Archives for September 2012

Glamour Shots

Confession Friday: Yes, this happened.

As promised, more ridiculously embarrassing photos are provided in this post.

When my cousin, Rachel, and I were 7 and 11 respectively, our aunt in Kansas invited us out to visit her. Our first vacation without parents! This sounded promising. After weeks of preparation, shopping, and excitement, we were loaded onto a Southwest plane at Midway Airport (back in the days when you could accompany people all the way to the gate without a ticket.)

Aunt B picked us up and drove us to her home. We were greeted by her dog and our uncle, and told that our older cousin may stop by to say hi. It was all so much fun. Aunt B had planned all sorts of great things to do during our stay. We would go to her makeup store, and visit her salon (she owned her own cosmetics line, a store, and a hair salon), and she wanted to take glamour shots of us. Barbizon here we come!

So we went to the shops and got our hair done at the salon. For the first time in both Rachel’s and my lives, we had our hair dyed. Rachel told the ladies that they could do whatever they wanted with her hair, but I was more wary of the ladies with the scissors.

I informed them, not too quietly, that I was NOT very adventurous, and that they better not hack all of my hair off. Even more so, they could not do crazy layers. I was a nervous Nelly who hated change. I allowed them to do a little face shaping, but that was it. Rach ended up with a feathered haircut resemble something Farrah Fawcett would be proud of.

Then we went home with our new ‘dos and raided Aunt B’s closet. She wanted to dress us up like Barbie dolls, and that seemed okay to us. So we had a variety of outfits for our photo shoot prepared. I’ve included some of the high quality photography below.

And remember, we were 7 and 11
So maybe my future career as a model got a little off track…

For the record, when I was 11, I swore that I never wanted any of these pictures shown to anyone. Ever.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Sheba the Cat

When I was 14, our family cat, Chester, passed out of this world. My mother was devastated. She had raised him from a kitten, long before I was a sparkle in her eye. She swore she would never have another cat.

Around the same time, our neighbors across the street had a little accident involving a lit candle that fell over, resulting in a bout of homelessness. Mom had always helped this family out when she could, and this being a desperate time of need, she offered them everything she could.

They were a very large family with very little money, so Mom helped them find a place to live, brought them food from Aldi, donated all of our old clothes/shoes/toys/etc to the family, and made sure that the kids had Christmas presents and school supplies (every year for a good 5 years). My mom has a really huge heart, and she wanted to help them in every way she could.

The family had two cats, Sheba and a little black cat, whose name I don’t recall. They were both mostly outdoor cats, who roamed the neighborhood. Both were lady cats that often would drop dead carcasses at the feet of our former male cat. While the family could hardly afford to feed themselves, they certainly couldn’t afford to feed two cats. They became the neighborhood cats.

Sheba was a pretty, but mean, black and white cat who roamed the neighborhood in a sulking manner. Many of the neighbors, my family included, understood her situation and left cat food out for her to munch on (in addition to the various creatures she would hunt).

Sheba, chillin’ in our backyard

I was a sophomore in high school, and was constantly coming and going from my house. Sheba was often standing outside our front door meowing for food. I had taken a liking to this feisty cat, and decided that I would try to pet her. Of course, this did not work out as planned. She hissed and ran away. Many. Many. Times.

After a few months, Sheba warmed up to me a little bit. She would come close enough to let me pet her, and even purred a little bit. I tried picking her up a few times, before she finally let me. Her fur was soft and silky. I wanted her to love me forever. During this time that Sheba and I became pals, she did not befriend anyone else. She would walk or even run away when anyone else was near. She was my stray.

When the Chicago weather started doing what Chicago weather does best (changing), my mom would leave the garage open a few inches, so that Sheba could hide in the semi-warmth of the garage. It, at the very least, would keep her out of the wind and snow.

One especially cold morning, I was snuggled up in my bedroom, and my mom came to wake me up. She opened the door and was shocked to see a ball of black and white fur atop my comforter, curled up in between my knees. Surprisingly, she wasn’t too mad. She told me that Sheba had to go…but after a few more smuggles, Sheba became a fixture in our house.

She wasn’t my cat; I was her human. She would sleep cozy in my bed, enjoying the warmth of snuggling with her human. She still only had eyes for me, and I loved her. Sometimes, she would wake me up by nuzzling against my face, other times, by walking across my stomach. When she was feeling playful, she would attack my moving feet in my sleep, clawing through the blankies.

Making herself at home

When I left for college a few short years later, she was heartbroken. She peed all over my bedroom closet, ruining several of my formal gowns from high school. Including this beauty:

My Barbie pink turnabout dress. I really wish Sheba hadn’t destroyed this one…

So with her human gone, Sheba sold her soul to everyone else in the house, vying for love, affection, and attention. Gone were the days when she would have nothing to do with any human. She was an attention-whore who wanted everyone to pet her, snuggle her, and feed her. She went from having one human to having dozens. Not bad for a homeless and abandoned cat.

Look for gratuitous cat photos next week. 🙂

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Wii Fit and Mii

I first befriended the Wii fit 1,117 days ago. It was my then-boyfriend, The Bartender’s Wii Fit. (Funny–I had a Wii, and he had a Wii Fit, but neither of us had both). I used it somewhat regularly after he brought it to my house–and by regularly, I mean that I would sometimes turn it on and step onto the evil machine that actually groaned when I stepped onto it!

After the machine told me that I was grossly overweight, and that my BMI was considered obese, I would then rock out the body test, in which the balance board would make me do things to test my balance and coordination. I have pretty awesome posture, if anyone was wondering.

So, I got a decent workout from it. Eventually, The Bartender requested the Wii Fit and balance board be returned to his residence (I think it was then that he realized he was on the verge of dumping me and didn’t want to lose his Wii Fit). For approximately a year and a half the Wii Fit Plaza remained unvisited on my Wii menu.

Cue unemployment, Weight Watchers, and all the free time I wanted, multiplied by seven. Well, shit, I need to do something with my time. So I bought the Wii Fit Plus and reacquainted myself with the sassy, groaning balance board. Of course, many of my mornings consisted of near-encounters with the Wii. The plan was supposed to go as follows:

1. Wake up.
2. Put on sports bra and workout gear.
3. Go downstairs.
4. Pour water.
5. Turn on Wii.
6. Weigh self/body test on Wii Fit.
7. Workout with Wii Fit activities.
8. Make/eat breakfast.

The problem was that steps 3-7 typically got a little muddled. Sometimes I wouldn’t make it back downstairs, because I went back to sleep. Sometimes I would pour water and then make/eat breakfast, forgetting about the Wii Fit full stop. Sometimes I would instead turn on a workout DVD, sit on the couch, and watch it.

But now that I’m a solid workout machine (OK, sort of/sometimes), who occasionally even lifts weights (thanks to Center Fit’s Restoring Movement Class), I’m back on the plans. Mentally AND physically. I’m back to working out regularly, eating healthy, and tracking my BMI/weight with the Wii Fit. That feisty balance board still groans every time I step on, but I’m also often amazed that somehow my weight is still managing to shrink.

I was inspired when I stepped on this morning (after having that HUGE internal debate whether or not to bother stepping on thanks to the mass consumption of unhealthy food this weekend, including a Monday dinner of an Oberweis shake…) But I managed to drop another 2 pounds this week. I must be doing something right.

What about you? What’s your fitness story?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Kissed a Girl

OK, so we all know that a pretty decent percentage of college girls eventually kiss someone of their own gender for one of three reasons.

1. They’re truly experimenting with the girl on girl thing.

2. They’re drunk.

3. They’re drunk AND looking for attention from dudes.

There may be other reasons, but those were the important ones.

So at some point during junior year, Claire and I decided that we hated men…after the Lumberjack and the Ethiopian respectively broke our hearts. Who needs ’em?! Right? We swore off men and decided to become lesbians. Except since neither of us is really into girls…and we still secretly wanted boyfriends, we became lesbian boyfriends (in name only.)

Do not discount the “in name only” part. We had a serious bond that could withstand the test of time. And marriage. And babies. (Yes, Claire still considers me her “lesbian boyfriend” despite her fancy house and husband and child and 3 dogs…although I still think one of those dogs should be mine…you know for balance. She could still have visitation rights…)

Rightfully so, this is mostly a giant joke. But on Penny’s 21st birthday (in which I was defo still under age, but using Mama Missy’s state ID for access to bars), The Lumberjack and the Ethiopian were both kinda hanging around…along with a lot of other handsome fellows.

Claire, Penny, Sheila, and I got shmammered that night. Penny kept shouting to the world in an adorable sing-song voice, “Who’s the birthday giiiiiiiiirl?! Penny’s the birthday girl!”

Near the end of the evening, Claire and I were explaining to our ex boyfriends the lesbian boyfriend relationship. They didn’t get it. “Wait, you don’t kiss? You should kiss.” And there in the back room of Gorman’s in front of a huge audience of drunks, Claire and I shared a ridiculously un-passionate kiss. It was then that I knew I would never. Ever. Be a lesbian. When you’re into dudes, kissing a girl is like kissing your hand (if your hand were to kiss back.) This is not to say that she wasn’t a good kisser–she was. Just you know…there was nothing there.

Of course the Ethiopian and the Lumberjack were significantly more impressed, as were a large portion of the male audience. Case in point: Girls kiss girls to rile up the boys.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

We Say LOL a lot

I was texting a college girlfriend of mine, Mallory, to find out when she would be gracing me with her presence. She asked if I was off all day, to which I replied, “Yup. Let me know when I need to put pants on.” Her response: LOL! (For those of you who don’t know–I kind of hate pants. In college, I was often without them and to this day, I’d still rather wear skirts.)

Anyways, I got to thinking about the LOL. And how often I use it. How often WE as a collective generation use it. So I went through my Google Mail. And searched for “LOL.” Since January 1 of this year, I have had over 500 gchat or gmail conversations that included “lol,” “LOL,” or “LOL!”

Guess what? They weren’t all very funny. We say lol instead of having to say, “uh huh, go on.” or “yeah yeah.” or “whatever.” It’s an all purpose response.

In honor of the over-used LOL, I’ve taken the liberty of including some of the actual LOL moments that have made me, or someone else, laugh out loud.

 
Penny: Do you say endive like “en dive” or “on deeve”
me: Depends who I’m talking to.
Penny: LOL
 
me: Brian and Matt and Sasha want to go sledding; how do I tell them that this displeases me?
Cletus:  You tell them, “You know what sounds better? staring at a wall.”
me: LOL
 
Molly: Can I pick your brain for a minute?
me: Yes; though I warn you: I’m hungry, sleepy, cranky, and my eyes hurt O:-)
Molly: LOL fair enough.
 
me: I want to buy a vibrator at Walgreen’s; just to buy one there–like go all out hardcore buying everything on the shelves. And walk up with a big smile on my face. And tell them I just got dumped. There’s something wrong with me, right?
Penny: no, LOL!
 
me: I hate snow
Carla: Really?!
me: Yes. I just shoveled that shit (OK, I did it because I needed a work out.)
Carla: LOL
 
Molly: my HILARIOUS sister: “I have a theory that Jewish girls have a ceremony when they are babies kind of like how baby boys have a bris. But for girls the Rabbi comes in and hits them on the nose with a special hammer and deviates their septum.”
me: LOL
 
Penny: okay, I want to go on the record: This guy I work with–I have named him Douche-Bot 3000. I’m certain he has no soul.
me: LOL!
 
Brian: you should Google the following text:
sqrt(cos(x))cos(300x)+sqrt(abs(x))-0.7)(4-x*x)^0.01, sqrt(6-x^2), -sqrt(6-x^2) from -4.5 to 4.5
me: oh geez LOL
 

This is what my deliciously cheesy and nerdy (my two favorite things!) boyfriend had me look up on Google

 
me: I have an interview! Wanna know the best part?
Penny: Yes
me: It’s with a company that I told, in my cover letter, that they had a typo in their job description.
Penny: hahahaha
me: Because I was having a bad day and feeling sassy
Penny: LOL; they probably appreciated it
 
Molly: I’m determined to find the chat where i told you about my husband who will give me Christmas, “I will have a full size tree one day. When i have a nice Christian husband. Who will shower me in Christmas.”
Molly: what date is that from?
me: 11/29
Molly: and here i was, looking in December.
me: lol
Molly: silly me 😛
me: Christmas trees are old news by then.
Molly: LOL
 
me: just watch me end up with cheese-hating children
Molly: oh man that’d be terrible. What would you do?
me: Cry. No. Have more for me?
Molly: LOL
 
Penny: I feel irrationally bitchy. I despise this guy I kind of know. I envision stabbing him in the brain with a knife a la Walking Dead.
me: Why?
Penny: I don’t have a good reason for hating him so much, but every fiber of my being does.
me: I love you
Penny: I’m glad you love me even though I confessed to head stabbing fantasies.
me: LOL
Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!