Thursday, December 26, 2013

home sweet home

Oh lord, I know it's been a while but honey the holidays don't play.  I've been quite busy and good things are in the works and it seems the universe is finally listening to my voicemails, begging for a positive change.  Aside from that, my lovely apartment has been coming together very nicely mostly thanks to all the eyegasms Pinterests offers me on the daily.  Here are a few of my favorite homespirations!

......... . 
source:  all Pinterest

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Things I bought recently and didn't hate

things i bought recently and didn't hate

1)  My new, very cherished faux leather jacket is the compliment magnet I hoped it would be.
2)  Yes, these boots are as bad ass in person as they look in photos.  And they're comfortable!
3)  Goyard, my new happy place.
4)  New vase, perfect for the too many flowers I buy too often.
5)  I bought this tea because of the image on the box.  That should tell you the age of my brain.
6)  The prettiest rug for my very white apartment.  
7)  Because I ripped my last faux leather pants getting into a truck.  Yup, they were tight.  
8)  Marshmallow nails, and on my plate please!
9)  To feed my new kickboxing addiction I bought an unlimited monthly membership.
10)  New book, because I need some lolz in between studying for the GREs.
11)  It took me a while to pick new running shoes, but these were the pretty winners.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

recent realizations

1.  Autumn might be my most unproductive season.  I know I professed my love to it, but the only thing that appeals to me right now is sitting at my cubicle with my space heater (not that it's that cold outside, but it is always around 60 degrees in my office) and look through Pinterest for Halloween costume ideas.
2.  That reminds me, if you have a child you are not allowed to have a sexy costume.  Once you have opened up your womb you have revoked your right to be a sexy school girl, sexy Kermit the Frog, sexy whatever.  I'm really just done seeing a sexy Dorothy holding her daughter in the demure version of the costume...what are you teaching?  If you need any inspiration of what type of person your daughter should be dressing up as, take notes from this mom
3.  I feel very strongly that if Congress can't get to work then I shouldn't have any taxes revoked from my paycheck during this time.  It seems like a fair trade off.
4.  If you can afford fancy new shoes you can afford to buy new light bulbs to replace the burned out ones in your apartment.  This is a note to myself.  
5.  The MAJOR downside of getting your ish together and working out 3-4 times a week means I now must wash my hair more often.  Who is funding this shampoo habit?

Friday, October 4, 2013

Rules everyone should abide by in a group fitness class


Recently, I have taken up kickboxing, and if you've spoken to me in the last month you will know that I am absolutely in love with it and probably will never set foot in a gym again.  It is the best workout I have ever had, it doesn't make me feel weak or slow (unlike some ballet barre classes where the instructor asks you to put one leg on the bar, an arm holding a ball and another arm in the air.  Sorry, you lost me at leg.) and I love that there are girls of all different body sizes/types doing the same workout and making it work out for them (see what I did there?).  I've really come to love the idea of a group class.  It holds you accountable because, unlike the gym, you can't cancel the day of and if you walk out in the middle of your workout everyone will notice and your teacher will probably chase you to find out what's up.  It also isn't a meat market, which I find to be the case at the gym, especially when I catch girls in full-faced makeup, an arm full of bangles, and a push-up bra.  This isn't the club, slow down and wash your face.  
Group workouts are great, until they're not.  What I mean is, I have some serious pet peeves when it comes to being in a workout class.  Take note, because I know I'm not the only person who is secretly hating you in their heads if you do any of these things:

1.     Don't talk during class.  An occasional (and I use this word very strongly) "Woo!" is fine, but if you are having a full on conversation with your friend on the mat next to you, it's time to take your ass to the juice bar downstairs, because I can't hear the instructor screaming my next move while you talk about what you're doing later.  This also applies for conversations had in languages other than English, because then I can only assume you're talking about how awful all of us look as we sweat in the ultrasexy position of bicycle kicks.  
2.     Pop a mint.  I can't tell you how many times in the last few weeks alone I will be holding punching pads for a classmate and that first jab hits my pad with the same intensity that her gnarly breath hits my nostrils.  A simple Altoid will do wonders.  You're body looks great, and I would love to talk about what you eat to stay in impeccable shape, but I don't want to smell it because at this point I'm just going to assume you're eating Indian Food with kimchi for every meal.  
3.  Wear a sports bra.  If it has lace, it's not a sports bra.  You may think you look sexy with your Agent Provocateur bra peeking through your Lulu Lemon, but you look tacky.  And bras are expensive.  Don't demean them by sweating all over your pretty underthings!  This also goes for girls who don't wear a bra at all because they think they're small enough to go without one.  I have news for you, I can see your nipples and they look miserable from the chafing.  
4.     Keep grunting to a minimum.  And by minimum I mean 0-1 times during class.  The most distracting thing is to have a girl in class who grunts with the frequency and volume of Maria Sherpova.  They're jumping jacks, they're not murder (nor sex for that matter).  I'm going to have to side with Larry David on this one and just tell you to stfu.   
5.     Wipe off the equipment you use.  I could care less if you don't wipe your face when you're sweating like Patrick Ewing, but clean off your mat and weights you animal!  

If you follow these rules the only thing people will be able to hate you for is how effortless you look during a side plank. Please and thank you from any one with manners and human decency.  

image credit:  Paris Vogue

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Dearest Autumn,

.Oh Autumn, how I love thee.  People around me can't understand my love for you.   But each time I catch a glimpse of you, my heart's desire is renewed.  You comfort me with sweaters, coats and socks.  You change green pastures into beautiful golden colors of red, yellow and orange.  I wait, tirelessly, nine months out of the year to be with you.  And although you only grace this part of the globe with your presence so briefly, often shorter than the three months I am promised on my marked calender, I savor ever moment.  
For how could I prefer a season of blazing heat or rainy clouds?  How could I find pleasure in all that sunshine or gloom?  I adore you for your mixture of both.  You are unique and silly in a way that makes me always carry a jacket with me everywhere I go just in case you decide to drop 10 degrees within 10 minutes.  You sway me to cook comfort food and put cinnamon in my coffee.  Autumn, it is you that makes me want to take up knitting and pie baking.  Two things I know I will never do, but your beauty and moderate climates is what makes me really believe that this is the year that I will.  Oh Autumn please stay forever.  It is you that gives me a cold nose when I ride my bike.  It is you that makes me pair tights with every outfit I own.  You bring squash to farmer's markets and pumpkin flavored everything to every place you touch.
Autumn, it is you that makes me happier than I have ever been.  You drop leaves all over an otherwise bare sidewalk.  They decorate the streets like a magical city.  But, alas, I have on request:  please stop with this death spikes you drop from your golden pastures.  Goddamn it if you drop one more of those spikey tree balls on my head one more time!  Like honestly mother nature, what purpose do those damn things serve?!

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

recent ralizations

1.  Sometimes you have to toot your own horn or no one will do it for you.  This is especially true when it comes to jobs.
2.  I swear, Apple makes sure everyone's iPhone's start to act up as soon as they announce a newer model is coming out.
3.  Free cake makes everyone a little less irritable.
4.  Can everyone agree that social standard is to stand two-three feet away from the person in front of you in line?  If you can count the hairs on their neck, you're too close!

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

friendships of the ages

.As a preface, I will say this is almost a follow-up to this entry I wrote.  I say "almost" a follow-up, because it isn't really an update, just some more thoughts.
What makes friendship something worth investing in?  Something worth nurturing like a new pair of squeaky clean shoes?  Pardon the simile.  Some might think a new pair of shoes is no way to refer to a friendship, but I beg to differ.  Just think of your most favorite pair of shoes.  The ones that you keep the paper inserts in and have the pretty shoe box stored highest in your closet, for if your apartment were to flood they wouldn't be touched.  Preserving the dignity of such shoes takes effort, thought, and care.  Much like a good friendship.
Like most girls, I've had different "best" friends throughout different parts of my life.  And like most relationships, they aren't as good as you thought they were at the time looking back now with clearer eyes.  They all taught me something, but they most of them weren't my best.  Friendships that were more frenemies, friendships that were very superficial, friendships that were based mostly off of help on math homework, and friendships that ended with a boyfriend coming between.  We've all had them.  
Heck, I think I at one point had a best friend one summer during camp at the age of nine where the basis of the friendship was on our love of sour candy straws and the constant competitiveness of who was better at the card game speed.  We spent hours during our free hour in the hot sun of the San Fernando Valley stickying our cards with green candy stained lips, grimacing at who would put their last card down first.  You know, friendship. 
I often laugh now thinking about the types of friendships I've had.  I'll take responsibility for killing a few.  Like not staying in touch when they leave the country, or being too tired and too into a Law & Order SVU marathon to attend their birthday party, or (a reason many lady friendships have ended) being completely creeped by their boyfriend's necessity to look at your lips as you speak and giggle about your lisp.  Over and over.  
But I've had my fair share of crazies too.  One who stopped being my friend because I started walking to school with a mutual friend, one who made up a lie about me kissing a boy behind the bungalows (when in fact it was her), and one who had me over to cut out Backstreet Boy magazine clippings every Saturday and then decided not to invite me to her Bat Mitzvah.  I'm convinced she was just using me for my subscription to Teen People magazine.
I still secretly wonder what happened to many of these girls who I once felt I knew so well.  Girls who ended up being a bad fit for me, but perhaps that special pair of shoes for someone else. With the internet I guess there is little wondering to do, since some quick clicks will lead me to their current lives, boyfriends, careers and photographic proof of mistakes.  But mostly, I've kept my distance from that level of stalker.  When friendships end, it can be sad but I always try to remind myself that their was a reason that it wasn't going to work out in the end.  Much like relationships, not every friendship will last forever and that's okay.  The loss of a friendship has never stopped me from opening myself up to new ones.  I mean, if the person is into pizza, wiener dogs and The Daily Show, we may have a recipe for everlasting friendship.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

recent realizations

1.  It might be virtually impossible to get a job on the internet.  It's really all about who you know (or who you're sleeping with).
2.  Labor Day is the last holiday that you get off from work until Thanksgiving.  Say whaaaaaat?! Make it count.
3.  I'm already thinking about Halloween costumes.
4.  Maybe don't put your engagement all over the internet, cause if he breaks it off it is less than cute to start deleting those photos (yes, this is about someone I know).
5.  One of my favorite things in the world is finding new treasure items at Trader Joe's and telling all my friends about it.  It's like I'm an explorer and they are the inhabitants of my new land!

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Keeping up with the Kardashians and the crisis in Syria

.I think it’s fair to say that we’re all kind of a mixed bag.  Whether it’s being a fitness freak and loving ice cream, or being a dog person who secretly watches cat videos—no one is ever one thing.  There is often more than meets the eye, so to speak in corny clichés.  So this past week when I was called out by one of my favorite news sources for apparently not being “newsy” enough for them, I felt offended and really unfairly judged on the surface.
Let me back track.  The other day I tweeted @NPRjobs to see if they had any openings in the LA area.  As a working professional with a Print & Multimedia Journalism degree I was just doing my usual browsing for new opportunities.  And since I’m constantly hearing all this chatter about how finding a job on Twitter is more common than you would imagine, I thought “why not me?”  Well, I soon found out why not.  I got a message my beloved iPhone that @NPRjobs had replied to me.  Oh joy!  Could it be?  I’m becoming one of those stories you hear about where you tweeted a question and now magically I’m the CEO?  Could it be?!  Not exactly.  @NPRjobs replied with “Replace diplomats with celebrities and you're in”.  Now this isn’t me calling out NPR on anything.  For the record, I absolutely love NPR, specifically “All Things Considered” which I listen to everyday, despite my boyfriend reminding me that it’s less than cool to be rolling around Los Angeles with my windows rolled down, bumping Robert Siegel.  I depend on NPR for a lot of news, current events, awesome books to read, and to remind me that I have a lot to learn about wind energy. 
But despite my love for NPR, I was hurt.  Sure, two of my last tweets referenced Kanye West but heck he was on my mind!  The reply left me feeling very insecure.  The type of insecure when one thinks to themselves “Ew is that how I come off?” much like when you hear your voice on an answering machine.  Immediate cringe.  But then, as I scrolled through my Twitter feed I started to feel unfairly judged.  Sure, I had tweets about Ye, Beyoncé and Kobe Bryant.  But I also talk about Egypt, the unemployment rate in the US, civil war in Syria and global warming.  Sure I partook in my guilty pleasure that is celebrity gossip, but for the most part my tweets were either jokes (that are really sad, hilarious things that have happened to me) or things I’ve read.  You know, normal things that people put on Twitter if Twitter isn’t their job. 
I felt very defensive.  I wanted to shout “Hey! Just take a look at my resume!  That’s not filled with any celebrity references!”  I understand that your internet presence is an extremely important part of who you are in the employment world these days.  I mean, I wrote about it on my blog!   But why can’t a girl be into the latest celebrity chatter AND the news of the world.  Are those things mutually exclusive?  Has it gotten to the point where I will be judged if I’m carrying the Economist along with the latest People magazine?  I never thought it was a problem for those things to coincide.  After all, we’re all human and all have guilty pleasures whether it is gossip, Oreos, bedazzled nails or the Real Housewives.  We’ve all got them, and I dare you to find someone who doesn’t! 

In the end, I guess I can see where they were coming from.  They probably didn’t read past my most recent tweets so they based their judgment off of that.  And I’m not so self-involved that I’m going to sit here for hours and analyze why someone might think I am shallow enough to only care about celebrity gossip.  But I do think it is worth a discussion about how just because someone talks about or peruses the internet for stuff that may seem meaningless, a waste of time and with little to no depth, that doesn’t mean that’s all there is to them.  This little incident made me realize that the next time I overhear someone talking about Honey Boo Boo, I should check myself before I pass any judgment.  Because even the strongest, most put together woman I can think of has a guilty pleasure.  And I ain’t faulting her for it!

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

oh yikes

Career frustrations has me feeling like the photo above.  Excuse my absence.  Trying to get my everything together to move on UP!

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Things I hate spending money on: Part 1

Not one of these smiles are genuine.

Just reading the title of this series, I'm sure you're saying to yourself "um this will be never ending " because really we all have like a thousand things that we hate spending money on.  But I'm going to try to focus on things that particularly suck and are particularly necessary to spend your money on as an adult.  So, blabbing no further:  I hate spending money on work clothes.  
Unlike some of you super cool, freelance, chill, young work place people, I have a "normal" job.  It's not particularly exciting, for the most part it pays the bills, and I don't know much about the people around me because nothing we wear says anything about who we are.  When the seasons change and I realize that it's time to change my work wardrobe I always let out a loud, very detectable groan.  
Why?!  Why must I spend my hard earned money, that could go towards fabulous things like manicures, gourmet pizza and even more throw pillows, on pants suits, blazers, boring "work" tops and frumpy cardigans?  I still haven't figured out a way to look cute at a desk job.  I constantly see these fashion bloggers posting pictures of a work outfits and every time I think "who would wear that to work?!"  Call me grandma, but there is no way in hell I'm wearing platform heels to work.  And if  I even dare show up in a shorts suit  my boss will most definitely give me the "you know I'm sending you home" look.  
No one likes spending money on work clothes, is my ultimate point.  Whether you work at a restaurant and have to buy those ugly "nonslip" shoes, or you work in retail and your employer essentially forces you to wear their $400 jeans.  It's something that none of us want to do.  I can't tell you how much of a better, more efficient employee I would be if I could show up to work in leggings and just look fabulous on my down time.  Because honestly, this whole  "work" business is already cutting into my fabulous time.  How can I be expected to look effortlessly cool if I'm leaving work wearing slacks and a polka dot button down with grandma loafers?  Essentially impossible.  No one is going to believe the lie I tell that I am the secret fourth Kardashian sister if I"m not constantly walking around like shopping and worrying about my juice cleanse are my only problems.  
All I'm saying is, we live in California and in the year 2013.  So I don't believe anyone who is sitting in a suit is comfortable doing so.  This isn't 1968 à la a Mad Men board meeting.  No one leaves work in a suit and goes on a sexy rendezvous anymore (at least no one I know).  Most people leave and head straight for the gym or the nearest take out.  So can't we just get with the times and allow people to show up to work in their normal attire as long as it doesn't require assless chaps or bikini tops?  For the sake of my pocketbook, please.  

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

recent realizations

1.  Tea and vitamins actually work
2.  Working out sucks, but if you have a pretty view it sucks slightly less
3.  Vacations are necessary, even if they are only for a day
4.  Can someone tell me what the rage is about cronuts?   I had one recently and it was good but it wasn't slap yourself good.  I would probably just take a glazed donut given the option.  

Monday, July 15, 2013

where there is injustice there is turmoil


Prior to the verdict, there was a request for calm.  Calm reaction to whatever the verdict may be.  The verdict, of course, is of the case of George Zimmerman, the man who admittedly shot and killed a 17 year-old, unarmed boy.  On Saturday evening, the verdict was not guilty. 
Calm?  How can people be calm?  How can calm exist in a time of injustice, racism, and seeming loss of civil rights?  I feel like I can go on and on about this, and I definitely have prior to and after this verdict.  But instead, I will direct you to a piece written by Edward Wyckoff Williams who is able to write something profound, impactful and eloquent that goes beyond anger and frustration.  Something I am having a tough time doing right now.

Friday, July 12, 2013

sure ways to have a lovely day

1.  Drink coffee
2.  Have a good hair day
3.  Wear something that makes you feel your most confident
4.  Wear perfume
5.  Call someone you haven't talked to in a while to catch up
6.  Tell someone you love them
7.  Indulge in a guilty pleasure
8.  Kiss
9.  Set a goal
10.  Do something nice for someone else

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

i'm in a long term relationship and i sometimes judge other women, so am i not a feminist?

I, like a lot of woman, have struggled with the word feminist for quite a while.  I always knew that I wanted to be treated no different than a man--I mean I enjoy chivalry and please open my car door for me, but I don't want to be treated differently when it comes to competence, ability, job performance, etc.  I think most people can agree that chivalry and modern feminism can exist hand in hand and if you don't well then maybe stop reading now cause you may be up in arms as my sentences unwind.  
You could say my feminist journey began in the fifth or sixth grade when I was asked to great a scrapbook of sorts, chronicling an important figure in an American social movement.  And while people were cutting pictures out of Lincoln, MLK, and JFK (all ballers of their time, don't get me wrong) I was writing about Gloria Steinem and explaining why I thought she was the real Superwoman, sans fabulous gold cuffs.  At that age I probably didn't know a whole lot about what it meant to be a feminist but I sure felt like one.  I didn't have a bra to burn at the time, but if I did you can bet I would have started a trash can fire in the middle of the school yard.  I think that my discovery and eventual marvel of Gloria Steinem's rebellion is what first awoke me to the idea that boys and girls don't have to be treated totally different.  
I come from a family with a very strong and fiercely independent mother who is also very happily married.  However, I'm also of middle eastern ethnicity on both sides of my family where my Armenian grandmother always trained me to ask my brother if he wants anything to drink (and proceed to go get it for him even though he has perfectly functioning arms and legs), and an Iranian grandmother who I could see always treated my mother differently from her three brothers, who in my grandmother's eyes (bless her soul) were more capable than my mother by reason of their genitalia alone.  As a kid I always felt very strong and smart but I always, up until my understanding that feminism existed, combated with showing that strength because I would see the elder women in my life teaching me that women should be dotting and assist the males in their lives (even if it is their snotty brother who is a mere year and a half older than them).  
So, from that point I decided that feminism was something important enough to explore and define for myself.  Worrying what boys thought about me exited my mind (although, as a chubby seventh grader with braces, I doubt that made any difference to boys), and being strong and smart became a priority.  School was always easy for me, but I started writing more, entering poetry contests and actually noticing that I was good at something.  And more importantly, I became proud of how good I was at it and wasn't afraid to acknowledge my accomplishments.  But with that did come a certain amount of alienation   Through middle school and high school I noticed that girls who I knew were smart and would get A's on every exam never really showed their intelligence on the quad.  It wasn't cute to be smart.  It was cute to laugh at a boy's jokes and wear Abercrombie t-shirts.  Two things I tried for a bit but quickly realized I felt stupid and I couldn't afford to wear Abercormbie shirts.  
At that age, I felt like I would be kind of a sell out or a phony feminist if I didn't maintain a level of toughness and anti-femininity.  But now I see that that is totally not the case.  I stayed smart in school.  Mostly stayed away from boys  and eventually minored in Women's and Gender Studies in college.  And as I enter my mid-twenties I wonder if the fact that I am in a long-term relationship and I wear girly crap, get my nails done, and sometimes judge other girls if I am no longer the feminist I thought I was.   
That is where things get problematic   In this day and age, femininity and feminism are defined in vastly different ways than they once were.  There used to be this type of "feminazi" stereotype against women who labeled themselves as feminists.  But in an age where women are running Fortune 500 companies, taking over the higher education, dominating the workplace, and increasingly becoming the primary breadwinners of families there are no longer shackles or restrictions on the word feminist.  You can have nail art, wear thigh high boots and still be a feminist.  You can listen and enjoy rap music and still be a feminist.  Hell, if something makes you feel empowered and it isn't hurting anyone who's to say it isn't as revolutionary as publicly burning your bra?  
I do struggle with this, because at times I feel guilt about my priorities and if they align with my feminist beliefs.  Image can be important to me, but I also believe that is ingrained in me because I know that society is less likely to take a woman seriously if she doesn't present herself properly.  Hundreds of years of fashion and history have taught us that.  So rather than start an image revolution, why not play the game?  I don't think that is necessarily a betrayal of feminism.  

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

recent realizations

1.  Going back to school might be my only opportunity to reach the goal of making six figures by the time I hit thirty.  Holy lord, can I do grad school and work full-time simultaneously?
2.  Going back to school might be my only opportunity to make more lady friends by the time I hit thirty, right?!
3.  Stop telling people "oh, you're so LA", "oh, you're so NY" unless you really, really know them.  Cause honestly you don't know what I am and a location does not define me.  We are all so much more complex than that!
4.  I don't understand why people comment on celebrity's Instagrams.  All that happens is fighting between fans and haters.  No one actually cares what you think though.
5.  Sometimes I astonish myself at how good of a gift giver I am.  It is supremely difficult for me not to pull one of these when someone is opening a gift I gave them.    

Keep it fluff


Social media.  Does our presence on it define us?  Does it really say anything deep or meaningful about us?  I mean who gives a shit really, right?  Recently my boyfriend and I got into a debate about social media.  It started on the topic of military service men/women that seem to overshare and even at times put our country in jeopardy with the things they share (i.e. pictures of themselves pissing on the corpses of dead enemy combatants).  Most of the things that come into question are pretty despicable and shouldn’t even be happening in the first place, but as we were talking about it I argued that social media really shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to give up.  I mean, if you’re making a decision to serve your country (which in my opinion is the most noble and selfless sacrifice one can make), giving up your Facebook or Instagram should be no biggie right?  Or at least shouldn't be such a difficult thing to censor from things that really shouldn't be shared. 

Well, from my dude’s perspective the answer was no.  He made the argument that social media is becoming more normalized and embedded in people at a younger and younger age.  Which is true.  I mean I had a MySpace at 16, but it wasn’t a huge part of my life.  But now, people have Instagrams before they are even born (referring to moms who set up Instagrams for their babies brewing in their bellys), use an iPad at the dinner table and learn a tweet is something you type not something you hear out of a bird’s beak.  He argued that since people are starting on this stuff younger and younger it has become so normalized that the act of tweeting or updating a status isn’t even a thought—it’s second nature.  So therefore the filter of inappropriateness or discretion doesn’t even come into play. 

And while there are positive and negative things about allowing someone so young be exposed to social media, that is not the topic of my query.  I just wonder why are people so invested in oversharing on social media?  It has become very normal to see people update their Facebook statuses with information that belongs in a diary, not a public forum.  Instagram pictures that share a moment in someone’s day constantly show up on my feed that makes me cringe, like visits to the gynecologist, pictures/rantings about an ex, Kobe Bryant’s open wound during surgery—you get the idea.  It seems that a tool that was designed to help us (re)connect, share information, discover new things, and possible stalk exes has become a platform for TMI. 

I’m not one to tell people what to express and what not to express.  That’s really not my business, and in the words of the great and ever wise Kevin Hart “Do you boo boo.”  But I can’t help but feel that this culture of oversharing is desensitizing our society by leaving nothing to the imagination and nothing really to look forward to discovering.    I mean, do we really need another YouTube video of someone ranting against a collective group?  Whenever I see those videos I'm appalled that the person hit "Post" after re-watching the monsterous rant.  Personally, I share mostly bullshit on the internet.  Pictures from vacation, stupid/mildly hilarious things that happen to me—but mostly it boils down to pictures of my dog and my fresh manicure.  Fluff stuff.  Nothing too deep nor important.  And when I do feel like I have something to say about something, I write a post about it here.   I’ve never announced my relief at getting my period on Facebook; never tweeted a declaration of heartbreak; never Instagrammed a picture of my chesticles.  There are just somethings you don’t do.  Yeah, it’s the internet so why take it so seriously.  But seriously, a lot of people do take that seriously. 

How are you going to explain to an employer why your default picture is of you licking your friend’s boob?  Or how you supremely creepily tweeted that you were at the doctor getting your junk checked out?  It’s these concerns that continually remind me of how much of a grandma I am.  Because I am way too aware of how I will look to a complete stranger on a screen.  It’s not that I’m so worried about what strangers think of me.  It’s mostly just the strangers who could possibly hire me/accept me into their graduate school program.  And when I see the cringe worthy oversharing done by other people all I can think of is how permanent the internet is and that their kids will find those embarrassing pictures just as quickly as you found your exe’s new dime on Facebook.  Creeped out yet?

And can you imagine the type of senators and congressmen we’re going to have on our hands in the future?  People these days resign over one dick pic (that isn’t even a dick pic, but rather a boxer briefs pic).  I can’t wait to see the dudes running for office have their college years’ internet presence revealed full of beer bongs, penises drawn on their face while passed out, and status updates that continually objectify women. 

My point is all of these platforms can be used for good.  To spread information, bring awareness to a cause, or promote your latest venture.  But once everything in your life becomes fair game to put out there, I think that is when the sacredness of your thoughts and emotions go out the window.  If you feel the need to express something that would generally be private, do it in a way that gives what you feel justice and meaning.  Because cramming genuine expression into 140 characters seems pretty inauthentic to me.  

Monday, June 10, 2013

adult life: I hate my job but love my apartment

.I have always been one of those annoyingly goody two shoes, hard working people.  It got me into trouble when I was a student, because I would chose studying over going out and missed out on lots of the latest high school gossip or getting drunk with friends for the first time in the back of their mom's Mazda.  Yes, it doesn't sound glamorous, but when you're in high school and found out that you missed out on this stuff all for an A- on your AP US History class, you feel kinda like you're missing a rebellious bone that most grow at age 14.  Despite always feeling like a nerd #1, this quality ended up helping me throughout my teen to adult life.  Basically always having a job from 13 to now (whether it be volunteer work, part-time sales associate, or super shitty asking people for signatures on the street--I've done it all).  I've always had a job because my parents always wanted to instill in me that if you work really hard you will get what you want--almost always.
Of course, the lovely state of our economy and employment has changed all of that.  It is very difficult to find a job these days that you feel you are worthy of, capable of, or even deserve.  People with Master's degrees can't even bag a job at Banana Republic, and that's telling you something.  You could be the most well qualified, hard working person on the market right now but that doesn't mean you are valued.
Which brings me to my dilemma.  Or should I say, my latest dilemma with my job.  It is no secret that my current job is not my first choice.  But what has always worked for me is being really, really good at my job (by working really hard) so that I always have a bit of leverage.  In the past if I didn't feel appreciated or compensated for the amount of work I put in, I would just leave.  Because in the past, it would be that easy for me to find a new job.  But now, as I find myself in a crossroads of being more than mildly annoyed at my job, it seems the only viable option I have is to suck it up until things turn around.  Every employer these days seems to have the "so what are you going to do about it?" attitude, being that they are very aware how covetable every open job vacancy is.  
The thing is, I would normally take that attitude and run with it.  Line something else up, quit this job and move on (even if it were for less pay).  But, I recently started liking the work I do, seeing a future with the organization I work for and moved somewhere closer to where I work to shape a mapped out future.  Currently, I hate my job but love my apartment.  I don't hate the work I do, I just feel so unappreciated by the people who hold my job in their hands.  I want to see a future where I am, but the people around me are making it very difficult.  How does one justify keeping their mouth shut when they are doing much more than they see everyone else doing but getting no recognition for it?  
I understand that this rant is more on the serious side than I usually write on, but it's one I feel like a lot of people have these days.  The lack of jobs on the market are effecting people who already have jobs.  It gives people no options.  Again, I feel very lucky to be employed in times like these and must sound like a spoiled brat to some.  But I am really appreciative of the good job I have.  It just doesn't serve as an excuse to take advantage of people's hard work and dedication.  Can I get an amen?  Or am I alone here?

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

when you look like a sixteen year old in a room full of "adults"

Perhaps it's my 5'1 stature or my love for polka dots in the workplace, but often times people don't seem to take me seriously because I look like a teenager.  I am a 24-year old woman but I don't look it.  I mean, I don't look like a woman at all.  I don't wear heels unless I'm going on a job interview or if they're absolutely essential to a slammin' outfit, I wear pretty natural makeup, and I don't push my lady bits into push-up bras or cleavage busting tops.  Considering for the times, I am pretty toned down when girls are trying to turn up.
The funny thing is, if you ask most of my lady friends they will tell you I am the most grown up of all of us.  Looking professional, being ladylike and having my shit together is very important to me.  But when I am in a room full of women in suits and lipstick, I tend to feel like I'm only the in the room because it's take your daughter to work day.  When it's not.  
And it is for this feeling of being a little, tiny shrimp, in a room full of sharks that I feel like people don't take me very seriously at work.  It's not because I'm unprofessional or inappropriate in any way.  It's because I look like their daughter who is probably still in high school complaining that their mom won't let them get pink highlights.  It really is so unfair!  The pink highlights and the ageist discrimination.  It has gotten to the point where when I take charge or speak up in kind of a demanding way at work, people look really surprised.  Like I wasn't or shouldn't be capable of such guts or conviction.  I can see it in their eyes where they want to say "um can she talk like that? she's just a baby!"  
So what's a girl to do?  I happen to work in an environment where almost everyone is older than me.  I have a few people in the twenty-something age group, but for the most part we're talking 40+ who don't look at me as someone who should take charge and hold responsibility  like I do.  It's something that I fear will hold me back in life.  As odd as that sounds, I really worry about it.  Because I do have a lot of potential, am a really fast learner, and a supremely hard worker (okay, I should shut up, not trying to toot my horn) but I fear that people won't be able to visually picture me in a position of authority because I look like I belong in an episode of Glee.  
I know some people will say that the look has nothing to do with it, and people will give you respect and responsibility with how you carry yourself and if you demand it.  And all of that is true, but we still live in a society where looks mean a lot whether that be a good or bad thing.  We still judge people by how they look.  We assign "appropriateness" based on people's look.  You see an image and you start building an idea of that person:  what their job may be, their friends, their social interactions, etc.  Yes, it's judgmental but we all do it!  I'm just trying to figure out how to make it work my favor without putting on a pair of heels.  Because I'm telling you people, I just won't do it.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

recent realizations

1.  I guess it doesn't matter how old you are, even if you're a grown ass woman:  immature responses to constructive (justified) criticism is universal.  I mean c'mon ladies, let's work together!
2.  Sometimes, when you're on medication where you can't be in the sun for long periods of time, you'll do the unthinkable.  In my case it's a spray tan since I haven't been able to lay in the sun for about a year.  Don't worry, I will make sure that this tragedy won't happen to me.
3.  When work is getting you down, the only cure is margaritas and lots of chips n salsa.  Trust me, it's science.
4.  Nail polish says a lot about who you are and how you feel.  So dudes, don't make your girlfriends feel bad about taking so long to pick!  Cause I am totally judging her if she has some iridescent blue stuff going on.  

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

recent realizations: los angeles edition

1.  I hate driving more than ever.  Even though my commute is shorter, I now live in a beautiful neighborhood where apparently everyone is polite enough to say "good morning" in passing, but it's totally fine to side swipe a car or scratch a bumper with no note.  
2.  I truly believe we have the best, most delicious, and unpretentious food in the country.  You can get some insane, bomb, gourmet eats without the nonsense ingredients or garnishes.  Also, there is no arguing with me on this.
3.  WTF girls, I know it felt like summer for like four seconds, but its currently raining and gloomy so could you please put away those ass-cheek baring shorts k thanks.
4.  It really is a mystery how I have lived in Los Angeles all my life, seen basically every celebrity imaginable but I still have not spotted a Kardashian.  Okay I met Kris once for a second at my old job, but I don't care about her!  I'll swap my Leo DiCaprio/Britney Spears interaction any day for some Kim action.
5.  Dogs are NOT accessories, so don't show up to a Cinco De Mayo party at a bar with your chihuahua jerk.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

lady seeking lady: platonic

You gotta have your girls, am I right?  Your girls keep you in check, listen to you ramble about the nonsense boys don't even have the earhole capacity for, and they can show you how to do a fishtail braid!  Show me a boyfriend who can do that?  Actually, don't.  Because if your boyfriend can do that you may have a whole other set of issues on your hands. 
What I'm trying to say is, girlfriends are so very necessary.  I hate those girls who get boyfriends and then never have a moment for their ladies.  It's just not right.  And so, I've never been one of those people.  But one thing that comes with growing up is the women you love and adore most--the women who you look to for clarity, gossip about Mad Men, and opinions on length of bangs--get their own lives, map their own futures, and therefore become less accessible. 
For example, I have a core group of lady friends (women, I should say rather) who I stayed close with throughout high school and now into our twenties.  But when we were younger, we were all here together.  Now, that we are adults with responsibilities and real life choices on our hands, we find ourselves separate.  One in Israel, one in San Francisco, one in Sweden, one in Oregon, and sadly one who became a girl who's boyfriend became the only important thing in her life.  Now there are only three of us left here in sweet ol' Los Angeles.  And we don't even live in the same hood!  Yikes, considering Los Angeles traffic.  
My best friend lives across the country, and having recently accepted going to grad school in Wisconsin I'm coming to the sad realization that we will probably never live in the same city again.  I mean, grad school is probably where she will meet her husband, procreate with some snow mobile riding mountain man, and leave me (a city girl) for a farm with chickens and puppies.  But, who could blame her?
My point is, where in the hell do you make new lady friends at this stage in your life?  It's practically impossible, I'm guessing.  I mean, I don't work with anyone my age (well one, who really is a darling gal), I don't frequent any yoga places (which seems to be a hot bed for making friends, considering I always see people chatting with a fresh juice and mats in tow, post workout), and I'm really shy/a bit judgey when it comes to making new friends.  
Maybe there in lies the problem.  I mean, considering the city I live in has a lot of freak shows it can be a bit hard not to judge.  But I guess I'm not looking for a girlfriend to make small talk with and grab a drink with every once in a while to catch up.  I'm looking for that special gal that I can get my nails done with, run errands with, and cry about the unjust torture of body hair removal.  These are the special things that not all women posses   And the older I get, the more worried I become that I won't meet that special someone--okay special someones.  I realize that this is starting to sound like the paranoia one would feel when thinking of never meeting a significant other/spouse.  But this is so much more important.  Because those special girlfriends will really be there through it all.  And they will be the ones on your side when explaining the recently ridiculous fight you and your boyfriend had.  And damnit  every girl needs another girl to tell you "you are so right, that is crazy.  I would have lost my mind."  
When you meet a girl that fulfills all of these ridiculous requirements you feel like you've struck gold.  Where have you been all my life?  We're meant to be!  I mean, you don't say that of course, but duh you know you both feel it.  So where do I meet these goldmine ladies?  Maybe it's time to take up spinning, join a book club, or hang out near the bathroom at bars to find those special someones.  Okay, I hear it.  I'm sounding reeeeeaaal Single White Female.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

my thoughts on Boston as my thoughts are in Boston

I have felt a lot of things over the past day, and I'm sure the range of emotions isn't over.  I heard about the tragic bombings in Boston when I was having lunch yesterday.  I got a news alert on my phone and instantly my heart sank into my stomach.  I feared that the pain and anguish that hit this country nearly twelve years ago was back.  
For one to understand what Marathon Monday is like in Boston, one has to be there.  To have lived there or to have been there on a Marathon Monday past.  It always takes place on Patriot's Day.  Now, anyone who hasn't lived in New England will say "hey! we don't have that!".  That's right, you don't  It's really just a New England thing, and every year it's great.  There is a parade, the marathon, and usually both a Celtics game and Red Sox day-game.  The city is enthralled in celebration, pride and just really experiencing Boston.  And also that "yay I don't have to go to school" feeling.  
I only lived in Boston for two years, but for both years I went and cheered on marathon runners at the finish line. When I saw photos, video, audio, everything that was streaming through the airwaves yesterday I kept thinking about the times where I was there cheering.  I couldn't imagine a wonderful day like those instantly changing forever.  Changing a tradition, changing people's lives, changing a city.  
The Boston Marathon is the oldest marathon in the United States.  It signifies a lot of pride, joy and beauty.  But now it is forever changed.  There will forever be a cloud, a sadness, a sense of mourning over this once very innocent and wonderful tradition.  
After the news broke and registered in my mind yesterday I called my best friend, a native New Englander.  All we could do was repeat how sad it was, how scary it was, and how shaken we felt by the whole thing.  We went to school less than a mile from that finish line.  I entered and exited the subway stop in front of the intersection hundreds of time.  It only now feels like nostalgia isn't just fond memories of the past, but memories you wish could stay as is without the sadness that now lingers.  

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

recent realizations

1.  Moving sucks so baaaaaaad!  Between the unpacking and organizing  and building furniture why would anyone ever move from their cave of a room?
2.  That being said, how did I ever not live in the lovely neighborhood I live in now?  I can walk to basically everything, my drive to work is eight minutes and there are so many cute puppies on my block.  Heaven!
3.  Strong, independent women load the car with newly purchased Ikea furniture while their boyfriends go buy themselves ice cream.  Or at least that is what I witnessed this weekend and said "you go girl!"
4.  Nothing will make you feel more like a cave woman than simultaneously going a month without a bang trim and two weeks without a manicure.  I feel like a monster.  

Monday, April 8, 2013

alive, i am!

No, I did not die or burrow in a small hole.  I just had the plague for a week and moved this past weekend so things have been hectic.  I'll be back with tales, sarcasm and grumpy ramblings soon. xo

Thursday, March 21, 2013

lemme peep that medicine cabinet

Some might say I'm a bit high maintenance.  With a morning shower and all that I take about an hour to get ready.  I got some luscious locks, take time on my make up, and even though my closet is a sea of black, white and oxblood (yes, I like those bougy names for colors) I always find myself debating outfit combinations.  Last weekend when my bff came to visit she was ready in about twenty minutes (and popped out lookin' damn fly) and spent the rest of the hour playing with my dog on my bed as she waited.  Point is, I am a fancy bitch with fancy problems.  And all of that is very clear if you just peep my medicine cabinet.
In this very sacred cabinet (which is gigantic compared to most people's bathroom space) I have make up, bath products, hair oils, vitamins, samples, whim beauty purchases from Whole Foods, and many face washes.  It may seem like too much but I use all of it at some point and if I'm not it has pretty packaging so shut up.  
I think you can tell a lot about a person from their medicine cabinet.  Like who they are as a person or what they value.  Kinda.  If you looked in mine you could tell that having clear skin and hair that shines like the ocean is very important to me.  Also, that I probably have an unhealthy obsession with perfume.  You would also be able to tell that I get into really intense vitamin stages and then give up before the bottle is halfway empty (I blame all these damn articles on the benefits of juicing and vitamins and Gwenyth Paltrow).  It doesn't just go for me though.  If you looked in my college roommate's cabinet you could tell that she never washed or moisturized her face because according to her "I don't have the money for that kinda shit!"(keep in mind she had plenty of money to spend on a George Foreman grill and the various disgusting meat that went on said grill, which I also never saw her wash).  I bet you feel a lot better about your regimen now.  Homegirl was crusty.  I never once saw her wash off eye make up.  She just reapplied, reapplied, reapplied for two years!
But, I digress!   I'm not just interested in what I keep stocked in my cabinet, I wanna see everyone's!  Maybe it's to find out about new products and perfumes or maybe it's just to be a creep and find out what kind of weird rash cream you have going on.  And I know I'm not the only one.  There is a section of a very fabulous/popular beauty blog that interviews people about their medicine cabinets!  People out there are freaks just like me, see!  It says a lot about the person.  You see these posh people and open up their cabinets, and goddamnit would ya look at that!  Their cabinets are just as posh as they are!  Going back to my crusty roommate, you could look at her and know she wasn't packing fancy creams or lotions.  The only thing a stranger would expect to find in her cabinet was sandpaper and the black chalk she used to rim her eyelids.  Okay, I hear it.  I'm a mean girl.  
However, I really do think your stuff (specifically your grooming stuff) says a lot about you.  I even think medicine cabinets can even indicate a life change.  Flashback to nine months ago, I'm certain my boyfriend's cabinet was much sadder than it is now.  Today, it has blue algae face moisturizer, fancy shaving cream and tea tree oil face pads!  Men don't know about tea tree oil!  That is until they get themselves a fancy ass bitch to tell them all about it.  

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

really, why do we care?


After reading the latest headline of former child star turned professional train wreck Lindsay Lohan accepting a plea deal to go to mandatory "lock down" rehab, I instantly starting making judgments about this girl.  Okay, maybe at this point they aren't judgments because she has a series of screw ups and consistent "eff yous" to the law that I feel like I have a pretty good stack of paparazzi photos and court documents to prove this girl kinda isn't great at life.  But it got me thinking about why we are so invested in these celebrity's lives.  Why we care so much when one of them wears something awful, says something offensive or kinda sorta really breaks the law.  But it isn't everyone who cares so much.  It's mostly women.  I have never been around a group of straight men and the conversation steers to celebrity gossip.  Okay, correction--I've never been around a group of straight men and the conversation steers to celebrity gossip that does not entail a sex tape or some upskirt vag pics.  

So what's the deal ladies?  Why do we care so much?  I do tend to believe that women like to gossip and chatter way more than men do.  And this isn't me just making sweeping judgments   I have sat on my bed with a friend scrolling through a gossip website laughing, making fun of and assuming a lot about these people's characters who I don't know even a little bit.  I also constantly see and hear women talking smack or repeating stories about someone they know, kinda know, or love to hate.  It's kind of become who we are as women.  We gossip.  A lot.  In all forms, in all walks of life, in any place.  You can be riding the bus hearing women exchanging the latest story about a fellow housekeeper on their morning commute (not racist because it's true) or in the bathroom of a restaurant and hear girls ridiculing their sole friend who was left at the table's outfit.  
I wouldn't make this such an issue or ponder over it too much because most gossip (at least the celebrity kind) can be pretty harmless but I think it's getting to the point where it's not.  Women are judged far more harshly than men are in society.  Just look at how they are treated in the public eye.  Everyone knows and recognizes the mugshots of lady celebs post their bad girl behavior, but did you know that Josh Brolin got a DUI like a couple months ago?  Probably not, because no one really cares and most girls probably weren't talking about it.  
My point is that it seems that we ladies can kind of be our own downfall.  We talk a lot of about other girls to the point where it becomes impossible to separate the person from the slip ups.  But men don't do that to one another.  At least not as much in my opinion.  I don't like that we as women have stopped supporting each other and started ticking off reasons to hate or make fun of one another.  
I do think a lot of why it is acceptable to talk bad about women more than men is because it is more acceptable for men to be bad.  They're just branded "bad boys".  And it's not a bad thing.  It becomes sexy, mysterious and even an image that can be sought after.  But women are generally expected to behave a certain way and if they don't, they're in trouble.  There is no "bad girl" image that is flattering or complimentary for women.  Usually it's just an implication that everyone thinks you need help or are being kind of a whore.  
I guess what I'm trying to say is, we as women should really cut each other some slack.  Maybe society has wired us to think that we should pass judgement on girls who make bad decisions and laugh at them or show no sympathy for their perils, but girl you know there was a night (or several nights) where you were doing something where someone walked by and muttered "oh my god did you see that girl?".  Whether it be puking in a trashcan in public, getting pulled over by the police, or wearing something that left little to the imagination   Point is, we've all done something that we would probably judge ourselves for, so shut up.  Except when it comes to Lindsay.  I think we can all agree that homegirl has had enough chances. 

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

recent realizations

1.  Boys do creepy stalker like things all the time.  Maybe this isn't so much of a realization, but rather a thing that keeps coming up among my friends and I.  Some dudes just never seem to get when it's over and time to give up.
2.  When your boyfriend and best friend meet and like each other, there is nothing greater!
3.  I never quite feel prepared for spring/summer.  I always seem to have plenty of clothes and stuff for the cold months but I am never in the mood to wear a tank top and shorts, sorry.
4.  Beyonce can kinda rap and I am into it.  Dare I say the return of Sasha Fierce?

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

spot on: how i am justifying using a medication that could be melting my insides, or something

.A little background: I am a 24 year old girl who has been struggling with acne for over 10 years. That's right ladies and gentleman, I have had a pimple companion on my face, back, chest, arm or wherever ever since I can remember. Just as soon as I thought I was acne free, I would feel something creeping in on my forehead. Which really taught me to never celebrate early, for anything (including Lakers games, which increasingly annoys my boyfriend when I am saying "let's see, it's not over yet" when they have a 10 point lead with forty seconds left).
Anyways, like most people with this problem, I have tried everything.  Every cream, every pill, ever zapper, every peel, every wash, every diet.  Baby, I've even had needles stuck all over my body and drank a disgusting tea for a month just to be blemish free.  So please, don't stop me halfway through my story and say "Oh, well my sister gave up chocolate and avocados and all of her pimples disappeared!" Shut up.  That's not happening for me, so please keep your stupid advice to yourself.  Stupid.
The last lovely option that I finally gave into was Accutane.  Oh, you may have heard of it.  It's a pill that was so dangerous just a few years ago that they stopped prescribing it so that it could be reformulated because it was causing so many horrific side effects.  And it's also the only known cure fore acne.  Cure! 
I used Accutane for five months and was yanked off of it right before I was supposed to start my final month by a doctor who I don't regularly see (my regular doctor decided to pop out a baby halfway through my treatment.  How dare she!).  He freaked out when I told him I had some back pain and was always tired and told me that I shouldn't be on it and it's too dangerous.  I walked out of the doctor's office that day, crying.  Crying because I really thought this was my cure, my savior, my last hope!  And here comes Dr. Handsome-know-it-all telling me I'm too good for this pill.  I can do better.  I don't need all it's abuse.  But I can handle the abuse!  I want it!  We are meant to be together!
So it has been four months.  Four months that I have been off of this pill, and guess what?  All the acne is starting to come back.  Because I didn't finish the course I was supposed to.  And now, I'm going back to that sweet poison.  
In all honesty and jokes aside, I am terrified.  Being on Accutane really isn't fun.  You feel tired, without appetite, your joints feel stiff and sore, you get weird white marks on your arms, you have to take a pregnancy and blood test every month just to stay on the medication, and all the chapstick in the world can't help the dryness your lips experience.  Which especially sucks for a girl like me who has clown sized lips.  Also, I know all of this is sounding incredibly sexy, so please try to contain yourself.  
People reading this who have or haven't struggled with this problem might think that it isn't worth it.  That the risks outweigh the benefits, and you might be right.  I have read about a lot of people who really regret taking the drug.  But I also know of a lot of people who have been very happy to take it and it has drastically improved their lives.  Yes, their lives.  I refuse to be one of those people where something about my image bothers me so much that I obsess over it, but I'm also not going be one to sit back and just bask in hopelessness and self-pity.  And on those days where I feel super shitty and a touch of hopelessness does creep in, I just remind myself that even Beyonce gets acne from time to time.  Meaning the queen of my universe and I share similar problems.  And that tends to make me feel better.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

a hairy topic

Okay, let's get down to business.  This is a topic that most people are uncomfortable to talk about, but honestly comes up ALL the time between my girlfriends and myself.  I know I'm not the only lady talking about it, because Hellogiggles just had a piece on this down there situation.  Yes ladies (and maybe gentleman? I'm not sure if any dudes care what I have to say) I'm talking about landscaping.  Or lack thereof.  
As a woman (an adult woman) I am completely not into the idea of women having bare lady parts.  It's none of my business with what you do with your whoha and honestly if you feel empowered by a vajay that is bare and bedazzled be my guest! But to me if women start walking around as completely hairless creatures they start to look something like a pre-pubescent 12 year-old.  You know, that weird age where you starting to get boobs but nothing else has really happened?  Yeah, that's weird.  
Like the Hellogiggles writer, JC Coccoli, I am a believer that ummm you have hair down there for a reason.  It belongs there.  And waxing it into the shape of a heart, your boyfriends initials, or screaming "take it off!" to your waxer is a bit strange.  Yes, we do a ton of things that are unnatural.  Like put glitter on our nails and wear orange lipstick.  But this is different.  I think it says so much more about you than the questionable make up you choose to wear.  It's far more intimate and I think women and their bodies should be celebrated as is.  Not with a ton of waxing, plucking, airbrushing or adorning.  I'm all for hygene and keeping things "in line" so to speak, but not to the point where it is undoing what separates you, an adult female, from a Justin Beiber superfan.  Physiologically, of course.  
I think it says something about our society when women are being told that everything that makes you into a woman needs to be undone in order to be celebrated.  Pubic hair isn't okay, aging gracefully with wrinkles is a no no, and being strong and outspoken can have you labeled as a "bitch".  I, for one, am not down with that. 
I will say that all women should have their vaginas looking exactly like they want them to.  If you want it to be bare, hell go bare!  But please, make sure you're doing it for yourself.  Don't start extracting hair and other parts of your body just because the person you are with is attracted to that.  Because really, if the man you are with is sickened by something natural you should probably be sickened by him.  

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

how i wish i reached for the carrots

I'm going to be perfectly honest with you:  I love food.  Blah, blah sure everyone loves food, but I really have a love affair.  Ever since I was a little baby my mother told me when I would eat I would be so silent and look at my food with deep devotion and love.  Does this make me glutenous and disgusting even from the age of diapers and pacifiers?  Maybe!  But food has always made me happy.  I don't really eat all the bad stuff, but I love that food is so magical.  It literally can transform your insides and outsides, depending on what you eat.  
Now, that being said, I sometimes truly do not give an eff.  I will be super good and proper and abide by every rule while using my "Lose It!" app (seriously you guys, get this app it will make you stop saying 'I don't even eat that much!' after you see how that mess all adds up) and then I'll just be typing away at my desk and get the urge to get up, buy a big cookie and down it within four minutes.  Its that simple.  I can't turn down a cookie.  I can't turn down a cake.  I can definitely turn down potato chips, sandwiches, fries, etc.  But when it comes to them sweets, I'm a goner.
A woman at my office CONSTANTLY brings in sweets.  Everything from cookies to donut holes, this lady is the pusher for glucose.  And every time she sounds the alarm of "there are some sweets in the kitchen!" I let out the biggest groan.  Why?  Because I know my body has no control.  Even if my mind is saying "no! don't do it!  be one of those girls who reaches for carrots when she has a craving!" my body walks to the kitchen in a zombie like fashion, reaching for a cookie and a glass of skim milk.  
But any time I feel even a little bad about stuff like this, I remind myself that I am good 90% of the time, I'm not in a zombie love affair with drugs or alcohol so a cookie is cool, right?  Plus, this whole new three days at the gym thing has me feeling like I deserve a whole lot more than I do.  But I'm just gonna let my mind think that--my body doesn't have to know.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

things that make me love being a woman

1.  Manis & Pedis, of course

Let me tell you, I have been obsessed with my nails forever.  Ever since my mother let me get a "kids style manicure" at the ripe age of five years old I've been super into my nails.  A chipped nail has me stressed for hours until I can go home and remedy it.  I'm not really into this nail art trend.  I'll do some glitter and a simple decal, but really the girls in nail shops on Crenshaw have been doing bomb nail art since the 80s and I hate that salons in West Hollywood charge upwards of $100 for some swirls and design.  
But, I digress.  I love that I can get manis and pedis every week and it isn't seen as superficial or insane.  Yes maybe a bit indulgent, but I'm a lady and my digits need to look polished and fresh whenever I'm flipping it to someone who makes a vulgar comment.  Also, I love that most of the compliments I get on my nails are from boys these days.  I feel like for the previous five years men never cared about my nails if they were painted, bare, chipped, whatever.  But lately men are taking notice, and I notice that noticing.  

2.  Being able to borrow from the boys

We ladies have it lucky.  Most of us can just go into our boyfriend's (or dad's or brother's) wardrobes and grab something and make it uniquely feminine.  Think Sharon Stone a la wearing her husband Gap button down on the red carpet.  I mean c'mon!  No dude can go into his ladies closet and pull stuff out and look great it in.  Okay, maybe some.  But when it comes to me, I'm usually the one pulling hats and t-shirts from my dudes polished closet. 

3.  Sharing with other women

Now, I can't say this is uniquely something women do but it is definitely something that most women share very closely.  I'm talking about when you're in the care, on the subway, out dancing and you have these moments with other women that you connect and talk and laugh and share and it is an urge in that moment to say "fuck yeah we are women!"  Maybe men connect like this too, but I don't think it happens as often.  There are so many times that I marvel at women.  Their beauty, their depth and their strength.  There is a sense of empowerment being a woman, and learning from other women, and sharing with other women to get beautiful advice or feedback or just stories.  I'm not trying to sound like Beyonce, but being a woman is so special because of the bonds we share with other women and the amazing women throughout history or in our lives we can look to for advice and guidance.  That's why I get so mad when I see that society tries to impose this idea that women are always in competition with one another, and all women hate other women.  I really don't think that's the case.  Yes, everyone has someone they don't like but life isn't and shouldn't be about being the HBIC of all women.  It should be about being the best woman you can be for yourself.  

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

i, i, i don't work out

Sometimes I see these smiling, dewy, vibrant girls my age out for a run or doing yoga in the park and I ask myself, how?  How in God's name are these girls having a good time?  They look happy!  They look excited!  They look energized!  I just don't understand it.  I often feel a tremendous sense of guilt that I am young and completely inactive.  When I lose five pounds it's really not because I'm putting in any work.  It's probably because I walked a little more that week, or drank more water or something strange from the cosmos came down and graced me with a gift.  But really, this (motioning to my body) really doesn't require a whole lot of work to maintain.
Now, that being said I am a lucky girl in that I was raised by a mother who is a registered dietitian.  That meant not having any sweets in the house, donating 80% of my trick or treating candy and never, ever, ever and sugary fruit juice.  Essentially, I have been groomed from a very early age to eat well.  Yes, I am a lover of pizza, big cookies and ice cream, but for the most part I eat in moderation and drink about 3 liters of water a day.  
However, I think it's getting to the point where I am becoming one of those skinny fat people trainers on The Biggest Loser always talk about.  I never work out but I maintain my weight and have been the same size for like ten years so I don't ever think about weight loss.  I have insecurities like every woman on the face of the planet but I never have seen working out as a means to addressing those insecurities.  Why you ask?  Because I hate working out.  I loathe it.  When I see people out running on a hot day I scream from my car window, "Why?! Why are you putting yourself through that? You look miserable!"  But lately, I'm starting to feel very bad for being lazy.  Also, I have little to no upper body strength and if any sort so if an apocalyptic situation were to every happen, I would surely be one of those poor souls trampled or too weak to hold on to a rope or something.  
So, I got a gym membership!  Now, I'm not expecting miracles.  I'm one of those people (probably like most) who can't even bare the thought of working out, but once I am I feel great and know it's worth it.  But somehow the next day, as I'm trying to convince myself to go to the gym, I can't even remember that feeling of high I had the previous day or I convince myself that I'm crazy and it probably wasn't that good.  Alas I have joined a gym though.  And my sad little goal is to go three days a week.  I don't know how much I will get accomplished while I'm there.  Will I run?  Will I bike?  Will I do sit ups?  Or will I go very slow on the elliptical machine and watch the latest installment of Real Housewives on the television overhead?  There's no telling!  But I know for certain I will never be one of those glistening, grinning, Lulu Lemon wearing cyborgs.