s been tense more often than not. Honestly, aren’t most holidays trouble of one kind or another?

This was the first rainy Aardvark Day in memory, forcing the festivities indoors. This year’s shots ranged from dreamy…

… to drowsy:

I’ve spared you all the yawning pictures. We’re rarely in bed before 1, but I can’t fight these eyelids any longer.

(By the way— I finally dragged my acne acne acne to a dermatologist in March. Quite the improvement, eh?)

Happy Aardvark Day, celebrants! May all your old flames be… … old? Flaming? Yep, it’s bedtime.

As seen in the opera’s costume garage.

When we moved from New Mexico to Pennsylvania in August of 2010, my entire wardrobe fit in one suitcase and one carry-on— this included two large hats (toppy and floppy) PLUS all my linens. Impressed? I sure was.

That bite-size wardrobe expanded in the following months, mostly with what Imogen calls “it’ll do [...]]]>

When we moved from New Mexico to Pennsylvania in August of 2010, my entire wardrobe fit in one suitcase and one carry-on— this included two large hats (toppy and floppy) PLUS all my linens. Impressed? I sure was.

That bite-size wardrobe expanded in the following months, mostly with what Imogen calls “it’ll do clothes” from Goodwill. You know, clothes that are almost your style, practically a flattering color, and sorta fit.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point and hurled all my scruples about sweatshops out the window. “Self,” I said, “I’m sick and tired of your walking ragbag getup. You could get written up for this! Buy whatever you need and send me the bill.”

That weekend, I spent three hours at a shopping center, four more at the mall… and emerged completely empty-handed, with not so much as a Cinnabon wrapper to show for my efforts. All the merchandise felt so chintzy, yet cost so much! Nothing came in bearable colors!

Dismayed, I sent out the above photo and following text, written in my rusty Book of Mormon-ese:

“Yea, and it came to pass that I, Rebobohah, did gird up my loins and enter the great and spacious mall to seek work clothes, for I knew that the Lord was angered by my shabby appearance. And my soul was saddened by the abundance of sweatshop goods upon the racks, yea, and also upon the floor. Nevertheless, I did seek delightsome work clothes. And forty years did pass. And Jesus wept.”

Ever supportive, my mother replied,

“Trying on shorts at Goodwill with your sister. Baby Jesus cryin’ here, too.”

Retail therapy’s not half so fun as they make it sound.

I recently went about three months without shaving my underarms, two and a half months without shaving my legs. From October through the New Year, I grew increasingly fuzzy. The results looked something like this:

I say “something like this” [...]]]> Today, Autumn wrote about The Conundrum of Body Hair. I’m chiming in.

I recently went about three months without shaving my underarms, two and a half months without shaving my legs. From October through the New Year, I grew increasingly fuzzy. The results looked something like this:

I say “something like this” because me and my camera take worthless photographs.

Various Disjointed Thoughts:

- Can you believe how little body hair I have? Three months of unchecked hair hardly looked ‘worse’ than one month’s growth, and some women could grow that much in a week. How many of us think we’re six times hairier than we are, but never find out what we’re really dealing with? I had a similar revelation with my Diva Cup; after years of using soooo many tampons every month, I was astounded to learn that my entire period consisted of about one ounce of blood, maybe an ounce and a half.  (Now I have a copper IUD, and can lose more than half an ounce per day. Story for another time.)

- Beauty privilege is a slippery and subjective thing. But in our current culture, being naturally semi-hairless seems like a HUGE beauty privilege. This is not without drawbacks; the same genes that leave me semi-hairless decree that I will never have thick, luxurious hair. Also,while invisible forearm hair is considered a plus, having invisible eyelashes can feel like a massive ‘beauty disadvantage.’

- The first week or two without shaving will be hardest, because stubble feels nasty. Once your body hair is soft and not prickly, it seems much less worrisome.

- During these months, I continued to wear tank tops and knee-length skirts, giving locals the chance to admire my fur. No one ever commented. I rarely felt self-conscious about my armpits, but did feel very strange sporting leg hair and high heels simultaneously.

- I dream of a world where visible body hair was not considered disgusting or careless, but just one more style choice— the way we no longer think twice about women wearing skirts OR trousers, or having short hair instead of long. Every time I grow out my body hair, it is with this conscious goal in mind.

- HOWEVER! People being what they are, I’m sure that even if all women had visible body hair, some body hair would be considered cooler or sexier than others, and companies would find news ways to capitalize on hair insecurities. Can you imagine full-body Latisse lotions? A return of the merkin?

- Personally, I’m biased in favor of dark, curly body hair. Why? Who knows?

- Even if having sparse body hair is a privilege of some kind, I think thicker body hair looks better; more deliberate, more like a ‘design element’ and less like an oversight.

- Speaking of privilege, I understand that being white and fairly thin make it easier for me to play around with cosmetic taboos than it might be for someone else. This was equally true of head-shaving.

- And speaking of shaved heads, my old electric clippers are great for trimming pubic and underarm hair. For me, those clippers have been a fantastic investment.

- I quit my Body Hair Laissez Faire ways while I was totally bald; I didn’t want my toe hair to be longer than my head hair. Vain, I know. Ha!

- Have you noticed that underarm hair seems more popular than leg hair? Am I imagining this? In my case, I’m more comfortable with armpit hair because 1) even the world’s foxiest armpit is nondescript, so what can a little hair hurt? and 2) I’m not thrilled with the shape or color of my legs; maintaining a smooth texture is the only control I can exert over ‘em. Also, legs have far more acreage than underarms, and may be more strongly associated with culturally mandated sexiness and acceptability.

- In case you’re wondering, Mr. Jaunty is not a real fan of body hair. I figure he’s only allowed to veto mine if I can veto his, so we both grow and shave whatever we like.

- Years ago, I dated a guy who loved women’s body hair. He always wanted me to let mine grow, and I could never bring myself to do it.

- So far, I cannot maintain long body hair for more than a few months, because I get bored and want a change. Same thing happened with head-shaving. Sure, I tell myself “from now on, I will remain bald!” or “from now on, I only want long hair!” or “I’m liberating myself from razors!” but I’m never right for long. My crush on variety and reinvention always trump matters of consistency or practicality.

When I shaved off all my body hair at the beginning of 2012, I was surprised by two things:

1) I actually missed my armpit hair and was disappointed by how boring armpits are. I’ve since regrown and re-shaved that hair several times.

2) I was truly shocked by how icky leg stubble feels. I’ve been shaving my legs for more than ten years, how did I forget the feeling of stubble in under three months?

There! More than you ever wanted to know about my hairiness. But I still want to know about you: male or female, have you ever taken up or abandoned shaving your body hair? Why? Are your body hair choices consistent, or are you a flip-flopper like me? What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without shaving?

(Your grandpa’s Spanx! Image source)

Note that this ad describes protruding bellies as “bay windows” (complete with quotation marks) no less [...]]]> While reading up on circumcision, I happened upon this swell advertisement for what is billed as a “health supporter belt,” but appears to be a “gentleman’s girdle.” Tomato, tomahto.

(Your grandpa’s Spanx! Image source)

Note that this ad describes protruding bellies as “bay windows” (complete with quotation marks) no less than five times. Five times on a single page! Was this hip new slang, or was someone campaigning far too hard to coin a term?

While body-shaming lingo usually leaves me wincing or punching the nearest wall, I laughed aloud at the idea of a hidden, pierced ‘bay window’ under my shirt. Maybe because bay windows sound so much more peaceful and romantic than say, “gut” or “beer belly.” Who doesn’t appreciate a nice, broad window to the world?

One has to wonder… did customers wear underwear beneath their Chevaliers, or was that “removable pouch made of a soft, comfortable fabric that absorbs perspiration” filling in for briefs? If so, one extra pouch  is hardly enough…

Ah well. Back to reality.

Speaking of babies…

Now that one of my favorite people has become a doula, I’ve suddenly been exposed to many more articles about babies and their welfare. Also, I’ve learned the word “doula.”

This explains how I ended up reading zippy [...]]]> (Because sometimes it’s hard to find a tasteful illustration. Image source.)

Speaking of babies…

Now that one of my favorite people has become a doula, I’ve suddenly been exposed to many more articles about babies and their welfare. Also, I’ve learned the word “doula.”

This explains how I ended up reading zippy articles like Functions of the Foreskin and Intact or Circumcised: a Significant Difference in the Adult Penis. What about Jewish infants? Check out these Judaism and Circumcision Resources.

Alright, so Ms. Doula isn’t completely responsible; I read a whole book about circumcision back when I was a young Mormon girl who’d never SEEN a foreskin. (Which is not to say that I’d never…let’s save that story until you’re a little older, eh?) As it turns out, my library keeps its “fashion in history” very close to its “anthropological novelties” section. The circumcision book seemed good too, right up until the author started subjecting patients to hypnosis to revisit their memories of being circumcised… is is possible for books to jump the shark?

While we’re publicly discussing private parts, how many of us don’t know we’ve had cosmetic genital surgery? Beware the phall-o-meter!

Were I a dude, I’d wish to be an uncircumcised dude— but my top priority would be attempting to grow king-size mutton-chop sideburns. Obviously. While I DO want people to weigh their options before circumcising their babies, I DO NOT want to shame any man who is already circumcised. Men worry enough about their packages, and surely we ladies are tired of hearing about which bodies are “best” and how bodies “ought to” look.

Anyway! Think twice/thrice/carefully before doing anything permanent to a baby.

As was my boyfriend, Ian:

There is no moral to this story. Sometimes a person feels like baby-gazing.