Year: 2013

Dr. Funk and the Head Spinners

A skunk’s funk lingers when it sprays its junk. It takes a while for the air to clear. I use this as a metaphor for the stank that lingers around me. I told myself I was fine, but I’m not. Not completely. I didn’t even feel like doing any online shopping after Thanksgiving. Pretty shoes at 50% off? Blah. Who the bleep cares. I don’t know how long it will take for me to clear myself of the stink. But I know I have to do something to neutralize it, not just let it keep stinking me up. I might get used to it and then where would that leave me? A person who knows how she smells and does nothing about it because she’s in too much of a funk to care. Yes, this is how my brain spirals and forms its thoughts. Speaking of my brain, a few years ago I went to see a neurologist for an issue I was having. Fortunately there was nothing (physically) wrong with my brain matter. However, I was …

Endings

I adore PYP. And I still adore him, even though we both agreed our relationship wasn’t working for either of us. As endings go, it’s the most mature and least awkward ending I’ve experienced thus far. But I still cried. I honestly hadn’t expected to do so. I started to say to him, “You’re the first person I have been with since…” And that’s when it happened. Emotions swirled in my stomach and into my chest, traveled up my throat and poured out of my eyes. “…my last relationship.” I managed to squeak out. This statement revealed nothing new. I had told him this before, but that was when I was getting to know him. Saying it at the end held a whole different kind of weight. Vulnerability, you son of a bitch…but thank goodness you still exist. In many of my posts I tend to come up with morals to the end of my experiences. I like to think that all of the lessons I learn must be making me a better person. And then …

The Red Dress

I’ve been trying on pretty things lately as part of an attempt to find clothes that make me feel good. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought items that almost fit right, looked passable because hey, it covered what it needed to cover, and because it was on sale. But if I feel uncomfortable, I’m going to look uncomfortable. With the constant guidance of one of my most fashionista friends, I’ve been trying to stick to the rules I’ve been given and have slowly rebuilt my wardrobe for the past year. Last year, I was opposed to trying on dresses because I was very much wedded to the idea that my bare burritos weren’t meant to be seen in public. But during my trip to Hawaii this year my attitude slowly began to change. I recently added two dresses to my wardrobe (I only had one before). They’re both striped. I know, I know! But they were too cute to pass up. They need to be hemmed. I think. But how many inches? …

The Enemy of All Enemies

In the past couple of weeks I’ve learned of a handful of people passing away. Most of them suddenly, unexpectedly, swiftly. One in particular was a 47 year-old woman I used to work with. Cancer took her life in eight short months. Cancer is my sworn enemy. And as my enemy…Cancer, you can suck it. In fact, you can suck it big time: My good friend N is battling ovarian cancer. She started out at stage 4 in April 2013. The prognosis of this disease at that stage would lay anyone low. After enduring a multitude of tests, drainings, 12 weekly sessions of chemo, surgery, and currently more chemo, N just received the results of her CA-125. This marker measures the concentration of ovarian cancer cells, normal being at 35 and under. SHE WAS AT 8. I flipped my lid when she told me and I cursed to the high heavens in happiness. True to form, she thanked me for making her experience less lonely, less scary. Seriously? How lucky am I to have a …

Walking Tall (Even Though I’m Not)

If you’ve read some of my other posts, you know that I have a fondness for self-deprecating humor. I’ve used it unconsciously and consciously and thought it was quite harmless. I didn’t mind making people laugh at my expense. Except…I noticed (and it was also pointed out to me) that making fun of what I think are my real deficiencies doesn’t do me or anyone else any favors. Not taking yourself too seriously is a good thing; turn it against yourself too often and you weaken yourself with your own sucker punches. I’ve made fun of my height, legs, cellulite, age, over thinking…well, I think that’s enough to begin with. We’re all self-critical to varying degrees, but when it plays heavily on our insecurities, enough is enough. Yes, I want to be a lot taller, have different shaped legs, dimple-free skin, be younger, and I want to stop thinking so damn much. But unless I have bone extension surgery, can turn back time, and stop being an INFJ, well, it ain’t gonna happen.    As I tackle …