Sunscreen Mistake

Have you ever seen I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? The show about women who give birth and didn't even know they were pregnant?

Let me break it down for you:

They have a baby, typically someplace weird, and had no idea they were pregnant.

There's no weight gain, no morning sickness, no kicking, no NOTHING. Well, nothing until suddenly they start to have cramps and a BABY comes out of their vagina and lands on a strangers shoe, or the bathroom floor, or wherever it is these women find a place to squat and die, because that's what most of them think is happening. They're dying, and their insides are coming out as a finale.

So, of course I'm adding that to my list of my totally irrational fears and will be taking a pregnancy test once a week even if I never have sex again. Even if I go in for a routine test, and the doctors notice I have some abnormal hormone levels, and discover that I'm actually a man, and that my lady parts were just for show, the good stuff is up inside, and I'll never be able to birth a child because what I'd always thought was my ovaries and uterus showing up on the scan at the gyno's was really just a videotape of someone else's playing over and over again that the stupid, stoned tech forgot to take out because he was too busy eating all the Cheese Its from the vending machine, and instead I just have an empty space (or whatever it is guys have up there in place of what we have - vas deferens and perhaps a prostate), and I end up on the news, and I feel confused, and John Krasinski wins accolades from the public for standing by me. . . EVEN THEN I will be checking myself. So that I don't have a baby on a strangers shoe.

In other news, my sister just threw up in her mouth a little bit.

The thing is, I wouldn't have even been watching that show because it's like 80 degrees and gorgeous, which means I was planning on spending the day outside working on my tan (severe sunburn) and playing with James in the sun (chase after him every time he escapes from his little kitty leash and runs out into traffic).

So, I run inside because I forgot sunscreen, and I grab one of the seventeen tubes we have and start lathering my face up with that stuff, but for some reason it's not really rubbing in. Which isn't that uncommon, a lot of the sport sunscreens are super thick and gooey, but this one is slippery and goopy and just will not rub in. And I'm really rubbing, and I'm doing little circles, and I'm like, "This shit better be some amazing sun deterrent", and then I look down at the counter and I'm like:

"That's weird." Nope. Not getting it. "Why in the world. . . " Sort of getting it. But not really wanting to. "Why is that tube of. . . " Ignore. Ignore. Please no. Please no. "Why is that tube of KY Jelly sitting right there?" Look at face in mirror. Back to the tube. Back to the face. Tube. Face. Tube. FACE.

"There's personal lubricant all over my face!!" I screamed to James who sort of looked up at me like, why in the world is that sitting out all footloose and fancy free in your sunscreen cupboard?

"Because I don't use it, it just came with my diaphragm kit thing. . . never mind! Just pass the soap."

And that's how learned bar soap works way better at getting a squeaky clean feeling that girly loofah soap!

From now on sunscreen stays in a totally different room from any other sort of tube-like thing. And if my friends ever ask to borrow some sunscreen and I tell them its in the attic in a box labeled SPF only, inside another box that says, Seriously: SPF only! - you tell them this is why.

Because they just want some UV protection, they don't want to walk out into the sun feeling like the naughty end of some lucky guys prom night.