Putting my boobs to bed

Or at least I am putting by boob issues to rest.

Today, I had an ultrasound mammogram, the second in a series that has included many exams, lots of phone calls to insurance and scheduling desks, and innumerable worries. Lying on the table covered in warm goo, I closed my eyes and did a meditation. Inhaling prana, the breath of life. Exhaling any toxic, eating worry. It was out of my hands.

Within minutes, it was done and the doctor was reviewing all of my films and ultrasounds slides.

"There's not a thing here," he said. "You are completely clear."

I exhaled sharply. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath as he clicked through the computer, the meditation welling up in me until it had to escape.

He shook my hand, told me to come back when I turn 40 and to take good care.

I am going to do that. I swear. I swear on my empty boobs, full heart and deep breaths, I am going to take good care.

I can't think of a better birthday gift than to finally -- finally -- let this worry go.

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Are you wearing your divorce?

Good news! Not only does divorce show up in a big, fat fucking bill for attorney's fees, it also shows up on your face. Hooray! I just love that once I took off the wedding rings, I added two years to my face.

Make that -- added two years to my smiling face.

I am not willing to disclose sure that my divorce has resulted in wrinkles, but I do know that I never expected my settlement to include such stress skin. I do not love talking about this stuff but since my laser guy told me that I wore too much make-up (remember the guy with the wild ear hairs? yeah, him with the cosmetics advice), it has really been...well, out there.

I've been trying to balance out the loveliness I got with the television and wedding china by changing make-up completely, by not applying the new make-up with a sander and spackling paste, going back to my Ayurvedic oils and essences, drinking more water and sleeping absolutely as few hours as possible. The lack of rest isn't doing much, but the other stuff seems...OK.

And so it seems time to get serious. Thank goodness a new friend, one of the preschool moms who I now lovingly call The Raunchy Mommies, now works at a med spa in the 'burbs. Her skin, which is all glowy perfection, is the best commercial ever for facial overhaul.

So to celebrate my birthday (Saturday, yeah!), I've made an appointment next week at her med spa for a microdermabrasion and peel combo. Two years ago -- before my divorce and apparently the two extra years that study says I get for keeps -- I never would have thought I'd be so excited to shoot little crystals into my pores and then burn off the top layer of my skin. But I am. I really am.

I may not leave my home for days* (sorry, Carrie Bradshaw, you will have to go it alone at your book launch party!), but I'm determined to keep my soon-to-be perfect chin up and face the next year (or would that be 1.8?) with a face that has nothing to do with you-know-who.

Get ready, friends! Pretty soon, I am going to scorch those years off of my forehead and all that will remain is one hot divorcee.  If we meet, just promise you'll pretend it's a sunburn from hours and hours of single life fabulousness and frolicking.

In the meantime, I've told Lil E that I am turning 22 and that his father is much, much older. And you know what? If that's how this divorce skin thing really works, if you hurl it at each other with karmic delight, then maybe he is looking that way (too).

* I've been assured I won't be relegated to my home, but will need loads of sunscreen and should try not to wash my face for 24-48 hours. That, incidentally, means I will not be leaving my home.

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Did you see Matt and Maddy on Oprah?

I did. And it was so lovely to see him -- the unconventional dad -- celebrated. And who can resist the girl in the ladybug dress? Clearly, no one.

If you missed this chance to celebrate dads, here's a link to the clip on Matt and Maddy. Some people have questioned whether the dads featured on this show should have been lauded. It saddens me that those folks don't think there is enough space -- or time on TV or fresh ink on a page or posts on a blog -- to give to both single fathers and single mothers doing a great job raising children alone. I say this as a feminist mama who believes strongly that there is much work to do for women, and foremost mothers. And as a single mother with that code of values, I know my own son's dad could learn a lot about parenting, relating and accountability that Matt and the fathers featured on the show. Do single mothers get enough validation? No. But does that mean we can't take an hour to give credit to some outstanding single fathers out there? Of course not. That just makes me shake my head. (UPDATE: The post linked above has been taken down and replaced with this apology. Apologies are good, in my book.)

Instead of giving more energy to that, let's get back to the crabcakes, cupcakes and cute kids:

What made watching the show even more fun is that Matt and Maddy met Lil E and me for dinner when they were in town taping the show a few weeks ago. While Matt and I talked about blogging and our kids and Oprah (of course), Maddy ate and slept and played with her puff snacks. Lil E adored Maddy and asked about her for days after we said goodbye. He served as our personal papparazzo, snapping pics of the details for us to keep.

Our dinner with our Oprahfied friends -- mostly through Lil E's eyes -- after the jump.

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