Admit It. You Wear Zit-Cream to Trader Joe's Too.

Because if you have a child you are LYING when you say you do not. LYING I tell you.

For me, it's just a thing I have like how some people have terrible hyena-laughs or a third nipple. For me, I have the ability to embarass myself constantly without knowing, at least not right away.

Like in high school when I got the balls to confess my love and desire to make sweet third-base with a neighborhood boy, only to come home feeling proud of my bold statement, crushed when I smiled for the mirror to find the biggest piece of spinach between my two-front teeth.

There was also the time I got bird-pooped on (my head, hair, back) and kept on strutting down Rodeo, flaunting the oversized Louis Vuitton bag I had just spent my rent-money on. (I may have had a slight spending problem in the past.)

There was the time with the face mask and the booty-call. I somehow forgot to remove the thing after my booty was called and woke up stuck to my sheets and wondering why booty-call-dude never said anything. Perhaps a Shrek fetish or worse.

I'm the person who always ends up sitting in the one puddle on a sunny, summer day. (WTF?) and as far as the spinach-tooth incident goes, I have a spinach incident pretty much once a week. I'm always stained, dirty with something, confident in my ignorance, strutting my stuff like an oblivious fool.

Having a child does not minimize this problem even though I figured with all of my new attention to detail it would. Ha, no. Sadly, my little problem has gotten worse.

It's been very hot so clothes are not an option at the present time especially because we do not have AC. 109 degree weather and you'd be cardio-stripping too. Lately, I answer the door in whatever's in grabbing reach, sometimes a trench coat, sometimes a board book, never anything appropriate. No better way to frighten away the Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, Scientologists, Republicans, UPS guy. (Wait! UPS guy! Come back!) I also always seem to burp while on hold with Health Net just at the precise time the operator clicks over. I think it's safe and then "Hello, Ms. Woolf?" Or worse? Sometimes I'll be mid-pee on speakerphone. "Hold on! Just one second-- just washing my hands over here. Heh."

I like to think I am somewhat put together but lately I seem to arrive everywhere with something out of wack, a face half-made up, two different shoes. (Hey, if Carrie pulled it off in Sex and the City. Look, it's me! Bex in the city! Drum roll! Oh! Okay, sorry. See? Even my sense of humor is awkward and unrefined! WWAWD?*)

I pulled another "How the hell did you leave the house like that" moment the other day when I caught myself in the reflection of the frozen-Morningstar-goods section at the local Trader Joe's. Oh. My. God. My face was freckled with zit-cream, dried and cracking zit cream like that terrible photo of Britney Spears (see above). I was horrified. I madly spat on my hands, rubbing my face wildly, pulling my hair over my face in Michael Jacksonian disguise.

Did anyone notice? Um, duh! But at least it was low-tide (before noon) so there was only minor foot traffic, most of which being Hasidic Jews who don't exactly run in my social circle, pediatrician aside.

To make myself feel better I did what all respectable Angelenos do after calling too much "negative" attention to themselves, I got on my cell phone and started talking really loud about my agent and how excited I was for my seven-figure movie deal and "Hahahaha, oh Mr. Weinstein, you are SUCH a doll..."

And like that I was cool again.

In other cities I imagine it isn't so easy or maybe it is. You tell me, readers because I'm kinda thinking maybe I'm not the only peep flaunting oxy-10 this season, accidentally of course but nevertheless.

So admit it, people. No more lies. Come clean. You're in a safe place. Here, I'll pass you my cell phone. Speilberg's on line two and holding just for you.


*What Would Anna Wintour Do?


k.thedoula | 11:59 AM

I just went and checked my reflection mid read... yup. I went to superamazing fabric store to purchase some over priced amazing linen... without any cover up for my zits. Thank God my hair is short enough that it could reasonably pass as a "Windblown look"... is that still hip?
I had my children dressed really well! Even did a whale spout hair do for my daughter.
Must get zit cream... when does it stop? I'm edging towards midthirties and they are still cropping up!
It's Fringe festival season... perhaps we I could pass for one of the performers? An important agent has called? nah... three kids in tow would ruin the act.

Miguelita | 12:48 PM

I am zit-cream free, but have been spotted at TJ's in
1 - Yoga pants worn so beyond their life expectancy that the butt was near translucent. They have never seen the inside of a yoga studio.
2 - With roots that were so outgrown I should have changed my passport photo.
3 - Matching spit-up splotches on my shoulders.
4 - Ditto on matching shoulder baby-snot splotches.

s i g h -
i used to be a looker

Andrea | 1:33 PM

I've been known to have nippage problems, as in post-reduction, the nips are always at mild attention. Not back-straight, rasor sharp salute attention, just sort of "at ease" attention. So at any given time, depending upon my shirt, I'm noticeably ready to cut glass.

I have these covers that go inside my bra to cover up the nips, but they don't like to stay put. So even more embarrassing than my "at ease" nips is when this nip cover is working its way out of the neck of my shirt. At. Work. Um, yeah. How you doin', Mr. Owner-Man? Great. No, I'm not cold. Why? Oh, let me go tuck my nip cover back in.


HAHA! I'm the opposite. Post-reduction my nips are DEAD. Numb to the world. But after my first (reduction) I had the same ish. One nipple was always hard. My bitches stopped communicating, I guess you could say.

Anonymous | 2:47 PM

I have worn the same clothes I wore to bed out to the store.

And then back to bed again.

Her Bad Mother | 5:14 PM

What MU said, above. Many times. ANd....

When I lived in Barcelona, I left my apartment to go to a rehearsal (long story). I had a hangover. A bad one. So bad, that I neglected to don footwear. I was halfway across town on the subway when I realized that I was wearing slippers.

I have tucked the back of my skirt into my underwear after visiting a public washroom and wandered down the street, getting, oh, 5 or 6 blocks before some gentleman says, uh, miss...

I have fallen down flat on my face in public, stone cold sober.

I have burst into childrens' song while standing at a lectern in front of 200 undergrads.

I have a delivered a lecture with my sweater mis-buttoned.

I have delivered a lecture with my shirt partly UNbuttoned.

Shall I go on?

Anonymous | 5:42 PM

For some reason my brain can't get used to the fact that I no longer wear those comfy sweatband waist maternity pants because ever since I had Jack I can not for the life of me zip up my pants. Worse than being about town unzipped is that I am constantly checking to make sure I have zipped up my pants which may or may not look a little pervy to outsiders. L-o-v-e-l-y
And I rock the oxy-10 most days and have occasionally noticed a big white swipe on my chin mid day.

Anonymous | 10:47 PM

(as a fellow angeleno, i love your blog, and as a most-likely-someday mother (don't call me pre-pregnant tho!), i find it kind of fascinating)

trader joe's incident: rode my bike there, wearing helmet that had been in storage for years. AFTER shopping, found that entire foam lining had disintegrated, leaving me COVERED in huge, pitch-black freckles. all over my hair, all over my face.

Anonymous | 11:26 PM

Yeah, what's with the Hasidim in TJ's? I'm telling you, this is as true here in Tucson as it was back in San Jo and Monterey. These guys will argue with a hitherto unknown ferocity over a wedge of brie. They make me want to learn Hebrew just to figure out what all the excitement is about.
I always get two milk tit-circles on my unitard at step aerobics. And when I'm hammered - that's just bad. I seem to get drunk every July and end up doing an American montage of partiotic songs at the top of my voice complete with peppy choreography. Last year my blond, Minesotan,ex-cheerleader girlfriend joined me in this well past midnight to the horror of our sub-division. I literally had a hardcore shame- spiral the next day.

Gina | 11:35 PM

Once again I am laughing my butt off! I have nothing noteworthy to share in comparison to this post and the comments therein. Oh I love a late night laugh in my quiet time!

Summer | 5:46 AM

I get you girl....I feel like a frumpy, lumpy, needs to be groomed so badly, stinky-ass, covered in spit-up and eye boogers housecat with a penchant for looking like an ass everytime I venture out these days. Did I mention that I HATE pantylines but have, since my 2nd baby, been known to sport yoga pants with GRANNY PANTIES. Did i also mention I look atrocious in yoga pants now that my cellulite dimples are as numoerous as the stars in the freakin sky?!!!

nonlineargirl | 9:39 AM

This is why I carry my girl around in my arms - any mess on me is clearly from her, right? Now to figure out how to blame her for the spinach in the teeth or toilet paper on the shoe...

kittenpie | 8:56 PM

Here's the secret: when you are holding a sweet thing like Archer? No one's looking at you. Sometimes it feels sad - but right now, doesn't it feel like a relief?