More time for skin treatments

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Shaving my vagina and waxing my armpits gave me hope that one day this will all be over. I looked down at my hoohah and seeing it shaved reminds me of better days. I should do my legs…

I didn’t do my legs. I also haven’t floss in four days. My dentist will be so mad at me next time she sees me. Right before revelation manifested on earth, I had a dentist appointment. My dear dentist was pleased with my teeth, “look at those teeth,” she said. I smiled as best as I could with two other people so close to my tonsils. Then the dental hygienist poked at my gums. Right away, I tasted a salty, metallic taste in my mouth, and my eyes widened. The hygienist shook her head slowly. I saw the disappointment in her eyes. I frowned.

“But your gums are not doing good. How often do you floss?” She asked.

It took me a while to come up with an answer. Have I told you I’m a lousy liar?

“You need to floss,” the dentist ordered me.

“Maybe you are a gadget gal,” the hygienist jumped in. “You like your electric toothbrush, right?”

I nod. Of course, I like it. It’s the ultimate lazy brushing apparatus. All I have to do is move it around, and it does all the cleaning for me.

“Then you should try the water one,” she suggested.

Another gadget. I’m excited. I nod and wondered if the store sells it in pastel colors.

It was cool — no, I’m not going to lie — I didn’t like it the first day. It took me a while to figure it out and my husband had to get out of bed to help me work it. Then when I worked it, it squirted on my eye. Now whenever I miss my mouth, it squirts on my glasses. Because PPE is very important when using machinery.

Lately, I’ve I’m too tired to be squirted. Tomorrow I’ll start again.

I guess yesterday was a grooming kind of day. I also put on a face mask and played Animal Crossing.

That game has become an obsession and a competition between my son and I. He’s winning.

Because I ran out of room for my things in the tent, I got in debt to buy a house. My son is meticulously earning Bells to buy his.

Who’s the responsible adult here?

I asked my husband twice to join us. I didn’t push my luck and asked for the third time. Instead, he joined us on the couch, sat between the kid and me, and filled the role of backseat gamer. The Hubs laughed at my clumsy attempt at fishing and advised me on where to stand so I can aim better with my slingshot. It was a family event: Me, my face mask, the kid, Hubby, Cat, and Dogs all in the living room, the whole day. My heart was so full.

I cherish these ups and tattoo them in my mind, for when the downs come, I have something to remember.

Life is so messy, it’s beautiful.

After finishing The Overdue Life of Amy Byler by Kelly Harms, I started Kindred by Octavia E. Butler. The latter is required reading for my next class. But let me tell you, it is unlike any of my mandatory reading in High School. I trudged through that reading lists — hunting cliff notes and dissecting the back of the book so I won’t have to read the whole thing. Shakespeare and Moby Dick are not my things.

I was a bilingual student, and I knew regular English. But Old English and different dialects confused me. I was not amused. Still, in High School, I was a librarian assistant, and before I migrated to the U.S of A, Mamá instilled in me a love for reading. During my four-year high school tenure, I read all the Sweet Valley Highs and made a dent on the Harlequin Romances. You can say I was well read.

But back to Kindred. The required reading from the Creative Writing MFA in National U has yet to disappoint. I guess the people running the program know a bit about a good book because every single one has hooked me on the first sentence!

I hope to write like that one day.

I know Mamá is smiling down at my steadily increasing read list. One day I’ll tell you that story.

That lady has been on my mind lately, and I don’t know if it’s the pandemic or the approaching Easter and all the Dominican traditions that come with it. Or perhaps it’s all of that.

Yesterday, my sister reminded me of a traditional recipe for Pascua. She emailed me the ingredients for Habichuela con Dulce. Next week, my husband and I will make it to keep the tradition going and Mamá happy in heaven.

With my mind rambling nonstop, I wonder how this pandemic will change us. Have you thought of that? Do you think we will be afraid to hug and get physically close after this? Do you see our human side becoming numb from the separation? I don’t think we will be the same afterward. The children going through it will remember, at the very least, they will change.

I hope that I am wrong. Maybe we will come out of this yearning to be close again. Less afraid of our differences and more likely to embrace it because we are all part of the human race. I pray that from fighting one common enemy, we will come out globally united. This is the one time I hope I’m not right.