freak-out-cuz-i-m-back

 

Well, I have achieved all the levels of SUCK when it came to blog posting in May and the start of this month. In my defense, (as if you’ve asked) I started a brand new job, scored a couple of new writing projects and I’m constantly dealing with the chaos of a personal life. A personal life in which borders on having similarities to a plot line for a 1990’s movie on Lifetime for Women Channel.

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But I’m back now, baby….

With all that said, I am excited to share that this blog will be featuring a fantastic array of subject material which will include a “What I Wore Wednesday”, (NOT me, mind you, but people that dress way cooler than me and inspire me to actually comb my hair once in a while) “I Tried it so You Don’t Have To” Review segment and a guest post at least once a month. As always, I’ll still continue to write about relationships and my quirky thoughts that I find amusing…even if the only thing I achieve is a master eye roll and a snort from my readers.

I aim low and according to some people in my life, I hit even lower.

 

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But I digress.

 

Life right now is on the upswing. I’m really loving my new job. Timing is everything. There were a couple of months in which I was feeling pretty hopeless. I wondered if I would ever work in my field again…it is no exaggeration that my confidence took a huge punch in the gut. In the last couple of years, I’ve lost a huge part of me. I want to find that fun and optimistic chick and bring her back home. I’ve missed her. 

 

So sit back, relax and get ready. Let’s see how much damage I can do to this here Internet before I’m canceled.

 

elvis

 

 

 

Yes, I know…I have fell short on posting this month. I could bore you with excuses…other writing projects took over, writer’s block, a sudden bout with a deadly disease that I’m now cured from, because it wasn’t a deadly disease at all. A misdiagnosis of laziness mixed with some dramatics and now the entire saga is being made into a movie on Lifetime for Women starring Tori Spelling. 

Life has been crazy, but nothing truly spectacular…the month just got away from me. I will be starting a new job tomorrow that I’m absolutely STOKED about. This summer has already been overbooked with weddings, birthdays, out of town trips, kids, family, etc…and whenever I look at my calendar, I get that brief sense of anxiety and have to do a lot of deep breaths. However, despite the crazy, there are some truly fantastic things taking place in my life and that’s what I’m concentrating on.

Recently, a little piece I wrote was published on Thought Catalog. Here’s the link:

This is How Love Gets Easier and Harder As You Get Older

 

I would love it if you, my dear readers, go and leave a comment or two on the link above. Love to hear your feedback and I can’t wait for you to read more of my projects which will be published soon.

 

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Apparently (according to this study) the most popular time to have sex is Sunday morning at 9am.

(Which totally makes sense to me now, considering as a kid my parents handed us over to our grandmother to attend church so they could ‘sleep in’)

The survey of 2,000 Brits by Superdrug found that the desire to have evening or nighttime sex is stronger and more frequent than morning sex, even during the weekend.

Here are more ‘ideal’ times people are getting their horizontal tango on:

  1. Sunday, 9:00 AM
  2. Saturday, 10:30 PM
  3. Saturday, 11:30 PM
  4. Friday, 10:30 PM
  5. Saturday, 10:30 AM
  6. Saturday, 11:30 AM
  7. Friday, 10:30 PM
  8. Saturday, 11:15 PM
  9. Saturday, 9:30 PM
  10. Sunday, 9:30 PM

“Or if you tend to make love last thing in the evening, when you’re both shattered, try moving the action to the a.m. when you have more energy – I thoroughly recommend a cheeky quickie in your morning shower to get the day off to a superb start.”  ~sex expert Alix Fox

Here are days and times people did not like to have sex:

  1. Monday, 4:45 PM
  2. Monday, 3:00 PM
  3. Tuesday, 5:30 PM
  4. Tuesday, 9:00 PM
  5. Thursday, 8:00 AM
  6. Thursday, 1:30 PM
  7. Monday, 8:00 AM
  8. Wednesday, 7:30 AM
  9. Friday, 5:00 PM
  10. Saturday, 5:00 PM

 

Suggested Reading when things are getting stale in the bedroom:

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This week has had me warped in a fog of fatigue. A gross kind of fatigue that sometimes turns me crippled… like a wad of soggy toilet paper. I can’t seem to break through the fog and when I think I have… it’s a trick. I become overwhelmingly anxious and sensitive. I have had to literally talk myself down from the edge…telling myself over and over again that everything is going to be okay. It’s a mantra I repeat over and over:  “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

Rinse and Repeat.

The fatigue is weird, because I thought the working out and changing my diet would lead to this energy I hear all the fitness gurus rave about. It’s only been ten days…ten days of working out, sometimes twice a day and not eating everything in sight. And it is pretty daunting to find the scale hasn’t moved much in the direction I want. I’m doing all this work and I’m still wearing pants with an elastic waist…and I’m still exhausted.

And my boobs? Well, those babies aren’t getting any smaller. In fact, they’re bigger than they have ever been and it’s not the least bit sexy.

And no, I’m not pregnant. (Thanks Mom for asking.) I’m just fat and yes, I know the drill. When you set out to lose weight the old-fashioned and healthy way, it doesn’t happen over night. It’s a lifestyle change, not a magical spell.

But still. Shouldn’t I see some progress…or at the very least, feel energized and not wanting to collapse back to bed because showering was an exhausting endeavor?

Instead, I feel defeated and tired. SO TIRED. Yet, I still keep going. If anything, the workouts I do on the treadmill which are pretty intense, helps the anxiety. It’s my time to escape whatever I’m freaking out about and focus on seeing the difference in my endurance.  I know I’m getting stronger in that way and yes, that should be enough…but right now, it’s not. I want to see more and it is that want to see MORE  that keeps me from giving up. I’m not going to throw in the towel and gorge myself on chocolate.

Not today, anyway.

I’ve been trying several new things lately with my workouts. One of the things that I’ve actually enjoyed is getting on the treadmill and setting the incline to 15 and walk at something like 3.5 speed. I do this for 45 minutes whilst watching one of those reality shows that makes me want to buy a small dog to carry around in my purse. Sometimes I skip the shows and play music, the louder the better, and completely zone out into a world that I’ve cultivated in my mind. Some stupid fantasy I’ve concocted that is a brief escape from whatever is troubling me. It helps.

When we are discouraged and finding we are talking ourselves down from the edge of angst and tears, it is these things that bring comfort and relief.  The problems are still there, waiting on the sidelines, but more often than not, having these ‘escapes’ are what clears the mind to find solutions. Whether it is walking your dog, reading a good book, yoga, church…whatever it is…hold on to your thing and no matter how bad the fog is…keep at it.

And I’m telling you and I’m also telling myself again and again:

“Do your thing. Because I promise, it will be okay.”

 

 

Naked man is taking a shower in bathroom, rear view

When I was a young bride of twenty-two, I jokingly told my then husband I would be more inclined to “go down there” if it wasn’t covered so much in hair.

Boy, did those words ever come back and haunt me for our entire marriage.

I came home one afternoon to find him locked in the bathroom with an odd smell engulfing our small two bedroom apartment.

“Is there something burning?” I yelled.

“Nothing is burning. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I took his word for it and began to do things around the apartment.

And then…he appeared.

Standing there completely naked in our kitchen.

“Notice anything?”

I glanced at him and rolled my eyes. “Besides the fact you’re not wearing any clothes?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

I didn’t notice anything from where I was standing and then…it wasn’t what I saw…it was what I didn’t see. 

And I bursted out laughing.

Not giggling, mind you…like straight up “I’ma gonna break a rib” laughing.

The poor guy had used my Nair. He used my Nair EVERYWHERE.

What used to look like a nicely proportioned set of balls…now resembled raw chicken skin.

And there he was standing in the kitchen thinking he was Don Juan with a ponytail and all I could think was, “Well, I can’t make chicken for dinner now.”

That was back in 1998 and the term ‘manscaping’ wasn’t a thing. In fact, I wasn’t doing much female scaping back then either, besides the basic bikini shave. And here’s the thing…the ex husband wasn’t even hairy down there to begin with. I don’t think he even got hairy until he was about thirty. I had been sarcastically joking to get out of ‘doing it’ and anything and everything that involved ‘doing it.’ (Guess how many times I had to ‘do it’ after that sarcastic joke? A lot. Guilt makes you horny. We ended up conceiving our son. Now there’s a story to go into his baby book:

“Dear Son,

You were conceived because your mother made fun of your dad about having hairy balls. He used Nair all over said balls which caused his balls to look like raw chicken skin. Your mother laughed and made fun of your father which probably hurt his pride and manhood. Therefore, your mother had sex with your father because she has a heart and no one should make fun of anyone EVER. Even if their balls look like raw chicken skin.

You’re Welcome for being born. “

Needless to say, the ex-husband didn’t manscape again (for me anyway) our entire marriage.

Until The Boyfriend, I wasn’t with any one man seriously. There was one guy I pretty much saw on a regular basics for about three years, but we weren’t exclusive. And then I met Charles. “Charlie”

Good ol’ Charlie. He was probably the closest thing I had to a boyfriend for THREE whole months in 2013. He was this young thirty year engineer/musician, but he looked like a cross between a muscular construction worker and an Abercrombie & Fitch model. I mention all that because I’ve dated a lot of good-looking men in my life…but he was one of the few that was actually handsome AND smart. So I’m going to brag about the guy. (Although, for the intent of full disclosure, he was a vegan and did Crossfit. I know this because the entire three months we dated…he would never fail to mention it.)

It was through Charlie that I first heard the term, “Manscaping.” We were at his condo one night and he made some remark about manscaping.

“Manscaping? What are you talking about?”

He gave me this look that many people in my life give me. It’s this puzzled/amused/ ‘she can’t be serious’ look.

You’d be surprised how many times in a week I’m given that look.

“I manscape. You know, clean up the guys a bit, do some lawn work around the party…”

It takes me a few seconds (okay minutes) and then I get it.

“YOU SHAVE?!”

“Well, it doesn’t just look like this naturally.”

So what is manscaping?

man·scap·ing
ˈmanˌskāpiNG/

noun

informal humorous
 the removal or trimming of hair on a man’s body for cosmetic effect.
If you’re one who hasn’t had the experience to venture in the adventures of manscaping, you should develop a strategy beforehand. According to a study in Urology, there’s actual injuries sustained by manscaping. I’m not joking. You can injure yourself, fellas. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. You are, after all, a man and us here ladies…we believe in you. 

 

According to an Indiana University study, fifty percent of women prefer their men to either be completely or partially hair free. I suggest asking your partner their preference. They’re the ones that have to journey down to La La Land. So ask them if they prefer a stroll through the woods with a grassy knoll with sticks that can poke out your eye or if they prefer the feel of a soft pleasant surface to frolic.

I’m all about the manscaping now. I like that area on a man to be a clean surface. I find it insulting when a man has stopped ‘taking care of business’ down there once he lands a partner. That’s bullshit, fellas. You can’t just STOP because you’ve been married ten or whatever many years. You presented her with the feel of a pleasant surface to frolic…YOU SHALL GIVE HER THE FEEL OF A SOFT PLEASANT SURFACE TO FROLIC  FOREVER. 


*Special thanks goes out to Cindy and her co-worker for the idea for this post.
And also to raw chicken skins everywhere.


Suggested Reading:

Woman Anger
 
 
You’ve set out to be all peace and love and some other kind of bullshit you read about. You’re getting up earlier and doing a little yoga to stretch your sore and tense muscles. You have cut out processed foods and junk. You’re mediating and reading a lot about spirituality and metaphysical subjects. You take time to be grateful for what you have and no longer dwell on what you don’t have.
 
You meditate A LOT.
 
You’re getting it. You’re seeing slight changes in your body…not a lot, but enough to keep you motivated. You are digging the energy that you now have. Your new workout routine with a friend and your morning rituals you do alone are giving you something to look forward to that belongs to YOU.
 
You’re transforming!
 
YOU ARE AWESOME.
 
And then there you are…thinking how you’re going to be the best mother ever with all these different thoughts and behaviors. The teenagers will thrive on your ability to be all about peace, love and some other bullshit you read about.
 
You’re the BEST MOTHER EVER.
 
 
 
Until they wake up and piss you off. And then you wonder if you begin drinking alcohol so early in the morning is the key to enlightenment or a sign of alcoholism.
 
Teenagers: Preventing you from being the mother you imagined yourself being since FOREVER.

 

 

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I always wondered what happened in life for a woman to let herself go. As someone who has been pretty vain her entire life, even to the point as a teenager, I would apply makeup and fix my hair JUST TO GO TO THE MAILBOX, so the idea that I would ever let myself go seemed impossible.

In my twenties, I chopped my hair off. As in I BARELY HAD HAIR. I’m talking the Halle Berry haircut of the 2000’s.  And whilst I didn’t wear makeup around the house, our weekly trips to the grocery store did include the basics: mascara and lipstick.

I went through many phases in my thirties. I was doing some modeling and pageants, so I did the makeup and hair perfecto thing. And then…I started to wear less makeup and worked out more. By the age of 36, I probably was in the best shape of my life.

Then 2016 happened. A few days ago, I woke up, got out of bed and took a long hard look at myself in the mirror.

The person I used to know is all but gone.

I have gained twenty pounds, my hair has seen better days and I haven’t worn my contacts in months. Makeup? Hmm, sometimes, but rarely. And unlike in my twenties, I do need a little more than just mascara and lipstick.

It dawned on me that I have let myself go.

This is entirely my fault. Granted, I had some pretty tough blows hit me in the past few years. Illnesses, deaths, divorce…etc. LIFE is like that. You got your highs and you’re gonna have your lows.

Life just decided to give me all the lows all at once.

And slowly, without warning, I lost a huge part of me. I lost my confidence. I lost the fun part of me that used to laugh a lot more and didn’t allow things to get to her so much. I was a pretty cool chick and somehow…I lost my way.

I was talking to a friend last week who is going through the same funk as I am. Our lives are eerily similar, we have the same relationship issues, same weight issues and the same problems with our hair. Except, she’s actually doing something about it. Instead of watching episode after episode of Rich Women Doing Stuff, she is doing yoga and working out. She no longer devalues or questions herself like I seem to do DAILY.

“You should really come do yoga with me.”
::Me stretching as far as I can to reach the Apple TV remote without actually getting up from the couch.::
“I’m actually doing yoga right now, Karen. You don’t live my life.” 

It is so easy to watch TV and read books without engaging in any physical activity. It’s been pretty easy to check out of life, because dealing with the lows of life seemed unbearable. The fun chick I used to be has turned into a cranky crab wearing a purple bathrobe and of course, her boyfriend’s socks. My next step is yelling at kids to get off my lawn not caring if said kids are actually mine.

My friend has encouraged me to write about this journey. You see, I believe one can change the downward spiral of ‘letting yourself go’ at any time. The first step is choosing to change. I can choose to look good, feel good and STILL keep the attitude and bathrobe.
“How do you see yourself in June of this year?” my friend asks, “Don’t think, just say the first word that comes to your mine.”

Without missing a beat, I blurt: “Glamorous.”

So here’s to it my beautiful readers…Day 1 of Operation Glamour. 

(Stay Tuned as I detail my plans to this high level and secure Operation.

Be prepared to either be bedazzled or bored. Choice is yours.) 

Want to join Operation Glamour? Click Here.