Foam Rollers & Color?

Note to self: do not wear a shower cap over rollers. I need to invest in a hair net.

Besides the unwanted humidity that occured overnight, I'd say the foam rollers weren't a complete failure. The weather completely ruined my hair, but it happens.

Here was my attempt at wearing color:



Reddish Eyeshadow! (It's brighter in real life)

This was on the back of my tshirt today...bottom left.
Underneath (in black) are the numbers 296.89, the DSM - IV number for Bipolar Disorder.

Please don't judge my ungroomed eyebrow and homemade shirt.

I swear I'll be more colorful tomorrow...and maybe I'll have the presence of mind to talk about something meaningful. Like how I realized that the title of my blog isn't just a cute play on words after all. Chew on that til next time.

Who Says Nothing in Life is Free?

So...you know how the other day I said I discovered Shabby Apple?

Well, today I discovered that they're giving away a dress. Or a skirt. A very cute skirt that I think I would pick if I won.

I have Hyphen Interiors to thank for the discovery of this...go check out her painted chair. It's pretty awesome!

Switching It Up

I'm experimenting with foam rollers tonight. It was easier than pin curls, but because of the retarded layered state my hair is currently in, neither method is really easy. I have bits and pieces sticking out everywhere and short of loading up on product (which ruins the curl), there's nothing I can do about it until I get a haircut and grow out the shorter pieces.

As for what I wore today, you guessed it, black:

There was one thing different about me today. It's not really obvious in the picture, but I parted my hair in the middle. I usually part it on the side when it's straight. Look at me, I'm living on the edge! Parting my hair differently...what's next, foam curlers? Oh wait...nevermind.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try wearing a color.



Bad Morning, Better Evening

I got out of bed. That's good, I guess. The sun is shining. Meh. I showered and had every intention of doing my hair, but then I got yelled at to turn my music off because my sister was sick and needed to sleep, therefore stripping away my opportunity to run the hair dryer. Even so, I put on make up and got dressed. A small victory I suppose. How pathetic.

I quit kickboxing. So much for being able to commit to anything. You know some days I think that everything he said to me is true. I can't do anything right, and I can't commit to anything, and everything is always someone else's fault. I don't suppose that my being afraid to go anywhere without (or close to) a trusted individual because I'm afraid that I could lose it at any moment because of the mental and emotional trauma that he caused me counts as a viable excuse for anything. No, that's me just "not taking my treatment seriously" and "not taking responsibility" for my problems actions.

--

I wrote that this morning when I wasn't in a very good mood. I just had some Will & Grace therapy, so I'm pretty chipper. By that I mean that I'm having a fabulous conversation with the Will to my Grace, otherwise known as one of my bestest friends ever. He comes home this summer and I can't wait.

Today I wore a black pencil skirt (shocker), black tank top (imagine that), black linen button-down shirt tied in front, black stockings and black corduroy heels with cream/green/blue/red) plaid trim. The buttons on the shirt are a cream color so I wore an off white beaded choker. I was going to add a bracelet...but I don't want to draw any attention to that area right now. If it weren't for my disgusting mop of hair, I'd say it came together alright.

Time to get ready for bed. Here's hoping I sleep tonight.

*Insert Clever Title Here*

I just discovered Shabby Apple. It provided a brief distraction from the sea of misery I've been drowning in as of late. It also reminded me that I haven't read Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass in way too long.

I didn't go to church today. I woke up at 7 on the dot, depressed as usual. Darling sister was in the shower and I freaked out because there wouldn't be enough hot water for me after my mom showered. Then I couldn't find Narnia, but found Layla on my mom's bed so I snuggled up to her because, well, I just needed something fuzzy to love me. She left. So much for that idea. I crawled back into my own bed, contemplated the idea of going to church and gave up because even if I managed to find the will to get ready, I wasn't going to look presentable anyway, and who would miss me and whatever, I just wanted to be left alone. Narnia came and snuggled under the covers for a while, and I slept like the dead for the rest of the morning. The rest of the day brought questionable food choices, the usual Sunday nap on the couch at 3, dinner and an episode of Heroes. Now I'm just killing time until I sleep again.

Needless to say, the idea of putting on a dress was farther away than my chances of winning an Oscar. I'm not wearing a drop of makeup, so I'm splotchy and porous and uneven and just ugly. I used to go  out all the time without make up, it's a wonder anyone could stand to look at me. Not that the make up really helps much. I mean, it doesn't give me a new face, just patches up the old one, and that can only take you so far.

I've probably had enough public self-deprecation for one day. Time to go back to bed and hope that the sun isn't shining tomorrow. I'm not in the mood.

Stream of Consciousness

I woke up early to do this walking workout thing with my dad this morning. I was in a miserable mood and just didn't feel like doing it, so I gave up halfway through. Harold the hedgehog fell off the monitor and is laying helplessly on his back. He looks like I feel. I realize the quality of my writing has gone downhill along with the quality of my mood. I'm not currently taking an antidepressant and that needs to change. No guarantees on how long this will last. Could be another week, could be the next couple months. My niece is great, but loud. The words "Aunt Bekah has a headache" have no meaning to her. I wore a skirt to dance class, changed into pants (to dance in), left the pants on till I got home, then put a different skirt to go out with my dad, and then changed back to pants when I got home. My motivation to put any effort into my appearance has hit rock bottom. Looking nice tends to make one feel nice, but nothing I can think of would be more uncomfortable than feeling nice. Welcome to bipolar disorder. We're loony, but lovable. Well, I guess that would depend on who you ask. Whatever. I just started the last four sentences with 'W.' I had wanted to shower and dry/flatiron/pincurl my hair tonight, but it's not going to happen. I think I'm going to bed. Another useless day is coming to a close.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Win: Florence + the Machine album acquired.

Lose: In an incident unrelated to the aforementioned acquisition, I temporarily lost my sanity.

Win: I finally figured out an outfit for a navy blue/white skirt I've had for a while.

Lose: Shoes are still a problem. The skirt is floor length...when I'm barefoot. Heels look silly.

Win: The skirt was looser than what it was when I bought it.

Lose: The hope that I'll ever get the hang of this life is dwindling on a daily basis.

Win: I'm teaching a dance class tomorrow.

Lose: I'm teaching a dance class tomorrow. Slight panic has set in.

Note: I am currently not this happy. Nor was I when the picture was taken.

Well, I'm Late. But Great!

Late for bed, that is. Last night I was in bed by this time. I popped out of bed like a daisy around 6:12ish. And then my whole day was ruined because I realized that my niece was still sleeping and I couldn't shower/dry my hair/make noise. So I went back to bed, only to have nightmares until I got up. Not a good start to the day. Luckily, there will be another one tomorrow. I hope.

My last post reflects the latest and absolutely GREATEST of my dance inspirations. I went to church early tonight (I go every Thursday for a meeting that I am bound to talk about one of these days) to work some stuff out since I begin teaching a dance class on Saturday. Did I mention that? Perhaps not. I am volunteering to teach a modern/ballet class at church. I can't wait! Anyway, I had a blast. Leave me alone in a big enough space with some amazing music, and I am the happiest person on the planet, guaranteed.

I'm no prima ballerina but I've been told I'm somewhat good at what I do on the dance floor. A contemporary hybrid of modern and ballet is what I excel at. What I love about dance is that when I'm dancing, I don't think about anything else but the movement, the music and the emotion that ties them together. My racing thoughts, my anxiety, all of my issues go away and my emotional backlog is cleared instantaneously. All I need is the music coursing through my body. Whether I'm alone or performing for a crowd of 1000, it doesn't matter, the high is the same. There's a certain cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins associated with the way I dance, I don't feel that way at any other time. And it doesn't matter if the piece is loud and powerful or soft and moving. It's amazing.

For kicks, here's today's outfit. No biggie. I was cranky this morning (please refer to paragraph 1) and didn't care, so black clothes and eyes it was.

I took this picture about 15 minutes ago. I'm much happier now than this morning. Because I danced.

I need to dance more often. If I didn't have to sleep or eat or any of that life-sustaining stuff, I'd do it all day...and look good doing it.

And that's why I'm great.

Survival of the Musical

Fact: I NEED the album 'Ceremonials' by Florence + the Machine.

This is life or death. I'm not sure what will happen if I do not obtain it soon.

I'll Procrastinate Later

I need structure in my life. I need to go to bed at the same time, wake up at the same time, do the same thing and keep it that way, every day. I have this thought every day. Every day I say, "I'll start tomorrow." When tomorrow comes, I'm too depressed to get out of bed on time, and the day is ruined. So I say, "I'll do it tomorrow." And then tomorrow comes, and I'm too depressed to get up again.

I'm starting tonight. At 10:00, no matter what I am doing, I will go to bed. I will set my alarm for 6:00 and give myself 10 minutes tops to get up. If I don't...there will be consequences but I haven't decided what yet.

I do that with everything. It's always "I'll do it later" or "another day." It's never now. Why? I don't get it. It's not like the stuff I have to do is particularly hard or anything. I'm just not good at life.

I wore all black again today. I haven't been feeling very colorful lately. I like black. It likes me. I see no reason for us to break up.

The shoes are courtesy of my sister. She wore my black boots out today, and one of my sweaters yesterday or the day before. I wore her sweater and t-shirt Sunday. This whole sharing arrangement is working quite nicely.

24 minutes til bedtime.

O.o

Few things are as frightening as hearing your dad belt out the words to "I Need to Know" by Marc Anthony.

Fat Tuesdays Make Wide Wednesdays

Fat Tuesday. Faschnaut Day. Mardi Gras. Carnival. Whatever you want to call it, it's the day/days before what is known as Ash Wednesday. For the tamer crowd, you're looking at a day of doughnuts and indulgence. For those of a less conservative persuasion, you may use your imagination.

Though I am of the LDS faith and therefore do not "celebrate" Ash Wednesday or Lent, I do believe in the whole idea of the matter. In much of Christendom, Ash Wednesday signifies the beginning of Lent, a 40 day period of fasting and prayer meant to symbolize the 40 day fast that Christ underwent before His public ministry. On Ash Wednesday, ashes are placed on foreheads of worshippers. This and other rituals are to signify confession and repentance before God. Ash Wednesday is also a fast day, wherein the Catholic tradition, Catholics between 18 and 59 (health permitting) are not to have more than one meal, supplemented by up to two smaller meals not to equate one full meal. Abstinence of meat is also required. Some go above and beyond these guidelines and observe a strict bread and water fast or fast throughout the 40 days of Lent, which was the Catholic church's original requirement.

Ok...so how do I as a Mormon fit into this? First of all, I strongly believe in repentance. Secondly, I believe in prayer and fasting. But instead of doing it all at once, I (and others of my faith) repent unceasingly, because there is always something to repent of! As for fasting, we are asked to spend the first Sunday each month in prayer and fasting if we are able. Because my medication requires me to take it with food, I can not fast in the strictest sense of the word.

Moving on to Lent. Lent falls between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. It is marked by fasting, both from food and festivities, and by other forms of penance. There are also three traditional practices to be taken up with renewed vigor: prayer, fasting and almsgiving. These three were labeled "justice towards God," "justice towards self," and "justice towards neighbor" (respectively) in Wikipedia (where I got all of this information). I found that interesting. Anyway, these days the practice of giving up a vice or luxury for Lent is common, as is adding a practice to become closer to God and giving charitable donations.

I believe in the idea of giving justice to God, self and neighbor. In fact, my faith (and I'm sure other Christian denominations) teaches that we are to love God, ourselves, and our neighbor as ourselves. They're words right out of Christ's mouth. I can appreciate the renewed effort that other Christian churches make during this time immediately prior to the celebration of the greatest sacrifice ever made. So why don't Mormons celebrate Lent?

We don't celebrate Lent because our focus is on the fact that He lives, not that He died. He died for me, yes, but He also rose again for me. And He lives, as sure as I do. This I know without any doubt in my mind. He lives, He lives who once was dead!

But, that isn't going to stop me from buying doughnuts tonight and starting a diet tomorrow.

Para Ti

This outfit is dedicated to my Mima (maternal grandmother).

The necklace, both rings and the skirt were all hers.

I even thought of her when I was considering not wearing stockings so I could wear a particular pair of shoes. She won (in real life there's no arguing with her), and I put them on and changed my shoes.

I even attempted a beehive-ish thing on my head. I'm going to have to ask how in the world she did it.

Nowhere Near Temporary

Tonight I had dinner with my oldest friend. Not oldest as in age, oldest as in the friend I've had the longest (18 years). We met for sushi and I didn't get home until almost 5 hours later. She forgot to pick up her boyfriend because we were chatting up a storm, and he was such a good sport about it that he didn't mind walking home. He's a keeper.

It was so nice to hang out with someone who really knows and understands me. She knows I'm crazy and medicated, she's supportive of all of my therapeutic efforts, and she might hate the soon-to-be ex more than I do. She knew I was losing it long before most other people did, and 18 years later, she's still my friend, concocting wedding cupcake designs and discussing how terrible the world has become with me.

The best part was knowing that no matter what I said or did, I wasn't going to be judged.

Thank you. Here's to 18 more years.

I Can't Wait For My Nap

If anyone were to come within earshot of my house right now, they would think that someone was being murdered.

In reality, it is the gleeful screams of my wonderful niece. Gotta love her.

I don't have anything insightful or profound to say tonight. It was a regular day. I cleaned something (kitchen cabinets), I cooked something (Thai noodle, shrimp and veggie stir fry), and later I wiped baby spit off my hands (because silly niece wanted to hold my hands...her hands were wet and gooey).

I will say that I have a full dance card this weekend though. I have dinner plans both tomorrow and Saturday night, awww yeah. Could it be? I'm starting to have a social life? Eh, doubtful. Saturday morning I'm going to make the first test batch of cupcakes for the bishop's daughter's wedding. Sunday I have to teach a class in church, so sometime between now and then I'll have to prepare for it.

After it's all over, I shall nap. The countdown to Sunday afternoon begins.

Oh, and this is what I wore today:

I'm really looking forward to my Sunday nap. I sleep better on Sunday afternoons than I ever do at night. I can guarantee I'll be up anywhere between 1-3 times tonight. Sometimes I don't know why I even bother.

Approximately 64 hours til naptime and counting...

You Call It Vanity, I Call It Self Preservation.

Today's therapy session was good and bad all at the same time. Turns out I have some irrational fears that actually aren't so irrational (good), and I should practice what I preach (bad). I left a little depressed.

We also covered a topic something completely unrelated to me and my silly fears and anxieties. That topic was...clothes! As a result of this...

I have decided that I need to wear what I'm comfortable in and not worry about how other people judge me (did I say this was unrelated to my anxieties? I may have been incorrect). I am going to wear clothes that make feel good about myself and accessorize accordingly. I always feel best when I take the time to do my hair, makeup and pick a great outfit. If that process takes 2 hours, so be it.

Does any of this seem vain? So sorry. I think that after having every flaw on my body ripped to shreds ("lose the gut," "you need scar cream," "do something with your hair," "I don't want my wife to have a mustache," "take better care of yourself." The list is endless), I'm allowed to take all the time in the world to make myself feel ok again. I've already established that I'd rather hang out with my hair than people. My hair makes me feel good about myself. People don't.*

Considering that I have horrible hair that has split ends, broken pieces everywhere, frizz and ugly curls, that doesn't say much.

The Three P's

Panera + People = Panic

I'm so dysfunctional, I can't get through a classy dinner at Panera Bread without having a major social anxiety attack and going home.

One Xanax and half...no, make that 3/4...of a gigantic chocolate chip cookie later, I'm much better.

For the record, I love Panera. If I could have a franchise location built into my garage, I would. I just don't like people.

Happy Valentine's Day, Indeed!

The only reason Valentine's day has anything to do with romantic love is because of Chaucer.

Thanks big guy. Your literary prowess was amazing, but you should know that you've ruined February 14 for men and divorcees forever. The date February 14 itself is actually the day Saint Valentine of Rome was buried. He was martyred. Nothing romantic about that.

There's nothing romantic about my poor grandmother finding her boyfriend dead this morning either. There's nothing loving about my niece smacking me in the butt, nothing amorous about chocolate kisses (the only kind I'll be getting for a long time), and nothing exciting about cleaning and reorganizing my kitchen cabinets.

My life is dull, and I love it that way. How's that for romance? I'm having a love affair with clothes, hair and makeup with no one to show it off to except my parents and the 3 ladies I work with at Job #2.

And speaking of...

First shot at faux bangs...not too bad! I was going to curl the bottom but didn't really have time this morning. And I tried pink lipstick...but I don't think it's bright enough. The whole trial-and-error thing is great, it's giving me lots and lots to do. I'd rather spend time with my hair than most people these days. That's sad.

What's also sad is that I now have to leave...to go to dinner and a movie with my parents, because my mom felt too sorry for me to leave me home.

Silly Faces

And my fun hair.

That is all.

Feeling Good

Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.
Yeah, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, ooooooooh...
And I'm feelin' good.

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin' free, you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me,
And I'm feelin' good

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know,
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean.
Sleep in peace when day is done: that's what I mean,
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me...

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel
Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel..
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me
And I'm feelin'... good.

-Nina Simone (And Michael Buble...and Muse...oh, how I love Muse...)

It's either the Xanax or the chocolate chip pancakes I had for dinner talking...but I feel great!

I made the pancakes with my dad. It was quite an adventure. A pancake-related meltdown led to the Xanax, which led to the pancakes actually being completed, which led to me being fat and happy.

I felt very "Mad Men"-esque today:

You can't really see it in the picture, but I rolled and pinned the curl on the right side of my forehead. It was my first attempt at doing such a thing and I was fairly pleased with the result. I think tomorrow I shall try a bigger roll. Wish me luck!

Understatement of the Year

*Sigh*

Life as I currently know it changes tomorrow. My sister and niece are moving in. I don't really want to talk details; just know that for the last few weeks, everyone in my family has been a little screwed up and stressed about it. What a blessing that I now have anxiety meds. I don't know what to think, so I'm not going to anymore.

No colored tights today. Wednesday I bought two pairs of stockings on clearance at Target and gave one a shot today. I think I'm in love. They fit well, they felt great and they're the PERFECT color.

Time for bed. I have to get up early so I can finish what I need to do before they get here. Well, kind of. I don't need to get up early to do the work, I need to get up early so I can actually put some effort into my appearance without waiting until I need to go somewhere.

Good night.

ps: 41 days since I started this blog/skirt thing. 41 days until a judge can sign my divorce. I thought that was interesting.

Here Comes the Cupcake?

I've been asked to make the cake/cupcakes for a wedding. After some thought, some prayer and a panic attack (in that order), I said yes. Surprisingly, I'm not so panicked about it anymore; in fact, I'm rather peaceful about my decision. I'm excited to be given the opportunity to 1) provide a service for someone and 2) branch out and try new things! Not to mention the fact that I love weddings and all things wedding planning related. So, I have my newest obsession. Wedding cupcake designs. Yay!

This little baker wore orange tights today. Short of feeling a little like an Oompa Loompa, I was fairly happy with what I was wearing.

You can't tell, but my eyeshadow stayed on all day! It's the little things in life that make me happy.

Anyway, if that dress looks a bit familiar, it's because I happen to have it in teal & green. Scroll down, I wore it Tuesday.

This has been the week of colorful tights...Tuesday was green, yesterday was pink, today orange. Monday was kickboxing day so I wore leggings under my skirt instead of tights. What color should I wear tomorrow? Purple? Yellow? Blue? Stay tuned!

Is There a Shoe ER?

I fell down the stairs at Job #2 today. Somehow I managed to do it upright for the most part. It's a really narrow, steep staircase and if I had gone head first I would've snapped my neck. I thought I broke my left middle finger nail since it bent so far back it was bleeding, but there's only the tiniest of cracks in one side. My nails are ridiculously strong. It isn't right. Anyway, the worst of it was suffered by my shoe, which will need a TLC...Tender Loving Cobbler.

I saw the psychiatrist today. He passed with flying colors. He asked about my life and listened when I answered. It was refreshing. I got the lab tests ordered, a refill on my lithium and something for my anxiety.

Today's tights were pink. The camera is in my room across the house and once I head in that direction I'm not coming back, so you will just have to believe me.

Headed that way now. It's not even 8:30 and I feel like it's midnight.

Bedtime.

Hooray for Drugs!

Not that kind, silly.

I have a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow. The first one to take place outside an inpatient hospital setting in over a year, how's that for exciting and terrifying all at the same time?

I'm hoping the doctor is alright. I once had a psychiatrist that I adored. He was helpful, kind, willing to listen, didn't prescribe things that made me sick, and if they did he changed them immediately. One day I was given the devastating news that he would be leaving the practice...and not just down the road, either. He was going far, far away. I have no idea where he is now, but if I did, I would pay anything and travel anywhere to see him again. He was that good.

I don't know anything about the guy I'm seeing tomorrow. I'm a little anxious about it. Go figure. I'm hoping that this time tomorrow I have a prescription to help me with my incessant anxiety. I also need lab work ordered to check the level of lithium in my blood. Lithium is a tricky drug, you have to have just the right amount in you for it to work; it's called the therapeutic level. Too much lithium and you can become "toxic," and guess what, that can kill you. Guess when my last lithium level check was? Oh, last June, in the hospital where it was prescribed to me. Guess how often one is supposed to be checked? Every few weeks. Oops. I haven't died yet, so I'm guessing I'm ok.

Would you believe I found a use for olive green tights?

Don't I look just thrilled about that?

Why is everything I write a question?

I wore this dress (which is black, teal and green) in January with black tights and a teal jacket. Today I wore it with a black cardigan, the aforementioned olive green tights and black shoes. And yes, that is a matching blingy ring. I bought it a couple of hours ago. I saw it a couple months ago during all the Christmas sales, but I couldn't justify buying it, even at the sale price. Tonight, I saw it and it was on clearance. I took that as a sign. It's mine now. My precious.

Just kidding, that's creepy.

Great, now I can't get the image of Gollum out of my head.

Delicious Dumplings Destroy Diets.

Dumplings make me happy. Not apple dumplings. Not chicken and dumplings. The mystery-meat-steamed-or-fried-Asian variety of dumplings. Also known as gyoza or pot stickers. Where I worked in Long Beach, CA, the filling was chicken, but it's often pork. Either way, they are de-freakin-licious and I love them.

I had dumplings for dinner. Complete with what I'm sure was not low-sodium sauce. And I can guarantee all of it had MSG. After the dumplings, I cleansed my palate with a small dish of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I just calorically undid what I did at kickboxing tonight.

My bad.

Hair and Back Again

I have curly hair. Perhaps you've noticed. Occasionally it looks alright when I leave it down, but most of the time it looks like a perm gone wrong.

My hair is the longest it's been since I was 25. Weeks after my 25th birthday, I chopped it off to about chin length, and it's been up there ever since. Well, until it started growing out because I had no choice. I liked my short hair. I had to straighten it all the time, but I didn't mind because it didn't take long to do, and that was kind of the point. Now that it's long-ish again, I'm faced with a dilemma. Cut it or keep it?

Short hair is so easy to take care of...long hair gives me more variety. But if I don't take advantage of that variety and just let it do its thing, then I get bored and want to cut it off again. It's a vicious cycle!

I haven't been playing around much with my hair lately because of my atrocious split ends. I haven't bothered because when my hair is this wrecked, nothing looks good. I had to do something though, I was going crazy. So last night after my shower, I blow dried and flat ironed my hair straight...and then put it in pin curls. Is that insane? For a curly haired person to straighten her hair just to curl it again? I don't care if it is. I like the results:

If I had a dress like this to wear every day, I might be the happiest girl in the world. I had a black cardigan over top to keep warm, and I have to say, I was quite satisfied with myself. I love, love, LOVE this style of dress. 40s-50s fashion makes me happy. Very, very happy.

But back to hair. This is what it looked like at the end of the day. This morning, the curls were tighter and made the whole style an inch or two shorter. The style is a lot of work, but honestly, I love it. I think I would be sad if I cut it off, especially since I'm just learning how to do fun stuff like this.

Ok. I've made up my mind. I keep it long.

I think.

Menswear, Shmenswear

I never realized the world of men's fashion was so complicated. When suits come as a two-piece (jacket and pants together), the waist size is customarily 6 inches smaller than the jacket size. If you aren't those specific measurements, you're out of luck because they won't let you switch. They make suit separates though, so problem solved, right? Wrong. Suits come in "regular" fit and various forms of the new "slim" fit. If you wear a 40R (regular) in "regular" fit, you may be surprised to know that the "slim" fit suits are not sized so that a 40R wears a 40R. No, your self-esteem goes down a notch or two because you're now a 42. If that isn't bad enough, pants these days are flat front and not cuffed. Sleeve length is shorter. These "modern" updates to the good old fashioned suit can be confusing to a guy who hasn't been in the suit buying game for almost a decade.

Thank goodness the man in question has a fabulous, patient daughter who studiously researched sizing, buying vs. having one made, tailoring, where one can buy inbetween sizes (because odd numbered sizes are rare), and where one can browse a decent selection and possibly have a salesperson who knows what they're talking about. This daughter also spent 4 days holding a coat and an assortment of pants and jackets. She ran for different sizes. She ran for more of the same size. She studied the quality and fit of every suit and gave her only marginally knowlegeable opinion when asked. She scrutinized shades of grey, tried to explain the difference between wool and Italian wool (the sheep speak italian?) and desperately attempted to get him to buy a plaid suit.

At last, the quest is over. Tonight, at approximately 7:45pm, two lucky suits were purchased. These suits had the privilege of being deemed worthy enough to go home with this gentleman. His daughter is grateful that it's over, but sad that there won't be anymore heavy artillery shopping with Dad in the near future. It reminded her of the days when he'd just randomly ask her if she wanted to go to the mall. That's music to a 15 year old's ears! So what if it's still musical when that girl is twice that age? Really, don't judge. She won't like it. Whatever.

Good times.

Groundhog Day

23 years ago today, a tiny, black-haired baby poked her head out and tried to predict the weather. I don't remember if she was right or not, I had a cold. Anyway, happy birthday to my little sister!

49 days until my divorce complaint can go before a judge, almost halfway! The time is flying by. In 3 days I will have been home for 4 months. I can't wait for this whole mess to be fully behind me.

There's been some debate in my house on the existence of a truly evil person. Not mentally ill, not naughty, not a chronic bad decision maker, but evil. How do you determine if someone is a bad person? Where do you draw the line between intentionally hurting someone or doing it "accidentally" or for the "greater good?" What qualifies someone as bad or evil? Beats the pants off of me. (Haha, get it? Pants? I'm not wearing pants this year? Pun definitely unintended...moving on)

Everyone I meet is a good person until you give me cause to think otherwise. For most of my life, this method has worked and kept me from suffering at the hands of another. I know that some become trapped in a cycle of abusive relationships, but you have a better chance of me adopting a pet tarantula than going through that again (hi, arachnophobe here). At least tarantulas sold as pets have their venom removed. So how do you avoid it? I don't really trust much of anyone. If I've known you for less than, say...16 or so years, then I probably don't trust you. Not that I think you'll steal from me. No, I don't trust you in the sense that I don't know if you're being emotionally or mentally manipulative.

If that seems harsh, I apologize. But I've been emotionally and mentally ripped to shreds. If you were to ask a certain individual, I am lazy, fat, stupid, worthless and a slew of other words I will not repeat because my mother reads this blog. You get the idea. I've had a bottle broken over my head, my hair pulled, I've been kicked, punched and bitten. I have to say, all of the physical stuff felt way better than the mental stress I was under. I attempted suicide 3 times last summer, just to try to escape. So you'll have to forgive me if I've lost some faith in the human race. I guess that's why I'm seeing a therapist for PTSD.

You've got to be kidding. Hello wedding song. As I type. Oh Pandora, why do you mock me?

Everything about that relationship was a lie. The proposal of marriage was like a cyanide pill covered in chocolate. I don't know about you, but I prefer peanut butter in my chocolate.

Ah, Pandora is making up for it's faux pas with a great song about someone not taking responsibility for their actions.

Today, neutrals and not a stitch of black!

Yesterday...black, white and RED lips :)

Let's talk clothes. June Cleaver is undoubtedly disappointed in me again...bare legs two more days in a row!
 Yesterday I was dressing for comfort; I had a marathon day of shopping with my dad ahead of me. I can't tell you enough how much I love those shoes. Today, after seeing stores full of bright colors, I tried not to wear black, and I succeeded! I love black, anyone could tell you that, but I'm starting to like colors...particularly blue. I find that really strange because I've always hated blue. Oh well. I'm a big kid now.

Thus concludes the Groundhog Day edition of Skirting My Issues. I hope no one minds that I got a little detailed about the past. Remember the movie Groundhog Day? Bill Murray had to relive the same day over and over again until he got it right. Well, I can't push this stuff away, I have to remember it and replay it and learn from it until I get myself right. I wrote this whole thing without a panic attack, so I'd say I'm heading in the right direction.