Oscar The Grouch

Ok, so some days call for miniature pity parties–especially when hormones, a reoccurring injury, and a wedding invitation are afoot. It happens. No one is perfect.

As I commence to having a 10 minute pity party, I asked a friend of mine why no one is even tempting to look in my direction (correction: there was an old barber guy who called me baby once). After a few moments of silence, she responded with the dreaded 4 words no one likes to hear: Can I be honest? Uh-oh.

She said, “You don’t give off….’hit on me’. You give off ‘don’t you say one word to me or I’m going to cut you’.” Apparently, the energy I give off (in waves obviously) is that the human race is a bother to me and it disrupts my space. If this is the case, it means I am putting up walls and armoring up to shut people out. The fact I can recognize the train wreck before it happens is a sign of growth–but, err, how does one correct it?

Have you ever had a mental out of body experience? Things are happening, you see them happening in slow motion, but you have no idea how to stop them there things? Well, the walls are being constructed and the armor is being slipped on and I feel incapable of stopping any of it. What to do? What to do?

Yesterday, I ended the 10 minute pity party with an apple & dark chocolate. I knew not what to do. I suppose I will just try to consciously not be so Oscar the Grouch like and more reformed Grinch (you know when his heart grew 3 sizes that day). It may take a few glasses of wine, but I can make it happen 😛



People show you who they are in the beginning. What version of yourself are you showing? The rough and tumble persona you toss out into the world is not your genuine self. The over the top people pleaser or the insensitive straight lace isn’t you either. We all have some sort of armor to sport day in and day out, and most of us wear it well. Who would you be–who could you be without it? You may be a little rough around the edges; you may be a tad-bit over the top or even a little too straight and narrow, but showing off the real you is what makes this journey come alive. You are vibrant, awesome, extraordinary, beautiful, wonderfully made, creative, loving, caring and, yes, you do kick ass. Why hide those remarkable things? Show them off to anyone who happens to be looking in your direction (and even those that aren’t). Let ’em get an eye full of that remarkable you.


Mind Games

Remember the whole Heels & Lip Gloss thing? Yea, so, I have come to the conclusion it is all pretty much in my head. Silently, I am having this whirl wind love affair with a guy who probably thinks I’m nuts for giggling whenever he walks into the room. I mean, sure, his arms have man veins and his hands look all strong and junk and yes he’s tall and he definitely looks dashing in a uniform…but what else is there?

I know this dude not. He could be a complete asshole or a wimp or a dog, yet when he walks into the room or speaks to me (as if I am his school teacher, mind you) I can’t help but blush. Hell…I’m smiling right now! But it is indeed all in my head.

I am uncertain if he really knows of the attraction–I doubt it. When we do happen to share the same space there is tension in the air, not a negative tension–more like a shy kind of what-do-i-say tension. But perhaps that is all in my head too! Maybe when he is waiting for the microwave or looking in my direction he is thinking about how random I am or wondering why I laugh so loud or why I seem to find menial tasks to do in the kitchen. (Seriously–does it take 10 minutes to wash a fork?) Either way you slice it, it seems to be all in my head and that’s ok. A girl’s gotta have something to look forward to, right?

In all honesty, it is fun. It is an escape from the reality which is my life. For just a little while I get to be the object of someone’s pretend-all-in-my-head affections. As it stands now, if he did ask me out I would probably hold my breath until I turned blue. What would I do? What could I say? How would I handle it? In my head he overhears me talking about taking in a Braves game and asks me if I would like to go this weekend. Of course I answer with a surprising sexy cool laced with “this is purely platonic” answer. In my head we never seem to talk on the phone or go out on an actual date but he does ask. In reality, when we are sharing space I never say a word. I fumble and speak quickly. So, just imagine if he actually flirted with me for real and did, indeed, ask me out on a date. (Do people do that anymore or is it just penis pics and phone sex?)

Silly, I know, but it’s keeping my silly self entertained. It keeps me giggling and smiling and imagining something better. It keeps me in heels and preparing what to wear the night before (as opposed to 15 minutes before having to leave for work). I have found the joy in pencil eyeliner and playing with eye shadow again. No, a man, imaginary attraction or not, should have no bearing on how good I feel about myself (which it doesn’t really…I am pretty kick ass if I do say so myself. Let’s all clap for growth), but it makes finding the new me a little more fun. Who can argue with fun?