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The Truth No One Wants To Tell You

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Things That Make You Realize You Are Too Old To Be Considered “Cool” Anymore

June 20, 2017

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You might have been wondering where I have been…

To put it bluntly I have been away aging in a hole.

During this lovely period I was enlightened to the fact that I am actually, legitimately too old to be considered “cool” anymore.

Here within are some of the reasons why.

Things That Make You Realize You Are Too Old To Be Considered Cool Anymore

  •  When you can’t wear those hipster-high-waisted used Levi’s everyone looks so sexy in because they wouldn’t look good on you… They’d look like Mom jeans with the addition of camel toe.
  • When you are wearing a ripped sweat shirt and a twenty-year old deadpan asks you if it’s Yeezy and it is 100% your brother’s old hand-me-down shirt.
  • When you honestly (hand on heart) as an educated woman can, literally, not figure out Snapchat. (I have tried for the record three different times on different days and just don’t get it.) (This may or may not have also included watching a YouTube tutorial and STILL not understanding.)
  • When all the hipster kids you see on Instagram are waiting for Kendrick Lamar at Coachella and you are Googling the New Order performance.
  • I still have never tried matcha.
  • I still don’t know how to pronounce acai.
  • I have never done a cleanse.
  • I eat toast on the regular.
  • Circling back, I don’t know one Kendrick Lamar or Frank Ocean song.
  • When my heart shattered into a thousand pieces because my DVD player on my antiquated computer broke and I can no longer make mix cds.
  • When I’m genuinely contemplating going to the Counting Crows/Rob Thomas concert-and am quite giddy about it.
  • I’ve never done Molly.
  • Oh yeah, speaking of, I’ve never been to Coachella.
  • One of the reasons I’ve never been there, is that I generally think it would tire me too much. I really like to sit and enjoy air-conditioning.
  • I still use my library card-almost daily.
  • Not to be redundant but I’ve never been to Burning Man (obviously).
  • On my Google history is a lengthy list of acronyms friends use on the regular that I don’t have a clue what they mean. For example, but not limited too:-IRL, GOAT, SMH, HAGN, IDK, DGMW, YMMD.
  • I still don’t know what woke means.
  • I still handwrite letters.
  • I do not have a tattoo.
  • I do not watch The Bachelor.
  • I don’t have eyelash extensions.
  • The thought of microblading my eyebrows terrifies me.
  • I don’t vape.
  • I’m petrified of the sun and will only go to the beach with an umbrella looking like a bee keeper.
  • I’ve never done Whole30.
  • I only have two Apps on my phone, one of which is still Shazam.
  • I shop for bras that are comfortable, not sexy.
  • Going to bed before midnight excites me.
  • Canceled plans also make me pretty happy.
  • I consider my old college t-shirts and tube socks suitable workout wear; not these mesh leggings and sports bras with five straps across your tits.
  • I don’t go to Equinox/Soul Cycle/Juvenda Yoga.
  • I like a white wine spritzer.
  • I still order the bread basket.
  • Happy Hour is my favorite time of day and the most appropriate time to drink before I get too sleepy.
  • I would gladly cancel any party plans to binge watch House of Cards and feel no remorse, only joy at watching Claire Underwood.
  • I’d like to be Claire Underwood.
  • Not leaving the house on a Saturday is considered winning.
  • Also, not getting dressed is a good day.
  • I still live for Sex and the City reruns.
  • Jake Ryan is still considered my “dream man.”
  • Farm stands get me high.
  • I miss the days when I used to buy my bikinis online at Victoria’s Secret. Not like now having to purchase in person to see which has the most ass coverage.
  • It might be time to start wearing one pieces. But, all the one pieces are too high-cut and show too much ass.
  • There really isn’t an appropriate type of swimwear for my body type evidently.
  • Who is A$AP Rocky and why does he spell his name like that and how do you pronounce it?
  • I can’t wear crop tops.
  • My last name isn’t Hadid

 

Blah Blah Blah, The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

How Do You Make Luck?

October 3, 2016

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For many years I had the notion or mental image that I would have a piece of good fortune that would steer the course to my future. It would be a catalyst of sorts that would push me in the directions I needed to go. I couldn’t exactly tell you what it was specifically, but in my mind I would meet someone or something would happen and then I would be on my “path.” Yet, the older I get the more abundantly clear it is that that might just not very well happen.

Now, if your first thought is, “you have to make your own luck,” let me just stop you there. I agree to some extent yet, I also strongly feel like the universe needs to give you or send you some luck.

My sister has a friend whose luck is truly ridiculous. She seems to be laced in horseshoes and talismans. I am not sure what it is about her, but she will say she wants something and somehow the universe sends it to her. Like one of those stork cartoons it just comes swooping down and drops it in her lap. She seemingly flows from one serendipitous moment to the next, blessing after good luck blessing falling towards her. While I sit here unable to procure the flukeish luck of a parking spot.

So what is it? What makes some people lucky and others not? And most importantly how do you make luck? It is something I’ve been wondering about, pondering for the last couple weeks.

Will my luck come in my next life? And who really cares about that? Are you reading this thinking, but you are indeed lucky? That angle doesn’t really work for me either. So how do I make luck? How do I conjure kismet?

I try to be a good person. That always seems like a nice place to start. Yet, it feels like luck is something you are either born with or not. You are either born with blue eyes or not; same goes for luck. So if you don’t have it or aren’t born with it, how do you get it?

I spoke with my friend last week who was visiting from out of town and she told me that she really has to work hard at things, that “things don’t just come easily to her.” I understood this, not sure if I would go as far as to deem her “unlucky” but, would certainly say she wasn’t blessed with the luck gene. Another friend of mine told me that the two of us “would just always have things harder than other people, that things would always be tougher and more of a struggle for us.” Again, my thought is f*ck so I am indeed just unlucky.

So what am I supposed to do with this? Continue my day knowing it will always be uphill for me and never an easy road? Assume things aren’t going to fall in my lap and that lucky moment I’ve been waiting for will just never happen? Or do I have to go out and try to make my own luck? And if that’s the case does someone have an instruction manual on how to do so?

It is really something I contemplate and genuinely wonder. Just how, just how am I supposed to make my own luck? More to come…

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Life Is Messy No Matter How Much OCD You Have

September 12, 2016
Father Time waits for no one.

Father Time waits for no one.

It’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog. I’ve been dealing with the “realness” of fall and trying to clean up my life, my act and just generally get in gear and get it together. But, here’s the thing and my realization is–life is messy, no matter how much OCD you have.

Fall is always a time for rebirth, getting back into the “school of life.” Lord that sounds dorky, yet isn’t it true? I still run on a collegiate clock and fall means reflection and waking up to an alarm clock that buzzes, “what in of the f*ck are you doing with your life?”

I have long since past my “scary age.” Doesn’t everyone have “that scary age” when you were in your twenties, you heard it ring out, said aloud and uttered by those in their thirties or forties and thought, “God that’s old, by the time I’m that age I’ll have my sh*t together and be a Forbes cover of the perfect successful adult.”

Um, yeah my scary age was quite literally two years ago.

I’ve gotten to the point where there is a little heart flip in me that wonders when I look at calendars or truly think about my position in life, if I’ll ever get to the place of the person I wanted to be, the person I had always envisioned?

Now my friends and I discuss not having kids, and being great aunties. Not that I ever necessarily wanted babies, but the way Father Time is dealing my cards, will that even be an option for me?

But, here is the thing I DO want to take away from all of this and utilize on this blog, these things. Yes, I’m obviously going to always give my restaurant, movie, food, music recommendations-but, I also REALLY want to converse about the underbelly of life. I’ve found if you enter a dialogue with people about these things everyone is feeling this way on some level or another. We all have fears, doubts and worries that make us human and really make us all alike. Everyone’s life is messy and I’m over worrying about tidying it up and all about embracing the grime that plagues us all. From now on you can find this section under the “thoughts” and the “stuff no one wants to talk about.” More to come….

 

 

The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

The Truth About Working Out That No One Tells You

July 23, 2016

My Instagram feed is filled with toned abs and buttocks I can’t remember having the likes of since I was a pre-teen. I oggle these bronzed and lithe bodies, sometimes being such a creeper I’ll take a screen shot so I can really zoom in. I am fascinated, in awe, and jealous-all at once.
The limber girls who do yoga in their bikinis?!?! Hopping into some contortionist pose while their triangle top stays perfectly intact. They make it all look so easy, so effortless. Here’s what they aren’t showing pictures of or telling you about though; working out is hard. Or, more precisely, getting back in shape is HARD. The beginning roads of wellness are paved with hurdles of unwanted rolls, and jiggle-lump-bumps that make you feel like crap.
A life-long athlete myself, I had let it all go. Lazy days where walking my eight-pound pup sufficed as exercise was a regular routine. Until one day when I couldn’t take looking at the tone-taunters of social media, and thought, that’s it, it’s time for you to start working out.
I’m still in the process of this journey, no where near “being in shape.” And let me tell you, IT IS TOUGH.
I’ve started doing yoga. By this I mean attempting- in the privacy of my own home- doing a couple of videos here and there.
And what do I do when I’m in downward dog? I stare at my ponch tummy that’s what. A nice little Buddha belly that likes to make eye contact with me mocking me while I try to hold my body up. It ridicules me with its soft dimples saying “take a look at where all those croissants have made their home.” Yet, I keep going, even though it’s difficult.
Half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.
Are there humans who can put both their feet down on the ground in downward dog? Are you supposed to have your feet flat? I wouldn’t even know, I’m just proud of myself for even trying. It’s a process, it’s laborious, and nobody tells you this. They just all post their “after- a- year- of working- out bodies,” but never their “during,” or “beginning shots.”
“It’s all about the journey not the destination.” Um, I’m not so sure, I’d like to be at my fit destination and not have to go through the humility of getting there. The wobbly limbs, the roles you feel that you never even knew existed. The harsh reality that you can barely touch your toes…yeah not so much. And though no one ever tells you that working out is hard, they do talk about the endorphins and how great you’ll feel after. That I can get behind, but not too sure about the during. Talk about a humbling dose of reality when you are red-faced and winded five minutes into a “relaxing yoga video.” The stretch where you discovered a roll that seems to wrap itself around you like a snake, from under your boob, all the way to your back!?!? Yeah, that was a particularly awesome day. But, you keep at it. The second you start to feel a tiny bit stronger than the day before. Or maybe .05 ounces skinnier, or just the general well-being after a good sweat sesh. It’s worth it for sure, not just for the physicality, but for the mental health too. Deeper sleeps, happier days, mental clarity-they are all added bonuses to the exercise plan. Yet, it’s not easy. It’s tough, it’s humbling, sometimes or most in my case, it’s kind of humiliating. But, we all have to start somewhere. I just wish more of social media were that somewhere. That somewhere where you have to begin, not the perfect end road destination, but the tedious-often times hard to motivate road it takes to get there. That’s what I’d like to hear more about, see more about. I guess we just have to remind ourselves that all those greased up tight bodies staring back at us from our iPhone had to start somewhere. And if you can’t picture it, or remind yourself that they too had a beginning, you can read about it here. I’m going to start a section called the truth of things, and one will be “working out.” Let’s pull back the veil of perfection and start talking about the real way we all got there. “The truth about working out.” More to come….
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