Tiff

I was looking through the little photo album that my friends in CA gave me when I moved away, and there were all these cute pictures of our kids and they were SO LITTLE! There was one of you and I, Tiff, but it wasn't very flattering of either of us, but it made me happy, so I found another, more flattering, happy picture to post.

I also found one of both of us looking like whales in white T-shirts, you having just had a baby, Tiff, and thus well-endowed, and me with a huge belly and fat face, being nine months pregnant. I promise never to put that one on my blog, unless

you don't call me for like three weeks, and then I might, just to see if you'll ever speak to me again.

I especially like the flourescent green gum in our mouths in this picture.

Tiff took me to get my first pedicure. I was pregnant and fat and feeling ugly, and she dropped by and picked me up. She treated me, as I remember. The cute little Vietnamese lady who was scraping all the nasty calluses off of my feet asked if I wanted the hot oil massage, and I said no thanks, but Tiff insisted, and I was too shy to say "NO! I don't want the stinkin' hot oil massage!"

I have very sensitive calves and forearms. My roommate Allison, who used me as her guinea pig all the time in beauty school, had me come in to get a manicure, and part of the deal is getting your forearms massaged. I just about went through the roof. It tickled, it hurt, it made me CRAZY!

My shins and calves are the same way. Just leave them alone.

Tiff thought I was being polite, not wanting to spend the extra $5 of her money, but really, why would I want to pay an extra $5 to get tortured?

It's all I can do to not kick the gal in the face when she's scrubbing the bottoms of my toes with that pumice stone.

Ah, what I wouldn't give to have a pedicure right now! My heels are so cracked and dry that I wore a hole in my sheet last week. I used to blame it on Eric when that happened, but this time it was my side of the bed.

I miss you, girl.