I am a total eBay addict. I can usually find great stuff that is sold out or rare, and I kick ass at winning auctions. But when I found these I had to post them. I am sure that at least one of my readers will freak out (unless I am way behind the times and am the last to see them.) It sounds kinda gross to me, but hey, always here to help.
I know that delia*s is technically a juniors catalog, but sometimes they have really cute pieces (and cheap!) Right now, I am above my "desired weight." WAY above. So you would think that if I ordered a dress in a juniors size XS, it would fit. Maybe even possibly be too small.
A couple of weeks ago, I convinced my husband that I needed this: It arrived on Friday. I immediately tried it on. Oh, boo hoo. It looked like a muumuu. A maternity dress. A sack. NOTHING like it does on the model.
I would know, though. That stuff on catalog models is pinned to within an inch of its life. (This also explains the peacoat phenomenon, Chloe.) The model gets it on, and then it gets pinned to perfectly conform to the model's body. The models aren't perfect. The clothes aren't perfect. Someone makes the clothes perfect for the model's body. Simple as that.
If you like to read, click on the link to my other blog (piecesofnote) down there at the right. I have revived it, and will be going in a slightly different direction. It is mostly fiction and embellished fact; I'm hoping to write an entire novel and need some "practice" finding my fiction voice again.
Apparently, we live in the fourth most dangerous city in America:
"CQ Press has published its rankings for 2008. The most dangerous cities are New Orleans, followed by Camden, N.J., Detroit (last year's No. 1), St. Louis, Oakland, Flint, Mich., Gary, Ind., Birmingham, Ala., Richmond, Calif., and North Charleston, S.C."
Interesting. I feel annoyed (car break-ins) and frustrated, but not unsafe. I walk alone at night a lot, and sure, every once in a while my ears prick up, but generally, I feel safe enough to wander outside after midnight with headphones on and nothing but my keys and my running shoes.
Likely it's because the city is so different from area to area. I mean, certain areas may be dangerous, but I find that the areas I have inhabited are pretty safe. And I have lived in several parts of the city. Annoying neighbors who beat each other up? Sure, in some places. Drugs? Oh, yeah. But fear of rape and murder? Not where I have lived.
This all has a point. Ever since I came back here in 2000 (1? I have a hard time remembering it all now...) I have wanted to leave again. I hate to bad-talk this place, but I dislike it intensely. I don't "fit in". Not in a "I'm such a loser outsider" way, but in an "I'm not into baseball and I hate summer and by interests are better served elsewhere" way.
I left Colorado years ago because I had to. Or so I thought. I was in a relationship that had gone south quickly, I had a great job but lived in an area where waiting lists for apartments were years long, and I was 20 years old. I was scared.
So I came back here, tried to go back to school, and basically, my life went to hell.
But that isn't the point here.
I have been back to Colorado five times since I moved back here. Each time, I feel a little sadder when I leave. As I drive up 70 towards Summit County, it's like I am home. I can finally breathe, and I realize I have been holding my breath all along.
And I am scared that I will never get out of here.
So my idea for the coming year is simple: I need to change my lifestyle just a bit so that I pay off every debt I have. I have to make something of myself, whether it is teaching a lot of Pilates or finally just writing that novel or bartending...I don't care, I have to do something. Because I want to move. No, I NEED to move.
Crime stats or not, I think that everyone has a place that feels like home. A lot of times, this isn't where we actually live. That makes me sad. I believe fully in "the power of place" and feel like where we live affects our health, our children's/pets' health, our happiness, and our ability to achieve things.
I know it will be difficult, but I need to try harder to make this happen. I know that all four of us (!) will be so much happier somewhere else. I resolve to pay off all my debt before July 2010. That starts in January 2009. In the meantime, it's time for a big spending binge!
Sorry, I took these with my phone and emailed them to myself, so they aren't the best quality.
life is hard. so hard.
hugs for my sister
we love napping in the sun
Piper is Ben's baby. She sleeps curled up on me at night, but whines and sits by the door when Ben leaves and greets him ever so slightly more enthusiastically when he comes home. She loves me, but is more attached to Ben. The day before we picked up Satchel, I read that female chihuahuas bonded more to their male caretaker. I cried and cried that both would be his babies and I would be their second love. I cried that I wanted a boy, a lap baby, and Ben was like, *sigh* "find a boy." (!!!) However...Satchel will not let me go. She holds on to me with her little paws and follows me into every room. She has a pathetic howl when I leave (Ben recorded it) and prefers sitting on me to anything else. She was terrified at first, and had to fight off Piper's "rough play advances." She seemed sad, and I was so worried about her (I will be until I take her to a second vet. Long story.) I gave her some fresh coconut water and about 20 minutes later we had a brand new dog. She wagged her tail, ran around the kitchen, played tug of war with Piper and a toy (Ben took video) and gave lots of kisses. They are almost overwhelming...making messes, getting into things, crying for attention...but we love them SO much. They are so much love packed into tiny bodies.
I love my car. It is the car I wanted before I was even old enough to drive. It is unique, cute, and fun to drive. It is rare, interesting, and safe. It is also a snob (or I should say, a Snaab. Actually, I wanted to get vanity plates that said SNAAB but my husband didn't really understand, so I didn't. Damn it, now I want to do it anyway.) My car and its turbo engine want premium gas. I realize this isn't exactly eco-friendly, and it certainly isn't budget friendly, but I don't really drive that much anyway. And it is a small sacrifice to make to be able to drive a classic 900. (I know it's old, that is the point. They don't make 'em like they used to!) I love my car and want it to last a LONG LONG LONG time. I am actually trying to convince Ben that he needs to buy one when he finally replaces the Batmobile (a beat up old Honda Accord; I have no idea why he is still driving it. NOTHING on the thing works. It was his first car. I just sigh and shake my head.) Anyway, I know gas prices have been going down, but I was shocked to see that "the champagne of gas" that my car likes was finally under $2.00 per gallon: I know, it is a silly thing to be excited about, but I haven't seen gas so low in a while. Especially before the holidays. Fill up!!
I have to apologize in advance to a couple of my readers:)
Last Friday, I took Piper to PetSmart because she had had a hard day, and I wanted her to be around people who would "ooh" and "ahh" and pet her. (It worked. I was in there for about 90 minutes, and everyone loved her.) I bought her some toys, and a t-shirt. And then I went back to an endcap that had Beverly Hills Chihuahua merchandise on sale. There was a stuffed dog (it's supposed to be a chihuahua) that was as big as Piper, so I picked it up, kind of as a joke. When I got home, I looked closer. Her name (Chloe) is embroidered on her velvety pink dress/top thing. So I went over to the computer and looked up "Beverly Hills Chihuahua." Sure enough, the little chihuahua girl's name is Chloe. (I'm not sure why so many people name their dog Chloe. My aunt's dog, I just found out today, is named Chloe. Just never thought of it, I guess. Then again, when I was in high school, my just-went-away-to-college boyfriend named his dog Shannon. Hmm.) Anyway...Piper LOVES her little friend. However, she is mean to her sometimes. I really hope this is not indicative of her attitude towards her new sister who will be coming home Saturday. If she does that to Satchel (name might change?) I will freak out. Hopefully, she realizes the difference between the two.
In other news, I was sad to discover last night that Sarah Palin has a daughter named Piper. Since we got her right after the election, I am sure people are thinking we named her Piper for that reason. I swear, I had no idea the little girl even existed until I was flipping through a Newsweek yesterday. We got the name from a 6-year old chihuahua that I had my eye on...but she was adopted out before my husband decided "yes" to a dog. So we stole her name.
I have a few pair. I don't know what it is with me and grey shoes, but I love them!! I guess since the closet is full of black, I have moved on to the grey.
Here is my latest addition: I would not normally wear a snakeskin-type shoe, but I couldn't resist. I know a lot of fashionistas talk trash about chunky heels (and wedges! why? I LOVE WEDGES!) but I think that they look great if worn correctly. Now I just need to figure out what in the world to wear them with...and that means more cleaning.
So...today I finally got in on the good stuff going on at gilt.com They were having an Alice + Olivia sale, so I grabbed this: (and I do mean "grabbed." I had to wait to see if it was even available, and when the little thing popped up on my email to tell me it was, I pounced.)
About an hour earlier, I decided to spend my bluefly credit balance and got this:
So, I am hoping I have a few dressier holiday things to do this year. I have not one, but two new dresses that I need an excuse to wear.
And finally, my Choos arrived the other day. You know, the ones that were supposed to be pre-order only, and charged/shipped on January 4, 2009. Apparently, store-not-to-be-named decided it was okay to charge me without notification, and then FedEx decided it was okay to just leave the box at my door. Hmm. Whatever. I know I am not supposed to wear them with yoga pants (on second thought, is there a wrong time to wear them?) but here is a photo (crappy, taken with my phone) for all it's worth:
Now I just need to keep up with the pedicures. Believe me, pedicures are not exactly a luxury for me. My feet are terrible, horrible, disgusting. And people see them all day--a lot of times, when demonstrating Pilates, I have to be barefoot. My feet are close to people's faces. Therefore, I have to try to keep my feet nice. The whole "feet-looking-good-in-shoes" thing is a side benefit:)
I just cleaned out my front room closet (again) and found yet another great pile of stuff to sell on ebay. I have a few more kate spade dot noel bags that I could stand to get rid of...the last one I sold brought in almost twice what I paid a few years ago. (Anything that isn't made anymore is potential ebay gold.)
And that's all for tonight. It's time for me to go formulate my plan for the next few weeks. I am tired of feeling sick and gross all the time.
I really don't want this to be a "food blog." Really. In fact, I am trying really hard to leave a lot of that behind me, but there are times when I wonder if everyone who is even slightly like me has the same exact life I do, but doesn't yak yak yak about it all day (like I do).
First of all, I must say that being naturally little is a kind of disadvantage when it comes to overeating. Gain five pounds on a little 5'2" body, it looks like a lot more than it would on a 5'6" body. Athletic? Just a slight cover of fat on your muscles, and suddenly it looks like ALL of it is fat.
That said, I have a huge problem lately. I hate the term "emotional eating" especially since I don't feel like I really eat for emotional reasons lately. At least not like I used to. Hard day at work, fight with a guy, not getting along with family...all reasons I used to overeat. Not anymore. That stuff, I get mad, I cry, I bitch to some friends. Now, I have a problem I like to call "stupid eating." Let's see. Go shopping, see self in disgusting light in fitting room, look fat. EAT. Go to yoga, have a hard time, feel like fat is in the way of yoga postures. Go home and EAT. The most recent one is the absolute stupidest. I was at the gym and my ipod battery ran out (happens often as I am lazy about recharging). I grabbed a magazine, and in it was an article about that Biggest Loser show. I really know very little about it, but the article mentioned that the people ate 1200 calories a day and exercised for 6-8 hours a day. Yes, it's unhealthy. But I don't care. It really fired up the competitive vixen in me. It made me feel like a fat failure, because although with Pilates and yoga and cardio, I do get 3+ hours of exercise a day, and the rest of the day is spent running around and cleaning and not sitting a lot...I eat WAY more than 1200 calories. And as stupid and un-sustainable (and ridiculous...um, not supposed to eat less than your RMR, right?) as I know it is, it made me feel like I was just doing it all wrong and needed a "start-over." Yes. A "start-over." One little extra handful of grapes over what I like to "allow" myself, and I binge. Why? Because I messed up, and I need a "start-over." And a "start-over" isn't worth it unless I get what I really "want." (Want is in quotation marks here because of the fact that I really don't WANT to eat all these things that make me sick. Remember, I have so many food intolerances and digestive issues due to Hashi's that overeating is not just overeating...it literally makes me ill because I overeat all the things that I "can't" eat.) I am totally ruining my health here. I am convinced that somehow the permanent chaos that is our home is causing me to do this. I am so stressed out by mess that I cannot do anything right.
I hate fakes. Fake accessories, fake shoes, fake clothes, fake fake fake. I hate 'em all.
Notice I did not say "I hate cheap shoes, accessories, and clothes." Maybe I'm a little bit of a snob, but I'm not that big a snob. I love finding shoes at Target, purses at DSW, and stuff on sale at Macy's. I bought 2 pair of shoes at Target last week:
And some clothes. I bet that is the last time Ben gives me his credit card for the day and tells me I can go to Target. Oops. Anyway.
Inexpensive stuff is one thing. Fakes are another. I have written about this before (on another blog) but it really frustrates me to no end. Fakes rip off another person's (the designer's) creativity. If someone stole something I wrote, I would be pissed! Fakes are often made in sweatshops, and nobody wants that! Finally, a LOT of people are really unaware that everything from Abercrombie & Fitch (why??? whywhywhy?) to Louis Vuitton to Jimmy Choo is copied. (And now, Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Swap Meet Louie" is in my head. Wow. 8th grade, yeah!) You can go to tradekey.com and scare the hell out of yourself if you would like. The counterfeit industry (just the part that we know of and keep track of) is over twice as big as Wal-Mart. (Yuk. I hate both.) Other things being "faked" are Tiffany jewelry, Xbox (how???) and of course, DVDs. Seriously.
Ebay is a great place to get great deals. You know, that $1000 coat you wanted but didn't get, and was sold out in all sizes except XXXL once it went on sale for 70% off. Guaranteed, someone bought it and hated it, or got sick of it, or something...and put it up on ebay. Lots of times, you get lucky. But a lot of times, things on ebay are FAKE. Even those sellers with 100% feedback can be selling fakes. Why? Well, a lot of people don't know how to tell a fake from a real item. A lot of people don't care (for the life of me, I don't know why. Why would you pay $300 for a fake Louis Vuitton logo bag? If you want a logo bag, and you are willing to pay $300, why not go to Nieman's and buy a Coach logo bag?) and are happy because it might fool their friends. And a lot of people are too damn nice (me) to leave negative feedback. They just report it to ebay and leave no feedback. Stupid me. Look at what the person is selling. If all they have is 100 Chloe Saskia satchels (sorry, but a good example, ebay is bursting with them sometimes) be wary. But if someone is cleaning out their closet, and has a great bag for a good price, it is more likely to be real. Take your bag to be authenticated, at the boutique, or at Nieman's/Bergdorf's/Saks/Nordstrom. Many fake sellers will offer a money-back guarantee. So what? If you notice they offer a guarantee but then charge $49.95 for shipping, be wary. Why? Because they may have paid $5 for that fake, and are selling it to you for $499. Plus $50 shipping. If you call them on it and request a refund, you get it all back-minus shipping. They still made a profit, and you are out that money for...nothing.
And finally. SO many inexpensive bags, shoes, etc are so great and fashionable. However, I don't get the whole "make a logo that looks similar to a big name logo but really is just our initials in the same shape." WHY? That screams "EW!" to me. Example: Guess trying to be...is this a cross between Chanel and Coach?
I guess (haha, oh harharhar, I really didn't mean to do that) that I have something against Guess due to my mother's obsession with it in the 80's. I owned like 30 pair of their stupid jeans with the zippers at the ankles and the triangle on the butt pocket. Oh, and I had the Dorothy Hamill haircut. Ruined short hair for me forever.
I am sure there was a point to this blog, but I am losing it. I am so sick today. I had a dentist appointment this morning, and anything even remotely stressful has been making me sick lately. Stupid immune system.
Seriously, what is wrong with this city? It is the middle of November, and I have not been able to wear a single coat yet! (If you haven't noticed, I have a coat obsession.) Just another reason to hate it here. Ben and I are moving (1.5-2 years or so from now, depending) and have been trying to decide between my old town in Colorado, or Portland, Oregon. This is another point for Colorado. I want cold. COLD COLD COLD. I hate hot, I hate humidity, I HATE it. Really. I don't much like summer. It makes me want to sit inside in the air conditioning all day. UGH.
In other news, I just made a HUGE score on ebay:
The Nanette Lepore Secret Lover coat! Sometimes I love eBay. Sometimes I hate it. I hate fakes. But that is another post entirely:)
I am having a bit of a "sick weekend." I think I overdid it yesterday; I had hair, nails, waxing , chiropractor, gym, puppy stuff, cleaning, and grocery shopping. (I know. Like I should complain about a day at salons. Anyway.) I think I am losing my mind sometimes. I am taking Armour thyroid (natural thyroid hormone taken from, of all things, pigs, which is so NOT vegan or humane but terrifies me a lot less than the synthetics) and it has helped a LOT. I still have bad days. However, I think it would help a lot more if I actually remembered to take it, remembered if I took it, and followed a schedule. I know that some days I completely forget to take it all day, and then have to take the whole dose at night. I know that some days, I wake up, take some, and then think that I haven't, and end up taking too much. I have no idea how I can remember phone numbers of people I haven't spoken to in ten years, which page I am on in a book without using a bookmark, whether or not I fed the fish, etc. but not if I have or have not taken my stupid thyroid. Anyway. That is probably why I feel so crappy; my blood levels are what the doctor would call "optimal" and a lot of the really bad symptoms are dwindling or gone. But yeah, I need to learn how to dose it correctly.
We have a big (well, a small) surprise coming next weekend! I am also going to try to clean up and organize the closet (which involves photographing anything that goes in a box or bag or is covered by a garment bag) so I will eventually post the promised photos of some pretty stuff. But for now, here are some more Piper photos (I know, this is not supposed to be a blog about chihuahuas, but she's too cute, I can't resist)
WARNING: I HAVE A SEVERE CASE OF POTTY MOUTH WHEN UPSET. KTHANKS.
Okay. This year has sucked, sucked, sucked. I mean, it seems like I barely made it home from my honeymoon last year that all the sickness I had felt off and on moved in permanently, and I suddenly could do about 1/10 of what I used to. Many days, going to check the mail put me flat on my back for the rest of the day.
So, I gained weight. Don't get me wrong...I know I am still well within the "normal" range for my height, and blah blah blah, but I don't have any business being this size. I am small-boned. I have long lean muscles somewhere under...this. My knees and hips ache daily when I try to exercise (no wonder...each pound gained adds 25 pounds of stress on each knee when walking. Try jogging. yeah. right.). I am so unhappy about it that I don't want to do anything...go out, practice Pilates, see old friends...hell, THIS is the sole reason I have not yet returned to Bikram yoga.
Read that again. I have not returned to doing something I loved and did every single day for almost five years because of my weight.
It really is fighting me. I swear, all I ever want anymore is sugar. All those "good" things that people eat to reduce calories? Whole grains, lean protein, etc? Can't digest any of it. Raw vegetables? Only if they are pureed. And thanks, but no thanks. My digestive system has come so far, but may never be able to handle these things. A salad without any cheese, croutons, or dressing...just vegetables...would make me so sick for so long that had I a job, I would have to call in for two days. So, basically, I can eat a lot of stuff that isn't very satisfying (I drink it. Yay. Fucking fun.) and has tons of calories (A 300 calorie smoothie? Great. That's one without much nutrition. Add the greens, the coconut oil for fat, the hemp seed protein...there is a third of what I want to eat in a day, and I'm hungry an hour later.)
It's either constantly fight and think about how "it's okay to feel hungry" or give in and pig out. Or eat something satisfying (wow. a bowl of plain plain plain oatmeal) and pay for it all night and the next day. I'm so fucking sick of it that I'm ready to give up. Fuck teaching Pilates, I'm sorry but I wouldn't want a fat Pilates teacher. Fuck dressing nicely, fuck exercising, fuck even leaving the house.
So I ask my chiropractor for help, even though I have really low expectations. He's a nutrition expert. Well. So am I after years of shitty food issues, then digestive issues, and now autoimmune thyroid disease. Trust me. But I figure, another (educated) perspective could help.
So I write him what is basically a book...several pages of how I feel, how I used to feel, what I eat, how much I would like to eat, photos of me at my happiest weight (read: before I had any kind of thoughts about food other than "hungry? eat. yum. thanks. no more. full. no thanks.") and basic info about me and what my goals are.
And he tells me: "I think you should stop counting calories."
Thanks. Thanks a lot. Now, HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO STOP GAINING WEIGHT, MUCH LESS LOSE IT, IF I JUST RANDOMLY STICK CRAP INTO MY FUCKING MOUTH????
As much as I would LOVE to be one of those elusive perfect women who just eat when hungry, stop when full, exercise because it feels good, and stays the same perfect weight, I'm NOT. Left to my own devices, I can easily eat 2-3 times what I need. And with my activity level, I need a LOT. I have no "off" switch, and to make it worse, once I go over my own daily set limit, I say "FUCK IT LET'S MAKE YOURSELF SICK YOU FUCKING PIG GO DIE!!!" and eat shit that I would not want to even admit I put in my body.
So yeah. I can eat, basically, certain fruits, a few select veggies if pureed, baked potatoes, lentils (but I'm not supposed to; some people claim that they suppress thyroid), Organic Food Bar (a mix of almond butter, flax seeds, and other raw stuff...again, not supposed to eat b/c of thyroid but I do anyway) and, oh, that's about it. Anything else makes me sick in some way...extreme fatigue, weird allergic reaction, severe digestive upset for days. My life sucks, I don't want to go out, see people, do my job, or even go to the gym any more. Most of my clothes oddly still fit but if I am not careful I look like a slut trying to show too much skin and flop her boobs around (me when fit: 32 small small B. me when at worst: 32 pretty big D. Yeah. Some women would love this but I think it is gross, and never will understand implants.) I'd like my stuff to fit like it is supposed to. I'd like to not feel so fucking gross all the time. I'm really unhappy, and it really is just this. I should be happy. I have a great husband, a pretty comfortable life, a family that isn't perfect but much better than average, and a lot of interests (if only I could stay interested and not let my body get in the way). I kind of feel like I was somewhat genetically blessed: not a model, but it could be a LOT LOT LOT worse. I feel like shit that I am so unhappy, but it isn't anything that anyone around me could fix or control. Blah, blah, blah.
Back to the chiropractor...I'm so frustrated. I wish I could even TRY to "not count calories" but that sounds like something I would like to try to do AFTER the weight is gone and I am comfortable experimenting. He wants me to see a lady who he says "is not a therapist" but would help. Wow, how vague. I have tried it all. Therapy, Reiki, weird rituals involving calling up friendly spirits (not my idea, and don't ask, I was trapped in a weird situation in Hawaii of all places), regular doctors, alternative doctors, meditation, essential oils, homeopathics, food combining, list goes on and on and on and on and on. As much as I love yoga and try to stay vegan and try to stay as natural as possible, I can't do the whole chanting dancing emotional blech that people throw around. No, I am not closed-minded. I have tried all this stuff...and instead of the "emotional freedom" I am supposed to feel, it makes me uncomfortable and impatient and anxious. I have tried. MANY times. So now what? Seriously, I feel like I'm not worth getting my roots done, fixing my pedicure, or even brushing my god damn useless teeth. It's the shittiest existence I can imagine.
And if you have read all this, wow, thank you. I can go on and on forever. So thanks. And extra thanks if you don't immediately think I'm completely out of marbles.
I am so guilty of "OMG, I have (insert event here) to go to and nothing to wear!" then running out to buy something semi-nice. Meaning, I spend a decent amount of money, but end up with something that never gets worn again--not a favorite. You would not believe the amount of this kind of stuff I have lying around...in my closet, in drawers, in storage bins... it's time to get rid of it! Lately I have been very discriminating with purchases...if I don't love something immediately (save for minor alterations like cami straps too long or pants need hemming) it goes back on the rack (or in the mail). I am sure I am not alone in buying things that are just "passable" because it is all I can find for a job interview (date, party, dinner with family, etc) or because it looked cute on the hanger or was on sale or whatever. NO more of that. Seriously, when I add up what I would spend on "just ok" stuff, and eliminate that (it's stressful, too, that last-minute dash), I have more freedom to buy better stuff. And selling all that "just ok" stuff on ebay is fun, too:) So...here's to cleaning.
I haven't been writing because all weekend and the past two days, Piper is not feeling well. For several reasons, I suspect that she is diabetic:( Husband takes her to the vet tomorrow. I am so sad for my little baby!! I know, I keep writing about her, but I can't help it. My blog is boring...still no pictures of pretty clothes and shoes:( I will post them, I promise. I can't really concentrate on anything until I know Piper is going to be okay. Hopefully I am just overreacting!
I'll admit it. Much of the time, I am a "nothing" girl. (God, I hate the word "commando." *shudders*) However, there are many times when a girl needs something under the lower portion of her outfit. I choose thong, all the time, no matter what, when I am wearing ... (I also hate the p-word. Please don't say it. Ick.) Now, sometimes I love Macy's, sometimes I hate it, but when it comes to cheap, sexy, comfortable thongs, these win hands down. I'd post the photo, but then I have a feeling someone would "report" me as an adult blog. Booooo.
And...would you consider a thong as an accessory? I do, hee hee!
Every year around this time, I start getting really excited about raw foods. It's backwards, I know. It's probably because it was in the fall of 2002 that I first worked with the raw foods concept. Anyway, it's time again for me to do a little juice/smoothie feast.
Let's talk about my diet in general. I have one of the worst digestive systems ever, and it is really unfair. Even as a kid, when I didn't know or care much about nutrition, I was never much of a McDonalds/pizza/fried food eater. I was a picky eater who didn't eat much. Sure, I ate those things, but my family did not rely on it as "dinner." I remember that going to fast food was something we did on a summer afternoon after my mom had taken me to the pool (before we got one.) Anyway, in my very early 20's, I started having the worst problems ever. Nobody and nothing could help in any way. I basically took it into my own hands at that point, and years of trial and error later, I now have a few options. One of them is sticking exclusively to raw foods, and if it is leafy at all, it MUST be made into a smoothie with my Vitamix. Recently, I have been experimenting with other things, and going back to dairy is a NO, wheat and other grains are a NO (but I miss rice and want to try again!) but plain baked potatoes and plain lentils are great. Wow. How fun. I won't go into lecture mode, but you CAN get all the nutrition you need with exclusively (or damn near exclusively) raw foods, especially if you are active and actually NEED more carbs. However, it is time-consuming and expensive. "Don't you get bored?" Of course I do!! I used to be one of those people who felt DAMN SPECIAL because I was a fruitarian, I didn't need deodorant anymore (yes, this happens), and blah, blah, blah. Then I spent some time on a web forum with thousands of people who were like that to an extreme, and I realized that I did not want to be like them. Yes, I do get bored. I don't think I'm particularly special (at least not because I do or don't eat something, heh heh). I want some toast. I want some yogurt. I want a cupcake. Sometimes, I do eat those things. But it means 12-72 hours of being so sick and uncomfortable that I can't work, clean the house, work out, do much of anything except lay around and read books. And it's not worth it. For years I went to conventional doctors. Recently, a naturopath (helped a bit, but helped more with other, non-digestive issues). Most recently, a chiropractor (helping with digestive efficiency but not really with tolerance to foods). So really, I HAVE tried, and if feeling well enough to live means not eating Thanksgiving dinner, then so be it. I have wasted so much time already.
So back to the point...today was my first day of (hopefully) three weeks of smoothie-tastic energy. (How cheesy. And yes, I know that overlaps Thanksgiving, but again...I cannot find a vegan roast recipe that does not include something I need to avoid. So we're doing something different.) If I make any new and delicious recipes, maybe I will post them.
Poor Piper. She is not feeling well today. I suspect that it is the treats I got her the other night. I ran (literally; I wanted more exercise) to the store to buy my husband some ice cream. It was a store I normally never shop at. They had a section of refrigerated dog food/treats. I guess the fluorescent lighting made me high or something. I eat organic food. I want to feed my dog organic food. But since the only ingredients were chicken and chicken broth, well, I thought "sure, these are okay." Yeah. Since I'm one of those people who can't leave a store without a small gift for my dog. The treats smelled like those pre-packaged chicken strips for humans. Which I hate. But she liked it okay. She ate them. And now, she is...squirting at both ends. I know that is not a nice thing to say, but I can't think of anything nicer. She's been good about making it to her litter paper for most of it, but she has thrown up on her cute pink bed twice. I need to call the holistic vet tomorrow to set up an appointment for her next shots, but if she gets worse I am going to demand a visit ASAP. I had to take her an hour away Thursday to see the vet affiliated with where we got her. It was required, which is good, but annoying, since it was far away and she is not so sure she likes the car. She has not had an easy time. That vet said she needed ear drops (the wax tested positive for yeast, which means she may have an infection, he said) and she HATES the ear drops. She also shook them right out on Thursday in the vet's office. Right on to my new Marc Jacobs military style jacket. Argh. I make it sound like life is hard for her. Yeah, right. I wanted to crate her at night, at least for now, when she wants to chew electrical cords and pee on new 100% silk comforters from Garnet Hill. (I have been using the same down comforter that my grandma gave me as a going away to college present. In 1997. I have sewn up so many rips in that thing, and it has not been white for years. Not having the heart to donate it, I put it in one of those XL zipper bags and into a plastic roll-y bin. But why could she not have peed on it? At least that I can machine wash.) The past two nights, however, husband puts her on the bed between us. Last night the following conversation occured: HUSBAND puts Piper on bed. ME: Oh, you want her to stay here all night? HUSBAND: Ye-e-e-e-s ME: I'm scared she will wake up and try to jump off the bed again. HUSBAND: She will feel safe and warm here. She will be fine. ME: I guess we need to get those doggie stairs now. HUSBAND: okay!
So, he is totally spoiling the puppy. That's fine with me. I'm glad he loves her. But no, her life is nowhere near difficult. However, she seems stressed from all the ear drops, the upset digestive system, the cold...(for which my husband bought a dog heating pad...but it was my idea). Poor thing. I worry about her too much when I am gone.
In the past two days, her "lazy ear" has been standing up. Now she really looks like a chihuahua is supposed to look! I am sounding like a crazy person, so I will end with two more photos:
Really not trying to show the world my husband's spare tire. But Piper climbed up on him and went to sleep. (And yes, that is the evil old TV in the background. It got to stay because I got a puppy, because "lonely dogs need TV." And it is a mess. I know.)
She really can sleep in any position. It is scary how heavy a sleeper she is. I want to photoshop a little drink into one of her paws.
Sorry, but I just don't get it. I mean, on her body, it isn't the worst thing I have ever seen, but it is still really, really ugly. It's like "I Dream of Jeannie" goes to the prom in the early 90's. I'm not a big celebrity follower at all, but sometimes I see something that makes me look twice. I saw this photo of her in a magazine I picked up at the gym when I realized I had left my ipod at home.
And I still don't understand why she cut off her hair. Short hair is one thing, but every part of her is starting to look more and more like her husband. Weird.
(I know. Such a surprise coming from OCD Chemical-Free Girl. I know.)
I've had a love/hate relationship with my face throughout the years. (Doesn't everybody?) I think everyone has a gripe about their face. It could be their eyes, their neck, their complexion, scars, broken veins, blackheads...whatever. Usually, if it bothers you enough to affect you negatively, something relatively simple can be done to improve it. At one point, I hated my nose. I was 11. It got better. I hated my big forehead. Then I got a clue about the fact that those early-90's Alice bands were not for me. The list goes on...when I was young, I looked TOO young (being 16 and mistaken for a 7th grader?-not fun!). Now that I am starting to get little lines on my forehead (too much worrying, too much refusing to wear my glasses or contacts and squinting) I feel like they are HUGE WRINKLES and make me look 40 (if you don't know, I'm 29). Some days, it bothers me a lot, but mostly, I am okay with it. Your face is supposed to age. You smile, you cry, you laugh...you get lines.
But the one thing that I truly hate about my face is not caused by aging, and can't be fixed with Botox or a facelift or anti-wrinkle cream or chemical peels.
I feel like I have no lips. And looking at my mother, I am afraid for my future. Sure, big lips are sexy, "in," and a necessity for porn stars. But over the years, I have realized that people think I am making a face at them, when in reality, it is just my face. My ridiculous, tiny, doll-lips, at my age, just make me look angry or bitchy. Not the kind of person you would want to approach. Not the kind of person you would want to work with. I realize that in most photos, you want to be smiling. However, most people can get away with a candid in which they are not smiling, and not look like a serial killer contemplating her next hit. I, however, look like an angry psychotic with HUGE eyes and a pinched mouth. And yet I am not pinching it. That's just my face. When I was 14, I went to Glamour Shots. (It was highly popular in 1993. The pageant cowgirl hair and all.) The photographer took only one shot of "serious face" and that was it. The rest turned out great (if you can ignore the 90's clothing, stupid poses, and above-mentioned hair). The "serious" one? I looked PISSED OFF. I wasn't. Come on, I was 14 and pretending to be a model. Think I was mad? NO! A couple of years ago, my ex posted some photos from a club's grand opening on his website. I made him immediately remove all the candids of me...talking to a friend, buying a drink...not because my outfit sucked (it did, but that was the least of my problems) but because I looked like a petulant, angry, crazy person. I never wear lipstick, because contrasting the color between my lips and face make them look even smaller. I have been known to mix flesh colored powder with shiny clear gloss. That's it. No darker shades, ever. I don't want Angelina Jolie's lips, I don't want porn star lips, I don't want people who have never met me to look at me and say "wow, your cosmetic surgeon sure is good!"
I do, however, want lips. Ones that stay around long after the lip plumper has been licked off, ones that make me look content when my face is relaxed (as opposed to angry). I realize something like "having work done" is a big deal. It is not cheap, it can be botched, and some options (I already know) are not for me. I am not positive I will even do anything about it. I have, however, started a "lip fund" in which I place 2/3 of the money that I would normally spend on stupid things (junk food I don't need, books I would read in one day and then donate to the Salvation Army which can easily be found at the library, a stupid tank top that I might wear once and then send to the back of the closet, etc...and the other 1/3 is for credit cards, but I digress). It is an incentive. I am trying to reach a goal (more on that some other time) and once I am there, I plan to go for a consultation. No promises, no deals. Just to see. Because even though I am generally happy, people always ask me what is wrong. Aging is going to happen, and I'll decide how to deal with that as well. But feeling as if the world completely misunderstands you because of something like your mouth? Unacceptable to me. So we'll see...
I know, so many of you will think this is ridiculous, but I can't resist these.
I think Piper is going to be more spoiled than me!
...but she's so cute, it doesn't matter:
a really unflattering photo of Ben in workout gear...but they are so cute together!
she has a really long tongue...sometimes it pokes out when she is sleeping
she just has the weirdest sleeping positions EVER
She really is our little baby and as badly as I wanted a dog, I had no idea I could love one so much. Not that I didn't adore Gabby and Marley, but Piper is OUR baby and she has already made me so happy.
I'm pissed off at other people, and pissed off at myself. If there is one (non-physical) thing I hate about myself, it is that I can't tell people NO, can't tell people when something is none of their business, can't stop feeling guilty for even wanting to do such things. This week has been...bad. I usually don't even know the people who put me in such a position. I need to learn to deal with it in a different way. The most recent example: Yesterday, I went to Sephora in the nearest mall. I bought a bag of stuff and walked out. Usually, I pull out my phone and call someone (or pretend to) so I can avoid those *#$&#(@_@ing @)(#*$()*$#holes at the kiosks (I apologize if this is or ever was your job. For being a bitch, and for the fact that this was your job.) I absolutely hate when people I don't know and have not asked/given permission to touch me, put something on me, or get into my personal space. HATE IT. This is not a new friend, an old friend, a relative, a fitness professional, a chiropractor...this is a stranger, usually coming at me at warp speed with some shitty, cheap, odoriffic lotion or ugly, garish, nasty makeup. Yesterday was no exception. I didn't do the phone trick because I was balancing a Sephora bag in one hand and trying to put my jacket back on. A girl comes running toward me. "Let me see your worst nail!" she says. ("Here, see my little pinky toe. The nail constantly peels off from too much activity in running shoes, and I just left the gym...ENJOY!!!') As she says this, she is moistening a cotton ball with something that looks like polish remover. WTF??? I don't want my damn nail buffed, and I don't want you to put some shitty lotion with god-knows-what in it (that will likely make my arm red and swollen and itchy for a few hours) on my hand. I know you say it smells 'like the ocean' but to me it smells exactly like Glade air freshener, which makes me want to hork all over. Besides, I just got my nails done on Monday. I tell her this. By this time she has a hold of my hand and is hungrily eyeing my pinky nail. "It's clear!" she says. (NO IT IS NOT. IT IS LIGHT PINK. JUST BECAUSE IT ISN'T GARISH GAMBLING GRANNY FUSCHIA LIKE YOUR 3-INCH TALONS DOES NOT MEAN IT ISN'T A COLOR.) "No, trust me, it's light pink," I say. "No one will notice. And how much can it cost to go back and get it fixed?" (THAT IS NONE OF YOUR &#*$&#ING BUSINESS. I DON'T HAVE THE TIME, AND REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE TO. THANKS VERY MUCH.) "I'll notice. I don't have another appointment until next Friday." "Can't you fix it yourself?" "No, I didn't buy this color because I was in a rush. Look, I come here all the time." "It will look better after I do this." (REALLY? WELL, NOW YOU HAVE HARRASSED ME AND INSULTED ME. YOU NEED TO WORK ON SALES SKILLS, SWEETIE.) "I have to go, RIGHT NOW, I'm late for something." She is still holding my hand, but ROLLS HER EYES at this point and lets go.
Oh, man. See, it really doesn't matter if my manicure was $100 or $15, or if I was a damn manicurist and did it myself. That is the kind of thing that really makes me mad...at myself. (The eye roll...well, if I didn't feel like an old biddy for reporting her to someone higher up, and if I felt like they would even care, I would have. But I didn't. When I had jobs at 18, I hated those bitchy, well-dressed "older" women...you know, those over 25. God.) I should have told her "no" and yanked my hand away and kept walking. Instead, I usually feel the need to either become passive-aggressive or feel the need to make excuses for myself. I hate that. HATE IT. I mean, why?
At least I saved my nail. I just found my ideal nail girl: cheap, close, and willing to listen. Does not think I am a freak for asking her to buff, polish, done. No scrubs, no smelly lotions, no problems for me. Think I am going to let a kiosk worker with a buffer and some oily, salty scrub and some reeking lotion ruin my nails, now that they finally look more like the nails of a 29-year old and not a 12-year old? NO.
But yeah. Need to find a better way to deal with stupid things like that. Because the whole week/day then came back to ruin my shopping buzz and I called my husband crying--worried about the dog, mad about people, mad at myself for not sticking up to Miss Hand Grabber.
I know. I must be very mean! But I couldn't resist.
I promised more puppy stories and shopping posts...but I am exhausted. I promise to write more when Ben gets home and takes over babysitting duty.
I'll close with one more photo...don't be fooled. She is not always this sweet and innocent. Right now she is alternating between enlarging a hole in a pair of True Religion jeans and eating a Sigerson Morrison sandal.
Great. She has quite demanding taste, for a 9-week old.
Oh, by the way...we named her Piper. It was the one name both of us agreed on.
I write. I love Chihuahuas and dinosaurs. I like shopping a bit too much. I have a sweet, nerdy husband who has spiky hair and glasses. I am a raw vegan. Shoes make me happy. I do yoga. I love my readers!