So, I may have reached an all time low. Or, perhaps I've figured out the secret that every woman should know.
If you are trying to fit into a dress that just needs a little bit more room you don't need to diet. Don't juice cleanse. Just learn from this modern day tale.
Once upon a time I had a gorgeous sweater dress to wear. The dress was just a wee bit clingy. Who am I kidding? It was totally clingy. So, I decided to call in reinforcements, my favorite friends Spanx and Assets. Yep, both of them.
To achieve the desired look I wore Spanx (the kind that go from below the bust to mid thigh) with Assets slimming tights (basically with 'control top' also starting below the bust and going to mid thigh) over them. This was double duty. Now, if anyone had seen me in these undergarments they would have had a good laugh!
I looked like a hybrid scuba instructor cyclist who favored black over the colorful uniforms that most road bikers sport.
But what really mattered is that to the general public I think I looked Pretty. Darn. Good. Received a few compliments in fact.
People I hadn't seen in months told me how great I looked. Asked if I had lost weight. I had not lost a pound. Just stuffed myself into two slimmers. So, I just smiled and said thank you and mentally praised Spanx and Assets for doing their job.
Thank you, Spanx. Thank you, Assets. Thank you for slimming me into a smaller size! I felt smaller, svelter, slimmer. And sometimes it felt like it was hard to breathe but whatever...I looked good! And felt lovely in my clingy sweater dress. Hallelujah!
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Mommy Mondays
Hello friends. No, this isn't my (not so) subtle way of making an announcement of a pending baby due - gasp! Or, the announcement of my adoption of a new, furry puppy. It's the announcement of a guest blog starring my dear friend, Laura. LJ for those of you know her from other times in our respective lives. Laura has two adorable darlings who are known to do some pretty funny stuff. She shares this with me via phone and email and I always laugh and laugh. And I thought you needed to hear some of it too. This may happen again. Or, maybe not. Just depends on how often her kids do silly, funny, blog-worthy stuff. And, how often it's Monday. And, how often I can get my act together to post her fine, clever prose on a Monday. So, welcome to Mommy Mondays!! And, welcome Laura. Okay, your mic is on...
From now on, I'll leave the teachings of Judaism to the experts.
Happy Passover to Harper and all my Jewish friends!
My son, Grayson, is three-and-a-half. He attends preschool one block from our house, and we walk there three mornings a week. We love his school and plan to send his one-year-old sister, Harper, there when she's ready, too. It happens to be a Jewish preschool. Our family isn't Jewish, so we think it's pretty cool that Grayson teaches us things about the Jewish religion/culture ("Hamen is a bad guy!"), new vocabulary words ("Mom, did you eat matzo/hamantashen/challah when you were a girl?") and brings home fun projects (like a "Plague Bag"--including, among other things, a locust, lice, blood, and a dead cow--all faux, of course) on a weekly basis.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Grayson requested ham in his lunchbox. I told him that ham isn't allowed at his school and that I'd send turkey instead. He proceeded to ask me at least a hundred questions about why he couldn't have ham at school, and I did my best to explain. I said that some Jewish people don't believe in eating pork, and that he should ask his teachers if he wanted to know more. OK, maybe that wasn't the greatest explanation, but I really just wanted him to stop asking questions about ham!
Out of the blue at school that Wednesday, he declared to his teacher, "I'm not Jewish, because I like ham!" Fabulous (insert my red face here). We had lunch at home the following day, and (surprise!) we had ham. At some point, Harper started throwing hers on the floor. Grayson, momentarily glancing up from his iPad screen (mom of the year), wanted to know what she was doing. I told him she was throwing her ham on the floor, and he asked, "Does Harper not like ham?" I said that sometimes babies just throw things. He watched her for awhile, then shrugged and said... "Maybe she's Jewish."
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Grayson requested ham in his lunchbox. I told him that ham isn't allowed at his school and that I'd send turkey instead. He proceeded to ask me at least a hundred questions about why he couldn't have ham at school, and I did my best to explain. I said that some Jewish people don't believe in eating pork, and that he should ask his teachers if he wanted to know more. OK, maybe that wasn't the greatest explanation, but I really just wanted him to stop asking questions about ham!
From now on, I'll leave the teachings of Judaism to the experts.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Just Plane Inappropriate (3rd edition)
If you are joining us for the first time..welcome and let me give you some background. I travel for work. Fairly often. Not all the time. But, often enough that I've seen some crazy things.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who take their shoes off on the plane.
I was telling my boss about this the other day and he acknowledged the he will go sans shoes on International flights. That gets a pass. They give you booties to cover your feet.
Domestic flights keep your shoes on.
Anyway, here's another pet peeve, people who eat weird, smelly or sloppy things on the plane.
So, the other day, we're in flight. I look over and there is a man sitting there with his work spread out across his tray table. He is working diligently. Scribbling feverishly. He must have really had some good thoughts burning through him. Then he paused. Reached into his lap and pulled out a bag of cereal.
No, not a baggie. Not a ziploc. The bag. That he removed from the standard size box of cereal.
The bag was nearly empty. There was probably enough in the bag for a kids size bowl of cereal. I couldn't believe he was going to stick his hand in that bag and snack on handfuls of cereal during our flight. Seriously?
So, he unrolled the top of the bag, positioned the bag to funnel the corner and leaned his head back. Opened his mouth as wide as it could go, lifted the bag upside down above his head and dumped in some cereal.
I was dumbfounded. So much so that I paused mid-conversation and shook my head. Then he started scribbling his notes again.
He repeated this two or three times until he got every last crumb of cereal out of that bag. It was one of the funniest and oddest things I've seen someone eat on the plane. A grown man. Graying beard and all. In 20D. Dumping cereal in his mouth. I hope he got all of the crumbs out of his beard.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who take their shoes off on the plane.
I was telling my boss about this the other day and he acknowledged the he will go sans shoes on International flights. That gets a pass. They give you booties to cover your feet.
Domestic flights keep your shoes on.
Anyway, here's another pet peeve, people who eat weird, smelly or sloppy things on the plane.
So, the other day, we're in flight. I look over and there is a man sitting there with his work spread out across his tray table. He is working diligently. Scribbling feverishly. He must have really had some good thoughts burning through him. Then he paused. Reached into his lap and pulled out a bag of cereal.
No, not a baggie. Not a ziploc. The bag. That he removed from the standard size box of cereal.
The bag was nearly empty. There was probably enough in the bag for a kids size bowl of cereal. I couldn't believe he was going to stick his hand in that bag and snack on handfuls of cereal during our flight. Seriously?
So, he unrolled the top of the bag, positioned the bag to funnel the corner and leaned his head back. Opened his mouth as wide as it could go, lifted the bag upside down above his head and dumped in some cereal.
I was dumbfounded. So much so that I paused mid-conversation and shook my head. Then he started scribbling his notes again.
He repeated this two or three times until he got every last crumb of cereal out of that bag. It was one of the funniest and oddest things I've seen someone eat on the plane. A grown man. Graying beard and all. In 20D. Dumping cereal in his mouth. I hope he got all of the crumbs out of his beard.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
You gain weight?
As we all know, I love getting manicures and pedicures!! And, I am generally a very loyal client once I find someone who perfectly polishes my elegant fingers.
I found a gal I loved. She went by Katie because I, along with many others, couldn't pronounce her Vietnamese name. Katie was sweet and kind. She would sing and hum quietly when I was tired. Ask how I was doing. Ask about Sam and what puppy antics he had been up to. She asked about my boyfriend and work. I think she genuinely cared.
I was Katie's client for years. I would rearrange my schedule to make sure she would be the one clipping my cuticles and shaping my nails into perfect squovals.
Then one day everything changed. This was the day Katie looked at me slightly confused during my pedicure and said, 'You gain weight?'
I had. Probably 15 pounds. I was happy and in love so I ate and drank whatever I wanted. And, yes, I had gained weight. I was not happy about that but before I could answer she quickly followed with 'what you eat?'
I was mortified. Embarrassed. Red-faced. I already knew I wasn't happy with the extra 18 lbs I had put on. And, I certainly wasn't happy with Katie pointing it out either.
For my next manicure I took my money and my extra 21 pounds elsewhere.
I found a gal I loved. She went by Katie because I, along with many others, couldn't pronounce her Vietnamese name. Katie was sweet and kind. She would sing and hum quietly when I was tired. Ask how I was doing. Ask about Sam and what puppy antics he had been up to. She asked about my boyfriend and work. I think she genuinely cared.
I was Katie's client for years. I would rearrange my schedule to make sure she would be the one clipping my cuticles and shaping my nails into perfect squovals.
 |
|
CC
Calgary Review
|
I had. Probably 15 pounds. I was happy and in love so I ate and drank whatever I wanted. And, yes, I had gained weight. I was not happy about that but before I could answer she quickly followed with 'what you eat?'
I was mortified. Embarrassed. Red-faced. I already knew I wasn't happy with the extra 18 lbs I had put on. And, I certainly wasn't happy with Katie pointing it out either.
For my next manicure I took my money and my extra 21 pounds elsewhere.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Just Plane Inappropriate (part deux)
Yep, it happened again.
Someone took their shoes off on the plane. In the seat next to me. Here's the proof.
Why. Do. You. People. Do. This? What on earth makes you think it's okay to remove your shoes on a plane? This is not your house or your car. Do you take your shoes off when you are shopping?
When you are at school? Or, walking around at work?
Seriously?
I mean, if your feet hurt that bad, acknowledge what you are going to do. Apologize and explain.
Don't just slip off your sneakers.
Ugh!
Someone took their shoes off on the plane. In the seat next to me. Here's the proof.
Why. Do. You. People. Do. This? What on earth makes you think it's okay to remove your shoes on a plane? This is not your house or your car. Do you take your shoes off when you are shopping?
When you are at school? Or, walking around at work?
Seriously?
I mean, if your feet hurt that bad, acknowledge what you are going to do. Apologize and explain.
Don't just slip off your sneakers.
Ugh!
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Maximizing my Assets
So you might be wondering where I've been. Why I haven't written in a bit. See, I've been busy. Busy working. Busy traveling for work. Busy buying the appropriate undergarments to wear to the work functions that I have to travel for to attend.
Undergarments are an interesting thing. Whether granny panties or hanky panky's we women are loyal to the things that touch our most delicate of parts. At the same time we also do what we can to maximize our assets.
I'll tell you a little story about that.
I am a curvier girl. Even curvier than I used to be. Particularly on the bottom. I've got some hips. I don't love them when I notice the dimples that I had hoped would be on my face are actually on my thighs. But, I do like having shape. I like having what Sir Mix A Lot calls an Oakland booty. It's mine and it's cool. I just wish it was sometimes a wee bit smaller. To achieve this desired state I have become good friends with an undergarment called Spanx. I've become even better friends with her wallet-friendlier sister, Assets.
These Assets flatter my assets. Everything is sleeker, smoother and better looking. Gone are panty-lines, bumps, jiggles and lumps. Everything is lifted, sucked in and I have a perfectly shaped lower half. Love it.
Over the holidays I found a new dress that I am In. Love. With. It's knit. It clings. It requires the incredibly slimming action of Spanx or Assets. I wanted a full body tube that would slim my tummy, slenderize my thighs and round out my derriere. I hit Tar-jzay (this is how you say Target when you are buying fancy things there i.e. Assets not toilet paper). I found exactly what I wanted in Assets. Probably saved a good $40 bucks vs. her sister, Spanx. Victory.
Fast forward to my work function. Left the hotel at 6:30. AM. Planning to be gone until 10 something. PM. Hair coiffed? Check. Make-Up Applied? Check. Tights? Check. Assets tube slimmer? Check. Darling knit dress? Check. Knee high black boots? Check. I. Looked. Awesome!
About 2 hours later, I felt like an idiot. Every step I took Assets slipped up a notch on my body. She was no longer slimming my thighs. She was now bunched up at my waist. Literally. She worked her way up my thighs the minute I would pull her down. She just wasn't having it. I toyed with taking her off mid-day. Maybe putting her in my bag. But, there was never an opportunity. What was I going to do, walk out of the bathroom carrying my undergarment in my hand?
So, instead, all day, I adjusted whenever I thought no one was looking. Which probably meant everyone was looking. Oh well. I just had to laugh. I have to laugh now. Here I was, trying to look better. And, instead I looked like the poor girl who had ill-fitting undergarments. My sophisticated cover was blown. I should have just let my tummy out. No one would have noticed that. I'm sure the entire party saw me stick my hand up my dress to yank my black tube 'dress' down from my waist to my knees.
Lovely.
Undergarments are an interesting thing. Whether granny panties or hanky panky's we women are loyal to the things that touch our most delicate of parts. At the same time we also do what we can to maximize our assets.
I'll tell you a little story about that.
I am a curvier girl. Even curvier than I used to be. Particularly on the bottom. I've got some hips. I don't love them when I notice the dimples that I had hoped would be on my face are actually on my thighs. But, I do like having shape. I like having what Sir Mix A Lot calls an Oakland booty. It's mine and it's cool. I just wish it was sometimes a wee bit smaller. To achieve this desired state I have become good friends with an undergarment called Spanx. I've become even better friends with her wallet-friendlier sister, Assets.
These Assets flatter my assets. Everything is sleeker, smoother and better looking. Gone are panty-lines, bumps, jiggles and lumps. Everything is lifted, sucked in and I have a perfectly shaped lower half. Love it.
Over the holidays I found a new dress that I am In. Love. With. It's knit. It clings. It requires the incredibly slimming action of Spanx or Assets. I wanted a full body tube that would slim my tummy, slenderize my thighs and round out my derriere. I hit Tar-jzay (this is how you say Target when you are buying fancy things there i.e. Assets not toilet paper). I found exactly what I wanted in Assets. Probably saved a good $40 bucks vs. her sister, Spanx. Victory.
Fast forward to my work function. Left the hotel at 6:30. AM. Planning to be gone until 10 something. PM. Hair coiffed? Check. Make-Up Applied? Check. Tights? Check. Assets tube slimmer? Check. Darling knit dress? Check. Knee high black boots? Check. I. Looked. Awesome!
About 2 hours later, I felt like an idiot. Every step I took Assets slipped up a notch on my body. She was no longer slimming my thighs. She was now bunched up at my waist. Literally. She worked her way up my thighs the minute I would pull her down. She just wasn't having it. I toyed with taking her off mid-day. Maybe putting her in my bag. But, there was never an opportunity. What was I going to do, walk out of the bathroom carrying my undergarment in my hand?
So, instead, all day, I adjusted whenever I thought no one was looking. Which probably meant everyone was looking. Oh well. I just had to laugh. I have to laugh now. Here I was, trying to look better. And, instead I looked like the poor girl who had ill-fitting undergarments. My sophisticated cover was blown. I should have just let my tummy out. No one would have noticed that. I'm sure the entire party saw me stick my hand up my dress to yank my black tube 'dress' down from my waist to my knees.
Lovely.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Holiday Bonus
I owe my cleaning lady. BIG TIME.
I love the day that she comes. My place looks and smells amazing! I love being in it. I don't want to leave. I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge. Eau de Peace & Calm.
I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear. aka pajamas. I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere. I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self. It is Heavenly.
For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check. An extra show of thanks.
Usually she texts me when she leaves. I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network. And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house. Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.
The text arrived. She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it. Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me. Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..
Then she sent another text.
"Sam 'got sick' in his cage. The towel is now in the hall. Put new towels in the kennel. Cleaned him up. Hope that was okay".
I had to read the text twice. To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage. Of course he did. On the day that I didn't go home at lunch. And, the day that my cleaning angel came.
So much for a holiday bonus. That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines. Eau de Puke and Stench.
I love the day that she comes. My place looks and smells amazing! I love being in it. I don't want to leave. I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge. Eau de Peace & Calm.
I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear. aka pajamas. I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere. I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self. It is Heavenly.
For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check. An extra show of thanks.
Usually she texts me when she leaves. I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network. And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house. Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.
The text arrived. She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it. Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me. Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..
Then she sent another text.
"Sam 'got sick' in his cage. The towel is now in the hall. Put new towels in the kennel. Cleaned him up. Hope that was okay".
I had to read the text twice. To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage. Of course he did. On the day that I didn't go home at lunch. And, the day that my cleaning angel came.
So much for a holiday bonus. That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines. Eau de Puke and Stench.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Just Plane Inappropriate
I travel often. I am not a 'road warrior' but I do have status which allows me great perks like access to exit row seats.
I am also tall, for a lady. And, taller than many men. Which drains my dating pool. Significantly. This is another post. But, just a second. Seriously, it stinks. I am doing the online dating thing and I rule out thousands of men due to height alone. Some are hot! Reminds me of a guy from college my friends and I used to call 'would be hot if tall'. I don't think we ever called him this to his face. Well, maybe once, after spending too many hours enjoying Penny Pitchers.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the original story... I am also tall, for a lady. So, I really appreciate when I secure the exit row aisle seat. I'll take an exit window or an exit center if necessary. But the aisle is hitting the airplane seat assignment jackpot!!
On my recent trip to the islands I secured the exit row. But, it was the window seat. Okay, not ideal, but definitely better than a standard row where my knees are always at risk for being knocked around when someone in front of me decides to recline to rest. Then I have to uncross my legs because I am never prepared and I always knock them back. They think I am a bitch. And, in the spirit of honesty since it is Sunday, sometimes I knock a little harder if I am annoyed that they flopped back during the recline and jarred my computer.
Moving on.
So, my seatmates were a young couple in love. They were lost in eachother's eyes. Holding hands. Maybe it was a honeymoon trip. It was kind of sweet and kind of annoying.
We take off and the girl decides its time to get comfortable. So, she takes off her shoes. Really? I think this is totally inappropriate on the plane. Now, it could be worse, she could be clipping her fingernails or eating chicken off the bone straight out of a ziploc baggie. I've seen both. But, shoe removal on the plane is bad and one of my pet peeves.
What if I was terrified of feet? Or, what if her feet smelled? You don't always realize it. And, she was wearing inexpensive pleather ballet flats which is a prime way to achieve foot smell. Not knocking them. Have several pair. Also carry baby powder when I wear mine to avoid the foot sweats.
Anyway, her feet are pointed in my direction for a bit. Then she starts to shift. And, then she gets really comfortable. Like, laying-around-the-house-watching-tv comfortable. She just up and throws her un-shoed feet and legs over her main squeeze's lap. Awesome, I've just crashed date night.
Seriously? Is this your living room? Are we on your couch? In your gingerbread house? I would bet that she doesn't do that at a dinner party when she is kindly waiting for dessert to be served. Or, in a hotel lobby. Or, in the Dr's office waiting room. Or, at her in-laws house before she really got to know them. So, why on earth 17E is it okay to do it on the plane?
Take your legs off your husband, shoeless wonder. Put your darling ballet flats back on. Stop cuddling so that in the event of an emergency you will be willing and ABLE to assist the flight crew. Bare feet are justplane plain inappropriate!
I am also tall, for a lady. And, taller than many men. Which drains my dating pool. Significantly. This is another post. But, just a second. Seriously, it stinks. I am doing the online dating thing and I rule out thousands of men due to height alone. Some are hot! Reminds me of a guy from college my friends and I used to call 'would be hot if tall'. I don't think we ever called him this to his face. Well, maybe once, after spending too many hours enjoying Penny Pitchers.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the original story... I am also tall, for a lady. So, I really appreciate when I secure the exit row aisle seat. I'll take an exit window or an exit center if necessary. But the aisle is hitting the airplane seat assignment jackpot!!
On my recent trip to the islands I secured the exit row. But, it was the window seat. Okay, not ideal, but definitely better than a standard row where my knees are always at risk for being knocked around when someone in front of me decides to recline to rest. Then I have to uncross my legs because I am never prepared and I always knock them back. They think I am a bitch. And, in the spirit of honesty since it is Sunday, sometimes I knock a little harder if I am annoyed that they flopped back during the recline and jarred my computer.
Moving on.
So, my seatmates were a young couple in love. They were lost in eachother's eyes. Holding hands. Maybe it was a honeymoon trip. It was kind of sweet and kind of annoying.
We take off and the girl decides its time to get comfortable. So, she takes off her shoes. Really? I think this is totally inappropriate on the plane. Now, it could be worse, she could be clipping her fingernails or eating chicken off the bone straight out of a ziploc baggie. I've seen both. But, shoe removal on the plane is bad and one of my pet peeves. What if I was terrified of feet? Or, what if her feet smelled? You don't always realize it. And, she was wearing inexpensive pleather ballet flats which is a prime way to achieve foot smell. Not knocking them. Have several pair. Also carry baby powder when I wear mine to avoid the foot sweats.
Anyway, her feet are pointed in my direction for a bit. Then she starts to shift. And, then she gets really comfortable. Like, laying-around-the-house-watching-tv comfortable. She just up and throws her un-shoed feet and legs over her main squeeze's lap. Awesome, I've just crashed date night.
Seriously? Is this your living room? Are we on your couch? In your gingerbread house? I would bet that she doesn't do that at a dinner party when she is kindly waiting for dessert to be served. Or, in a hotel lobby. Or, in the Dr's office waiting room. Or, at her in-laws house before she really got to know them. So, why on earth 17E is it okay to do it on the plane?
Take your legs off your husband, shoeless wonder. Put your darling ballet flats back on. Stop cuddling so that in the event of an emergency you will be willing and ABLE to assist the flight crew. Bare feet are just
Friday, November 30, 2012
Counting My Blessings
I took a little blogging break as I was resting, relaxing, shopping, sunning and watching some hoops in the Virgin Islands over Thanksgiving. The Littlest was playing in an islands tournament and so our family hopped a few planes to celebrate one of my most favorite holidays beachside.
Over the last month I've seen Facebook friends posting daily about all of things that have made their Thankful lists. I didn't partake in this trend but decided that on the last day of the month I'd jot down all of things I am blessed by and with. Efficiency. 30 days of something I'm thankful for in one list, one post. Done. Read on. And, this is not in order of least to most thankful or vice versa so don't be insulted if you aren't number 1.
My Blessings
1) Laughter (side-splitting, eyes watering, out loud
laughter)
2) Kindness (in heart and mind)
3) La Famiglia (both sides and the 'family' that is
not even biologically tied)
4) Sunshine
5) My pooch, Sam (although sometimes I want to send
him off with the Gypsy's)
6) Girlfriends (enough said)
7) Baubles (bracelets, diamonds, cheap costume plastic
stuff, heirlooms)
8) Ice Cream (Ben & Jerry's Phish Food in
particular)
9) Bond No. 5 Nuit de Noho
10) Beaches (sand, turquoise water, sunshine, palm
trees, Bette Midler)
11) Crushes (and the butterflies that come with them)
12) My trusty Volvo
13) Xanax (the calm that overcomes the storm)
14) Seashells (junonia's, jewels of the sea, catpaws,
conchs, tulips)
15) Open Windows
16) Chardonnay (Rombauer is at the top of the list)
17) Gossip Magazines (and the trash they talk)
18) Grandparent memories (old spice, tab, velcro
rollers, pontoon boats)
19) Church Hopping
20) Mani-Pedi's (and the Vietnamese women who are really
good at doing them)
21) Wi-Fi and data plans
22) Sunroof - Moonroof (toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe)
23) Post-It's (thank you Romy & Michelle or maybe
3M)
24) Good reads (bound or nook)
25) Hand Lotion (Kiehls, l'occitane, love+toast,
Archipelago)
26) Mentors (you know who you are)
27) Frequent flyer miles and hotel status (Thank you
AA and Marriott)
28) Coca Cola (diet, zero, caffeine free and just
plain ol' Coca Cola in the red can)
29) Old Sweatshirts (one GAP gray one that I love to
wear inside out)
30) Gluten free cookies (who am I kidding, gluten free
everything)
Saturday, November 17, 2012
My Dating misAdventures Entry #1
I've gone on a few dates in my day. Some wonderful. Some not so wonderful. All good stories.
My friends get a good laugh at my dating adventures. They ask when I have good ones. Awkward ones. Funny ones. Short ones. Tall ones. Sad ones. Bad ones. I sound like Seuss.
Anyway, considering I am a single 35 year old, I've had a decent dating experience. Many crushes. Many good-byes. A few boyfriends. A couple of loves. And, an occasional mistake (or two).
I've decided that you, too, may enjoy some of my datingmisadventures.
My first 'real' date. He asked me out. A few days in advance. That's apparently all it takes.
He was in college. I was in high school. I guess I've always had a thing for older men.
He was going to take me to House Decs. We would walk around Greek Town and admire all of the decorations and skits each of the sororities and frats had conjured up in the grand spirit of Homecoming. I was sure we would hold hands.
He picked me up. There was no plan other than house decs. Of course. He was a freshman in college. He drove through Taco Bell because he was hungry. I didn't order anything. I don't know that he asked if I wanted anything. Not even a burrito. I didn't want to hold his hand anymore.
House Decs? Good. The 'date'? Really lame.
There you have it. My first real date. I was completely disappointed. I called my girlfriends and complained. At least that part of the 'date' went well.. Rehashed the whole thing with my girlfriends. They told me he wasn't good enough. I deserved better. Exactly what girlfriends are supposed to do after a bad date. The pattern was established.
Now, you'd think that any guy who took me on a date since then would score an A because the first one set the bar SO low.
Wrong. I have high standards. He was just the tip of the dating iceberg.
Now, don't get me wrong there are some good ones. And, my girlfriends hear about those too. And, encourage me and tell me how excited they are and how great he sounds and when are you going out again?? We oooh and awww over those.
But, there are many really bad ones. And, honestly, those are the funniest. And, make for the best stories. And, the most laughter. So that's what you will find the most of on this blog. There may be a sweet one in there occasionally. And, just like in dating, it's the occasional sweet one that keeps you coming back for more.
My friends get a good laugh at my dating adventures. They ask when I have good ones. Awkward ones. Funny ones. Short ones. Tall ones. Sad ones. Bad ones. I sound like Seuss.
 |
| CC Trevor Hurlbut Aug. 28, 2010 |
I've decided that you, too, may enjoy some of my dating
My first 'real' date. He asked me out. A few days in advance. That's apparently all it takes.
He was in college. I was in high school. I guess I've always had a thing for older men.
He was going to take me to House Decs. We would walk around Greek Town and admire all of the decorations and skits each of the sororities and frats had conjured up in the grand spirit of Homecoming. I was sure we would hold hands.
He picked me up. There was no plan other than house decs. Of course. He was a freshman in college. He drove through Taco Bell because he was hungry. I didn't order anything. I don't know that he asked if I wanted anything. Not even a burrito. I didn't want to hold his hand anymore.
House Decs? Good. The 'date'? Really lame.
There you have it. My first real date. I was completely disappointed. I called my girlfriends and complained. At least that part of the 'date' went well.. Rehashed the whole thing with my girlfriends. They told me he wasn't good enough. I deserved better. Exactly what girlfriends are supposed to do after a bad date. The pattern was established.
Now, you'd think that any guy who took me on a date since then would score an A because the first one set the bar SO low.
Wrong. I have high standards. He was just the tip of the dating iceberg.
Now, don't get me wrong there are some good ones. And, my girlfriends hear about those too. And, encourage me and tell me how excited they are and how great he sounds and when are you going out again?? We oooh and awww over those.
But, there are many really bad ones. And, honestly, those are the funniest. And, make for the best stories. And, the most laughter. So that's what you will find the most of on this blog. There may be a sweet one in there occasionally. And, just like in dating, it's the occasional sweet one that keeps you coming back for more.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
My (sometimes) High Maintenance Life
I am sometimes High Maintenance. I am a girl. I think most of us can be this way. Occasionally. Or, often. Whatever.
I try to keep my high maintenanceness under control. I am good at this. Sometimes. Not as often as I'd like.
Like the other day.
I went to breakfast with some girlfriends last Sunday. It was an eggs and bacon and
biscuits&gravy and pancakes kind of place.
No eggs benedict. No frittatas.
We had a party of five.
The restaurant was not that busy.
There was no wait. They seated us
at the most awkward table. It was
situated between 2 benches. One side of
the bench could accommodate 2 people. The other side, 3. But, the weird thing was that the table was
incredibly long. Like 10 feet long. So, the 5th person would not be facing
anyone. It was like they would be eating
at their own table with no one to talk with or look at.
I didn't want to sit at this weird, non-inclusive
table. I didn't want anyone to sit by
themselves at the odd end. I didn't want
anyone to have to sit across from no one.
Weird. Awkward. I hated it.
 |
| © Copyright Ben Harris licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons License |
Host: "No,
that's reserved".
Me:
"Really?" "This
exact table is reserved"?
"Well, is there somewhere else we can sit?" *snotty tone
kicking in*
Host: "No,
you'd have to wait".
Waiting doesn't work for me. Particularly when I am feeling high
maintenance. I was hungry.
And, high maintenance. We took the weird table.
10 minutes later a party of 2 was escorted to the table by
the host.And, high maintenance. We took the weird table.
Host: "It's so nice to see you again, Mary".
My motto from here on out:
Eat, Drink and (one day) Be Mary.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Naked People
There are many different types of people in the world. Skinny, Tall, Brown-Haired, Muscular, Chunky, Blue-Eyed, Petite..I could go on.
There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.
The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer. He has made good money off of his nakedness. Clearly he is a Naked Person. Probably everyday. Probably all of the time.
I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.
I dated a Naked Person once. I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh.
I also had a Naked Person as a roommate. One night our home phone started screaming at 2am. We were in our 20's. This was not abnormal. We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt. It was winter. She, on the other hand, was naked. Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.
You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person. There is no in-between. The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked. Breakfast. Really. Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.
There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.
The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer. He has made good money off of his nakedness. Clearly he is a Naked Person. Probably everyday. Probably all of the time.
I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.I dated a Naked Person once. I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh.
I also had a Naked Person as a roommate. One night our home phone started screaming at 2am. We were in our 20's. This was not abnormal. We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt. It was winter. She, on the other hand, was naked. Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.
You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person. There is no in-between. The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked. Breakfast. Really. Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian?
Since I was writing about ending my last relationship the other day I started thinking about The BreakUp.
One of my favorite comments he threw at me: "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"?
Really? Kim Kardashian? Did he really say that? We don't look alike. At all. Except that I have a generously sized derriere. That we have in common.
I am laughing just thinking about it. "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"? Howling, in fact. Tears in eyes laughing. That is absurd.
I think I had actually forgotten about this gem of a moment until Halloween when I wrote about The BreakUp in the exceptionally funny post Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition. Yes, I sometimes think I am funny. I laugh at my own blogs. Narcissistic, I know.
I love Kim K. She makes me laugh. She is glamorous and ridiculous and keeping up with her makes for great DVR. Her family is amazing! I laugh out loud at their antics and dysFUNction! As much as I enjoy their shows and the entire Kardashian - Jenner family, I have no idea why on earth he thought that I thought that I was Kim Kardashian.
And, know that when I say dysFUNction it is with complete love and adoration. My father always said that our family puts the FUN in dysfunctional. Total term of endearment. My love to the Kardashian-Jenners. They add the FUN too.
Anyway, around that same time last year, Kim decided to end her relationship with Kris Humphries (Hump to you Kardash fans). In fact, I do believe her divorce filing was on October 31st of Twenty-Eleven. The same day of The BreakUp. Google confirmed.
Apparently my ex was keenly aware of this and felt that me ending my bad relationship on Halloween was akin to Kim ending hers. I didn't understand the comparison then and I don't understand it now.
Regardless, here's to you Kim Kardashian! It seems that you are much happier one year later. Me too!
One of my favorite comments he threw at me: "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"?
Really? Kim Kardashian? Did he really say that? We don't look alike. At all. Except that I have a generously sized derriere. That we have in common.
I am laughing just thinking about it. "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"? Howling, in fact. Tears in eyes laughing. That is absurd.
I think I had actually forgotten about this gem of a moment until Halloween when I wrote about The BreakUp in the exceptionally funny post Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition. Yes, I sometimes think I am funny. I laugh at my own blogs. Narcissistic, I know.
I love Kim K. She makes me laugh. She is glamorous and ridiculous and keeping up with her makes for great DVR. Her family is amazing! I laugh out loud at their antics and dysFUNction! As much as I enjoy their shows and the entire Kardashian - Jenner family, I have no idea why on earth he thought that I thought that I was Kim Kardashian.
 |
| CC BY Holywood Branded, Inc. |
Anyway, around that same time last year, Kim decided to end her relationship with Kris Humphries (Hump to you Kardash fans). In fact, I do believe her divorce filing was on October 31st of Twenty-Eleven. The same day of The BreakUp. Google confirmed.
Apparently my ex was keenly aware of this and felt that me ending my bad relationship on Halloween was akin to Kim ending hers. I didn't understand the comparison then and I don't understand it now.
Regardless, here's to you Kim Kardashian! It seems that you are much happier one year later. Me too!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
30 Happy Things as listed by Wildfox
I found this shirt when I was out shopping during the Girls Weekend I keep mentioning. I ♥ it.
I would never wear it though. I am not a t-shirt with words kind of person. Nor, logo shirts. Not my thing.
But, I think this one is sooo cute! On the hanger. Or to sleep in. I love it.
But I don't need $88 sleeping shirts.
Available at Wildfox Couture online if you do.
30 HAPPY THINGS
Night Drives
Seven Minutes In Heaven
Sketching On flights
Picking Blackberries
White Sheets
Sunrise
Little Animals
Baggy Shirts
Laughing Until It Hurts
Dad
Dressing Up
Cold Nights, Open Windows
Free Samples
Cat Paintings
Wine Drunk
90's Barbies
Borrowing Clothes
Sleeping On Trampolines
Waking Up With All Your Friends
Driving To Loud Music
Hepburn Marathons
Train Rides
Sleeping Bags
Ice Cold Water In The Summer
Falling Asleep At His House
New York Streets
Los Angeles Hills
Fancy Dresses
Watercolors
Kissing For Hours
I would never wear it though. I am not a t-shirt with words kind of person. Nor, logo shirts. Not my thing.
But, I think this one is sooo cute! On the hanger. Or to sleep in. I love it.
But I don't need $88 sleeping shirts.
Available at Wildfox Couture online if you do.
 |
| photo by Liz ~ t-shirt by Wildfox Couture |
30 HAPPY THINGS
Night Drives
Seven Minutes In Heaven
Sketching On flights
Picking Blackberries
White Sheets
Sunrise
Little Animals
Baggy Shirts
Laughing Until It Hurts
Dad
Dressing Up
Cold Nights, Open Windows
Free Samples
Cat Paintings
Wine Drunk
90's Barbies
Borrowing Clothes
Sleeping On Trampolines
Waking Up With All Your Friends
Driving To Loud Music
Hepburn Marathons
Train Rides
Sleeping Bags
Ice Cold Water In The Summer
Falling Asleep At His House
New York Streets
Los Angeles Hills
Fancy Dresses
Watercolors
Kissing For Hours
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
God Bless Americans
I don't know anyone who likes to wait in line for anything.
But, we all do it on election day. And, most of us do it patiently. Even those of us who are not patient. Me. My whole life.
Today is a day we get to exercise our right to choose, to say what's important to us and to cast our vote for those individuals who will best represent our interests.
There was a time I didn't vote. I didn't take the time to learn about the candidates and didn't feel educated enough to make a choice.
This year I voted on select things. I skipped over the things where I felt I didn't know enough. Perhaps you'll think this is silly on my part and a shame that I didn't do my homework. That's okay. It's America and the beautiful thing is that you can think what you want, believe what you want and I can do the same. And, our thoughts may be different and that is what makes our country great!
Take a moment today and Vote.
Even if it's just for one thing - the President, an amendment, a judge. Whatever. There are millions of people who have fought for our freedoms to have this right. As a woman there was a time when people like me could not vote. Someone stood up, said let's make a difference and as a result I have this opportunity today. Vote and show respect to all of those people who have fought for all Americans to have this right and to those Americans who continue to fight to ensure our liberties and freedoms.
God Bless America. And, God Bless Americans.
Vote.
But, we all do it on election day. And, most of us do it patiently. Even those of us who are not patient. Me. My whole life.
Today is a day we get to exercise our right to choose, to say what's important to us and to cast our vote for those individuals who will best represent our interests.
There was a time I didn't vote. I didn't take the time to learn about the candidates and didn't feel educated enough to make a choice.
This year I voted on select things. I skipped over the things where I felt I didn't know enough. Perhaps you'll think this is silly on my part and a shame that I didn't do my homework. That's okay. It's America and the beautiful thing is that you can think what you want, believe what you want and I can do the same. And, our thoughts may be different and that is what makes our country great! Take a moment today and Vote.
Even if it's just for one thing - the President, an amendment, a judge. Whatever. There are millions of people who have fought for our freedoms to have this right. As a woman there was a time when people like me could not vote. Someone stood up, said let's make a difference and as a result I have this opportunity today. Vote and show respect to all of those people who have fought for all Americans to have this right and to those Americans who continue to fight to ensure our liberties and freedoms.
God Bless America. And, God Bless Americans.
Vote.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
one of those days
I am cranky.
I was supposed to have dinner with a friend and I graciously turned down the invitation when I realized it was going to be just one of those days.
My afternoon hasn't helped. In fact it's made it worse.
I opened the front door and was overwhelmed with a smell. A smell that you know immediately. It's the smell of dog poop.
Sam was in his kennel. I had been running around this morning. I checked the spot that he occasionally mistakes for the backyard. Thinking perhaps he snuck in a potty break before I left. No poop.
I walked into the room where his kennel sits. Poop. Everywhere around the kennel. Little black poops. Poop smeared on the bed in the kennel. Poop probably on Sam. And, there he is. In the corner waiting to be let out of the kennel so he can get away from the poop he put there.
I clean the poop up. Touch some poop with my hand. Wash my hands. 5 times.
I go to put some things away and knock a plate off of the counter. The plate shatters. I cuss.
I get the broom and dustpan and start sweeping up shards of plate. There are plate pieces in the kitchen. Under the shelves. In Sam's water bowl. There is plate in the dining room. Under the table and a few of the chairs. Plate made its way to where the poop was.
Then I can't find the dustpan. Anywhere. I look on every surface. I look in the hall where the broom lives. 3 times. I look on each chair. I look on the table, the counter, in the freezer. At this point who knows. I walk in circles looking for that darn dustpan. Where the heck is it?
Tony, Tony turn around. Something's lost and must be found.
I was supposed to have dinner with a friend and I graciously turned down the invitation when I realized it was going to be just one of those days.
My afternoon hasn't helped. In fact it's made it worse.
I opened the front door and was overwhelmed with a smell. A smell that you know immediately. It's the smell of dog poop.
Sam was in his kennel. I had been running around this morning. I checked the spot that he occasionally mistakes for the backyard. Thinking perhaps he snuck in a potty break before I left. No poop.
I walked into the room where his kennel sits. Poop. Everywhere around the kennel. Little black poops. Poop smeared on the bed in the kennel. Poop probably on Sam. And, there he is. In the corner waiting to be let out of the kennel so he can get away from the poop he put there.
I clean the poop up. Touch some poop with my hand. Wash my hands. 5 times.
I go to put some things away and knock a plate off of the counter. The plate shatters. I cuss.
I get the broom and dustpan and start sweeping up shards of plate. There are plate pieces in the kitchen. Under the shelves. In Sam's water bowl. There is plate in the dining room. Under the table and a few of the chairs. Plate made its way to where the poop was.
Then I can't find the dustpan. Anywhere. I look on every surface. I look in the hall where the broom lives. 3 times. I look on each chair. I look on the table, the counter, in the freezer. At this point who knows. I walk in circles looking for that darn dustpan. Where the heck is it?
Tony, Tony turn around. Something's lost and must be found.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Ghetto Phone
Last weekend, I was texting while walking and had an incident with the sidewalk grate. You know the grates I am talking about..the city planner trys to make the sidewalk pretty so they add trees and grates to hold the trees. But, this makes it harder for people to walk. And, when you are walking you have to duck to dodge tree branches every 6 feet to avoid getting smacked in your pretty face. I love urban beautification but sometimes it's annoying. Like last Saturday night.
Anyway, so I am texting, dodging branches, my Stuart Weitzman heel slips into the grate and I drop my phone on the ground. And, when I picked it up, the screen had shattered. Major shattered. Ugh!
This was bound to happen sooner or later. I drop my phone all of the time. Like daily. When I get out of the car. When texting. When answering calls. When trying to put it back in my bag. When taking it out of my bag. Butterfingers.
I used to have that problem in basketball with the ball. Maybe that's why I quit playing after junior high. Oh well, I liked cheerleading and drinking wine coolers better. Sorry mom.
So, the phone face is way shattered. But it still works. I can text, talk, facebook, tweet, check email, obsess over pinterest, blog.
All good.
So, the $100 question was do I pay to have the screen repaired or hold out for my January upgrade? Rumor has it that you can put a screen protector on the phone and still use it without the risk of finding splintered glass in your finger. Your phone just looks ghetto. Do I care if I have a ghetto phone? I don't know? It works. But, I am a bit superficial. Shocking, I know.
So brilliance descended upon me. I'll call Verizon and beg and plead for an early upgrade. I was ready with the story about how my ex and I had a Family Plan. It was in his name but we broke up so I had to assume liability and I've really had this phone for 2.5 years so I should have been due for the upgrade months ago... Blah, blah, blah. I shared my sob story hoping it would work.
And, I won!!!
Verizon agreed to send me a new iPhone 5 now! I don't have to wait until January!! I get this brand new piece of glory shortly!! I am so impatient so this is great!
What? I have to wait until they are back in stock November 16th. No! I have to pay a $30 upgrade charge? Seriously? I have to change my plan? Really Verizon? And, I have to use the ghetto phone for two more weeks. Ugh! I am so impatient so this is going to really stink. Wwwwaaaahhhh
I'll just count down the days until November 16th. Only 15 to go. Probably 17 until I get the new phone.
Keep Calm & Text On
Anyway, so I am texting, dodging branches, my Stuart Weitzman heel slips into the grate and I drop my phone on the ground. And, when I picked it up, the screen had shattered. Major shattered. Ugh!
This was bound to happen sooner or later. I drop my phone all of the time. Like daily. When I get out of the car. When texting. When answering calls. When trying to put it back in my bag. When taking it out of my bag. Butterfingers.I used to have that problem in basketball with the ball. Maybe that's why I quit playing after junior high. Oh well, I liked cheerleading and drinking wine coolers better. Sorry mom.
So, the phone face is way shattered. But it still works. I can text, talk, facebook, tweet, check email, obsess over pinterest, blog.
All good.
So, the $100 question was do I pay to have the screen repaired or hold out for my January upgrade? Rumor has it that you can put a screen protector on the phone and still use it without the risk of finding splintered glass in your finger. Your phone just looks ghetto. Do I care if I have a ghetto phone? I don't know? It works. But, I am a bit superficial. Shocking, I know.
So brilliance descended upon me. I'll call Verizon and beg and plead for an early upgrade. I was ready with the story about how my ex and I had a Family Plan. It was in his name but we broke up so I had to assume liability and I've really had this phone for 2.5 years so I should have been due for the upgrade months ago... Blah, blah, blah. I shared my sob story hoping it would work.
And, I won!!!
Verizon agreed to send me a new iPhone 5 now! I don't have to wait until January!! I get this brand new piece of glory shortly!! I am so impatient so this is great!
What? I have to wait until they are back in stock November 16th. No! I have to pay a $30 upgrade charge? Seriously? I have to change my plan? Really Verizon? And, I have to use the ghetto phone for two more weeks. Ugh! I am so impatient so this is going to really stink. Wwwwaaaahhhh
I'll just count down the days until November 16th. Only 15 to go. Probably 17 until I get the new phone.
Keep Calm & Text On
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition
I am single. I have been for a year now. To the day.
Yes, I dumped my ex on Halloween of last year. He applied for a car loan in my name. For a Range Rover. When he was unemployed. Really?
He did a handful of other things that really crossed the line and my forgiveness had just run out. So, I came home mid-day and told him it was over. I didn't cry. I just felt an incredible sense of Peace. Even when he called me every nasty word you can think of to refer to a woman or her body. Or, when in the middle of The BreakUp he changed his relationship status on Facebook to 'single'. Who does that? Peaceful the whole time. Seriously.
That peaceful easy feeling lasted for about 14 hrs. Then, I woke up and I felt terrible. And, I felt great. And, I felt sad. And, I felt happy. And, I felt relief. And, I felt lost. And, I felt found.
For a while it was a mix of these emotions but eventually I got over the ex and the relationship. My friends were amazingly supportive through it all! The best friends a girl could ask for. Xanax also helped. So did wine. Sometimes too much. But never too much of both at the same time. I even called the Walgreen's pharmacist a few times to be sure my time between the sedatives and the wine was enough. They think I am completely nuts. Safety first.
I think the 'tipping point' in my 'moving on' was when me and my Ruby Red Lips found him at a pizza place. No, I didn't smooch him. YUCK! I seriously just gagged a little. I did however try to play nice. Until he asked me to do him a favor.
Him: Liz, could you do me a favor?
Me: Sure, what's that? (me trying to play nice)
Him: Lay off the red lipstick?
Seriously? Who says that? Lay off the red lipstick? Really?
Whatever. Like he had any right to comment on my appearance or my make-up selection. Who did he think he was?
I love me some red lipstick. Here is one of my favorite pics of me rockin' red lips. I get that the picture is a bit crazy. Cray-Zee is totally why I love it.
Whenever I put on the red lipstick I am empowered, strong, beautiful and confident. Actually I feel that way in pink lip gloss or when I wear chapstick too. But, when I pop the cap off of the red I remember that moment and how good it felt to tell him
Me: Actually...I like it...so I'll probably keep wearing it. *smug smile*
Today, I am wearing red lipstick. And, I feel Great. Happy and Healthy. Peaceful and Pretty. Sassy and Sophisticated. And, I don't have a Range Rover in my driveway. And, even better, he doesn't have one in his.
Yes, I dumped my ex on Halloween of last year. He applied for a car loan in my name. For a Range Rover. When he was unemployed. Really?
He did a handful of other things that really crossed the line and my forgiveness had just run out. So, I came home mid-day and told him it was over. I didn't cry. I just felt an incredible sense of Peace. Even when he called me every nasty word you can think of to refer to a woman or her body. Or, when in the middle of The BreakUp he changed his relationship status on Facebook to 'single'. Who does that? Peaceful the whole time. Seriously.
That peaceful easy feeling lasted for about 14 hrs. Then, I woke up and I felt terrible. And, I felt great. And, I felt sad. And, I felt happy. And, I felt relief. And, I felt lost. And, I felt found.
For a while it was a mix of these emotions but eventually I got over the ex and the relationship. My friends were amazingly supportive through it all! The best friends a girl could ask for. Xanax also helped. So did wine. Sometimes too much. But never too much of both at the same time. I even called the Walgreen's pharmacist a few times to be sure my time between the sedatives and the wine was enough. They think I am completely nuts. Safety first.
I think the 'tipping point' in my 'moving on' was when me and my Ruby Red Lips found him at a pizza place. No, I didn't smooch him. YUCK! I seriously just gagged a little. I did however try to play nice. Until he asked me to do him a favor.
Him: Liz, could you do me a favor?
Me: Sure, what's that? (me trying to play nice)
Him: Lay off the red lipstick?
Seriously? Who says that? Lay off the red lipstick? Really?
Whatever. Like he had any right to comment on my appearance or my make-up selection. Who did he think he was?
I love me some red lipstick. Here is one of my favorite pics of me rockin' red lips. I get that the picture is a bit crazy. Cray-Zee is totally why I love it.Whenever I put on the red lipstick I am empowered, strong, beautiful and confident. Actually I feel that way in pink lip gloss or when I wear chapstick too. But, when I pop the cap off of the red I remember that moment and how good it felt to tell him
Me: Actually...I like it...so I'll probably keep wearing it. *smug smile*
Today, I am wearing red lipstick. And, I feel Great. Happy and Healthy. Peaceful and Pretty. Sassy and Sophisticated. And, I don't have a Range Rover in my driveway. And, even better, he doesn't have one in his.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
I Heart Manicures
I love getting a mani-pedi. I love that I can relax and sit in silence and have my feet and hands pampered.
I don't love that I am SO picky when it comes to my mani-pedi. I recently went in for this amazing service at my favorite nail salon. So there I am. Feet in the tub. Soaking off the gel nail polish from my fingers. This is where you submerge your fingertips in acetone and the gel magically soaks away. It never works like this for me. They always have to take one of those metal sticks and scrape the existing gel polish off. And, of course they do it with vigor. So it hurts. And, if you don't get another manicure with the magic gel polish they charge you $20 to take off what they put on two weeks ago. What a racket. But I love it.
Before I start the mani-pedi goodness I always spend too much time debating the color I want. And, since I wanted bright red on my fingers I had to look at every gel color with extreme scrutiny. The gel colors are painted on fake plastic fingernails so you also have to be careful because it never looks exactly the same on human hands.
When we got to the point that my toes were painted with the 'matching' red in non-gel nail color I decided I didn't like it. Like hated it. It looked way too orangey red. I prefer a blue-red over an orange-red any day. I hated it to the point that I wanted it off. Immediately.
Unfortunately I felt bad because the gal just spent time tending to my toes. And, you have to always be nice to your manicurist. They remember when you complain or are difficult. And, I can be difficult. I don't like when my nails are too long or too short. Or, too round or too square. Sometimes I think they look funny so I ask them to file it just a bit more. They always fix it. Even if they think you are crazy. And, they smile when they do it. So if I asked her to redo it she would...but then on my next manicure she'd accidentally cut my cuticle and have to use that green stuff that burns like crazy but stops the bleeding. Or, take the metal stick and scrape with anger.
After weighing my options I went ahead with the 'matching' red on my hands. You know, because I liked it SO MUCH on my toes I was sure that I would LOVE it on my hands.
Fast forward and it's been 6 days since the mani. I still don't love the red I picked. But it has grown on me. And, apparently other people like it because I was complimented by my friend on how beautiful my hands are. Maybe she was still drunk. Or, it was dark in the room. Or, she really thought my hands were nice.
I was also just complimented on the manicure by a co-worker. She said she lives vicariously through me since I can get a mani.
I started to complain about how much I didn't like it. And, then thought..wow, she doesn't have the time to get a manicure. And, then I was grateful. And, Happy. And, thankful for my orangey red manicure.
And, even though I don't love the color of my manicured nails I love that I have the time to do it.
I don't love that I am SO picky when it comes to my mani-pedi. I recently went in for this amazing service at my favorite nail salon. So there I am. Feet in the tub. Soaking off the gel nail polish from my fingers. This is where you submerge your fingertips in acetone and the gel magically soaks away. It never works like this for me. They always have to take one of those metal sticks and scrape the existing gel polish off. And, of course they do it with vigor. So it hurts. And, if you don't get another manicure with the magic gel polish they charge you $20 to take off what they put on two weeks ago. What a racket. But I love it.
Before I start the mani-pedi goodness I always spend too much time debating the color I want. And, since I wanted bright red on my fingers I had to look at every gel color with extreme scrutiny. The gel colors are painted on fake plastic fingernails so you also have to be careful because it never looks exactly the same on human hands.
When we got to the point that my toes were painted with the 'matching' red in non-gel nail color I decided I didn't like it. Like hated it. It looked way too orangey red. I prefer a blue-red over an orange-red any day. I hated it to the point that I wanted it off. Immediately.
Unfortunately I felt bad because the gal just spent time tending to my toes. And, you have to always be nice to your manicurist. They remember when you complain or are difficult. And, I can be difficult. I don't like when my nails are too long or too short. Or, too round or too square. Sometimes I think they look funny so I ask them to file it just a bit more. They always fix it. Even if they think you are crazy. And, they smile when they do it. So if I asked her to redo it she would...but then on my next manicure she'd accidentally cut my cuticle and have to use that green stuff that burns like crazy but stops the bleeding. Or, take the metal stick and scrape with anger.
After weighing my options I went ahead with the 'matching' red on my hands. You know, because I liked it SO MUCH on my toes I was sure that I would LOVE it on my hands. Fast forward and it's been 6 days since the mani. I still don't love the red I picked. But it has grown on me. And, apparently other people like it because I was complimented by my friend on how beautiful my hands are. Maybe she was still drunk. Or, it was dark in the room. Or, she really thought my hands were nice.
I was also just complimented on the manicure by a co-worker. She said she lives vicariously through me since I can get a mani.
I started to complain about how much I didn't like it. And, then thought..wow, she doesn't have the time to get a manicure. And, then I was grateful. And, Happy. And, thankful for my orangey red manicure.
And, even though I don't love the color of my manicured nails I love that I have the time to do it.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Happy Hallowine!!
I can't believe Halloween is right around the corner...I've always loved Halloween and loved getting dressed up!
A couple of years ago my friends decided to go as Angels & Devils. Nothing like seeing tinted Escalade doors open and several scantily clad devils and angels hop out.
The plan outlined that each of us dress as our opposite. Nice girls should be devils and the 'other' girls would be angels. Some of us are just not as nice as the rest. So, two of us were angels. My angel partner in crime shall remain nameless. We had fun as our alter egos. We were nice and happy and sweet. All night.
This year I am going to pass on the dressing up. One, I can't fit into any of my costumes. Two, this year's sleazy costumes are not my thing. And, three, I have no bar-hopping, crazy clubbing plans. Gone are the days of finding my way to the VIP room dressed as a 'Naughty Catholic School Girl' to pop bottles with one of the 'bones from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony and Mystikal. Gone is the desire to 'shake' my assets in a 'Captain Booty' pirate costume. Gone is the wish to dance with the 'Devils' at a haunted house.
This year, I'd rather be an observer. Watch the kids run through the neighborhood in their costumes. Hand out candy after laughing at terrible trick or treat jokes. Smile at the parents who have to sort through all of that candy and hide half of it so Johnny doesn't vomit on his costume or his sister.
I'll do that and drink wine. Maybe in wings and my halo.
Have a Safe and Happy Halloween!
A couple of years ago my friends decided to go as Angels & Devils. Nothing like seeing tinted Escalade doors open and several scantily clad devils and angels hop out.
The plan outlined that each of us dress as our opposite. Nice girls should be devils and the 'other' girls would be angels. Some of us are just not as nice as the rest. So, two of us were angels. My angel partner in crime shall remain nameless. We had fun as our alter egos. We were nice and happy and sweet. All night.
 |
This year, I'd rather be an observer. Watch the kids run through the neighborhood in their costumes. Hand out candy after laughing at terrible trick or treat jokes. Smile at the parents who have to sort through all of that candy and hide half of it so Johnny doesn't vomit on his costume or his sister.
I'll do that and drink wine. Maybe in wings and my halo.
Have a Safe and Happy Halloween!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)