I think my baby is dead.
I think I will never work again.
I think I am not supported.
I think my neighbors are dicks.
I think my baby is dead.
I coined a term: Ugly/Hot It means that you are so damn ugly it makes you hot. I only used to date guys that were ugly/hot. My first boyfriend in grade 3 was covered in boils and zits and had coke bottle glasses that made his eyes bug out and 24/7 he wore a full mouth guard. He also sported a red afro. He was ugly/hot and I loved him for all his imperfections. Not only am I attracted to the ugly but I am also much more comfortable showing my grotesque side rather than my pretty side. This doesn’t mean I have low self esteem or I’m fishing for compliments. It’s quite the opposite. I prefer to shine light on my ugly parts because they’re fascinating. My beautiful bits- meh. But yesterday my little family went to the passport office to renew our passports and holy shit this ugly/hot theory of mine was deeply tested. Here is my passport photo from 5 years ago: I look like a sexy spy. And here is the photo I took today: I look like a rapist. Here’s my husband’s shot from 5 years ago: He looks like a Russian ballerina. And here’s his new pic: “TIred Bushman” I know, his aren’t as bad as mine, but the photo of me is like- take your kids and run! Now, to be fair, we are having our bathroom renovated and these pictures were taken without brushing our teeth or washing our faces but the camera doesn’t lie. It captured a moment where I look plain old horrible and for some sick reason I want to show it to you all. I think I’m more proud of this mug shot than any photoshoots I have ever done. Because anyone can take a pretty picture and it…
*My first review on a product that did not asked to be reviewed.
I am husbandless, home-ownershipless, childless and right now “technically” job-less and in my mid-30s.
Have you seen Toddlers and Tiara’s? I watch it when I am on the plane. I watch episode after episode and the show blows my mind in so many ways. My boyfriend recently told me that this clip reminds him of my soul. I felt so known. I felt so seen. I know this child probably has a shitty situation happening and dear God please bless her but I am also reminded- Long live Miss Piggy! Princesses unite! I am moving more into the Queen realm of things these days. You have to when you reach middle age. It’s a more generous place to live, it’s also more rigerous and deep and terrifying but when I see this kind of unabashed ownership of ones own simple power I believe again in my own bright future. I just want to let it all hang out! I’m punching the air! _________________________________________________________ [donateextra]
I may be the only 33 year old in the western world that has not gotten the full meal deal when it comes to waxing so I thought it was high time. I was unclear about options, rules and etiquette so I spoke plainly. I would like the front to look tidy. I would like the undercarriage clean. Why am I doing this? I started to wonder as I took off my pants and lay down on the dentist’s chair. To be completely honest it’s because everyone else is doing it. It’s because I’ve been told that ‘keeping it real’ is considered grotesque. It’s because when my hippy 9-month pregnant friend walked naked into the living room the other day and I saw her huge bush enter the room before I saw her belly I thought, “How on earth could her partner navigate through all that?” I gotta’ simplify. So here I am lying supine with nothing but a cable knit sweater on and the tension is palpable. Am I ready? Will I falter? My esthetician is 21, soft-spoken and clearly wise beyond her years. I feel safe with her. She has walked this journey before. There is mantra music playing in the background. Whales, bells, flutes, chimes and another sound that reminds me of a whispering baby. The relentless repetition calms me. She asks me to put one leg into half Bodda Konasana. I am suddenly exposed as she assesses the situation. She can’t even begin at the bikini line as first she has to clean up all the way down to my knee. My first experience in this practice is deep humility. “Sorry” I want to whisper “I’m sorry that my hair grows.” She finally moves into the bikini line area and this is the first time…
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you…
I just saw the gnarliest squirrel running along a telephone wire outside my hotel room window. It looked like a cross between a ferret and a pencil. Most of his hair was gone except for random tufts sticking out along his thin belly but he seemed quite jaunty and free. It’s destiny that I see this squirrel today because he reminds me a lot of me.
It’s surprising how little I care for my looks…