I'm gross...and feeling queasy

Your body changes as it gets older. My body is changing as I get older. I don't like it.


Okay, so I never used to have B.O. I just didn't. I know, not fair, right? I wore deodorant just in case. But I didn't really need it. Don't hate me yet. Now, though, (this is the part where you can feel a little better about yourself - if you're the stinky sort) I sweat like crazy AND.IT.STINKS. Gross. I mean really, how gross is that? Well, I feel gross anyway. So, I'm kinda in this predicament. I've started learning all this new and interesting shtuff about being natural and how NOT to saturate your body with unnecessary chemicals. Well, that deodorant I was wearing just to say I was wearing deodorant became more of a necessity. But it's loaded with aluminum, yada, yada, yada. Okay, I get the picture. So I tried some natural ones, two to be exact. These two...



Yeah, they were no help. In fact I think they actually made me stink worse. That's a nasty trick.

What's a poor girl to do? Well, first you have to have great friends. Check. Then you have to tell your great friends about your stinking problems so that they can give you great recipes for homemade deodorant THAT WORKS, like this:

1/2 c. cornstarch
1/4 c. baking soda
6 T. coconut oil

Mix those bad boys together and slather on your pits. Problem solved.
Thanks, friend!

The other thing I've noticed about getting older is that my tummy hardiness (I just made that up) is rather on the weak side. Hubs thinks it's funny that I gag when there's a nasty fart floating about the room. Or maybe a little dry heave will join in with the gagging. I don't think it's funny. Not.one.bit. I absolutely refuse to pick up fresh dog turds. Not.gonna.do.it. If I even get remotely close to that steaming pile, I start to quiver and feel my stomach creep up the back of my throat. Nasty.

I didn't use to be like this. I really had quite a hardy tummy up until recent years. Last night though, Tommi puked her poor little guts out. It was all down the side of her bed, covering her bedroom floor (carpet! Disgusting!!), in her hair, on her clothes, you name it. *insert gagging noise here*
I threw that poor little sick girl in the tub, washed her hair, and left her to soak (after giving her fresh water, of coarse) while I attempted to enter her bedroom. It took strength, it took fortitude, it took me opening the window, sticking my nose in my shirt and breathing out my mouth just to keep my own dinner in it's proper place. But then, oh then. I saw the dreaded mother of all disgusting acts. The dog...was eating...the puke.

(yes, I am gagging as I type)

Really, now? Come on! I did NOT need to see that.