My husband has a cold. That noise you just heard was the collective groan of wives all over the world. That’s right, it’s the dreaded Man Cold.

In my husband’s defense, he rarely gets sick. He doesn’t have the combined history of asthma, pneumonia, meningitis and sinus infections like I do. And, people, I’m just scratching the surface of my ailments. Truly.

He isn’t used to the headache, cough and all-around nastiness he feels…and I’m not used to being around it. Especially the part about how he can’t breathe through his nose which means he snores like there are real-live lumberjacks sawing logs right next to me. And, my husband just grew a full beard, so if he puts on a plaid shirt I might just mistake him for one.

He has been kind enough to sleep on the couch for the last two nights, which leaves me free to take an Ambien and fold my adjustable bed into the shape of a taco and sleep like a baby. That part is kind of awesome. My husband doesn’t even like it when the bed has a slight roll (or, what he refers to as its golf-green shape). He likes the mattress to be flat. BOOOR-ING!

But, although I have plopped myself onto the middle of the mattress, kept the light on my side-table shining so that I can read magazines or paint my nails, listened to the TV without having to cup my hand behind my ear, and have sat in a half-taco while I type this blog post, I still hope he feels better soon.

Because that man-cold is a brutal beast. Just ask all of the wives who groaned.

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One of my earliest memories of traveling with my mother was a trip we took to California to visit my aunt. We went to Disneyland, Grauman’s Chinese Theater, and on a tour of stars’ homes. We ate authentic tacos and sat in the audience for a game show. I had so much fun as I listened to my mom and aunt talk, sing, and laugh.

And, then something happened I will really never forget. I watched them bleach their mustaches. I had no idea that women did such things. I was a little girl, who found the entire act absolutely hysterical. In fact, I actually rolled on the floor and laughed.

For the longest time, I thought this was a crazy Lebanese secret that only we of middle-eastern descent needed to discuss. I was thankful for my dad’s genes that gave me light hair and green eyes and thought I would be spared the growth of hair on my upper lip.

Then I turned 35. Suddenly, hair started sprouting from places that I didn’t expect. My neck and chin grew short, course, gray hairs, while my cheeks took on a thicker peach fuzz. And, above my lip, the dreaded ‘stache.

Although my mom set the example, I was not about to put bleach on my face…well, mostly because you can still see the hair; it’s just lighter. I started to notice women with hairy faces and became thankful for winter when I could wrap a scarf around my neck.

My sister-in-law and I tried waxing, but we both ended up bleeding. If there is anything worse than a hairy lip, it’s a scabby one. Short of taking my husband’s shaving cream and razor to my face, there weren’t too many options. I have sensitive skin. I once had hives for months, for no discernible reason; I couldn’t use cream without burning myself.

This is why I jumped at the chance to try the New Olay Smooth Finish Facial Hair Removal Duo, a two-step system that includes a Skin Guarding Balm that goes between the Hair Removal Cream and your skin.

The instructions said to test the products on your forearm 48 hours before applying to your face. I did so and had no adverse reaction. I applied the balm to my face as directed then the cream. I left it on for six minutes, wiped it off with cotton balls, and then rinsed my face with warm water.

I had some minor skin irritation immediately following, with some visible redness, but within the time I dried my hair and got dressed, my skin looked fine and felt amazing. Truly, amazing. I don’t even know what to compare the softness to, because I haven’t felt skin that soft since my babies were born. And now, a day later, it is still soft and completely hair-free!

It was convenient and left me feeling much more feminine than my husband’s razor. Just sayin’.

Now BlogHer and Olay are offering you something to make you feel better!

Just tell me what part of your beauty routine makes you feel most feminine and best expresses your inner beauty, and you’ll be entered for a chance to win a $50 Visa gift card!

Rules: This sweepstakes runs from 1/3/2012 – 2/3/2012.
No duplicate comments. You may receive (2) total entries by selecting from the following entry methods:
a) Leave a comment in response to the sweepstakes prompt on this post
b) Tweet about this promotion and leave the URL to that tweet in a comment on this post
c) Blog about this promotion and leave the URL to that post in a comment on this post
d) For those with no Twitter or blog, read the official rules to learn about an alternate form of entry.
This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. You have 72 hours to get back to me, otherwise a new winner will be selected.
The Official Rules are available here.

Be sure to visit the Promotions & Prizes page on BlogHer.com where you can read other bloggers’ reviews and find more chances to win!

While we’re on the subject of looking good, you might want to check out the “Looking Your Best” posts in the Life Well Lived section of BlogHer.com. There are some great tips and expert posts!

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She is always smiling.

I last saw her on Christmas Day, standing in my mom’s driveway in her down coat. The sun was shining, which it rarely does here in December and that made me happy because she loves the sun, as I do. She was smiling. She is always smiling.

The news came a few days before Christmas. Cancer. The lab report from her biopsy saying it had spread to surrounding tissue, then an MRI that showed the involvement of three lymph nodes. It had been over a year since her symptoms caused her to start seeing doctors. Numerous doctors. They all misdiagnosed it. None of them did a biopsy.

Apparently, it’s an easy cancer to miss, but that doesn’t make the news easier to bear. On January 9th, she starts five weeks of radiation (with two full weeks of in-patient chemo thrown in). I think there are a lot of days ahead when I won’t see her smiling. That’s okay. I don’t want her to. I want her to get mad and tough and put up the fight of her life.

I just talked to her and told her that it’s a good thing she’s scrappy. I once saw her and another one of my sisters having a fistfight that was a lot like Rocky, but with more hair-pulling and face scratching. I know she will get through this, because she is amazing. The only problem is that she is the one who always lifts our spirits. We have really big shoes to fill.

On this, the eve of her birthday, I didn’t end the call by saying, “Happy birthday!” or “Happy New Year!” Instead I said, “We are praying.”

I hope that made her smile.

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Thirteen is said to be an unlucky number, but I tend to think it’s lucky because it’s the number you are today.

I’ve had thirteen years of you, and though it’s gone by in the blink of an eye, it’s been tremendously rewarding. So far, you have been a pretty super kid.

It’s hard for me to comprehend that in five years, you will be eighteen and it’s just as hard to think that five years ago, you were just turning eight. But, right now, while you are smack-dab in the middle of childhood and adulthood, I am enjoying watching you grow and change. I won’t lie, I could do without your grumpy attitude sometimes, but I’m sure you could say the same thing about me.

You are smart, funny and a good friend. I love that you read all the time, that you’re good at math and that you love music. I love that you hate to lose, but when you do, you’re a good sport about it. I love that you’re charitable and responsible and that you have a hearty laugh. I love to watch you play the piano, dance, play softball, and sing.

But mostly, I love that you’re my daughter.

Happy 13th birthday, Goose! If you could stop getting older now, that would be great.

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