Ravishing, that’s me.

I think I have sleep apnea. I frequently wake up choking. It’s horrible and scary. My physician brother-in-law suggests I see my doctor. But that’s not happening anytime soon since I have cataract surgery on Wednesday. Which means no make-up for several weeks. Which means hiding in the house.

I’m a redhead. Redheads have NO color. Each night I smear my face with Albolene cream, wipe with tissues, then rinse it straight down the drain. I go from a person with eyelashes to Casper the Friendly Ghost in five minutes.

Since the doctor has to wait, I went to Amazon and bought a very flattering chin strap intended to hold my mouth shut all night.


It’s a good thing I landed a man years ago! I’ll walk you through my night time routine.

First, the Albolene, tissues, and rinsing. Next, I put on my Mishri outfit. Mishri is our darling eight-year-old granddaughter. When she was three or four, she was only allowed to choose her clothing on Sundays. Her style sense tended toward plaids with prints, dresses over pants, possibly backward stuff. You get the picture.

My Mishri outfits are sloppy cotton PJ bottoms worn with old print cotton dresses. Not a good look, but very comfy.

Then, it’s on to brushing and flossing. After that, I shove my brux appliance into my mouth. That’s intended to keep me from grinding my teeth.


Lastly on with the beautiful black chin strap. In spite of washing it several times it still bleeds dark blue ink all over my pillowcase. I wake in the morning with grooves in my cheeks and a blue smear under my chin.

Poor old Jimmy didn’t know what he’d hooked up with back in 2005! That was pre-chin-strap, brux, and Mishri clothes. In the early years I dolled myself up in Victoria’s Secret slinky nighties and robes. But hey, he fooled me too. He cooked, leading me to believe he was skilled in the kitchen. Not!

Poor guy.  He can’t walk out on me now. No prenup, so he’s stuck with Casper, brux, chin-strap and all.

Somewhat related posts:

My no-good-very-bad High School boyfriend.

Dating at Fifty