Before I Forget...

I should probably tell you that I went to kickboxing last night.

I hurt.

Lots.

One Month & Other Stuff

I got through the month! I wore a skirt 30 out of 31 days, the skirt-less day being a sick day. I left the house in pants twice, for kickboxing. There were days that I would have done anything for jeans. There were days when I wanted to burn every article of clothing I owned. There were days where I could not put together an outfit to save my life. But, I did it. Now I just have to do it for 11 more months. One day at a time.

When you wear a skirt all the time, you start to notice things. Like just how unladylike you get out of a car. You think nothing of it when you're in pants, but when you're wearing a skirt, you're suddenly more aware of what you're doing. I'm still trying to perfect it. It's not going well.

I watched "Leave it to Beaver" this morning. June Cleaver would be mortified if she could see my hair. I'm sure she wouldn't approve of me going (gasp!) bare legged today, either. I didn't have much of a choice. I no longer have sheer, me-colored stockings, and I didn't have tights that would match. I just shaved yesterday (TMI?*) so I figured I had nothing to lose.

As for the rest of my body, it was all covered appropriately. I feel like my outfit was channeling a desperate-New England-housewife-going-to-the-mountains kind of vibe. It wasn't intentional.

You can't see it behind my grossly disproportionate hand, but I'm wearing pearls to match the earrings.

And that's all for tonight, kids. I hope January was good to you. Here's to February!



* Dad, TMI means "too much information." :)

Clear Your Schedule, This Could Take Awhile.

A terrible relationship according to Adele's album "21":

1. You played me. I'm going to ruin your life. (Rolling in the Deep)
2. You met someone new? Fabulous. You want me back? Even better. You want to try your own medicine? No? Oops! Too late! (Rumour Has It)
3. I'm tired of your abusive crap and can stand up for myself. (Turning Tables)
4. Just kidding. (Don't You Remember)
5. No really. You're a manipulative jerk and we're through. I think. (Set Fire to the Rain)
6. We can work this out if we try, I know we can. (He Won't Go)
7. I gave you everything. Leave me alone. (Take it All)
8. It's my fault, I can love you better, I promise. (I'll Be Waiting)
9. Double dare you to try again...please? (One and Only)
10. I'll love you forever. (Lovesong - A Bekah-approved Cure cover)
11. Clearly you've moved on, so I'll stalk you and find your doppelganger to fall in love with. (Someone Like You)

Tired of clicking and watching videos? Well, don't say I didn't warn you of the time-consuming nature of this post.

21 is a great album. It took some getting used to, but over the summer I slowly began to like it, bit by bit. We were staying in Rosemead, CA at the time. I was working in Santa Monica and had a glorious commute of anywhere between 45 minutes to 2 hours (everything you've heard about LA traffic is true). For once I'm not sarcastically exaggerating my adjectives. It truly was glorious. I had all that time alone. Alone time was unheard of when I was married. To bring it up was like saying "God" in a house full of athiests. So to have all that time by myself was awesome. I could listen to whatever I wanted, at whatever volume I wanted. I listened to Adele. Loudly. I learned all the words to my favorite songs and tried not to dwell on the fact that I was living some of that story. I think the first time I listened to "Turning Tables" all the way through I cried. "Take it All" was hard to listen to as well. "Turning Tables" was hard because that's what I wanted to say but couldn't. "Take it All" hurt because I was doing my best but it didn't matter. Actually, all of the songs have one element or another in common with the farce I call my marriage. So why was I listening (read: rocking out) to it today when I was cleaning?

Because I like it. I like it despite the hell I was living in. I like it because I really enjoyed my drives to work. I like it because it serves as a reminder of what not to do. I like it because there are "oh, silly girl" moments and "you poor thing" moments and "hey I know what that feels like" moments.

If you've read my "About Me" page, you know that I think music takes all the emotion in. One of these days, I'll get to dance it out.

Well, at least somewhere that isn't my dirty bathroom.

Guilt Trip in a Can

I'm cleaning my bathroom today. I had two choices of glass cleaner and while deciding between the two, I saw this.


Let's just say I look nothing like the woman on the can.

Neuroticism Causes Wrinkles.

I ironed today. I hate ironing. I'm not good at it. Generally I cheat and use the steamer, but it wasn't really getting any wrinkles out so I sucked it up and got the iron. I thought I did a decent job on my skirt, so I got dressed and headed to church.

As soon as I sat in the car, I had issues. The skirt got all bunchy and my coat wasn't draping right and by the time I got there (about 10-15 minutes), I was in an absolute panic about how wrinkly I had become. It ruined most of my day, actually. I was so self conscious about it and tried to keep my coat over me so no one could see what a pathetic mess I was. My mom swore that I was just "hyperfocusing" on it and that it wasn't that bad, but I didn't believe her.

Of course no one was pointing and laughing at my wrinkly skirt. Actually, I got two compliments. That was nice, but sometimes after a compliment I wonder if the compliment-giver is pulling a "mean girl" on me by whispering to a friend after giving the complement that it really is the most hideous skirt she's ever seen. It doesn't help that the compliment-givers were teenagers. If you're unsure about the reference, Netflix "Mean Girls."

Here it is, the terrible, horrible, no good, very wrinkled skirt:

I wore black heels today. At the time of this picture, I was upstairs and the shoes were downstairs, and my crankiness dictated that I change into pj's, and the only reason I go back downstairs was to have lunch and nap on the couch.

It was an awesome nap.

I should see a doctor.

I get a lot of headaches. All kinds. Migraines, tension headaches, combinations of the two. Last night I experienced something I'm not sure I would wish on my worst enemy. Sometimes I wish I had the capacity to wish such harm against certain people, but I don't. It felt like my left eye was on fire and boring into my skull. The pain radiated through my scalp and part of my face, but never reached my right eye. I was getting ready for bed when it happened. One minute I was doing something on my phone and the next, I was suddenly in pain. I grabbed my eye mask, shut off the lights and immediately laid down, but soon after I was in even more pain. To top it off, I was having a hard time breathing. At the time I couldn't figure out why I couldn't breathe, but my dad pointed out that I was probably in a panic from the intense pain.

It hurt so badly that I cried. You should know that I have a very high tolerance for pain. The last time I cried because something hurt was in 2009 when I had paronychia in my right middle finger. The doctor had to stab my swollen, pus filled finger multiple times to drain it. The receptionist was kind enough to hold my other hand while it was being done, and I was in so much pain that I almost broke it. My grandmother said that when she had it, it was worse than childbirth. Go ahead, google it. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop biting your nails.

Today I read up on headaches on mayoclinic.com. Last night's headache fit the description of a cluster headache almost perfectly. It even said that people describe the pain as a burning sensation. What scared me is that the reason they're called cluster headaches is because they are recurring headaches, potentially 3 or 4 in one day, every day for some period of time. They also happen around the same time every day. After reading that I panicked about having another one between 9:30 and 10. Thankfully, I didn't. So I don't know why I had a cluster-type headache without the cluster. I do know that I don't want it to happen again.

I braved the yellow tights today...and got a compliment! I went suit shopping with my dad tonight and while I was waiting for him to come out of the fitting room, a girl who there waiting for her friend said that she liked my tights and that she thought they complemented my skin tone quite nicely. Who knew?

Underachieving Overreacter

I made my bed today. I even put the shams and throw pillows on there. Sadly, I am proud of this. It's the little things that make me happy.

It's the little things that make me unhappy as well. Ever say something stupid and stress out about it for hours? Beat yourself up and swear that you'll never speak to that person again because you feel so badly about it? Maybe think of ways you could have someone else apologize for you because you're too embarassed? Replay the scene over and over in your mind and wish you could break the time/space continuum in order to change it?

What kind of histrionic, insecure, irrational and emotionally crippled individual would think all of that about a statement that everyone that was present has probably already forgotten?

You caught me. All it takes is for someone to twitch in the wrong moment and I'd interpret that as the universal signal for, "shut up, I hate you." I haven't covered this in therapy yet.

I had another frustrating morning in front of the closet today.



I think that just about says it all.

19 Random Facts About Yours Truly

1. I like plaid.
2. When I was little (8 or 9), I put my cat, Sabrina, in the refrigerator just to see what would happen. Just for a minute. She was fine. A little chilly though.
3. I have only recently recovered from the death of my dog...in 1992.
4. Sometimes I listen to pop music. And like it. Don't tell anyone.
5. Polite people make me happy.
6. I would end a relationship over chronic spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors...
7. but crushing my hopes and dreams, belittling me and telling me I'm fat is apparently ok.
8. I failed the "Big E" eye exam in kindergarten. Not because I didn't know my letters, because I was blind.
9. Lately, I've been breaking out like a teenager.
10. I didn't break out as a teenager.
11. I was adopted.
12. My favorite books of all time are the Chronicles of Narnia.
13. A well made sandwich is my favorite food.
14. Maxwell Smart is my hero.
15. If you don't know who Maxwell Smart is, I'm not sure we should be friends.
16. If your perception of Maxwell Smart is only from the movie starring Steve Carell, and you liked it, then we should definitely not be friends.
17. My obsession with eyeliner began when I dyed my hair pitch black and it made me look pale. The eyeliner helped me look a little bit more normal. Or so I thought.
18. Even though my own marriage was a failure/bust/joke/bloody nightmare, I'm not off marriage and actually want to be a wedding planner.
19. Today I changed 3 times because I hated everything I put on and ended up with this (and hated it):

A Confession.

Like many, many other women, I have the usual laundry list of addictions: shoes, purses, coats, makeup and more shoes. Nothing shocking about that.

But there is another.

I have a thing for notebooks. Notebooks, journals, sketchpads...if it's bound, blank paper, I love it. I buy them, and then never end up writing in them. The ones I do write in, I never get rid of. I know it sounds super strange, but keep in mind, I never said I was normal.

I like what a blank page can represent. A fresh start, a clean slate, starting over, something with no mistakes on it. The possibilities for what you can put on the page are endless. I could write about anything! Where will it take me, what will I do next? The suspense of what could go on the page kind of keeps me from putting anything on it sometimes. It turns into a nice mixture of love and fear. I'm reminded of cement as I say this. My love/fear of blank paper is like cement. Sludgy, sticky and leaves me stuck.

I once read that when you have nothing to say is the time you have the most to say. I've found that to be true on more than one occasion. I've often had lots of emotions and thoughts racing through my head and been completely unable to make enough sense of it to write it down. It's different when I'm in front of a computer though. When I type, I can keep up with my thoughts. I think quickly, and I type very quickly. I don't write by hand all that quickly. When I try, my handwriting turns into another language (bekahnese) and very few people can read it. Not that many people read my handwritten journal entries.

For the time being, this blog is somewhat of a journal, I guess. But I should really try to put pen to paper one of these days. Moving on.

Today I wore the Olive Oyl t-shirt I bought yesterday, denim skirt, brown tights and brown leather scrunchy boots with gold bangles, a leather cuff bracelet and a beaded necklace. You can't really see the necklace in the picture.

I didn't have a sweater or anything that matched so I had to go without a warmer layer. Most things I own are black or grey, not brown and blue. I should remedy that.

Good, Bad, Ugly, Adorable.

The Good:

1. I bought a navy blue/white patterned skirt that will match my new blue shoes.
2. I got the niece a stuffed Hello Kitty holding a cupcake.
3. I had Panera Bread for dinner. It was delicious.

The Bad:

1. I forgot to take a picture of what I was wearing today. It involved flowery sweater tights. Besides that, you didn't miss much.
2. The carpool fell through tonight, so I didn't make it to kickboxing. I would have driven myself, but I don't see well in the rain. I'm serious. It's not a lame excuse, I swear. I was all dressed and ready to go, waiting in the appointed meeting spot, which is 15 minutes from my house and at least another 45 minutes to the gym, when it all fell through.

The Ugly:

1. My wedding song came on my Pandora station while at Job #2. It is a song I really liked by a band I really liked LONG before what's-his-face was ever in the picture. Unwilling to let him take it away from me, I sat through it. A few tense minutes later it was over, and lucky me, I was having the physical symptoms of a panic attack without access to meds to make it go away. I managed to breathe through most of the chest pain, not hyperventilate and get through it. Blah.

The Adorable:

This is Harold. Harold the Hedgehog. He is perched atop my monitor. I saw him at a bookstore over the weekend and had to bring him home.

As my niece would say, byebye seeya!

Weekend Wonderfulness

I had a great weekend with my family. It involved a trip to Maryland, spa treatments and impromtu shoe shopping. I discovered DSW. It's heaven. Seriously. It's even all white and quiet and peaceful. I got two pairs of shoes for about $40. Best trip ever.

If a trip to Maryland sounds random, it's not, really. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, aka Mormon, and we have a temple in Kensington, Maryland. There's also one in Palmyra, NY, Manhattan and in 2014 there will be one in Philadelphia. Temples are gorgeous buildings that aren't used as a regular chapel would be. Special things like marriages and sealing of children to families happen there. We believe that those who have died benefit from ordinances like baptism performed by proxy by those who are living, and those types of things are done in the temple as well.

For more information on what happens at the temple, go here.
For more information on Mormons, go here.
For facts about the Washington DC temple, go here.

So that's why I have been silent the last couple of days. I was on somewhat of a vacation. Today it was back to life as usual. I was super excited to wear one of my new pairs of shoes. They are blue strappy wedges...sky high wedges. I love them! I wore them with a Vera Wang printed shift dress, a grey shirt and blackish-greyish stockings:

I originally was going to wear mustardy yellow tights to match the flowers, but they looked a little funny when you compared my legs to my bare arms...the skin color kind of clashed. There's that pesky weird shade of brown thing again.

Enjoy your evening! I'm off to watch Heroes with mi madre. It's her birthday. Happy Birthday Mom!

Aunt Bekah

My niece is cuter than your niece. You're going to have to take my word for it. No offense, but this is the internet and there's a chance I don't know you, so I'm not posting pictures. And if you do know me, then you probably already know what she looks like. So there.

Anyway, the kid's a riot. She's not even two and communicating in near complete sentences. She has made "please" and "thank you" an art form. When she wants you to sit next to her, it's in your best interest to sit there. And I think it's time to finish potty training, because she referred to herself as "gross" today. Gross or not, she's awesome. I spent most of the day with her and didn't rip my hair out. Aunt Bekah is learning a great deal of patience. Actually, that's not true. I learned patience when I was homeless and in an abusive marriage. Good things do come to those who wait, because now I can exercise that patience with my adorable niece.

This is all coming from someone who never really liked kids. They say parenthood changes a person, well I can tell you that so does aunt-hood. I like being an aunt. I can't wait to take her shopping and to get her hair done and give her advice on impractical shoes and brands of mascara.

Speaking of shoes and mascara, I struck out on both counts today. I wore flats because they were comfortable and I didn't put mascara on because I forgot. Ugh. I've been such a slacker lately. My moods and anxiety have been all over the place and I've been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. By the time I do, I have no time to get ready, I can't decide what to wear, I panic and stress out even more, pick something stupid and end up late for work anyway. I think I only wore powder once this week, and that was today. The rest of the week it's been smudgy eyeliner, visible blemishes and chapstick. My great grandmother is shaking her finger at me again.

My outfit today was *hangs head* a repeat. I <3 Diet Coke shirt, pencil skirt & cardigan. I switched up the tights though:

They're fun. (yes, I put heels on to take the picture because the flats looked ridiculous) You know, I should've made this year about tights. I could easily find 365 different pairs. Not that this project was ever about wearing 365 different skirt outfits. It's really more about approaching life differently, trying new things and sticking to my guns.

Perception.

I was given another painting assignment.

I was asked to put color and form to my feelings of fear and inadequacy in relation to others' perception of me.  In other words, nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I guess I'll go paint it.

Recently I have been afraid of everyone. I'm convinced everyone hates me for some reason or another. Usually this feeling only extends towards strangers; I'm terrified of how others perceive me. That is still the case, but now it's spread to people I know. I'm fairly certain that women at church dislike me, my boss is mad at me, my friends don't like me anymore and my sister will hate me forever. When I go out, I'm so self conscious most of the time I want to hide. I feel stupid and ugly and like people are pointing and laughing.

At this time I would like to point out that I am exercising a great deal of restraint by not saying that these feelings are stupid. I want to say it's stupid to minimize it's importance and brush it off like it's nothing. Here's where I stand up for myself, to myself:

It's not stupid. It is false.

No one is staring and pointing and laughing at me, my boss just has a cold, the women at church probably don't care about me either way and my friends have busy lives. As for my sister...that's another story. But the point is, I can't possibly be the focal point of all of these people's lives, right? Right. The idea that they all hate me is not stupid, it is false.

But...I want to say it's stupid, ridiculous, something. I feel awful for feeling this way. I feel guilty for thinking that other people are thinking negative things about me. Tonight I was asked what it was that I needed from these people. I was also asked what it was that I feared in relation them. I couldn't think of anything I needed from anyone...but I know exactly what I'm afraid of.

I am scared poopless that someone will discover that underneath my smiley, skirted exterior lies a little girl who has failed at most things in life and just wants to hide in the back of the closet until it all goes away.

I guess the jig is up.

Untitled.

I forgot to mention that I painted last night. It's not perfect, but I'm happy with it. I could go on about how cathartic it was and all that, but honestly, I don't feel like it. Don't get me wrong, it was great. I'm just not feeling very chatty this evening.

Today I had a really hard time getting dressed. The indecision was killing me. I was cold, so I wanted to wear a long skirt, but wasn't happy with anything I came up with. I ended up with several layers on top - black tank, black 3/4 sleeve shirt, black sweater - with the black/blue/grey colorblock skirt, black textured tights, and boots. And my scarf. I wore my scarf all day. I do that sometimes.

I'm exhausted. My therapy appointment is tomorrow so I'm sure I will have plenty to say afterwards. Until then, I bid thee farewell.

Err...kickboxing?

If your definition of surviving is emerging on two legs, having a pulse, then yes, I survived.

Folks, I didn't sign up for your standard local gym cardio kickboxing class. No, no, I  landed myself in an MMA (mixed martial arts) studio. Learning MMA things. Like how to actually fight another person. And win.

Guess who knew that when she signed up but conveniently forgot and was in for a rude awakening? This girl! And 5 out of the other 7 there. One had no idea what she was in for (poor thing) and the other looked like she did this for a living.

We punched, we kicked, we jumped, we punched and kicked some more, followed by punching and kicking and more jumping and push ups and crunches. My chest hurt within 20 minutes. Actually, it still feels kind of funny. I'm not sure if it's old age or asthma or both. Or maybe I'm just that out of shape.  I hope it gets easier.

That's always my fear, that things will never get any easier. I'm afraid I'll never get the hang of this and it will be hard forever. I'm afraid that the flashbacks and nightmares won't stop, and I'll be dealing with all of this marriage-related mental trauma forever. I want that stuff to go away. Just like I want to get in shape and get the hang of this kickboxing thing.

The class ends in March. My divorce should be final in March.

Some other things that are happening in March:

• One best friend will have a baby.
• Another will come home to visit.
• Another's baby will be 6 months old.
• Another will celebrate 2 years with her awesome boyfriend.
• I will be a mere 6 months from turning 30.

Should be a good month. Provided I survive kickboxing.

Kickboxing!

I start my kickboxing class today! I'm so excited. I need a good work out, both mentally and physically.
Today also marks the first day I am out of the house in pants since December. It feels weird, like something isn't right. But, that may have more to do with the fact that my outfit is absolutely ridiculous. From the ground up I'm wearing Sketchers shapeups, argyle socks, capri dance pants, black tank top, black hoodie, red scarf, and my black long-ish coat. Whatever picture that paints in your head, hang on to it because it's the only one you're getting.
I'm hoping that all the endorphins from the kickboxing will put me in the mood to paint. That's right, I haven't done it yet. I did find the perfect clothes to get messy in while doing it... Leave it to me to think about what I'm going to wear while doing my homework. At least I haven't picked out painting earrings.
If kickboxing doesn't kill me, I'll let you know how it goes.

MLK Day

In honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Job #1 let me have the day off. I am choosing to clean. I think it's an appropriate use of my time... Cleaning is like a new beginning for you, and the civil rights era was a new beginning for everyone.

Happy MLK Day!

I'm grumpy.

Yes, I am as miserable as I look.
Yes, I still have the nail polish on from last week, and yes, it is chipped.
No, I don't care.

Paint and other things that freak me out.

I only had one thing I had to get done today, and that was to buy paint supplies. I accomplished my goal, good for me. It was probably the most stressful 40 minutes I have ever spent in an arts & crafts store. That sounds stupid, because I'm artsy and sometimes crafty, and generally I'm in 7th heaven when I need something from AC More or Michael's. As with everything, there is a back story.

When I was first diagnosed as bipolar (2005), I painted as a coping mechanism. It was a stress release for me. I got great satisfaction out of it, it kept me out of trouble, and it gave me a way to communicate what was going on in my brain. I even got an electric staple gun for Christmas because I was stretching my own canvas over frames the bf made for me out of scrap wood at his job. I painted whatever I wanted, however I wanted, with whatever I wanted, and on whatever I wanted. That's a lot of I's, but the point is, it was my outlet, not anyone else's. I was free to express myself.

As the years passed, I painted less and less. In fact, all of my creative outlets disappeared. I stopped writing and drawing as well. One day early last summer I was asked why I didn't paint anymore. When I said that I didn't know, it was suggested that we go to Michael's, pick up some supplies and give it a go. Of course I agreed. I didn't have much of a choice, really. I didn't really want to, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter that I preferred to paint alone or that I preferred medium bodied acrylic. No, none of that mattered, because like everything else about me, it wasn't mine anymore. I didn't have the right to enjoy things by myself, as an individual.

We came home with oil paint, canvas board and a value pack of brushes. Let it be known that I don't like oil paint, I'd rather paint on actual canvas, and these particular brushes were terrible. I couldn't get the paint to be as thin as I wanted, the brushes were losing bristles left and right, leaving them all over the smeary, sticky thing I was calling a painting. I was so frustrated...I felt stunted. I wasn't allowed to express my emotions, so how was I supposed to paint anything? I'm not the kind of person who can just paint for no reason. No bowls of lemons here. I need a meaning. And when I'm not allowed to have that meaning, I can't create.

In my last therapy session, my therapist asked what colors I would describe my emotions about--well, everything really. All the hurt and the anger at myself for allowing another person to take away my identity and the anger at that person for doing it, and the sadness for the time that I lost...I said they were navy blue, purple and orange. She said she wanted to see what that would look like.

So there I was today, in AC Moore, staring blankly at paints and brushes and canvas, reminding myself that it was ok to buy acrylic and it was ok to not want the value pack of bristle brushes. Flashbacks of that day in Michael's were spinning through my head so fast I didn't know what to do. Eventually I figured it out. I got Liquitex basic acrylic paint, a 12 pack of medium-firm taklon brushes and two 12x16 canvasses. I'm very happy with my purchases. Almost defiantly so. I'm taking back my painting. It's just another piece of me that I can put back where it belongs.

There is a lighter side to my trip to AC Moore. A very nice gentleman and (I'm assuming) his mother asked me a question about the brushes they were holding. I answered them, bade them a good day and moved to the end of the aisle. The gentleman then said that he wanted me to know I was pretty and he liked my outfit. I was wearing my coat though so all he really could see was big blingy earrings, skirt, stockings and flats, but still. It made me smile. Couldn't have come at a better time because I was on bad memory overload.

Ok I'll quit babbling. Sheer grey striped tshirt that says "crash & burn" across the top and a black pattern down one side with a black shirt underneath, a cardigan over top, denim skirt, striped stockings and t-strap flats. Complete with big blingy earrings and matching ring.

Enjoy your evening...I'm beat. I'll probably end up painting...if I do, I'll post a picture.

Happy Friday the 13th!

This is Layla. She has better things to do than cause you bad luck. You know, the whole black cat thing.

Brought to you by Red Lobster

There's a 35 minute wait at Red Lobster. What better time to squeeze you in!

It was a fairly uneventful Friday. I have discovered that online marketing and the whole social media thing are more complicated that I originally thought. Not neurology complicated, but more than just an errant tweet here and there.

I wanted something long and comfortable today, so I picked a long, flowy, black and white skirt with a black long sleeved shirt. I began the day without tights and with my fun studded heels. All of my tights (except purple ones) were drying and the only thing I had were those stockings I mentioned a few posts ago that were destined to never see the light of day again. It is freezing, and common sense took over, so I put them on and swapped the heels for boots. My legs are much warmer now.  :)

There is a fundamental problem with this skirt. The outer layer is big and flowy, but the lining is slim. It's really obnoxious. Bet if I could eat sometime  soon, I'd get over it!

I'd go to bed, but...

1) I never did tell you what I wore today.
2) I have to research the best places to find men's suits. More on that in a moment.

I began this morning disheveled and grumpy because I accidentally slept in (after having been up past 2am making cupcakes). Job #1 said to go ahead, get ready, I'd feel better. It made sense, so I followed the counsel of my wise employer/father. An hour and a half later I arrive at work, coiffed and ready to go, only to find that my dad had just left and I had nothing to do. So I went downstairs to assess the damage on the cupcakes and do some dishes. I don't think I get paid to wash dishes.

Anyway, I ended up wearing a ruffled button down shirt (black with a tiny purple/red/mauve flower print) belted over a black pencil skirt with purple tights and black sling backs. Ta da!

I look a tad disproportionate, but it may be just how I'm standing. It's hard coming up with poses I look decent in. It's hard taking pictures of myself, period.

Speaking of pictures, the double fudge cupcakes came out great. The addition of ganache on top probably makes them triple fudge, but I'm trying not to think about it.

My dad said they may be the best chocolate cupcakes he's had in his entire life. Right. But that brings me to the second reason why I'm not in bed: suit research.

My dad needs suits. It's been determined that he is between sizes at the moment, which is a little unfortunate, because he has no plans to go up to the next size or go down to the smaller size. So now my job is to find stores that carry this odd number. A suit expedition for my dad is like me shopping for hosiery. It takes forever. He's weird sizes, I'm picky about my color, believe me, the two aren't so different.

And so I bid thee good night. I'm off to learn about men's pants and where I can get them in odd sizes.

---

I think he should hire a tailor.

A stocking mishap and a cupcake catastrophe

Upon getting up from my desk at Job #1 yesterday (approximately 12:00), I noticed that my thigh high stockings were slipping. By the time I got to Job #2 (about 1:00), no matter what I did, they just fell right down about my knees. I then spent the next 4 hours trying not to move from my desk. By the time I got home (about 5:15), I gave up. There was yelling, ripping off of stockings, and you might as well throw in gnashing of teeth for good measure.

I'm upset for two reasons. First, they were my last pair (that I was willing to wear outside). Second, now I have to venture out into the cruel world of brown girl stocking shopping. Because I'm kind of a strange brown, I am incredibly picky about my shade of stockings. Too light = ridiculous, too dark = obvious. And so I spend an inordinate amount of time mulling over things like "hint of color," "sandy beige" and the ever changing "nude."  One can assume it's not my shade of nude, it never is. I once got really excited about a pair from Target, and actually fooled myself into thinking "my goodness they've done it, they've created the perfect color for everyone!" Too much money and a disappointing Sunday later, they are now shoved in the back of the drawer, never to see the light of day again. The only reason I'm happy about this new development? I've lost weight. But that brings its own set of issues, because it puts me in that in-between size for almost every brand imaginable. Some size charts don't even have my height/weight combination on there. At least I know that if I get this brand of thigh high again to get a smaller size, but I think until I even out a bit on the scale, I'll stick to pantyhose.

Now you know entirely too much about me and stockings. On to cupcakes.

This evening I am attending the bridal shower of a friend I've known almost my entire life. I volunteered to make cupcakes, some chocolate and some vanilla. After getting home from work and tearing off my rogue stockings, I made a list, went to the store, returned and started on the chocolate cupcakes. I chose a recipe that I thought sounded really good. Basic enough, but there were promises of yummy, fluffy deliciousness.

They failed. Not only did they fail, but I failed to remember that I had tried this particular recipe once before, and they failed that time too. I've never seen anything like it (with the exception of the last time I did this). They went from fluffy to flat to indented to imploded to oily brick in a matter of minutes. 1 box of chocolate cake mix and about 20 cupcake liners gone. Back to the store. Another chocolate cake mix and a bag of chocolate chips and I had everything I needed to make double fudge cupcakes. Except liners.

At this point I must have looked like a madwoman. My hair was tied back with an industrial twist tie, I'd already been out twice with bare legs in rainy January weather, I had one rain boot on and one off upon discovering that I didn't have enough liners (I had 5), and I was standing in the kitchen being all stressed out and gesturing wildly. Enter my father, who, though he looks confused at the scene that he just walked in on, kindly offered to drive me back to the store. Liners purchased, cupcakes made, all is well. They will be drizzed with chocolate ganache later.

The vanilla came out great. I'll be topping them with homemade buttercream frosting (dyed purple) today, right before the shower.

I'm a little cupcake-ed out.

I got dressed!

Don't laugh at me, it was a big accomplishment. I got up (late, but it was ok, Job #1 said I could take the day off if I needed to), I dragged my sorry self into the shower, actually put some time and effort into what I chose to wear, put makeup on, and did my hair. Well, my hair kind of did itself, since all I did was put some stuff in it and let it do its thing, but even so, it was deliberate. I'm even wearing heels, and you won't find a speck of black on me. Not even on my eyes, I used brown eyeliner and forgot to wear mascara.

Not bad for someone who spent yesterday on a couch watching a Heroes marathon.

Today's outfit is comfortable and casual but not slouchy. I think. I pulled out my denim pencil skirt, a printed button-down shirt (the print is kinda flowery and blue, green, white and pink), a pink hoodie with 3/4 sleeves and blue suede heels. I folded the button-down's cuffs over the hoodie, exposing the blue gingham print underneath. It sounds like there's a lot more going on than there actually is.

I guess I was feeling a little silly...but I really like those shoes. You'd dance around, too.

Yuck, part 2.

I dragged myself out of bed to take a pile of pills. I have returned to bed (as opposed to the couch) for a few reasons: 1) the niece is here, making the living room very loud and not a nice place for an ill person to sleep. 2) my room is the closer to a bathroom than anywhere else. 3) #2 is very important.
I'm wearing pajamas today. No dress, no makeup, no hair, nada!
In addition to my tummy troubles, I am having some kind of allergic reaction to something, but no one can figure out what. So I'm itchy and in stomach pain. Not my best look.

Yuck.

Today is not a good day.
1. I woke up so exhausted that I threw on the most comfortable, I-don't-care-what-I-look-like clothes I could find: my black hoodie, a black tshirt, black fold-over waistband skirt (it's so comfy I barely know I'm wearing it), black tights and flats. Lots of black. You'll see that I wear a lot of black, even when pants are a part of my wardrobe.

2. My exhaustion and general malaise sent me to the couch (skirt and all), where I passed out cold until 12:30, just in time to go to my other job, even though I could have slept til March. This exhaustion was unwarranted. I went to bed at a decent hour, although it wasn't the best sleep. Even so, there's no reason for me to feel this badly.

3. I work until 5 at Job #2. Something went horribly awry in my lower abdomen and that sent me running home (literally!) at 4:25. What happened next is not polite conversation.

4. I didn't put on makeup. I'm not 100% sure I even brushed my hair. It's straightened from yesterday and I just left it down, unadorned and unbrushed. My great-grandmother, who apparently didn't even get dressed without doing her hair and makeup first, must be turning in her grave. Actually, I take that back. She was cremated. She's probably just pointing and shaking a finger at me in disappointment from Heaven.

5. If you think you're getting a picture of this, you are sorely mistaken. The faster I get to and from the doctor tonight, the faster I can put on pj's. Soft, fuzzy pj's with my furry slippers...I'm figuratively salivating over the prospect. Time to go!

The day of rest

I love Sunday naps. They are wonderful.
Not much to say today. I wore a black, turquoise and green dress with a turquoise jacket. I've had the jacket for a couple years and has no idea it would match this dress so perfectly. The picture makes it look more blue than it actually is.

One week down

...51 to go! So far I'm having fun. I've never been a big skirt-wearer. Sure I dressed up from time to time but I could never figure out how to be comfortable in a skirt or dress just for the heck of it.
I am confident that I will make it through the year. A big motivation behind it is the fact that someone once told me I never committed to anything. While that is not true (the best example being my commitment to the aforementioned individual), it gives me great pleasure knowing that I am committed to something on my own terms. No longer can someone else force me to "commit" to things I didn't want to commit to, or even worse, take the things I have already committed to away.
So as silly as my little space in the internet may be, it makes me happy. I hope to have lots and lots of happy things to write about this year.

Today I wore a black and white striped shirt tucked into a long black skirt. I don't normally tuck things in, but for some reason I liked how it looked today. Black t-strap flats, red lips and red nail polish made it  complete and made me very happy. Hooray for happy!

Holy awesomeness, Batman!

Let's clarify.

I've gotten some concerned feedback regarding my use of the phrase "filling a void" last night.

I was tired, and it was a poorly executed joke. Yes, I'm getting divorced, but believe me, there is no void. Maybe some anger and sadness about losing almost 2 years of my life, but no void.
In all honesty, I like to shop. I love to shop alone. I take my time and try everything on and try to only spend a certain amount and I take out my calculator and figure out what would be the best way to spend my money. Finally, after 29 years, the fact that I am a financial planner's daughter is evident.

Today's outfit took me a while to figure out. I hate being indecisive. I chose a sheer black accordion pleated skirt, mustard yellow t-shirt with some ruffly flowery nonsense on the left side of the neckline, and a black 3/4 sleeve cardigan. Sheer stockings, a long, multistrand necklace in tones of gunmetal and gold, my trusty watch and...grey, yellow and black high top chucks. I call them my Batman chucks. Trust me, they don't look as weird as they sound.

I'd like to take this moment to say that Jimi Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower" just came on my Jem Pandora station. Nice.

Picture later.

---

It's later.

Happy Thursday!

Thursday has always been my favorite day of the week. There's always something to look forward to on Thursday!

Today's outfit consisted of a purple cowl neck dress, grey cardigan, sheer black stockings and black boots. Unlike the past few days, I've owned everything in this outfit for longer than a week. I have to admit, I've been doing some serious shopping lately. My excuse is that I need things for this 365 days of skirts thing, but could it be that I'm actually trying to fill a void? I am getting divorced, after all.

Early to bed...

...early to rise, right? I hope so! I could really use a good night's rest. As soon as I'm finished here, I'm hitting the sack.

I had a therapy session tonight. It was...insightful. I discovered a few different ways my perfectionism manifests itself and that I'm slightly obsessive-compulsive.  I also discovered that when I am told I must "grieve" over my divorce, it's more about grieving for the loss of over a year of my life and my identity, rather than grieving for little mr. can't be wrong. More on that trainwreck another day.

You know the grey shrug and black/blue/grey skirt I mentioned yesterday? I wore them both today. I didn't feel well this morning and wanted to be comfy so this is what I came up with:

I'm kneeling so you can't see that I'm wearing grey chucks. This would have looked much cuter with boots, but I wasn't in the mood.

I went way low maintenance with the hair and makeup, too. I left my hair curly and just pulled it back into a messy bun. As for my face, some eyeliner and lip gloss and that was it...and the lip gloss wasn't even until I had to leave the house for my 2nd job. Whatever, I tried.

Brrrr...

One of the things I miss about California was that it's warm. There's nothing quite like complaining about 50 degree weather when you know full well that back east it's below freezing!  :)

I signed up for a kickboxing class today! I can't wait. I have lots of stress and about 15-20 lbs to lose so there couldn't be a better time! I'm going with a new friend that I worked with for a little while.  You know, it's really nice making new friends. It's something I haven't been able to do in a long time. I wasn't even really allowed to keep my old friends, nevermind make new ones. Anyway, the point is, it's refreshing.

Yesterday I found a shirt at Kohl's that says "I <3 Diet Coke." It was $2.00. It went home with me. I mean, how could I say no? The shirt is grey with red lettering, like a Diet Coke can. Today I wore it tucked into a black pencil skirt with a narrow red sparkly belt (that I have no clue when and where I obtained), black opaque tights and a black 3/4 sleeve cardigan.

That Kohl's trip also yielded a grey sweater shrug and a navy skirt with a black waistband and a grey hem. There is a good chance you may see one, if not both, later this week.

Time to get comfy. Stay warm!

Silly kitty.

My cat would rather play with a metal trash bin than her toys.
Yes, there are little circles on the floor. They're from a 3-hole punch. Haven't vacuumed yet, don't judge!

Say cheese!

New year, new jobs, and skirts.

For the last 10 years I have been working in the restaurant industry. Catering, banquet serving, fine dining, casual dining...I've done it all. But no more! I'm retiring from serving. I can't do it anymore, I'm just so sick of asking about the temperature of your burger and wondering what exactly your definition of "extra lemon" is. I love making people happy and giving them a great experience, but the number of people who actually appreciate good service is dwindling by the day. So, I'm done.

I accepted an administrative position with two different companies. One is my dad's financial planning company and the other is my neighbor's carpet cleaning company. The hours are perfect, the pay is fair, and I don't have to worry about spilling anything and ruining my shoes.

So more about this skirt thing. Women (and girls) choose to wear skirts for several reasons:

1. To dress up/feel pretty
2. Religious or cultural reasons
3. Comfort or modesty (the modesty aspect is usually in tune with #2, and obviously I'm not talking about a miniskirt)

My reasons are somewhat of a combination of those three, but probably not in the way you would expect. When I dress up or wear a skirt, I feel pretty good about myself. Taking the time to pick out something to wear, making sure it all goes together and finding shoes to top it off is fun to me. You might prefer a torture chamber over that, but to each her own, right?

From the cultural aspect, I am taking a step back to the days when women were feminine and were 1) okay with it and 2) had a really fun time with their clothing. Even in the war days women managed to scrape together what they could to still look beautiful. In doing this I am in NO WAY advocating misogynistic thoughts that women belong in a skirt, belong in the kitchen, have to wear an apron, or any of that nonsense. Believe me, I love pants. But I want to spend a little time embracing the way that our grandmothers dressed and that was, for the most part, in a skirt. If I could find enough 50's "new look" dresses to last a lifetime, I would be thrilled. For now, my budget and lack of sewing skills dictate that I wear what I have.

As for comfort, I discovered yesterday that floor length skirts are super comfy. And it was swishy and just fun to wear.

So there you have it. Today I'm in a denim pencil skirt, grey textured tights and layered shirts on top: a black 3/4 length sleeve shirt with a fluttery cowl neck grey print shirt over it. And t-strap black flats. :)

Picture to come!

Yesterday

Sorry about the terrible picture!

Here we go!

Happy new year!

Let me introduce myself. My name is Bekah. I'm undertaking a project of sorts. I am wearing only skirts for the next 365 days. Why? Well why not?

I'm starting out with a small arsenal of skirts and dresses that I will doctor up as needed, in order to get as many outfits as possible. The goal is to successfully make it to January 1, 2013 without having touched a pair of jeans. Of course, I won't be attending my kickboxing class in a dress, so there's an allowance for pants there. Pajamas are also allowed, because I don't do nightgowns.

This blog isn't just about me in a skirt. It will touch upon most of what goes on in my life...I just hope it's nowhere near as eventful as 2011. The title implies that I will avoid my issues, but my take on it is that I'm just wrapping them up and making them pretty.  :)

Today's outfit was a long, orange-ish, accordion pleated skirt with purple flowers, with a purple sweater on top. I have a picture, but I'm too tired to upload it now. Sorry! Plus, it was Sunday, so I would be in a skirt anyway for church. Nothing out of the ordinary there. The real project starts tomorrow, when I have to figure out how to make my skirts/dresses casual enough for everyday wear. Wish me luck!