Suzanna Danna

Good Tax Day to you! Unless you have already filed for an extension, then I say… Way to work that procrastination! Kudos!

I have a bunch of stuff to go over with you guys. I know that I promised more content this month, but apparently I was lying. Well, not really. This is the second post and it is only the 15th of the month! Woot! I could post another one in a week or so and completely blow the previous eleventy months out of the water, no? What do you mean… No…? Fine, yes, baby, I still love you. It is just that, well… your ass. It’s gotten really… HOT! And I just can’t keep my mind off if it! Rawr!

You all know of my preoccupation with my teeth right? And yes, it is a complete diversionary topic to keep me from getting all bajiggety about my multiple chins and how my skin has decided to send me a big ol FUCK YOU in the form of massive oil production. Which, I have to say, is mighty sexy… in a bottom of the chicken bucket greasy kind of way. If you know what I mean… and I apologize for the mental image if you do. More on the skin later.

The teeth. Alright. I have wanted bright, white, shiny, straight freaking Super Hero teeth that make an audible “DING!” when a starburst of sun glints off of my right canine when I smile winningly at you, and I have wanted them forever. Well, forever is kind of misleading, as I basically had a gorgeous smile until about 10 years ago and THEN about six years ago this freaking space began to spread my two front teeth apart. I grind (mrawww!) my teeth together at night and the result was my lower jaw was crowding up under and behind my upper jaw and the upper jaw was all, “fine, let me just get out of your way here…” and the result is a less than attractive smile. I feel like if I left the shit alone, then in about another 3 to 4 years I would have been able to bite a pumpkin through a chain link fence. Hot, right?

So after begging like a turn coat double agent found rifling through the director’s wife’s underwear drawer, I got set up to have Invisalign braces. Here… look. CLICK FOR LINK And as of yesterday I am on tray six. They did a series of trays, for me… they designed 11 trays for my upper teeth and 9 trays for my lower teeth. I wear each tray for two weeks and I have these little button-like things attached to four up my upper teeth and two of my lower teeth.

Before I started the Invisilign thingies, I could fit a coffee stir in between the two front teeth with room left over for a small Barcalounger. Now? Nary a space baby. And I am only like half way through. They are throwing in the ZOOM whitening at the end and I am going to be all pageant-y smiling at everyone and waving like the motherfucking queen. I will, OH YES, I will wear mulberry wine lipstick again!

My skin. I don’t know if any of you have ferreted me out on FaceBook* or not or if you have seen pictures on Flickr or stalked me as I walked into my office building, but I am sure if you have seen me lately you have noticed/and or said to yourself… (or like my father said to me… on Friday) “Are you hot baby?” “No sir, I am fine.” “Well, you have this… sheen.” “Sweat?” “No, a sheen.” Which apparently is nice daddy verbiage for, “Damn, girl… you sure is oily.”

*Oh holy shit. FaceBook… gah. More on this later.

I have over 200 of those little blotter papers in my make up bag that I carry daily. I have pressed powder, I have loose powder (you slutty powder, you), I have mattifying gel, I have oil control moisturizer, I have used everything that I can, and yet, every two hours, you could ring out my face to lubricate Jeff Gordon’s chassis. (PS, Shut up… I am not a NASCAR fan, I just know who the man is because I live in Texas for the Love of God.)

So as Hotty McG, my dermatologist has been working on slowly but surely carving enough pieces and parts out of my poor translucent skin to leave me a pitiful little walking scar**, he has also diagnosed me with acne. Yeah, I know. I am so excited to have acne, braces and glasses ALL IN MY MID THIRTIES! Suck that puberty!

**Compared to my previous dermatologist this guy is not only hot, but brilliant with a knife. Where once I was all Frankenstein-y with my scars he has made the last … (geeze) seven procedures (after the biopsies come back dysplastic) look like wee little lines. LOVE HIM. Love. If you need a good dermatologist, message me. We’ll hook you up.

The only bonus that I can see out of the whole acne diagnosis is that he suggested a series of five microderm abrasions. Let me finish that sentence with a caps locky TO BE COVERED BY MY INSURANCE. Fuckin A, right!? So I had my first microderm abrasion on Monday.

Hi. Ow.

This shit is medical grade, not spa grade. Holy crap.

Whatever, I am going to have porcelain goddess skin on my face some day and my insurance is going to take care of everything but my co-pay. BONUS. They suggested the series of five (one ever two weeks and a day) then after the series of five, maybe one a month.

All dudes who have gotten this far in this entry, email me. I owe you a bawdy limerick or something. Seriously. A cookie? Whatever… you are a trooper. Congrats.

I have this list of shit to discuss with y’all… but I think I will cover one more thing and then wrap it up, because… I want to continue the whole Shelby and Tom series without turning into one of THOSE journals, but I kind of want to go there once, you know? I also want to talk to y’all about this weird deal that happens in my office when I wear anything slightly different than my normal black pants, black shoes, top (adult geranimals) bullshit. I also want to talk to you guys about counseling (we are really growing apart y’all, and I miss you) and…. Some other stuff.

One last thing.

My girl Fredlet*** and I were twittering back and forth about old lovers coming out of the woodwork in mass quantities and how FaceBook is enabling the whole thing. My favorite text from her (in reply to one of my wailings) was “Venus Retrograde is over by April 15th, but I tend to call it Penis Retrograde because that’s when all the old lovahs show up. ;)”

***Fredlet is smarter than all of us combined. Don’t fuck with her. She will ruin your credit and have you declared legally dead in six countries in about twenty minutes.

So I want to talk to you guys about that. I also have been reflecting and want to reword some of the things I said about one person in particular. Oh hell, I just want to apologize. I was wrong. We’ll talk about it later.