From Hair to Eternity

There are just some things that you never think you have to think about when getting a divorce.  Sure, there is the paperwork, dividing assets, debts, incessant finger pointing with the ex, custody agreements, and of course the battle to the death over the new espresso maker.    And then, there is dating…something you look forward to…much like a root canal.  Chances are pretty good that the last time you were on a date, your acne was just clearing up.

But there is something I had never in my years of marital complacency considered.   We are talking physical pain here.  One of the most physically painful experiences I have ever had (and I even managed to deliver two children sans pain medication or epidural mind you).  The cause of this post marital pain you ask?

The bikini wax.

Apparently, this is what some women do.  Are married people aware of this, because, besides the occasional trim with a razor, my “nether region” was always in its natural state. Guess I missed the memo.  Which made me wonder, could this have contributed to the demise of my marriage?  Hmm…….  Although, he seemed to have missed the memo too.

As time after the divorce passed, I became a little more used to my single status and felt ready to heed the urging of friends to ”get out there”.  I wondered, what does single girl “ready” look like?  Sure I’d let some things slide… a good haircut, my weight, but those were bigger fixes, I needed instant gratification.  So, one warm summer evening, after a couple of glasses of wine and an educational conversation with the  hot  single girl neighbor across the street, I heard a voice in my head say…”if you wax it, they will come.”  Suddenly I was Kevin Costner in the movie “Field of Dreams”.   Somehow, I decided that I would be the most qualified to administer the bikini wax…the foray into singlehood.   “How hard could this be?” I reasoned.   After all, I didn’t see it listed in the curriculum at any Ivy League colleges.  So with smug determination I headed home.  It’s amazing the cheap access to bravado 15 bucks and a corkscrew will get you.

The screams could be heard for blocks.  Wax was everywhere.  I even managed to draw blood.  Reaching for tissue to clean it up proved a very bad idea.  As did brushing my hair out of my eyes.  So there I stood, a wad of tissues stuck to my right hand, the left firmly adhered to my head and one foot attached to the floor in a pool of warm wax.

Not sure the folks at 911 would understand.  Lonely was starting to have new appeal.

After an extended recovery period, and beginning a relationship with someone I was sure I was in love with, I decided to give the bikini wax another try.  This time in the hands of professionals.  “What kind of wax?”  the lady behind the desk asked?  What kind?  What??? Don’t THEY know what kind of wax to use?  Do I have to pick?  Where am I, Baskin-Robbin 31 Flavors?   Reading the confusion on my face, the lady explained that there are different  styles: Bikini, Brazilian, Playboy……  Really??  I don’t know, bikini I guess.

With the first rip of the paper, I fought back screams and the urge to kick her across the room (and remember, I have a high tolerance for pain).  But she didn’t stop there.  She kept going. While holding my legs as though I were giving birth, she carries on waxing, ripping and chatting away.  I had NO idea that some places even need waxing, but apparently, it is so.  Suffice it to say, the wax lady has now seen more of me than my gynecologist.

So I walked (or limped) away, freshly waxed, sporting what appeared to be a chemical burn which I was assured was normal and would only be red for a day or two.  What???  Days???   I may need this for tonight.  New guy…first time…ughhhh!

But, alas, it was a hit.   However, as I described my waxing woes – which I know must have been a just a HUGE turn on for him – he said “oh, yeah, I’ve see all sorts of designs: hearts, arrows, completely bare…”   Ok, guys, for the record…we do NOT care to hear about what you have seen on other women.  We are happy if you like what you see on us, but that’s all the information we need.

In the “pro” column is that it did make me feel very sexy (once the pain wore off), oh yeah, and it lasts much longer than shaving.  In the “con” column….OWWWWWW!!

So now, having decided that waxing is a fate worse than, well…a root canal, I have to think about saving up for laser hair removal, after all, who knows exactly how long I will be on the market.  And if I do find myself in another marriage, I will definitely want to keep it up for a little extra spice.

Now you know what we didn’t… so, do your married friends a favor and tell them!  Pay it forward.  They need this information…it could possibly save their marriage, or at least make it more fun!

Rhonda and Tracy

Sometimes, you just gotta laugh…..

The Birth of Divorce

Ahhhh yes… matrimony. Beginning a new life with just the right person. The big day, the big dress and good old Uncle Bob getting a little frisky with one of the bridesmaids after too much bubbly. The uniting of families, the tears of joy, so much love … and otherwise perfectly respectable women hurling themselves to the floor after some airborne flowers.

Couples plan a wedding. No one plans a divorce. That happens to “other people”.  Until….. it happens to you. So what does it take to kick ‘til death do us part’ to the curb?  Of course, abuse, addiction and cheating notwithstanding, most of us just come to terms – in a myriad of ways – with the fact that we are unhappy…extremely unhappy.

“The pursuit of happiness” … it’s practically an American birthright. After all, our forefathers put it in the Declaration of Independence didn’t they? (Hmm…declaring independence to pursue happiness…does anyone else find this ironic? )   Now we’re not saying life is supposed to be a HUGE promotion at work when you got back from the trip to Tahiti your spouse surprised you with where you had 19 orgasms a day, stuffed yourself with chocolate, all while wearing size 2 jeans with a lifetime of good hair days.

But how unhappy is unhappy enough to leave a marriage?

We all know that marriage takes work. It’s not a burger and super-sized fries at the drive-thru; quick, filling, and requiring little thought or effort. All relationships, like anything else of value in our lives, require care and nurturing … and the occasional pause to “check the oil”.   But what if all best efforts fail?  We try, counseling, books and staying for “ the sake of the kids,” but the dark cloud of disconnect continues to grow.

So we got to wondering, what IS that final straw?

One woman says “ It was when I looked across the room at my husband in the middle of a discussion one Sunday morning and realized I’d never felt lonelier in my entire life.”

I took my wedding ring off for a particularly messy cooking project and just never put it back on. It had become a symbol of a lie, not a symbol of love.”

A blogger wrote “imagine, going to bed a happy, wealthy man and then waking up to find the creature you’re lying next to is a crazy ass thieving lesbian!!

Another told us “I worked hard to stay in my marriage FOR the kids, but when faced with totality of the dysfunction, I knew I had to leave my marriage FOR the kids. Now there’s an irony no one talks about.

Whether you’re contemplating it, going though it or watching a friend or family member struggling with it, it takes over your reality.   You may decide to do it or it is decided for you.

The Birth of Divorce.

Find a way to make THIS your pursuit of happiness.

We want to hear from YOU.  What do YOU think is “unhappy enough” to end a marriage?  What was your “final straw”?

Tracy and Rhonda

“White Wedding – Black Coffee”


So there we were, two moms from the preschool catching up over a cup of coffee.  After a couple of years of volunteering for countless preschool events, we knew we got along very well, we were acquaintances with great friend potential.  Soon, the occasional “got a minute for a cup of coffee?” turned into frequent breakfasts with animated discussions revolving around family life; child rearing, home remodeling,  school and, of course, the occasional dip into the gossip pool about that crazy Stepford mom from Room 6.

Then one day, it all changed.   I told her that my marriage had been crumbling for years and was very likely over.  Shock and disbelief became mutual when she ended a very long silence by uttering the words “So is mine.”    The realization hit us both…. from the outside, our lives looked almost identical, but what we had been sharing with the world and with each other was a facade.   With that revelation, the cheerful, contented smiles exchanged in the preschool lobby and polite small talk at family events – our carefully crafted lives –  were suddenly shattered like an errant baseball through a neighbor’s window.

The dawning of our current realities manifested itself in my dear friend’s wry observation:  “You know, you go to get married and there are countless bridal magazines on the shelves; but go to get a divorce, nothing. Where’s ‘Divorce Illustrated’ when you need it?”

Realizing we weren’t alone in our struggles with the disappointment, pain, isolation and confusion of contemplating and getting a divorce, we set out to establish what you are reading right now…”Divorce Illustrated.”   Facing divorce, custody issues, finances and the stark reality of resurfacing as a single person, we had a lot more questions than answers  – not the least of which was who’s going to want to date a single mother, pushing 40 with her own boobs in LA???  And so began an entirely new set of conversations.

We know what you are going through.  We hope that our stories and those of others will help provide kernels of truth, wisdom, insight and information so that you too, can turn lemons into lemonade….. or chase that lemon with salt and a shot of tequila if that works for you. We know that laughter is the best medicine and so here we are dedicated to tackling a dark and sad subject with humor, wit and love.

Rhonda and Tracy

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