tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55023781360184279342024-02-19T09:48:59.469-05:00ModaFrescaWelcome to my personal style blog. My hope is that what you see from my closet inspires you to dig through yours to find new life in what you have and how you wear it. Of course what you have on doesn't define who you are, but it can make you feel better and sometimes all we need in order to do better, is to feel better. Friends often tease me by saying that I dress as if every day is a special occasion. To which I reply..."because it is".MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.comBlogger500125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-53527280999232321972018-12-10T16:31:00.000-05:002018-12-10T19:24:48.198-05:00Enough <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweater: Vestique, Skirt and Belt: Target, Shoes: Nordstrom, Bag: CHLOÉ, </td></tr>
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<br />
I've been thinking about something for a few days.<br />
<br />
If you think back on your life, when do you remember first being unhappy with some part of yourself?<br />
<br />
Really. Think about it.<br />
<br />
I'm almost ashamed to admit how young I was. In kindergarten. So... 5 years old. Maybe even earlier than that. <br />
<br />
What about you? Did you want to change your nose, hair, body type, sexual preference? Perhaps you saw people that seemed to be good "at everything" and you wished you were a better reader, more skilled at math, a faster runner. Maybe you wished you were thinner, or curvier, taller, shorter, had straight teeth, nicer clothes?<br />
<br />
Now that you're older do you wish you had a better car, bigger house, marble countertops, more vacations, less debt, a more attractive partner? Kids who are stronger athletes, a nicer lawn, bigger boobs, smaller belly, made more money, had a baby, a second baby, were at the top of your company, had a PHD, new floors, white kitchen cabinets, an addition on your house, or lived in a nicer neighborhood? Maybe you wish you could stay home with your kids, wish you could get away from your kids and work outside of the home, wish you had never had kids (no one admits that but it's real)? Want to quit your job? Wished your spouse made more money? Wish for a man? A woman? Or.... maybe you still wish for the things you wanted when you were young... clearer skin, more manageable hair, a flatter tummy, and newer clothes?<br />
<br />
Is your happiness on the other side of something you don't have?<br />
<br />
I'll be happy once I lose 20lbs.<br />
Once I get pregnant.<br />
Once I make more money.<br />
Once my kids are older.<br />
Once I get my pre-baby "body back".<br />
Once my partner works less. <br />
Once I relocate. <br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong. I am all for growth, evolution, and change. For squeezing all you can out of this one precious life we are given. I love to strive, to achieve. I get it. <br />
<br />
However... the desire to always change, do more, be more, have more, for your circumstances to be different... it can be exhausting. It can push you into a place where your happiness is always on the other side of something just out of your current reach. It can make you take for granted the life you have. It can make you downright depressed and miserable. <br />
<br />
I had a deep conversation with a friend of mine this weekend. She is a beautiful woman. Inside and out. She has a loving husband, gorgeous home, luxury car, and a successful career (with an insanely bright future). She is in shape, has great hair, and on the outside... pretty much has it all. She is human though, and a person who (admittedly) ties her worth to the things she is achieving. She's had a crazy year. Almost every major change that can happen in a person's life has gone down in hers. She has moved to a different state, a new house, and works for a different company. She's making decisions about her future, family, career, etc. Her husband is high-achieving too. She was just saying that she feels "BLAH". And I get it. We all feel "BLAH" sometimes. Depressed, anxious, not "enough".<br />
<br />
The conversation I had with my friend stuck with me and the very next day I read this quote. It hit me like a TON of bricks...<br />
<br />
"Can you imagine not craving to be any different than you are right now?"<br />
<br />
WHOA.<br />
<br />
WHOA.<br />
<br />
WHOAAAAAAAAA.<br />
<br />
Can you imagine not craving to be any different than you are right now?<br />
<br />
Can you imagine that? That gratitude. That appreciation for all you have? All that you are. Not thinking about what you "aren't". What you don't have. What other people have. What you want out of your future. It may just be the tiny slice of peace you're yearning for. Especially this time of year when there is pressure to decorate, buy things, have things, bake, give, donate, host, and fulfill other's wishes.<br />
<br />
What if you're enough.<br />
Exactly as you are.<br />
With all of the things you do or don't do.<br />
Have or have not.<br />
Can or cannot afford.<br />
Are or are not. <br />
<br />
Just.... enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-74686927982886658562018-09-24T17:50:00.001-04:002018-09-24T17:52:27.480-04:00MULTIPOTENTIALITE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skirt and Shirt: Vestique, Shoes: ADIDAS, Bag: Chloe, Necklace: Alex + Ani</td></tr>
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<br />
I wanted to write today about potential.<br />
I wanted to remind someone out there (or maybe just myself) that if you want... you can do "all of the things".<br />
<br />
Maybe not all at once, and maybe not every day. Maybe you won't be the best who has ever done it. Maybe what you decide to do today, or who you decide to be, or what you decide to try, is not what you will want to do/be/ try tomorrow, but... YOU HAVE OPTIONS.<br />
<br />
There are some people who, from the time they are born, know EXACTLY what they want to be. They were given a gift, like, Serena Williams. That woman was BORN to play tennis. She has a God-given gift. She took that gift and worked harder than anyone else around her, and she made it to the top. Some people just know.<br />
<br />
Those people, the ones who just know... they have a single field of interest and run like hell with it forever and ever. Those are called "specialists". The rest of us, the vast majority of us, try things on at different points in our life. We "wear different hats" and then take them off when they no longer serve us. <br />
<br />
When you decide a college major at 18-20 years old what do you really know? You're placing a bet on the fact that what you are interested in at 18, you'll still want to do when you are 59. What are the odds of that? Slim at best. Or... how many of us stick to a decision we made a long time ago because we think we must? Or are embarrassed to be seen changing our minds? Or are afraid of letting people down? Afraid of being seen as fickle.<br />
<br />
We have heard people described as "Jacks/Janes of all trades, masters of none" and that's usually said in a derogatory manner. As if you can't be good at something unless it is your single, solitary focus.<br />
<br />
I disagree. Maybe you won't be Serena Williams, but does that mean you should not play tennis on the weekends? Hell no it doesn't. Play tennis, be a certified public accountant, parent of 3, stamp collector, comic book illustrator, and learn a second language while you are at it.<br />
<br />
You are a human being with a ridiculous, miraculous, brain and you are capable of SO MUCH that is is mind-blowing! <br />
<br />
Please allow me to remind you you that LIFE.IS.SO.SHORT and NONE of us make it out alive. So... you should explore things that you are interested in. Be a beginner. Try things on for size. Fail. Fall. Rise. Then do it all over again.<br />
<br />
Where has all of this come from? Well... I have been gossiped about, and it has gotten back to me. Something was said that was similar to...<br />
<br />
"<i>What is she anyway</i>? Is she a recruiter? Is she a Pilates teacher? Does she still have her Rodan + Fields business? Is she a blogger? I saw her post something about hair. Does she sell hair care? Does she take pictures? Is she an artist now???? She is confusing her audience and muddying up her brand."<br />
<br />
WHAT????<br />
<br />
I probably don't have to clarify this, but that previous statement was said with venom. It was said with disdain. It was said with anger. It was not said with any genuine concern for my well-being. <br />
<br />
When it first got back to me I was taken-a-back. A little bit hurt (if I'm being honest). And wondered, for a split second, if I should be embarrassed?? Then.... it hit me. UMMM...<br />
<br />
NO. AbsolutelyFKNNOT.<br />
<br />
This was said by someone who who is "not my people". Plain and simple. My people are people who are loving, supportive, open, full of interests and experiences, and most of them are MULTIPOTENTIALITES. Never heard that term before? Allow me to introduce Wikipedia:<br />
<br />
<b>Multipotentiality</b> is an educational and psychological term referring to the ability and preference of a person, particularly one of strong intellectual or artistic curiosity, to excel in two or more different fields. It can also refer to an individual whose interests span multiple
fields or areas, rather than being strong in just one. By contrast, those whose interests lie mostly within a single field are called "specialists."<br />
<br />
Neither (multipotentialite nor specialist) is better or worse, but they can't be judged the same. They are apples and oranges.<br />
<br />
I've noticed that sometimes people with a singular area of focus tend to judge those who have many. Especially if you are doing what they are doing (and then some). The person who was shit-talking about me does one of the things I do. It's her life. It's her job. She is very concerned with curating her image on social media. She sells to people online. That is where we differ. I use social media to share what I am doing, what I am interested in, what I like, what I use, and to keep an album of memories that I want to hold on to. If you like it, comment on it, buy it, support it, cool.<br />
<br />
Truth: I don't give a shit if I am "muddying up my brand" because the people who are attracted to me (whether that be as friends, business partners, or Pilates students) are drawn to me, for me. And all of those things are authentically me. If I do have a brand I would argue that it is not muddy at all.<br />
<br />
It is about self-love. Mind. Body. Spirit. It is about creativity and self-care. The inside and out.<br />
The End.<br />
<br />
If I confuse you. If I bother you. If I "make your head spin". Take a seat (somewhere else, please). You do not have to follow me, you do not have to support me, you do not have to understand me, you do not have to "get it", and LAWD KNOWS you do not have to like it (or me). It has taken me 38.5 years to really feel that in my bones, but I do now.<br />
<br />
So... if there is ANYONE out there afraid to change, afraid to evolve, afraid to grow, to shed dead weight, to take the road less traveled, to share something new. Don't be. DO IT. PLEASE, DO IT.<br />
<br />
The world needs more people who have truly COME ALIVE. Less perfectly curated images of perfection and more clumsy attempts at happiness and fulfillment. You are not one thing and neither and I. And the beauty of being talked shit about (because it is inevitable as you grow) is that people who are not your people will eventually just weed themselves out. It's cool. You'll survive.<br />
<br />
I AM MANY, MANY THINGS and (I'd be willing to bet) SO ARE YOU.<br />
<br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-7784104812476476702018-09-11T15:54:00.001-04:002018-09-11T15:54:13.246-04:00Public Indecency <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1NnsbuujXBUfT9EpTo4R2Zdwr3s3slO7MfK7yXXSNvLrPhMF4sutC0NkRsh8xHBLJgtpFIvZ6f9Xwu7KZft6OwFtCFIKnzj3-c-VeaTZSFtuRve06Yl3M9koceA4x3Nj4gZYEU1LRQc/s1600/A3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1NnsbuujXBUfT9EpTo4R2Zdwr3s3slO7MfK7yXXSNvLrPhMF4sutC0NkRsh8xHBLJgtpFIvZ6f9Xwu7KZft6OwFtCFIKnzj3-c-VeaTZSFtuRve06Yl3M9koceA4x3Nj4gZYEU1LRQc/s640/A3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romper: Vestique, Shoes: F21, Clutch: CRIV, Bracelets: Alex + Ani, Earrings: Versona </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I wore this cut-out romper to dinner and drinks with some girlfriends recently.<br />
<br />
I originally bought it and wore it for my 35th birthday, 3 1/2 years ago, and just wore it again for the first time. I love me a romper, man. One piece of clothing, and BOOM... you're dressed from head to toe. No coordinating, no tucking in, no hassle. You can eat and drink to your heart's desire in this one because there is no waistband. It's all good. That is... until you have to pee in public.<br />
<br />
Then.... buck ass nakedness occurs.<br />
<br />
Normally this nakedness occurs in some scummy bathroom stall. The kind with a gap between the door and the wall so if someone looks just right they are staring right back at you in all of your crouching vulnerability. Top off, bottoms down. Full frontal.<br />
<br />
There is SO much going on in there. You're concentrating on squatting, lining the seat, balancing your clutch/purse under your armpit, creating enough distance between your legs to "catch" and hold the article of clothing before it falls into a puddle at your ankles (laying on the disgusting, sticky, floor).<br />
<br />
Going to the bathroom in a romper should be an Olympic sport. It is an art. It takes time, patience, balance, athleticism, and an unhealthy dedication to the cause. I don't know why I wear them so often. They are dangerous for me. I'm serious. I'm clumsy as shit. I mean... I have great core strength and balance from teaching Pilates, but I trip. I fall. I drop things. I'm a mess on two legs. For real. My husband pokes fun at me all of the time. I am the type of person that will try to get a glass bowl off of the top shelf by climing onto the counter to reach for it. I'll get it, then I'll drop it. Shatter it. Then I will half fall off the counter type-shit. I should walk around with caution tape streaming from my shoulders.<br />
<br />
True story, last week, in THE.SAME.DAY I....<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Stubbed my toe to the point of losing my breath whilst making our bed. </li>
<li>Slipped on a puddle of dog pee in the hallway. Foot covered in it. </li>
<li>Spilled an enormous bottle of water off of the end table on to the floor. </li>
<li>Forgot to bring my towel to the shower, got out, tip-toeing, dripping wet, to make it back into the shower safely- only to then smash my hand into the shower door. I was apparently drying my back quite aggressively, let go of the towel, and my hand flung (at warp-speed) against the shower glass. There was blood. Hurt like hell. </li>
<li>Cut my other hand with a knife making dinner. </li>
<li>Tripped over my phone charger cord TWO TIMES sending my phone crashing from the counter to the hardwood floors. </li>
</ul>
<br />
That's a typical day in the life for me.<br />
<br />
I shouldn't be allowed to leave the house unsupervised, let alone wear an article of clothing that requires the utilization of such fine motor skills. MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-32292022602039656842018-08-23T12:05:00.000-04:002018-08-23T12:05:21.426-04:00Rise Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dress: Vestique, Shoes: Jessica Simpson, Purse: Aldo, Ring: Levian, Earrings and Necklace: Kendra Scott</td></tr>
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<br />
I saw this post on Instagram early this morning and I took a screenshot of it to save to my phone.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it's nothing earth-shattering, and I am sure you've heard some version of it before, but I thought it was beautiful and powerful, and a reminder worth sharing.<br />
<br />
Here's the quote:<br />
<br />
"You can rise up from anything. You can completely recreate yourself. Nothing is permanent. You're not stuck. You have choices. You can think new thoughts. You can learn something new. You can create new habits. All that matters today is that you decide and never look back. "<br />
<br />
I must have read that four times.<br />
I repeated it like an affirmation.<br />
A mantra.<br />
I wanted to let that shit sink in.<br />
Marinate.<br />
Become part of my insides. <br />
<br />
<b>"You can rise up from anything." </b><br />
<br />
That is SO INCREDIBLY ENCOURAGING. Right?? I mean... how many times has life kicked you in the face? How many times has your heart been broken, you've been scared, you've experienced something that you thought you could never come back from, but HOT DAMN... here you are. I just love it.<br />
"You can rise up from anything." YASSSS HUNTY. YES YOU CAN.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>"You can completely recreate yourself." </b><br />
<br />
SHIT YES. I love when people evolve and change. When they get interested in new things, DO new things, TALK about new things, TRY new things, LEARN new things, SHARE new things. Drop dead things, plant new. Those are my favorite people. They are so interesting. It doesn't have to be anything big, even. But, I would never want to look back on a decade of my life and realized that I had not brought anything new into it. THAT is like being dead while you are still alive. AMIRIGHT?!?<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>"You have choices. You can think new thoughts." </b><br />
Some situations that we get ourselves into, or that happen "to us" make us feel as if we don't have any choice in the matter. You get sick? Well, hell, you can't usually choose NOT to be sick. You get dumped. You can't necessarily "choose" not to be single. You get passed over for a job, etc, etc. Making a new choice doesn't magically make the reality change... BUT... "You can think new thoughts." THAT IS THE GOLDEN TICKET, MAN!!!!<br />
<br />
Think new thoughts. Instead of scarcity and lack... shift to thoughts of abundance, opportunity, openness. Remind yourself that things never make sense until we look back on them. Being broke is hard, being lonely, sad, heartbroken, shaken to your core by a catastrophic life event... all HARD AF! However... there is SO much power in framing and controlling your own thoughts. I'm not trying to make it sound easy, but what if... before you opened your mouth up to complain (or bitch) about something you simply reframed it? Instead of saying "I'm so lonely. I hate being single. " try "I feel incredibly fortunate to have time to develop who I am becoming so I can then attract someone who compliments my very best self." I know that might sound hippy-dippy, but there is real power in that shit. Your thoughts control your life. What you say to yourself and others shapes your reality. It's worth trying to change the thoughts in your head and the words that leave your mouth.<br />
<br />
<b>"You can create new habits." </b><br />
Thank GAWD for this. Breaking old habits is SO difficult, but it is not impossible. Do you still smoke? For the love of all things holy... maybe you should work REALLY HARD on quitting. News flash: That shit will kill you, and normally it's not quick and painless. Do you eat like shit and then feel bad about it, telling yourself you will "start Monday"? Take a good, hard, raw AF, vulnerable look at WHY???? I know food is good. I love it. Like... a lot. You don't like food more than anyone else. I promise. I am obsessed. A foodie to my absolute CORE and I battle with it - because it's always been there for me and I loooove it. BUT.... I know that NORMALLY we don't feed ourselves to the point of obesity because food tastes good. We are usually feeding fear, loneliness, pain, trauma, bordem, anxiety, or some old shit that we have not worked through. Create a new habit, man. <br />
<br />
Imagine the life you want to live and get really honest about what kind of choices THAT person would make. Then... start, little by little, or like a bulldozer... (I'm a steam engine kind of woman)... start working on them. You KNOW what to do. You know HOW to get there. You just need new habits.<br />
<br />
Start now, because as we all know... that proverbial "MONDAY" never comes.<br />
<br />
**Also... post-script disclaimer: I do not fancy myself some sort of life guru who has it all figured out. If you haven't noticed by now, in most of these blog posts I'm simply writing out what I need to hear. **<br />
<br />
So... one more time. Let it sink in:<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>"You can rise up from anything. You can completely recreate yourself.
Nothing is permanent. You're not stuck. You have choices. You can think
new thoughts. You can learn something new. You can create new habits.
All that matters today is that you decide and never look back. "</b><br />
<br />
XO - Mel <br />
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<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-25703420714916817542018-08-14T18:35:00.001-04:002018-08-14T18:37:47.448-04:00Water in Windex <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outfit: CRIV, Shoes: Nordstrom, Clutch: gift, Earrings: no idea- 10 years old </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I am a walking, talking contradiction when it comes to money. <br />
<br />
For example... I am weirdly frugal about some things, then wildly frivolous about others.<br />
<br />
It pains me to spend money on groceries. I shop at Aldi for most things and look at every price, check out how many ounces something is then compare the price per ounce. I hate buying brand name household products when the generic is the same exact thing. Bathing suit season, gimme all the 12 dollar tops. I would NEVER spend a bunch of money on a swimsuit. Memberships to expensive gyms? Pushups and sit ups in my bonus room are what I'm doing instead. I just bought new under garments because they were on MAJOR sale, and realized that the last time I had done that was EASILY 8 or more years ago (don't judge me, I wash on the delicate cycle and hang to dry - they last me a long time). Putting gas in my car? I will drive to the cheapest station (South Carolina versus North Carolina) then straight up experience buyer's remorse over having a car that requires premium grade fuel. If I buy a bottle of water I will refill that bottle for at least two weeks before recycling it. I'll put everything I need in my cart whilst shopping online, and if the store dares to charge me shipping - FOR.GET about it. I can't do it. I won't. Empty cart. Log off. I buy super affordable every day clothing (ie: yoga pants, tank tops, jeans, flip flops, etc.) and I'll wear a pair of sneakers until they are riddled with holes them. I have definitely super-glued the soles of my sneakers back on before. And by "before" I mean very recently. At 38 years old. <br />
<br />
But then...<br />
<br />
I'll turn around and buy this tie-top, cropped pant, two-piece outfit plastered in palm trees leaves (2 years ago) with no place to wear it, before it even fit me right. This was too tight to wear comfortably when I bought it but I bought it anyway because I loved it (and you know, someday it miiiiight fit). I definitely spent 3 weeks worth of groceries on this outfit and gave zero FKs about doing so. Then, there it sat. Waiting for me to fit into it. Waiting for me to remove the tags. I do that with clothing more than I'd care to admit. I'll buy something so ridiculous, with no where to wear it just because I love it. I honestly, I want to create the kind of life for myself that requires ridiculous clothing.<br />
My best friend and I went to Mexico in April and I had to buy NOTHING before going. I have FAR more clothing items suitable for a colorful, pom-pom, palm tree, flowy, strappy, cropped top vacation week than I do clothes to go get lunch in on a Saturday afternoon. Right now, there is a dress hanging in my closet that would only be suitable if I were a wedding guest at a wedding held in the Caribbean. How many upcoming destination weddings in the Caribbean am I attending you ask? None. Zero. However... if I get invited to one. I AM READY. Dressing for lunch on a Sunday stresses me out, but packing for Vegas?? Easy. I have sequins in every color and more short skirts than socks that match.<br />
<br />
I spent $12,000 on a breast reduction and then got pissed that none of my old bras fit me and I had to buy new ones. What an asshole.<br />
In the grocery store, I buy $9.00 bottles of wine (and scoff at ones that get even close to $12.00). Then I go out to dinner and don't bat an eye at a 4 ounce glass that runs $14.00.<br />
I'll spend $90 on a canvas to paint on, then add water to extend the life of the Windex in the bottle I use to wipe up the paint that splattered off of said canvas on to the floor.<br />
<br />
And honestly, I'm okay with all of this. I save on every day things and splurge on fan-fking-tastic things. Am I alone? <br />
<br />
Is there anything that you are ridiculously contradictory about??<br />
<br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-61161730670893843682018-08-09T12:34:00.001-04:002018-08-09T12:34:06.138-04:00FREAKUM DRESS <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dress and Shoes: CRIV, Purse and Earrings: Versona, Watch: Michele </td></tr>
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<br />
My husband and I both fight the mid-week blues.<br />
<br />
The monotony of the work week... getting up with the alarm, going to work, managing stress, coming home to fold laundry, do the dishes, mow the lawn, pay the bills, trying to get to sleep before midnight, getting up and doing it all over again... it starts to feel like a hamster wheel. You're running your ass off but the scenery stays the same.<br />
<br />
And... before you judge... I know. We are adults. Staying in for 3 nights in a row should not make us go stir crazy, but it does. So...we try to get out of the house and do something. Anything. <br />
<br />
The weeks that we manage to work in a Wednesday "date night" we normally just run out in our gym clothes (my hair in a 4-day dirty top knot / no make-up) to get something to eat. That is my uniform 85-90% of the time. Yoga pants, tank top, sports bra, sneakers, zero make-up, and a filthy bun. That look works for me. It works for my workouts, my Pilates classes, painting, cleaning the house, running errands. It's a look I am REALLY comfortable with. It's easy. It is NOT however a look that makes me feel especially attractive or desirable. I do not strut, shoulders back, head held high in Nike's the same way I do in heels. <br />
<br />
I appreciate (THE FK OUT OF) the fact that I married a man who does not have shitty, unrealistic expectations of me. He loves me in yoga pants and loves me in heels, BUT... every so often it's nice to step it up a notch.<br />
<br />
I get dressed for things. You know... events, weekends with friends, concerts, etc. But I RARELY just get dressed up for MYSELF, for my dude. I tend to think that an hour's worth of effort is "too much" for just grabbing something to eat on a Wednesday night. Last night, though, I decided to switch it up. I decided to BRING.IT. I got dressed. Last night I ditched my go-to uniform and pulled the tag off a dress that I bought 3 years ago.<br />
<br />
Why have I had this dress for 3 years and never worn it, you ask? Because it's FKNG terrifying that's why. If you hadn't noticed, it is white. All white. Bright white. Not ivory, not off white, WHITE WHITE. I'm a slob. I will wipe my brow, get bronzer all over my fingertips and then, w/o thinking, pull my skirt down. I will drink red wine and miss my mouth. I spill things. I'm clumsy. I am not being self-deprecating. I'm being honest.<br />
<br />
Also... cellulite. My right butt cheek has dimples in it and they are not going anywhere. I work out, I eat well, and I have cellulite. (Also, I'm not saying that my left cheek doesn't also have dimples, but they are WAY more prominent on my right cheek.) And, I don't do Spanx or shapewear. I tried wearing Spanx to a wedding once, they were so uncomfortable that I was having a bad time. I went to the bathroom and took those suckers off. I then looked down at my tiny little clutch purse, realized I had NO place to stuff them, and decided to toss 'em. In the bathroom of the reception area. I tossed a $50 pair of Spanx. BUT... I then proceeded to dance the rest of the night with my low belly and ass dimples free and on full display and had a great time.<br />
<br />
Last night, I wore the dress I was scared of. Ass dimples and all. I made sure I washed my hands before putting it on and pulling it down and I was careful at dinner (skipped the red wine just in case).<br />
<br />
When I walked into the restaurant to meet my husband he looked at me and said "Damn babe, you look great - that's a hot dress". BOOM. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. I felt good. Well... I felt like a greased goose actually, It was hot AF, raining, muggy, and the oil moisturizer I put on my arms and legs to make them all seductively shiny was melting off of me at record speed. My deodorant was LONG gone, and the back of my neck and upper lip were sweaty. BUT.... he noticed none of that. I sat, shoulders back and upright (probably more from fear of belly rolls in an ALL white dress than the confidence that came from his compliment - but I'd like to think it was a mixture of both). We had a great time.<br />
<br />
Also... Mother Nature was smiling down on me letting me have my moment. She minded her own business until we got home. Then... BOOM... I got my period. HA. Life, man. The white dress was not harmed, the cramps stayed at bay, and date night was salvaged.<br />
<br />
I say all of this to say... in the words of Beyonce...<br />
<br />
<span>Ladies look it here</span><br /><span>When you been with your man for a long time</span><br /><span>Every now and then you gotta go in the back of that closet</span><br /><span>And pull out that freakum dress</span>MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-43376548590743552682018-08-06T17:52:00.002-04:002018-08-06T17:52:44.701-04:00Permission to SHINE <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCaKwoYxinY8ssL2Rrszt9rhlKJ1FzVOPdF9Qg0lv75tcyz9f_vK98JCPNTu1cFElOUBMblEFZR9XBzxoK6RaR5gfAWP4Apw7s1LFbRqbTp-Mb6TQiZV7REenC3BnySHPQhcbB8oDfSs/s1600/DSC_0990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1336" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCaKwoYxinY8ssL2Rrszt9rhlKJ1FzVOPdF9Qg0lv75tcyz9f_vK98JCPNTu1cFElOUBMblEFZR9XBzxoK6RaR5gfAWP4Apw7s1LFbRqbTp-Mb6TQiZV7REenC3BnySHPQhcbB8oDfSs/s640/DSC_0990.jpg" width="534" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skirt / Earrings: CRIV, Shirt: Vestique, Purse: Versona, Shoes: Nordstrom, Stone Bracelet: Kendra Scott </td></tr>
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<br />
When we are little, our parents and teachers (if we had decent ones at least), said things to us like...<br />
<br />
"You can be whatever you want to be."<br />
"The sky is the limit."<br />
"If you try and don't succeed, try, and try again."<br />
<br />
As we get older though, that kind of support and expression tends to dwindle. As in, parents clap when their little ones learn how to walk and begin to recite the alphabet song - but as you get older, that naturally dies down a bit and and (perhaps as a result) we stop getting so excited about learning (and a bit more apprehensive to try new things).<br />
<br />
Perhaps fear of judgement infiltrates our brain - once we see that people make fun of those who act/dress/express themselves differently we learn to avoid doing and saying things that may make us a target for other people's judgement. We stop thinking that we can be and do whatever we want, that we can try over and over and that failing is okay. That stumbling is an <i>unavoidable </i>part of learning. We start to fear "looking stupid"and being made fun of.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about this a lot lately because I've been painting again.<br />
<br />
I painted a lot in high school. When I went home for my HS reunion I was reminded of that, and now... 20 years later... I am painting again. I have shared some photos of my paintings on social media and I have (lovingly) heard quite a few people say...<br />
<br />
"OMG, what can't you do???"<br />
"Everything you touch turns to gold!"<br />
"You are SO talented!!!"<br />
<br />
I am a human being, so those comments feel nice when I read them, but I then go on to over think and dissect them in my head.<br />
After compliments like that I find myself going STRAIGHT into self-deprecation mode. Replying to positive comments with a laundry list of things I suck at (math, accounting, defensive driving, technology, knowing my left from my right, science things, etc.). I feel the need to make light of compliments and I go to that place in my head where I start to get nervous. Because... for every sweet, positive, uplifting comment, there are probably AT LEAST the same (if not double) the amount of people looking at what I put out there and judging it negatively.<br />
<br />
"Who does she think she is?"<br />
"Umm.... those paintings blow goats."<br />
"Abstract?? I don't get it."<br />
"She's actually NOT that talented, why are all of these people gassing her up?"<br />
<br />
<br />
HOLY MIND FK, BATMAN! <br />
<br />
I'll tell you the truth...<br />
<br />
I am NOT good at everything.<br />
Shocker - I know! For a minute there maybe you thought I was the one person on the planet who was. Sadly, no.<br />
<br />
Also... everything I touch does NOT turn to gold.<br />
Most things I work at. Hard. I work at my corporate job and at being a knowledgeable Pilates teacher. I put a lot of time into painting and trying new techniques. I used to aggressively work on building a skincare business... until that no longer felt right and authentic for me to be doing. Whatever I am into I am IN. TO. IT and I do it with my whole ass. (I try not to half-ass anything.) I also put things DOWN when they no longer serve me. I share what I like and what I am excited about. If you're into it too, cool! If not, that's cool too. <br />
<br />
I am no more talented than most other people walking around.<br />
I've met people who are insanely intelligent, skilled, gifted... if I'm being dead ass honest, I don't share that God-given gift of just being naturally good at things. I have to work hard at pretty much everything. When I went to learn Pilates, I practiced, A LOT. I still do. When I went to build a business, I read books, podcasts, was mentored, watched trainings, and <u><i>I did things before I was ready</i></u>.<br />
<br />
There are millions of people out there with more talent than I have. You know what I do though??? I share. I put myself out there. I do things WAY before it's comfortable for me to be doing them. I fall flat on my ever loving face (in front of people) and understand that it's okay to do so. I love myself through the mess. I got really sick and almost died a few years back... that shit will WAKE YOUR ASS UP. You can't be THAT close to dying and come out of it still giving a shit what people think.<br />
<br />
Here's one of the hardest lessons to learn...<br />
The people closest to you will be some of the most unsupportive people out there. It won't (more than likely) be strangers. It will be people in your family, who live under the same roof, who used to be your closest friends, your siblings, etc. People closest to you either A.) Don't want you to grow (they will say you've changed) because they were more comfortable with the way you were. OR B.) Your growth will force a mirror in front of them and if they don't like what they are seeing they will resent you.<br />
Watch and listen to HOW people DIS others... what they say will clue you into THEIR unhealed wounds. For example... if you lose some weight, focus on fitness and health, and start to become more confident, someone WILL call you conceded. Chances are... those people are not happy with their bodies. If you launch a business and it doesn't sky rocket into overnight success, SOMEONE out there will claim that you have failed. They will talk shit. Maaaaybe it's just that they are ashamed that they don't have the same courage. Strangers will hit the "like" button. Your old friends... they will keep scrolling. <br />
<br />
Please listen when I tell you this... happy, healed, fulfilled people don't go around trying to make other people feel bad about themselves. THEY JUST DON'T. Keep that in mind the next time you find yourself shrinking back, backing down, waiting for the perfect time, aiming for perfection, or telling yourself you are less talented than someone else. Find something you like. Do it. If no one else likes it or loves you through it, I promise you will live. I PROMISE YOU WILL LIVE (and maybe even feel like you have truly started living). <br />
<br />
Fortune favors the bold, baby. Get yours.<br />
<br />
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<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-62652968910760577602018-07-12T16:57:00.001-04:002018-07-12T22:25:11.555-04:00Priorities <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKV7BRgAz31sP6hPQ05ar3gR2F2HOxLUPao8xBJTXgNfE4EcKKzxzg6Spe7RJSU_NflO-zUaJwjDBY8gMAGTT9XvpvlK6KgKiOhdoKc-Wa-H-xQrseJESaRqHzdVpkX06RGmuyNjuL45U/s1600/DSC_0875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="1600" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKV7BRgAz31sP6hPQ05ar3gR2F2HOxLUPao8xBJTXgNfE4EcKKzxzg6Spe7RJSU_NflO-zUaJwjDBY8gMAGTT9XvpvlK6KgKiOhdoKc-Wa-H-xQrseJESaRqHzdVpkX06RGmuyNjuL45U/s640/DSC_0875.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kimono/Robe Thing: CRIV, Shorts: Marshalls, Shoes: CRIV, Purse: gift, Necklaces: Alex + Ani, Bodysuit: F21</td></tr>
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<br />
I've seen this quote floating around the "interwebs" over the last few years. It says...<br />
<br />
Instead of saying " I don't have time". Try saying "it's not a priority" and see how that feels.<br />
<br />
I'm sure it was created by some well-meaning, motivator. Perhaps someone in fitness or business.<br />
<br />
At first I liked it.<br />
Then, I didn't. (It kind of made me feel dirty. Like person #1 was trying to shame person #2.) <br />
Then... I started liking it again.<br />
A lot. <br />
<br />
Why do I mention all of this? Well... because this quote is PRETTY MUCH THE KEY TO EVERYTHING IN LIFE. At least in mine. <br />
<br />
In daily life we are bombarded with to-dos. At different times we feel the need to workout like crazy, start a diet, make homemade cupcakes for our kid's classrooms, look amazing for an event, start a business, work a business, sustain a business. Start a relationship, work at a relationship, possibly end a relationship. Find time for date night. Shave our legs. Organize our pantry. Do the laundry. Mow the lawn. Do our taxes. There are endless household, financial, and career responsibilities. There are friendships to maintain, family to care for, etc. etc. etc. <br />
<br />
Lots and lots of THINGS.<br />
All of the time.<br />
All of the things.<br />
All of the time.<br />
<br />
It's hard sometimes to figure out how to use the 24 hours we are given in a day, and if we don't use them in the way we think we "should" then we start to feel like a failure.<br />
<br />
Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all of the things I think I should or should not be doing... I use this trick. When something pops into my head that I start to put on my mental to-do list, I simply ask my self, honestly?<br />
<br />
Is this a priority today? Truly? Is it?<br />
<br />
Yes or no.<br />
Without judgement.<br />
Without guilt.<br />
Without shame.<br />
Is this a priority? <br />
<br />
Is working out a priority today? Most of the time, yes, it is. Sometimes though, no.<br />
<br />
Is keeping my job a priority? Yes? Then I must show up for work. <br />
<br />
Moms and dads... is it a priority that your kid has a snack to bring to school for his/her birthday? Yes, more than likely it is. Is it priority that you devote 3 hours to it (between scouring Pinterest for ideas, shopping for ingredients, baking, and cleaning up)? Maybe not. Maybe you buy cupcakes that a baker at the grocery store poured his/her heart into. Your heart has a lot of other places to pour into that day. Your kid is going to remember that you showed up for them. That's all. There are no medals given out to exhausted parents for winning (moral victories) over the other moms and dads in the cul-de-sac who did not hand craft their kid's sweet treats.<br />
<br />
Having a skincare regimen is a priority for me. Every. single. night. NO FAIL. Why? Because acne and wrinkles makes me feel like dog shit. So, no matter how tired I am. No matter how much I DON'T want to do it, washing my face and using 2 serums right after is a priority. #shitalmost40yearoldssay<br />
<br />
Is washing and blow drying my hair a priority? 6 days out of 7, absolutely no. It just isn't. So I don't do it. <br />
<br />
Sex. Is it a priority? Some nights? No. Sleep. Sleep is the priority. But... tie it back to your partner's happiness and fulfillment. Your happiness and feeling of connection. If it's a priority for your partner's happiness and your partner's happiness IS a priority for you, then, boom. Sex might just be a priority that night.<br />
<br />
Same thing with eating "right". Most meals... yes. I want to fuel my body with healthy food that makes me feel good. On a Saturday night at 2am out with friends making memories and sharing cocktails? Then it is not a priority. Getting chicken wings dipped in blue cheese is a priority.<br />
<br />
Friends. By now you should know your friends. The high and the lower maintenance groups. This last Saturday I went out for my friend, Jess's birthday. I had not seen her IN A YEAR. We live 15 minutes from one another. But.... she works full-time, has 2 kids, a husband, and is busy. I am busy too. No sweat. We always pick up right where we left off. My friends Justin and Tommy though... I go 2 week's without seeing them and my shit starts to come undone at the seams. Standing around their kitchen and talking is a priority for my mental health.<br />
<br />
Sidenote: You are not a bad friend if you don't see your friends all of the time. We are adults. There are lots and lots of things. All of the time. Things.<br />
<br />
Don't feel bad about not "doing it all". Don't feel bad about asking for help, paying for help, recruiting professionals for things you don't want to trade your time for. I'd love to tell you that I plant flowers and garden. I wish I did, but it's not a priority for me. My husband mows our lawn, but spending his rare free time in it all weekend. Not a priority for him. We pay someone for their expertise.<br />
<br />
I don't sew. I pay someone $5.00 every time I lose a button. Is that a bit excessive? Should I be embarrassed to admit that? Probably, but FK it. I don't prioritize learning how to sew. <br />
<br />
I pay for someone to come in and clean our house very so often. Why? Because they do a great job and I prioritize having a clean house. On my weekends, I just don't want to do it. I do it every day to some extent, but looking outside and seeing that it's gorgeous and sunny??? I prioritize getting my ass outside.<br />
<br />
If you invite me to a bridal shower for my second cousin, three times removed on my dad's, aunt's, dog's side of the family? I am not going. It's not a priority and I am not going to feel bad about it. <br />
<br />
See... the quote is FKN genius.<br />
<br />
Is it a priority?<br />
Without judgement.<br />
Without shame.<br />
Without guilt.<br />
Very simply.<br />
Yes or No.<br />
(Remember: It's not a trick question. There are no wrong answers.)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"In a world with so many choices </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
are demanded of you every single day, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
don't forget that you have the choice</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to choose yourself.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To choose what you need today to keep going. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To choose to move away from what's not working. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And to choose where you're headed next." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-Rebecca Ray</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
*Was it a priority for me to edit the first picture in this post and get rid of the huge drop of boob sweat??? No, clearly it was not. <br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-55364018218231248972018-07-02T16:42:00.002-04:002018-07-02T19:32:37.587-04:00Yes Ma'am <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkU6w5vskcSoMANPu_zrLNsAqV02mI3a_awW2a0-DEIOJWeEBQj6xq4eGjlOdG9j0VCBwUtZAmdJCw-P-t4C8VuhOzETEFntanRAMhn1dKoQtZaBeG144Q4PuM5nxbKk-2uiQFoodq0tA/s1600/DSC_0611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkU6w5vskcSoMANPu_zrLNsAqV02mI3a_awW2a0-DEIOJWeEBQj6xq4eGjlOdG9j0VCBwUtZAmdJCw-P-t4C8VuhOzETEFntanRAMhn1dKoQtZaBeG144Q4PuM5nxbKk-2uiQFoodq0tA/s640/DSC_0611.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earrings and Purse: Versona, Shoes: Jessica Simpson, Jumpsuit: Forever 21, Ring: Kendra Scott </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's haaaaaaaaappening. I knew it would. I knew it was time. I half expected it. I saw it happen to other people. Who am I to be the exception to the rule??!!! I mean... I live down South and I am 38 years old. I.KNEW.IT.WAS.COMING. <br />
<br />
I'm being called MA'AM.<br />
<br />
A lot.<br />
Often.<br />
In various places, by EVERYONE. Men, women, boys, girls. Servers at restaurants, boys at the car wash, young women I start chatting with at the gym, bartenders, and bank tellers. Now, don't get me wrong. I have NOTHING against aging. It's a beautiful privilege denied to far too many. I am taking care of myself, and I actually feel (and maybe even look) better than I did 10 years ago.<br />
<br />
Age creeps up on you like a silent, stealth, elusive, whisper, though, and maaaaaaan... Father Time is undefeated. The first few times it happened I was shocked. I started looking over my shoulder and then behind me for someone 25-30 years older.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I am surprised though. I just attended my 20 year high school class reunion. YUP. I've been out of HS for 20 years. Also... the week before said reunion, I slept wrong and pulled something in my back. You read that correctly. I slept and pulled something. I woke up in physical pain because I slept wrong. When I was younger I could sleep for 3 hours, on the floor of a car, with my shoes on, using my forearm for a pillow, wake up feeling like a zillion dollars, and eat Doritos for breakfast. Not anymore. If my pillow is too flat it FKS me up for a week.<br />
<br />
Anyone fitting that description is most definitely a "ma'am".<br />
<br />
There's just a part of me that is in denial. I mean.... I listen to hip-hop (loudly), I'm a Democrat, I drive a fast car that is not the least bit practical. I still say "righty tighty, lefty Lucy". I have 6 tattoos. I can't sew a button. I call my mom when I'm sick. Sometimes, I contemplate throwing away Tupperware because I just don't want to wash it. (If that's not some teenage shit, I don't know what is.) I don't understand W2s, W4s, or 1099s. I wear polkadot jumpsuits for GAWD'S SAKE.<br />
<br />
I thought getting older meant listening to talk radio (well... I do love me some NPR), voting conservative, getting a practical automobile, knowing your right from your left, knitting, and understanding taxes??? And most certainly it meant saying NO to head-to-toe, enormous, obnoxious, polka dots on your ass. Apparently not. Apparently, you can do all of those things and STILL get old. <br />
<br />
Not that long ago I was walking down the street, coming from teaching a private Pilates lesson in uptown Charlotte. I'm in yoga pants, a tank top, sneakers, my hair is up like this, and I am carrying a yoga mat. I am walking towards a group of 5-6 boys ranging in age from 15/16 to 18/19 or so. I say "Hey guys" as I walk by. As I am passing them, one in the back turns around, raises his voice and says to me....<br />
<br />
"Damn, girl.... you still got it!!!".<br />
<br />
Ummmmmmmm. Excuse me? What the what??? "Still got it???" "STILL????" At first I was offended. Like, how the FK old do you think I am??? Then... it hit me. Old enough to be their mother. That's how old.<br />
<br />
It's cool though. Life is MUCH better for me at this stage than it ever has been and I feel good. So... if I'm being called Ma'am, I guess I'll take it.<br />
<br />
And to the boys who informed me that I "still got it". We are cool. No hard feelings. Just stay off my damn lawn, and don't go lighting fireworks after 10pm. I'll be in bed, with my $50 pillow that adjusts to and supports my fragile cervical spine. <br />
<br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-13590321967410893972018-06-08T07:07:00.000-04:002018-06-08T07:28:36.714-04:00Shady B!tch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaQJrvzagx1vuvLJ4hcpJ0TLkIG_pXhiSaNf08BRgPUkwYlE_L_a3JGlG0BAzZARW-Vh2tzXgAih_XmnQwvxYuzjg0nZv6hA5AJszQogdanl9PJr0dQ3q15ixjYFToNYrRGw4osI2EYg/s1600/DSC_0504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaQJrvzagx1vuvLJ4hcpJ0TLkIG_pXhiSaNf08BRgPUkwYlE_L_a3JGlG0BAzZARW-Vh2tzXgAih_XmnQwvxYuzjg0nZv6hA5AJszQogdanl9PJr0dQ3q15ixjYFToNYrRGw4osI2EYg/s640/DSC_0504.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romper: Vestique, Shoes: CRIV, Bracelets: Alex + Ani - gifts from my MIL, Earrings: Versona, Clutch: gift</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
"Jealously FKs with your light." - Cara Alwill Leyba <br />
<br />
I'm assuming you just read that first line, right? Now... go back and read it again. I'll wait.<br />
<br />
Jealousy FKs with your light.<br />
<br />
WOW.<br />
<br />
Have truer words ever been spoken? I doubt it. Jealousy is a bitch. A liar. It tricks you into seeing the desirable in other people, and normally means that you are looking at yourself, your image, your life through a lens of "lack".<br />
<br />
It's hard out there. I get it.<br />
<br />
It's always been a difficult task. To focus on your own shit. To appreciate your life, your gifts, your talents, and your strengths, your looks... but MAN.... I don't think it's ever been harder to do than RIGHT NOW.<br />
<br />
We live in a world where we are BOMBARDED with images. Perfectly cropped, filtered, and selected (from a camera roll of 26 others that didn't make the cut). Shit... even the pictures I share with you on this blog. There are 15 others that got deleted because I didn't like them. It's not a big deal to select images that make you feel good versus bad, but it can, if not properly digested and considered for what it is, have you believing that other people have it somehow "all together".<br />
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I used to be a really jealous person.<br />
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I don't think I was aware of it at the time, but I was ALWAYS looking at other people (especially other women) wishing I had something they did. Wishing I could trade mine for theirs. When I was young, I wished my mom and dad were still together, I wished we lived on Heather Heights (a hill in my hometown where people with really nice houses lived). Growing up I wished I was skinnier, prettier, more talented; that I had money to buy my school clothes at The Gap.<br />
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I used to stare at a girl named Bridgette Fagnan in my 8th grade English class in her Gap jeans, and petite figure (that looked SO good and effortless in a bodysuit) and WISH I looked like that. I WISHED I could wear a bodysuit. I mean.... HOW WAS SHE SITTING DOWN IN A BODYSUIT WITHOUT BELLY ROLLS??? How does one obtain a ticket into that genetic lottery??? <br />
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When I went to college, I envied the pretty girls. The ones who knew how to dress, how to do their hair and make-up. The ones who had nice figures and nice cars (in college???!!!). They looked so pretty in 8am classes with their hair effortlessly thrown on top of their head in an oversized, men's sweatshirts. (Meanwhile I'm wearing a baseball cap and wind breaker pants just trying to melt into the floor in the back so no one sees me until noon when I've at least taken the time to shower and put on my nicer wind breaker pants.) I was always looking at other people and making myself feel like shit comparing myself to them. <br />
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These are somewhat silly examples, and relatively normal, but if you don't become aware of them they can eat you alive. Manifest. Morph into soul-crushing thoughts and behaviors. It's normal to vie for the body of an 8th grade classmate, but I see it in adults more than I care to admit (and I still fight it). I see and hear people being MEAN. Straight up mean. Discussing other people's marriages, income, vacation photos, CHILDREN!! Grown-ass people are cruel when it comes to other people's children. It's nuts.<br />
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Jealousy prompts us to make assumptions about others in an effort to make ourselves feel better.<br />
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If a woman is confident we tell ourselves that she must be stuck up. If she's successful and works outside of the home, she doesn't have her priorities in check. If she stays home with children, she will be judged for that too. If she's fit, she is conceded. If she has nice clothing/car/jewelry, we tell ourselves, that "<i>I could have nice clothing too, but I don't CARE about that stuff because I am a martyr and give every ounce of myself to my family, children and I'm the last to get anything</i>". If someone shares their love and relationship on social media, they are showing off. Taking selfies? Self absorbed. Making money? Greedy.<br />
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We judge because of envy. <br />
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I can proudly say that... at 38... I am no longer one of those jealous, trolling, women who get sick pleasure from hating on other women. I don't know when it happened exactly, but at some point I made a conscious decision to turn that shit around. One tool I use is really simple. I use it all of the time and I swear by it. It may seem ridiculous to you, but it works for me. What do I do?<br />
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I never waste a compliment.<br />
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That's it. If I think something in my head about someone that is complimentary, instead of being a jealous piece of shit and twisting it up in my head, I tell them. I give them a compliment.<br />
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For example. If I like someone's outfit, instead of wishing I had it, or that I could "pull it off" or afford it, or whatever. I simply compliment the person wearing it. "I love your outfit." Instead of scrolling past one of my friend's vacation photos because I am pissed that I'm not in Greece, I am liking the photos and commenting on them. Seeing women on IG who work hard on rock hard bodies. Click that little heart button, give them a "Yassss Bitch" in the comments and keep it moving. Before I was engaged and ANOTHER one of my friends got a gorgeous diamond, I was genuinely happy for them, congratulated them, and shared in their joy. Jealously blocks your blessings. I believe that with every ounce of my soul. So stop being a shady bitch. <br />
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Now... I compliment my friends, family, and acquaintances all of the time. I even compliment strangers. And when they look at me strange, or uncomfortably, I simply say... "I decided a long time ago not to waste a compliment. When I think something nice about someone, I tell them." 9 times out of 10, the person lights up. You never know what their insecurities are. You don't know when the last time someone, who wanted nothing in return, gave them a genuine compliment.<br />
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Trust me, friends, it feels SO much better to build someone up versus tearing them down. I promise you that. Allow someone else's success to simply show you what is possible inside of you.<br />
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"Jealously is very simply a lack of self-worth. Shift your energy. Search within yourself to understand the root of your fears. Enter that dark and lonely place. Find a way to love yourself. Then, emerge on the other side, ready to pull another woman out of her own despair. Show her how to love herself too." - C.A.LMMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-88356405404564614722018-05-09T18:37:00.000-04:002018-05-09T18:37:23.755-04:00Say You're Sorry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jumpsuit: Forever 21 (yes, I am 38 - so what), Shoes: CRIV, Bracelets: gifts, Earrings: Versona </span></td></tr>
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HOLA!!!<br />
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It's been a minute since I created a blog entry. Honestly? I hate cold weather clothing. So, until it warms up and I start wearing color again, there's nothing really that "fun" to share. If I blogged throughout the fall and winter it would look like the same pair of black leggings and 1 of 4 oversized sweaters every.single.time.<br />
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Warm weather though??? Maaaannnnnnn... I live for it. Give me all the prints. All the flowy material. All the straps... sandals... open backs... and obnoxiously loud color. Skirts? Maxis? YES. Sleeves? FK sleeves. I want no part of them. Get your sleeves DAFUQ outta my face. <br />
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Truth?<br />
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It used to be the other way around. I grew up and went WELL into my twenties.. and maybe even thirties... feeling the complete opposite. I lived for covering up my body and could think of nothing MORE uncomfortable than summer clothing (or - gasp - a lack there of).<br />
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I grew up chubby, I have never been what you would call petite or small, and I used to <<foolishly>> believe that warm weather months were when other, more worthy (aka- thin) girls got to have fun with fashion while I suffered through it waiting for sweater weather. <br />
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I'm not sure what changed, or exactly when it did, but now... shiiiiiiit?!?!? You can't tell me nothing. There's an enormous freedom that comes with beginning to love yourself. With not listening to societies "rules". With spending LESS time reading an article about "how to get a bikini body" and actually being IN a bikini enjoying life. Knowing that a "bikini body" is whatever body you have -- in a damn bathing suit. THAT'S the definition. That's it. It's not a lack of cellulite. Zero stretch marks. Or the absence of "muffin top" that give you the "<i>right</i>" to wear one.<br />
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It's amazing the bullshit we tell ourselves. The boxes we put ourselves in. The amount of time we WASTE worrying about not being, looking, or feeling "good enough".<br />
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Remember this...<br />
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Your stretch marks means you have grown (and in many times created LIFE inside of you).<br />
Your belly being round means that you are a sensual, voluptuous goddess.<br />
Hips... narrow or curvy... they allow you to stand tall.<br />
Tiny boobs... consider yourself lucky. Big ones are a pain in the ass. <br />
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No one gets to have an opinion on your body. And guess what... if you act like you love it... if you "fake it 'til you make it"... some day... you won't have to fake it anymore. You will actually love it.<br />
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SO... in my humble opinion (for what it is worth)... I think we should all stop wasting so much damn time. Stop giving a shit whether you look like the women in magazines and on Instagram. THOSE women do not even look like that. Angles, filters, and Photoshop are a muthafker.<br />
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Take care of yourself. Workout to be strong. Eat to nourish your body (and soul) and don't surround yourself with assholes who make you feel bad about yourself. Protect your energy, find your people, and for the love of all things holy.... stop saying shit to yourself that you would never DREAM of saying to anyone else. Stop being mean to your body. It's the only one you've got. <br />
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Now... put your right hand on your left shoulder, and your left hand on your right shoulder and SQUEEEEEZE. Give yourself a damn hug and apologize. Say you're sorry. MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-87584312892936934892018-01-10T15:16:00.001-05:002018-01-10T15:16:39.400-05:00Basic B!%ch: Bralettes and Booties<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5rCJwcH8n4H5yvSq0omNYai8awTmmRQ0gEP_W_igib7w3gsnuj60WvPXJcMVfz7QCk0OJRvgipLSc3Chu1ekXSdiFhyzZ8etr1MFTPT7XOnY1TFqiZMFAfO-G6Lr3Fw7Krrz2tzG1s0/s1600/DSC_0862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1182" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5rCJwcH8n4H5yvSq0omNYai8awTmmRQ0gEP_W_igib7w3gsnuj60WvPXJcMVfz7QCk0OJRvgipLSc3Chu1ekXSdiFhyzZ8etr1MFTPT7XOnY1TFqiZMFAfO-G6Lr3Fw7Krrz2tzG1s0/s640/DSC_0862.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jeggings: Old Navy, Sweater: Forever 21, Booties: Dolce Vita, Necklace: made from the silks of my bridal bouquet at Beads Inc in Charlotte, Bag: Tory Burch (a gift that I earned through my skincare business)</span></td></tr>
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<br />
HAPPPPPY 2018 everyone!<br />
<br />
#1. You'd think, maybe, I'd start the year off with an outfit post that was a touch more interesting, but alas... this is what I am wearing. It's what I've been wearing for months actually (when I am not in yoga pants - which is RARE. Capital "R" ).<br />
If there were a list of Basic B!%ch Outfits for Fall/Winter I'm preeeeeetty sure this one would be front and center in the line up. I think you can get through two seasons of the year wearing a slight variation of it. "Jeggings"/Leggings: elastic waistband and all over stretch. Booties: a wee bit of heel (hello, booty lift) and to add some height, but you're not committing to like, real "high heels". Sweater: oversized and comfortable, do I have 6-pack abs under here? Perhaps I do. Or.... (and more accurate) perhaps I drank 3 times my body weight in Coquito over Christmas (a Puerto Rican drink with coconut milk, condensed milk, evaporated milk and a shit ton of RUM in it - thanks, Rico) and laid around asking ALEXA to "play Christmas music" so I didn't actually have to get up?<br />
<br />
#2. If you look at the fourth picture from the top you can kind of see the bra(lette) I am wearing with this sweater. It's lace, racer-back and cost about $15.00. Can I please take a second to point out that although this time last year I was recovering from an INSANELY painful and debilitating breast reduction, now I can wear shit like this. This flimsy-ass bralette has a CUTE back and provides my (MUCH smaller) chest all of the support it needs. If you have always had small boobs you will not understand the thrill that comes with wearing a bra for looks versus utility. To all of my well endowed friends out there who have at some point longed for smaller boobs, can I be frank? Dude...... it is everything you dreamed. No straps the size of your forearm, or clasps with 3-4 hooks on them. No $75.00 price tag. Found a cute backless sweater? No worries. Buy that shit. You can wear a bralette. I feel funny even typing that word out. Bralette. I used to look at these things and wonder.... "what bitch can actually wear that??????!!!!!!" This one. This bitch. I know a lot of people love big boobs, fake boobs, voluptuous, Jessica Rabbit sex tape type boobs (and to each their own) but I.AM.NOT one of those people. Give me all of the bralettes! Give me all of the 15 dollar, cute lace, "light support", bra-lettes!<br />
<br />
#3. This has nothing to do with clothing (or breasts), which seems to be the theme of this entry, but I had something happen to me about a month ago and it has nagged at me like crazy. I ran into a woman I have not seen in a while. We started chatting and catching up and she said (genuinely, very, nicely... w/o and ounce of detectable shade)... "I love seeing you on social media and keeping up with your perfect life. I am so happy for you." After I jerked my head back 6 inches, rolled my eyes, snarfed a laugh out of my nostrils, and contorted then fixed my facial expression I said, "perfect life???" Ummm. Not even close, why do you say that? She went on to just say that she loved seeing our wedding photos from this year, vacations that I "won" through R+F, and all of my Pilates posts. She said that my life looks perfect and she was happy for me. Although it was very sweet of her to say and I think she meant it in a very complimentary way (it's not her nature to be a dick) it really got me thinking. I mean, it's no shocker that social media is most people's highlight reel, but "perfect". Nah. I went on to say that I appreciated her kindness, but those wedding photos came after a 7 year courtship (6 of those years being bombarded with questions, judgement and pressure as to why we weren't married, what was "wrong" with us, and copious amounts of other bullshit). The R+F trips were not actually "won". There was no drawing or raffle. They were earned. Earned by working after my corporate job every night and on the weekends to build a business. One that many people don't take the time to understand, but that most have an opinion of. And Pilates... a year ago I couldn't hold plank or do a single push up (after 2 surgeries in 6 months). I was depressed about having to basically start over and feared that I had lost all of my students because me teaching had become so sporadic. I struggle with balance every single day and sometimes I fail miserably at taking care of myself and the most important people in my life. I also told her this (I had recently seen this quote and loved it so much that I committed it to memory):<br />
"Social media won't see 95% of my frustrations. Why? Because I have friends, family, a partner ... (and a bomb ass group chat with my girls) that I talk to. It's not portraying one thing and living another. It's wisdom. Every experience is not for every audience."<br />
Can I get an AMEN?<br />
<br />
Again... HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! Let's make this our very, best one yet!!! MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-70352789857769946162017-10-25T18:55:00.000-04:002017-10-25T19:37:25.416-04:00For Leslie & Gayle... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoQmY-Janfv2xVlUa7BD8LlxMRVRhR-iu6mQl1KlimXMz0tQ_qp77MjpE8n6Sb6x2nvTGJuFfPWKltrRAOE40aS0juF99Ge636XLPsmfrKMqDHxUbr4BRZM0eBbJRDG7Ro01QXhSnUfU/s1600/DSC_0734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoQmY-Janfv2xVlUa7BD8LlxMRVRhR-iu6mQl1KlimXMz0tQ_qp77MjpE8n6Sb6x2nvTGJuFfPWKltrRAOE40aS0juF99Ge636XLPsmfrKMqDHxUbr4BRZM0eBbJRDG7Ro01QXhSnUfU/s640/DSC_0734.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vest: Ivy & Leo, Bodysuit: Forever 21, Pants: Page 6, Shoes: Can't remember (7 years old), Watch: Apple Store, Purse: <a href="https://www.shopcriv.com/">Criv,</a> Necklace: <a href="https://www.chloeandisabel.com/boutique/erinchaffee/shop/collection/119766/new-arrivals-800cdc5b-30ad-4c3d-8afe-cc6df507255e">Chloe + Isabel</a></span></td></tr>
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<br />
<div data-contents="true">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="a66ht" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0"><span data-text="true">I saw this quote the other day... </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0">
</div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0" style="text-align: center;">
<span data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0"><span data-text="true"> "Empowered women, empower women." </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0">
</div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="12tbu-0-0"><span data-text="true">... and it made me think of how incredibly important it is to lift one another up. I know it sounds cheesy, and perhaps we have all heard that in some way shape or form over the years, but I've been thinking about a lot lately. Remembering certain instances in my life where I was empowered by women who did not have to go out of their way to encourage, thank, or express their belief in me. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="a66ht" data-offset-key="1t5b9-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1t5b9-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="1t5b9-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="a66ht" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I have some GREAT women in my family. Strong women. Fighters. Survivors. They have supported me. However, because they are my family, I kind of expect that from them. I mean, they love me. I love them. That's what you do when you love someone. I'm talking about strangers, or acquaintances, or just anyone who has no personal gain from your success. They don't love you like your family or "framily" (friends who are family) they are just bomb-ass people who lift one another up. (The quote mentions "women", but of course it applies to everyone.)</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
</div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">When I look at my life right now there are 2 women who stand out in my memory, women who started as strangers. They are just two of the people in my adult life who gave me the tools that I needed to become the woman I am right at this very moment. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
</div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">If I were in one of those awkward situations where a person asked me to stand up and tell the room a little bit about myself I might say something like... </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
</div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">Hello. My name is Melissa. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I am married to a wonderful man who I love (and am <i>incredibly </i>grateful for). </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I am an entrepreneur. I own my own business and coach other people who are creating businesses for themselves. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="rkob-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I am also a Pilates teacher. Pilates changed my life and teaching it gives me more joy than anything else. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">Maybe that description is super high level, way too corny and positive for your liking, but it is accurate. When I write that out and look at it, it hits me that 0 out of those 3 descriptors (wife/business owner/Pilates instructor) were true a few years ago. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I know a lot of little things have happened in my life to get me here and I believe that God opened up doors and introduced me to people (who introduced me to opportunities) that allowed me to be at this place, BUT (and it's a big BUT), you have to be ready for those people and you have to actually have courage enough to walk through the doors that are opened for you. You have to have faith and a belief in yourself that you can do hard things. That you are deserving of the kind of life that brings you joy. That you can heal, start over, go through rebirth. That you can survive. Forgive and be forgiven. That you can create your life. It is is not something that happens TO you, but that you are the master craftsman. You DESIGN it. You steer the proverbial ship. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">When I was volunteering at a woman's leadership event a few years ago around the time of the Democratic National Convention I met a woman named Leslie Black Morton. She introduced herself to me and something VERY weird happened. It was truly like love at first sight. I was so curiously drawn to this woman. She is beautiful, energetic, soothing, loving, hilarious, authentic, and warm. We exchanged contact info and went to dinner. At dinner I found out that she has had a life that resembles a movie. More joy and tragedy than most of us would experience in 10 lifetimes. She is a master healer, life coach, and all around bad ass mama-jamma. As we were talking she was asking me what I want for my life. Where I've been and where I want to go. I didn't know how to answer her. I was not clear on what I wanted. I knew where I had been, but all that did was scare me into fearing that the bottom would drop out of my life if I verbalized my hopes for the future. She was not this blunt, but essentially she said... "how can you get to where you want to be, and become who you want to become, if you have never given any thought, time or energy to figuring out what that looks, feels, tastes and smells like"? << head explodes >> "Uh... yeah. I don't know. You're right." was my lame-ass answer. She tasked me with an exercise. She asked that I write down where I want to be in 5 years. Be specific. What do I want to smell, see, taste, experience? What do I want to do when I wake up in the morning? Who do I want to be with? What kind of house do I want to live in? Car to drive? What kind of work do I want to do? How am I of service to others? </span></span><br />
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I put the task off for a while, but about a week later I laid on top of my bed with a journal and I did it. I wrote a letter, to myself, describing what my day to day life looked like 5 years in the future. I had never dared to do that before. I did not know anything about The Law of Attraction. I was spending more time thinking about what I didn't want to happen to me versus what I did. That one simple exercise was SO powerful. It is not an overstatement to say that it truly changed my life. I felt like I had a plan. A picture. That I had put something out in the Universe and that since I had, there was this hope that the Universe was going to open up to me. Maybe you think this is a crock of horse shit, but if you don't think it's a crock of shit, try it. What can it hurt? It just may be the most powerful thing you've ever done for yourself. Leslie taught me to open up, to ask for what what I want. Not to be scared of the future, not to be defined by the past. That anyone, at any point, can decide how their story is written. For that, I will forever be grateful. </span></span><br />
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true"><br /></span></span>
<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">The second woman who has changed my life, is, without a doubt, </span></span><span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">Gayle Stefanelli. I walked into a Pilates class about 5 years ago and this pint-sized woman with abs of steel greeted me with a big smile. I felt completely out of place. I had NEVER done Pilates before. The class was small and the students made a circle around her with our mats. There was no hiding. I had no idea what I was doing for that hour. I listened to Gayle, fought with my body, trying to coax it into doing things it had never done before, and left (not completely convinced I would ever go back). Not because of the class. The class was awesome, and so was Gayle. But, because of me. I was a solid 40lbs heavier than everyone in that room. I felt completely out of tune with my body next to these woman who moved so gracefully and with such fluidity. I was embarrassed. Scared to be a beginner. Scared that I didn't "look the part". I did go back though. Quite regularly in fact. And one day, after months of practice, Gayle said to me... "Melissa, you should really think about teaching Pilates. I think you would be great at it. You naturally help people, you seem to love the practice, and you've gotten really strong". "Ummm... huh? Me? A Pilates teacher???" I smiled, looked at the floor, shook my head like "no way" and dismissed it. I didn't dismiss it though. I went home and I thought about it. A lot. For days, non-stop. I knew Gayle by then and I knew she did not bullshit. She did not shove sunshine up people's butts unless she meant it. I started looking into it and I've been teaching Pilates for years now. If it had not been for Gayle encouraging me, believing in me, and bringing the opportunity up to me I would never, ever have become a Pilates teacher. I would have listened to all of the voices in my head telling me that I would never succeed at something like that. I would have let my own bullshit story guide my life instead of trying something new. Gayle Stefanelli, a powerhouse Pilates and Yoga teacher from Boston, was one of the greatest, most unexpected blessings to my life. </span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="rkob-0-0"><span data-text="true">I guess what I am trying to say is that sometimes people see things in us before we see them in ourselves. Sometimes the Universe, God, Divine Energy opens up doors for you that you never (consciously) asked to be opened. Sometimes these people, ideas, and opportunities scare the shit out of you and come in packages, from people, and at times that you would never have anticipated. Listen to those nudges. Believe those people. Allow empowered women to empower you. Maybe... just maybe... they are on to something. </span></span></div>
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MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-61203217246788499362017-09-21T21:48:00.001-04:002017-09-21T22:02:32.641-04:00Scantily Clad Traveller<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtzQImfw_8a9IdRfK6zNpaPdFQCmoYngNg9xn0DzqmzlxbojJPWFRPNHccYTI9DAQVKdOEqCNP4mTSIIRnU7NzBlBk_h8jdE-fZojRyYtjO2SjH99m9Ufb1IQ2wpljCj_RAC8UV-2zA8/s1600/DSC_0166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtzQImfw_8a9IdRfK6zNpaPdFQCmoYngNg9xn0DzqmzlxbojJPWFRPNHccYTI9DAQVKdOEqCNP4mTSIIRnU7NzBlBk_h8jdE-fZojRyYtjO2SjH99m9Ufb1IQ2wpljCj_RAC8UV-2zA8/s640/DSC_0166.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earrings: <a href="https://www.shopcriv.com/">CRIV</a>, Dress: Vestique, Shoes: Jessica Simpson, Vest: Target, Purse: Tory Burch </td></tr>
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<br />
This outfit started as just the dress. I ran out for what I thought was going to be a quick errand to the passport office in it.<br />
<br />
Much of the time I wear dresses as an easy option and not necessarily to "look dressed up". <br />
<br />
They are one piece, have no legs, no waistband (to remind you that you may or may not have eaten too much), and no matching (or intentional mismatching) to think about. All around minimal effort required. The day I wore this it was 90 degrees outside. If you know me, you know that I sweat. A lot. Like a hairy, obese, dude. As in, if it's over 75 degrees, beads of upper lip sweat are a standard accessory on my face. Homegirl needs all of the ventilation she can get. Know what I am sayin'? I love dresses, and it never crossed my mind that this one was going to cause me any problems. I was wrong. <br />
<br />
I set out on my way to update my passport with my married name which required a new photo, an updated application, and marriage license documentation. I went to the drugstore, got a new picture, drove 35 minutes (deep into the country) to the passport office, submitted my documentation, filled out the new application, and was thinking to myself... "Man, it is not often that you go to a government office and get in and out without any sort of snafu. Today was a good day." < cue Ice Cube > <br />
<br />
The woman who was helping me gathered all of my paperwork, got it ready to mail it off for me, and took one last look at everything. It was then that she furrowed her brow, cocked her head to the side in deep thought, made a weird sound between her pursed lips, then called her co-worker over to the counter.<br />
<br />
Passport Office Lady #1:<br />
"Nance, can you come here, please? What do you think about this photo, do you think it is acceptable or do you think they are going to decline her application?"<br />
<br />
Me:<br />
"Huhhhhh? Why???" <br />
<br />
Passport Lady #2:<br />
"Ahhhh, yeah. < stops for effect and looks me up and down > I'm afraid this photo is unacceptable. See here, you are wearing these spaghetti straps, and "they" require that a woman wear <i>a bit more clothing than that</i>. You need thicker straps, or sleeves, something. < Insert judgmental glare at my shoulders. > <br />
<br />
WHAT . THE . ACTUAL . FK?<br />
I need thicker straps???<br />
For a passport photo??<br />
For a photo of my face that will be used to identify me when I travel?<br />
There are requirements around the FKing diameter, girth, span, and breadth of a STRAP on my shoulder???<br />
Is this even a real thing?<br />
Am I being punked?<br />
I felt like I was being shamed. Nance and her co-worker were slut shaming me with their eyes and tones. Over the flimsiness of my scant dress straps.<br />
<br />
Apparently, this.... "straps not being substantial enough" is indeed a real thing in the passport world.<br />
<br />
So, I go to my car, assuming that there is SOMETHING, surely, in my car that I can drape around my shoulders. Assuming also that there is a drug store close by. At least closer than the 35 minutes it took me to get there from my house.<br />
<br />
I go to my car. Nothing. I had recently cleaned it out (see previous post about purging). I find a CVS 10 miles away. I figured I'd borrow, or worst case, have to buy a tourist t-shirt from CVS to cover my scandalous shoulders up with. I get to the drug store, have a t-shirt in hand, am at the register, tell the cashier that I also need a quick passport photo taken and she tells me "I'm sorry, baby, our camera is broken". I nod with a tense jaw. (Anger oozing from my pores.) I put the shirt back. I go to my car. I drive 35 minutes home. I grab this vest. I go to another drug store near my house, get another photo taken. I drive 35 minutes BACK to the passport office, where Nance and her co-worker "thoroughly review", approve, and finally send everything off for me.<br />
<br />
I check the mail about a week later and see an envelope from the US Passport Office.<br />
Score! At least got my new passport back in record time! Uh no. The application (that "Nance" thoroughly reviewed for accuracy) was missing a signature. Sweet and gentle, geezus. ARE.YOU.FKN.SEROIOUS??? ? I just had to laugh. <br />
<br />
Anyway, that experience, while not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, was so annoying and baffling, that I'll never look at this dress without thinking of that first-world fiasco. Sometimes articles of clothing get tied to a memory. This will forever be the "dress I was slut-shamed at the passport office in" dress.<br />
<br />
I know that Nance is sitting there in that passport office right now, beige cardigan draped over her chaste shoulders, laughing at me. Fkin Nance. <br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-42016547223113962032017-08-31T18:36:00.001-04:002017-08-31T18:36:40.760-04:00The Joy of Trashing Shit <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1ND882J8XWoVT6MlfY7dQRyXEQTvWbmxiC4KXFSSTJZ5oS6_OZmOYy0wend5vFKgaykIi0rHw9NKJ1Ntyygl_XUWz0xY2p4swZTyMU_sBZOo-8MFBtpmoO5za5vfIN2lJuJZED6EGwI/s1600/DSC_0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1065" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1ND882J8XWoVT6MlfY7dQRyXEQTvWbmxiC4KXFSSTJZ5oS6_OZmOYy0wend5vFKgaykIi0rHw9NKJ1Ntyygl_XUWz0xY2p4swZTyMU_sBZOo-8MFBtpmoO5za5vfIN2lJuJZED6EGwI/s640/DSC_0079.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romper: Vestique, Shoes: Versona, Purse: Gift from Rodan + Fields, Bracelets: Kate Spade, Necklace: <a href="https://www.chloeandisabel.com/boutique/erinchaffee/products/N547GRSG/petits-bijoux-station-necklace">Chloe + Isabel</a> (obsessed - haven't taken it off)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
In the last week I have held every piece of what I am wearing in my hands and asked myself if it "bring me joy".<br />
<br />
I've stopped to consider whether I feel good in it; whether I truly like it or not, and if I feel comfortable wearing it.<br />
<br />
This is not an exercise I have ever done before.<br />
<br />
I have never taken the time to really consider the things I own. The objects that I have in my home, that I put on my body, that sit on my dresser, surround my sinks, counters, shelves, and asked if they <i>bring me joy</i> or not.<br />
<br />
Disclaimer: I have not gone off the deep end.<br />
<br />
I have not started having actual, out loud conversations with inanimate objects, but I have been working on an exercise to be more conscious about what I surround myself with. I am doing a MAJOR purge. Total haul of every nook and cranny of my house, including my closets, "junk drawers", pantry, bathroom sink, dresser drawers, everything. I am going through my accessories, books, furniture, the linens in my closets... EVVVUURRRYTHING. I am not doing this all at once, but I am ALL in. I am hooked. I am obsessed. Nothing is safe.<br />
<br />
I keep a pretty clean house. And, by pretty clean... I mean, REALLY, clean (to the naked eye). Any of my friends will tell you that they can walk in at any time of day, day of the week, month of the year, and my house will be clean. There may be a few dishes in the sink as the dishwasher finishes a cycle, and yes, my laundry room is a fking nightmare, but what they see when they come in is really tidy. Like... if I ever have a cleaning lady or team come in, it really doesn't look much different when they are done, kind of clean house.<br />
<br />
I like a tidy house. It makes me happy. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Brings me peace. Gives me a sense of calm. I can only relax in a clean house. Mess makes me uneasy. (I blame my mother, who, when I was growing up, was a "clean freak".) The problem was/is that I have dirty little secrets everywhere.<br />
<br />
The hallway closet filled with suitcases, a vacuum, random picture frames, and sneakers that my husband wore 5 years ago. So full that I jump back when I open it up so the avalanche hurling towards me doesn't cause bodily harm. Under my bathroom sink? Shampoo and half used bottles of conditioner from 3 years ago. My wedding after-party dress? Dirty and still hanging in my laundry room (from APRIL). My kitchen sink? I have no earthly idea what's under there. Could be dish detergent, could be a community of Fraggles. An interconnected system of caves could be under there... like, Fraggle Rock. Fraggle Rock could quite possibly exist under my kitchen sink. Hell if I know. <br />
<br />
See... when I was young we moved all of the time. I LOVE moving. I love throwing shit out, packing up only what you really care about, exploring a new place, decorating, redecorating, creating a new vibe, giving old things a new place to live. I LOVE to move. It's like a fresh start every time you move. Some hate it. I LOVE it. As a kid, before I went to college, my mom and I counted and between her houses and and my dad's houses, I had lived in 20+ places in 18 years. That may sound awful to some, but not me. It's one of the things I miss most about being young. Moving into a new place every year or so.<br />
<br />
Now that I don't move all of the time, things collect. They build up. I hang on to objects in case I, you know.... "ever need to wear/use them again". I have boxes and bins. Piles. Drawers of clothes I don't ever select. Until recently, the closet in our guest room was FULL (and I mean, full) of home decor that I accumulated over the last 10 years. Throw pillows, books, lamp shades, comforters, twelve elephant statues. Twelve. (I have a thing for elephants.)<br />
<br />
I wasn't really conscious of it until recently, but my house never truly felt settled, calm, or like the peaceful sanctuary I crave because of all of the junk. So... when I was browsing Audible (an app that will read you audio-books) I found myself selecting, purchasing, and immediately listening to this book by Marie Kondo called <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">: </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">It is the decluttering bible. If you're not into reading or listening, here are some highlights: </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">- Tackle categories, not rooms (ie: Go to every room you have your clothes in and go through all of your clothes before moving on to anything else.)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">- Respect your belongings </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">- Nostalgia is not your friend </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">- Purging feels so good </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">- Only keep what you truly love, want, and appreciate </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">So far I have donated... wait for it... over 550 items. YUP. FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY plus items. I have been keeping a tally. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">Pillows, lamp shades, shirts, shorts, workout clothes, dresses, pants, shoes, accessories, bras (I have had 2 breast reduction surgeries and I had yet to get rid of my old bras. I donated 20 bras.), handbags, bathing suits, coats, a couch, and more to come. Over the next couple of weeks I plan to leave "no stone unturned". </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">Now... I know what you're thinking. "Good for you, Melissa. You don't have kids. Of course your house is clean, and your things are tidy." Fk off. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">Granted, it is WAY easier to do this when you don't have kids, and their toys, and clothes you're holding on to because their brother is a year away from fitting into everything they just outgrew. However, everyone can do this to one degree or another. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">Look at something, ask if it brings you joy, decide if it really adds value to your life, comfort, confidence, and make the call as to whether it stays or goes. It's incredibly liberating. I feel like I have lost weight almost. I guess I have in a sense. I may just take up skipping. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle">I'm just going to skip from one room to the next filling garbage bags and frolicking in the joy that I get from</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle"> purging shit.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="a-size-large" id="productTitle"><br /></span></span></span>MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-90298509737071674482017-08-17T23:21:00.000-04:002017-08-18T09:15:15.888-04:00Begin... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLahpjvUMOURSQozpscfRQ_YQCTIAilJPu7rwp2xye9eXBaRnS3hHVeJFmHPa_-i92NH7rvD82h49gYc-imUxgUJqv-QIq969In6O7p8Putu60VYJ6O1fxqqgkBCCBM9IaEZQ065jYnng/s1600/DSC_1208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="1600" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLahpjvUMOURSQozpscfRQ_YQCTIAilJPu7rwp2xye9eXBaRnS3hHVeJFmHPa_-i92NH7rvD82h49gYc-imUxgUJqv-QIq969In6O7p8Putu60VYJ6O1fxqqgkBCCBM9IaEZQ065jYnng/s640/DSC_1208.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumper: Marshalls ($24 freaking dollars), Shoes: $20 bought in NYC circa 2010 (no idea which store - cute, but finally biting the dust), Bracelets:<a href="https://www.mantraband.com/"> Mantrabands</a>, Earrings: <a href="https://www.kendrascott.com/on/demandware.store/Sites-KendraScott-Site">Kendra Scott</a>, Bag: this gorgeous, huge, dusty rose tote, with "butta" soft, leather and rose gold hardware is a Tory Burch (a gift from R+F)</td></tr>
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Do you ever feel like you're getting the same message over and over again from The Universe?<br />
<br />
It's like once you get a new car. You start seeing that same make, model, and color EVERYWHERE you look. Are there really more 2015 gray Jeep Cherokees in your town, or are you now just more aware of them so you're noticing what has always been there?<br />
<br />
I've been feeling that way lately about the idea of "beginning". I've been seeing quotes, reading books, and hearing pieces of conversations that have gotten me thinking about "beginning"... A LOT.<br />
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Beginning, or being a beginner. It's something we do all of the time when we are young. We begin. Every day, or week, or month. We try things, ask questions, ask for help, get coached, solicit advice. We fall, get up, try again. We are cool with starting. With not being good at something. Not knowing everything. We give ourselves permission to learn, be embarrassingly terrible at something, and just work through it until we get better. Like... when you're really young and learning to walk. You never think to yourself... "Ah man, this may not be for me. I have fallen A LOT. Perhaps this whole walking thing is overrated. I think I'll just give up on it and you know, stick to crawling." When does that change? When do we decide that we have learned enough? Tried enough? Fallen enough? Failed enough? When do we get too embarrassed to be a beginner? When do we outgrow humility?<br />
<br />
I meet so many adults who can't remember the last time they did something for the first time. They may want to start a new exercise routine, take a class, learn a new language, start a business, go back to school, or change careers but they won't. They're scared. Risk adverse. Embarrassed. WAY too in their heads. It's weird. It's as if our egos get too big, but our confidence somehow simultaneously plummets.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I am guilty. Being scared of being a beginner. Failing. I am going through the process of getting certified to teach a new fitness class and for some reason I am incredibly worried that I am going to suck at it. That I am going to fail my video audition, or not do a good job if do get through the extensive certification process. That I'll FK up. Get stuck. Completely blank. Straight up suck at it.<br />
<br />
It wasn't until I realized that every single thing that has made my life worthwhile required me to be a beginner. To start with knees shaking, with zero assurance that it would "work".<br />
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In order to meet someone you love, you have to risk that it won't work. You've got to go on your first few dates. Before I taught Pilates, I had to find the courage to walk into my first class (never having been to one in my life). As for my skincare business. I knew NOTHING about skincare before I started. I just had to jump. Learn. Be horribly bad at it. Make mistakes. Ask people for help. Start. Stop. Start again. This blog (even though I've been SUPER slack with it lately) required me to do something that people would most certainly talk shit about.<br />
<br />
So... (Note To Self):<br />
If there is something you want to do, no matter how big or small. Maybe you should just do it. Be a beginner, man. Find someone who has been there and done it. Ask them for help. Get a mentor. Be lousy. Laugh at yourself. Be okay with doing a shit job until you "get it". Stop waiting and talking yourself out of it. While you are sitting there over-thinking, planning, studying up on it, researching, and analyzing, and practicing, you're being lapped by people who are out there. People who are falling. Failing. Embarrassing themselves. They are doing. The world is propelled by "doers" (who were all once... wait for it... beginners). <br />
<br />
"The master has failed more times than the beginner has ever tried." - Stephen McCranie MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-75461546037119191952017-04-23T21:43:00.000-04:002017-04-23T21:49:11.728-04:00Introducing.... Dr. & Mrs. Herriott! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the first time in my life, I don't know what to say. Saturday, April 15th, 2017 was truly the very best day of my life. <br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-44518638595838924202017-04-03T14:04:00.000-04:002017-04-03T14:04:40.587-04:00Use the gifts you were given...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duster: Target, Dress CRIV, Shoes: Off Broadway</td></tr>
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<br />
Hello. My name is Melissa and I am into self-help.<br />
<br />
You know growth and evolution. That warm, fuzzy, touchy, feely, get into your subconcious and dig deep, shit.<br />
<br />
I wasn't always. I was probably in my early 30's before I picked up a self-help book or opened myself up that way. I used to think that self-help books and seminars were for weird people. People that whined a lot, sulked, and blamed other people for the fact that their lives weren't what they wanted them to be.<br />
<br />
I was wrong. Self-help is for every literate human being with a pulse. <br />
<br />
I admit. It is not comfortable to get that intimately acquainted with yourself. Growth forces you to look back, look within, get honest about your fears and self-limiting beliefs, to then evaluate those things and try to grow from them. Becoming aware of your strengths, weaknesses, tendencies, short-comings, etc.... doing that changes the way you look at everything and it can make you WILDLY uncomfortable for a while.<br />
<br />
It's much easier to go through life just kind of letting things happen to you. Pretending that most things are out of your control. It's actually <i>more </i>comfortable to bitch and complain than it is to change.<br />
<br />
Don't believe me?<br />
<br />
Look at your life.<br />
<br />
How many people that you know personally are constantly complain about their shit-head partner, but never leave them? Who out there hates their job, but won't put the time or energy into building something that will help them leave it in 3-5 years? How many people resent the budget they have to live on, but put all of the pressure on their partner, spouse, or parents to make enough money to give them more financial freedom? Do you know anyone who is unhappy with their body, but refuses to move it or eat a damn vegetable? What about people who have crappy, gossipy, negative "friends", but they still spend all of their free time with them? Or, the friend of yours with a big dream; to become an artist, musician, designer, athlete, but instead of putting their time, energy and resources into their dream, they go blow their money, time, and energy at the bar? How many people wear their struggles as some sort of badge of honor instead of changing? Changing is hard, man. Change is HARD.AS.FK. That is why so few people do it.<br />
<br />
It's a commitment. You don't change your life overnight. You take 2 steps forward and 1 step back. You have to (sometimes) change a lot of things you are comfortable with. You have to look in the mirror and get honest with yourself. It's lonely. Not everyone will get it. Not everyone will stay in your life. You may lose friends, partners, acquaintances, family members, and even go back on some things you used to believe yourself. <br />
<br />
I get it. I used to be afraid. Of everything. It was easier to stay quiet than have to defend your opinion. Easier to be with the person that likes you more than you like them, because there is "safety" in that. MUCH easier to do what you need to do to get by, then to stretch yourself to make change. The bullshit story you tell yourself about why you can't do something is a much smoother "pill to swallow" than to try something and run the risk of failing. We are SO friggin concerenced with what other people think of us that it paralyzes us. It's no coincidence that the greatest things you'll ever do in your life are on the other side of that fear though. At some point you have to stop giving your life to your past, to the voice in your head that says you're not good enough. You have to stop living in that space of mediocrity. That place where you don't ruffle feathers. No one speaks badly of you. No one doubts you. <br />
<br />
The problem is that we all think that we have time. We tell ourselves that we will make changes when we.... "get finished with school... when we make more money... when the kids are older... when things aren't so busy at work... when I lose 20 lbs... after the wedding... after the divorce... once I have more energy... once I move out of this town... when it's warmer... blah, blah, blah."<br />
<br />
But life goes by fast. Really FKNG fast. One minute you're in grade school, the next, you're 30. Then... your baby is in kindergarden, graduating from HS, you're an empty-nester. It goes by so fast that one day, God-willing, you're going to be 85 years old looking back on all of it. How do you think that will feel if you don't start going after what you want? Do you think you'll feel good if you have to admit that you spent 20 years with the wrong person? That you never made enough money to travel, live your dreams, help people in need, because you were too scared of what other people thought of you that you never even tried???<br />
<br />
I got really sick in 2011 almost died. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. It is when I woke the FK up. It was when I committed to trying new things, committing to the insanely uncomfortable process of growth, self-love, and when I said FK it. I can't live a life so worried about what other people think that I never do what I want to. At the end of my life I want to be able to meet God and say that I used every ounce of what He gave me; able body, sound mind, caring heart. I didn't live small because I was too self-defeating and self-sabotaging to dare to deviate. <br />
<br />
You may be reading this thinking, "Well, congratufuckinglations, Melissa. Good for you. You're not scared of change, you don't care what people think of you, BRAVO, bitch". That's not true though. I'm still scared of a lot and I still care what some people think of me. It's a work in progress, but I can only speak from my own life, and the things that stand out in my life as making me the happiest and most proud of myself have been on the other side of REALLY hard changes.<br />
<br />
Moving to Charlotte. Applying for new jobs. Breaking off relationships that were not right. Walking, alone, into a Pilates class (and then teacher training) where I was the largest, and least experienced person in the room. Distancing myself from "friends" who talked shit about me behind my back. Starting my direct sales business. Starting this blog. Putting myself "out there" and risking ridicule. <br />
<br />
All of those things scared the shit out of me, but when I look now, every single one of them required me to be brave and to risk that something wasn't going to work out.<br />
<br />
Safe is cool, until it isn't.<br />
Safe is comfortable, until your at the end of your life and you look back on it with big regrets.<br />
Safe is letting yourself off the hook.<br />
<br />
I wrote this all in a tizzy. Super fast. I've been having a lot of these conversations lately I and thought that maybe someone out there needed to read this today. If you're into (or want to be into) self-help, growth and development, here are a few of my favorite books:<br />
<br />
The Gifts of Imperfection - Brene Brown<br />
How to Win Friends and Influence People - Dale Carnegie<br />
The Secret - Rhonda Byrne<br />
Rich Dad, Poor Dad - Robert Kiyosaki<br />
Who Moved My Cheese? - Spencer Johnson<br />
Think and Grow Rich - Napoleon Hill<br />
Rising Strong - Brene Brown <br />
Big Magic - Elizabeth Gilbert <br />
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MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-25693583380126981662017-02-27T20:18:00.003-05:002017-02-27T20:18:22.449-05:00Flannel and a Truth Bomb <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeans, Shoes & Earrings: CRIV (formerly Lotus), Shirt: Vestique, Glasses: Versona </td></tr>
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<br />
Couple of random musings...<br />
<br />
#1. Do you ever put on an outfit thinking it looks fine and then see a picture of yourself and change your mind? Like... "uhhhh hmmmm?? Nah". When I see these photos I can't help but think that I look like I belong in a Farmer'sOnly.com commercial. You know the one I'm talking about right? With that jingle, "You don't have to be lonely... at Farmer's Only.com". I look like my name should be, Daisy. Like I should have a piece of straw hanging out of my mouth twirling a pigtail sitting on the back of a flat bed truck. It must be the red plaid and jeans combo. NOT feeling it. These shoes kind of save me though. They are more Lady Gaga than Old McDonald. <br />
<br />
#2. Look at that 2nd photo. These lashes, yo?!?!? They look friggin' fake. I keep my side business off of my blog for the most part, but ya'll?!?! This Lash Boost (it's a vitamin serum) is THE TRUUUUUUUTH. Man almighty. I love this shit. I've been using the same tube since October and these mamajammas are insane in the membrane.<br />
<br />
#3. Isn't it funny how getting older changes us in ways that are almost undetectable? It isn't until something jumps out at us that we realize that we have matured in some area? Music for example. Some of the dog shit on the radio right now has me saying.... "Man, music that is played on the radio these days is trash." Or scrolling Facebook and seeing posts from people in their 20's constantly talking about drinking. Boasting about hangovers and the amount of alcohol they consumed over the course of a weekend. I roll my eyes, shake my head and pray for their liver (while muttering something under my breath about doing something more productive with their time and money). Drinking is social, fun in moderation, (and has been a part of some pretty epic nights of my own), but there is nothing attractive about someone who drinks all of the time (and posts about it). I have never once heard while talking to my guy or girlfriends.... "You know what I'm looking for in a life partner? Alcoholism and a pot belly." Or people who air their dirty laundry online. Dear gawd. Fights with their partners or complaining about their exes. We all have fights, and most of us have exes who have hurt or pissed us off. Chill. Social media is not the place. Oh... before one of you gets on my ass about people posting what they want to, and social media being the only outlet a lot of people have, I know this. I'm simply stating my opinion. As I get older the more I truly believe in The Law of Attraction. Call it malarkey if you want to, but if you're constantly drowning your sorrows, posting about your frustrations and your life is not changing much, it's not a huge shock that it's not changing. That shit is energy and it attracts. When you're making moves and you're working on becoming your best self, you attract like minded people. When you're drowning your sorrows in booze and bitching about someone doing you wrong, you're stuck there (and that attracts like-minded people too). Have you ever heard the phrase, "water seeks it's own level"? Well... it means, what you are, you attract... and if you really think about it...<br />
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THAT.IS.PROFOUND.AS.FUK.<br />
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<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-55728375094389807952017-01-18T20:55:00.000-05:002017-01-18T21:11:21.567-05:00Wobbly Knees <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRufLnZH33zzU1491DXd1qQEAlV7RyzLfM1eiL3OPCzFF5hiH82UhzirlD4C8_YLsgX_6TJJ-KnHLWhA6AbUrF2Q9eXDv2-Qs6Csk2IrwWABykOideks-vhiSKjs4WkfxO_h52_mEIXnw/s1600/Jan1_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRufLnZH33zzU1491DXd1qQEAlV7RyzLfM1eiL3OPCzFF5hiH82UhzirlD4C8_YLsgX_6TJJ-KnHLWhA6AbUrF2Q9eXDv2-Qs6Csk2IrwWABykOideks-vhiSKjs4WkfxO_h52_mEIXnw/s640/Jan1_3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweater and Jeans and Purse: Lotus Boutique (soon to be re-branded and called CRIV), Booties: Nine West </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’ve been wondering a lot lately when it happens. When we tell ourselves, no wait… CONVINCE ourselves, that we can’t do something. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">When, exactly, do we give up on ourselves? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">As kids, we believe we can do anything. We fall thousands of times learning to walk, but not one of us gives up on trying. We crash to the ground, skid our knees, hurt our elbows</span><span style="font-size: small;">, </span><span style="font-size: small;">and tear up our hands falling off of bicycles without training wheels but we continue. We fall, we sim</span><span style="font-size: small;">ply </span><span style="font-size: small;">get up. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I wonder? Is it because </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>everyone</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"> is expected to walk</span><span style="font-size: small;">? Because </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>most people</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"> know how to ride bicycles? When do we start telling ourselves that falling is not okay</span><span style="font-size: small;">? </span><span style="font-size: small;"> That falling is bad. That falling is failing</span><span style="font-size: small;"> (</span><span style="font-size: small;">instead of a necessary part of the journey). We get older and we become "scaredy cats". </span><span style="font-size: small;">Far t</span><span style="font-size: small;">oo damn concerned with what other people think and not nearly as concerned </span><span style="font-size: small;">as we should be </span><span style="font-size: small;">with what we think of ourselves</span><span style="font-size: small;">. With </span><span style="font-size: small;">what we are doing with this one, precious life we are given. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I’m not sure if it’s an age we hit, if it’s getting our hearts broken, or maybe it’s listening to other people’s shit (that they project onto us and we then internalize)? Is it when life
gets hard, when we fall flat broke,
get embarrassed, or fail </span><span style="font-size: small;">publicly</span><span style="font-size: small;"> at something we try? I know some people say
it’s because of the way they were raised. It’s their mom’s fault, their
dad’s fault. It’s their exes fault. Their</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">ex-BFF from 9</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: small;">
grade. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps a</span><span style="font-size: small;"> teacher who scolded them too harshly (telling them they aren’t</span><span style="font-size: small;"> shit</span><span style="font-size: small;">, won’t be</span><span style="font-size: small;"> shit</span><span style="font-size: small;">, and shouldn’t strive to amount to much more than</span><span style="font-size: small;"> shit</span><span style="font-size: small;">). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Or m</span><span style="font-size: small;">aybe it’s when we see other people try and fail at something? We
tell ourselves that if THEY can’t do it, then I </span><span style="font-size: small;">certainly</span><span style="font-size: small;"> can’t do it. We focus on
the masses and then tell ourselves that it’s a numbers game</span><span style="font-size: small;">. Convinced that the</span><span style="font-size: small;">
law of averages or probability tells us that
we are no different than the masses. Then we hold on to that belief</span><span style="font-size: small;">. As a matter of fact, we </span><span style="font-size: small;">embrace it. We call it humility. We label it a virtue. We wear it like a badge of hon</span><span style="font-size: small;">o</span><span style="font-size: small;">r</span><span style="font-size: small;">, something to be proud of. We don't ruffle feathers, don't ripple the water. No one judges us too harsh</span><span style="font-size: small;">ly. We live in the middle. Middle of the road</span><span style="font-size: small;">, on medium </span><span style="font-size: small;">heat. We </span><span style="font-size: small;">convince
ourselves that people who are bold are also conceded, self-promoting and
somehow different from us. That their success
in an anomaly. Unicorn dust. A magic pill they sold their soul for. That
there is something so fundamentally different about them that we could
NEVER do what they do. Then… we get bitter and slowly turn into the type
of person that talks</span><span style="color: #1f497d;"> <span style="color: black; font-size: small;">shit </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">about people who dare to deviate. We label them “lucky” and the</span><span style="font-size: small;">n</span><span style="font-size: small;"> put ourselves in the “unlucky” category.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the last few years, with my R+F business and Pilates, I have
been talking to a lot of people (mostly women) about mindset, and my
mind has been BLOWN by how LITTLE people really think of themselves.
It’s fking heartbreaking. It’s an epidemic. They
use words like “normal” and “average” to describe themselves and are
convinced that success or happiness is reserved for people very
different from them. It’s absolutely maddening to see just how many
people lie to themselves about what they are capable of.
Almost as maddening as when they use words like “luck” to describe
someone who has worked their </span><span style="font-size: small;">ass</span><span style="font-size: small;"> off. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I </span><span style="font-size: small;">am </span><span style="font-size: small;">convinced that if more people gave up the bull</span><span style="font-size: small;">shit</span><span style="font-size: small;"> story they feed themselves every day and replaced it with something else</span><span style="font-size: small;">, </span><span style="font-size: small;">something</span><span style="font-size: small;"> positive, something
hopeful, that a lot would change. Having bad</span><span style="color: #1f497d;"> “</span><span style="font-size: small;"> luck</span><span style="color: #1f497d;">”</span><span style="font-size: small;">
becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Have you ever met those people who
ALWAYS have a sob story? Are full of excuses? Always lamenting about how
difficult
everything is? They "tr</span><span style="font-size: small;">y</span><span style="font-size: small;"> soooooo hard" and nothing ever goes right
for them. That shit is energy man, and it attracts like energy. The older I get the more I truly believe that much of your world is how you choose to view it and how you play the hand you've been de</span><span style="font-size: small;">alt</span><span style="font-size: small;">. There's a quote in a book called "The Alchemist" that says... "Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the word turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'm not sure if anyone out there needed to be reminded that on wobbly legs, with shaky knees, after countless bruises, bumps and scraps that they picked themselves up and learned to walk, but I'm pretty sure that if we reminded ourselves of that once on a while we would be a bit more brave. A bit more sure of ourselves, AND that if we were more of those things, sure of ourselves and brave, that we would live a bit more boldly. Give less FUKS about what people think and take more chances on ourselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I me</span><span style="font-size: small;">an. It </span><span style="font-size: small;">c</span><span style="font-size: small;">an't hurt to try, right? </span></div>
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<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-13136134786871807902017-01-04T19:24:00.000-05:002017-01-04T19:24:59.961-05:00Outfit Purgatory <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorkl75LuhBoQWW3fApf2K7UHI9xvZGY3TQATG9c39p4mmagE2gH7r5Mj3aT-qe0bA0LEZsD3ubzpWsZbT1blpPa1hcCtJ1ZyWQwrUHh601mFKTbvXeRiqLQEDhPrk-dZaAr9nuXcd1kk/s1600/A9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorkl75LuhBoQWW3fApf2K7UHI9xvZGY3TQATG9c39p4mmagE2gH7r5Mj3aT-qe0bA0LEZsD3ubzpWsZbT1blpPa1hcCtJ1ZyWQwrUHh601mFKTbvXeRiqLQEDhPrk-dZaAr9nuXcd1kk/s640/A9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPFoRJSl-OD_tC2ZbViI7pFwGHCMGHWRSZskz2dKrxgb5t7fWzsRHRco6Bl1JSYIWOD4_iwKBpZA1Ar6SgLG9zqh-0YfmsFxfRI5hnhzNAvCfwRRmASURD5onS3cobSbECWfQWyDjzGU/s1600/A2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPFoRJSl-OD_tC2ZbViI7pFwGHCMGHWRSZskz2dKrxgb5t7fWzsRHRco6Bl1JSYIWOD4_iwKBpZA1Ar6SgLG9zqh-0YfmsFxfRI5hnhzNAvCfwRRmASURD5onS3cobSbECWfQWyDjzGU/s640/A2.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Booties: Marshalls, Pants: Target, Sweater: Versona, Necklace: Swarovski </td></tr>
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<br />
YO YO YO!!!! Happy New Year! <br />
<br />
Remember me? Pro'ly not. (Since I neglected the hell out of this blog in 2016.) <br />
<br />
I wish I could say it's because 2016 was such a whirlwind of awesomeness and in the midst of all of my fabulous travels and adventures I just plain forgot. But, that's not exactly it.<br />
<br />
2016 did bring some incredible things my way though... an engagement to my beloved manfriend, traveling to Banff Springs, Canada, going to Vegas twice, seeing some of my best friends get engaged, married, score new jobs, taking my side-gig and building it into a business, and welcoming a new, sweet-as-pie baby nephew into our family. Truthfully though, I spent most of the year on my back.<br />
<br />
< Get your damn mind out of the gutter, dirt bags. ><br />
<br />
What I meant is that I spent half of the year (6 months in total) recovering. Laying, quite literally, on my back. I had not one, but TWO breast reductions this year.<br />
<br />
Yup. TWO.<br />
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I won't bitch too much about how badly recovery sucked, because the surgery was totally elective, but wow... IT.WAS.AWFUL. My first surgery took me forever to recover from and when I had (and all of the swelling went down) it looked as if I had gotten more of a lift than a true reduction. I had only gone from an E to a DD. I was pretty disappointed and went back under the knife for a second time. With two surgeries I was recovering half of the entire calendar year. I couldn't practice or teach Pilates like I wanted to, I had to rely on other people a lot more than I normally do, I was in intense physical pain (which I am thankfully NOT used to), and really, I didn't get dressed that often or do much. Which leaves very little to blog about.<br />
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As a matter of fact, I have done SO little since my second surgery in November that I have worn this exact outfit almost every single time I have left the house. It is comfortable, cute, and the sheer size of the sweater (coupled with the fact that these leggings have an elastic waistband) made it easy to ignore the fact that I haven't been able to work out worth a shit most of the year.<br />
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Does anyone else out there do that? Wear an outfit for a short period of time, and as long as no major sweating goes on, food/drink spillage happens, or full-body photos were posted you simply fold it up to wear again. It's like outfit purgatory... too dirty to be hung back up, too clean for the laundry basket, simply piled up (many times inside out) on your chair or dresser ready to go when you have to leave the house again. I do it all of the time. Between the fact that I never wash my hair, am usually 3 (or 6) days deep into dry shampoo, AND most of my outfits are recycled, it's amazing that I pass for clean or have any friends at all.<br />
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Anyway.... cheers everyone, to 2017!!! Chinese zodiac tells us it's the year of the Rooster, but in my world, it's the year of the: SmallBoobsThatWillAllowMeToMoveDressAndWorkoutComfortably. Victory!!!! Finally. <br />
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MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-13308230580824526952016-12-18T23:46:00.002-05:002016-12-19T19:30:30.818-05:00Antuan & Melissa: Engagement <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"She loves him most when he talks about the things he is passionate about. That's when his eyes light up, alive, dancing, and burning, as if he sees a world that no one else has seen. And when he looks at her the same way, that's when she feels loved most." - Cynthia Go </div>
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Thank you to my sweet, talented friend, Dameron of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lightboximage/">Lightbox Photography</a>. </div>
MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-76942221563234674302016-08-01T17:59:00.000-04:002016-08-01T18:06:29.987-04:00Ah Summer '16... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaNf6Sj0OC7tjshBPRQaHdgqZkFKaRuWkECHX9NK9ZrdRoDOhj6dcYnJiUWv2G4hgEVnupkYDaET_brn8IjQ-lqXCKXhB9sDfmgFrEmgsXJRmspQnsH17e2KTcw7KodbesvCDGpz85J4/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaNf6Sj0OC7tjshBPRQaHdgqZkFKaRuWkECHX9NK9ZrdRoDOhj6dcYnJiUWv2G4hgEVnupkYDaET_brn8IjQ-lqXCKXhB9sDfmgFrEmgsXJRmspQnsH17e2KTcw7KodbesvCDGpz85J4/s640/3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shirt: Ivy & Leo, Shorts and Flip flops: Old Navy, Purse: Target, Cross: Jared</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: small;">YO YO YO!!!!! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span>
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<div>
Long time, no blog. It’s been so long in fact that the other day I mentioned that I wrote a blog and felt like a damn liar. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
SO much has happened in the months since I last checked in so I’ll start in chronological order. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
MAY: </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I had surgery in May. Actually the day after my last post, on <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1924182683" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">May 5th</span></span>.
More specifically, I got a breast reduction. YUP. True story. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I had
wanted one for over 20 years. Ever since I got boobs. Because when I got
them… I GOT them! When I went
in for surgery I was an “E”. I mean…. I bought DDD bras because I
could not bring myself to actually buy an “E” bra, but that’s exactly
what I was. <<Pretty sure spilling out of one size means you should
actually size up.>> Most of the people in my life had NO idea I was that "large and in charge"
because I NEVER left the house without a minimizer bra on (yes, those are real things and they SUCK) and if I was
working out I would wear 2-3 sports bras at one time. I always joked
that I stored half of my boobs under my armpits.
I never really “lead” with them if you know what I am saying. I didn’t
wear push-up bras or enhancing bras. Shiiit, I never even really wore a
normal bra for fear that I would look like Dolly Parton. I hated them.
Always had. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Maybe you don’t care about my breast
reduction, but maybe you do. Maybe you too have always wanted one or
know someone who does. Maybe your back hurts, your posture suffers, you
don’t feel “sexy”, they are in the way, you hate having to wear a bra
that feels more like a mid-century torture device. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
So… here are a few things you should know.</div>
<div>
#1. It is WAAAAAAAAAY more intense than getting breast implants (or so my doctor told me). </div>
<div>
I was in surgery for over 5 hours!! </div>
<div>
#2. Recovery is NO joke. </div>
<div>
You can barely do anything but exist for a while because you are so sore. </div>
<div>
#3. Make sure you get a pain medication you can tolerate. </div>
<div>
I took
ONE dose of my narcotics right after surgery and that was it. For a
month I took ibuprofen and extra-strength Tylonol. I can’t handle
narcotics (I get dizzy, nauseous, feel faint) but I
bet they would have been tremendously helpful with pain management had I
been able too. </div>
<div>
#4. Strengthen your core. </div>
<div>
Workout before surgery and get strong.
Had it not been for my regular Pilates practice I would have been even
more miserable than I was. You can’t put any pressure on your elbows or
hands to get into or out of bed. Your upper
body is basically useless so your core is going to do all of the work
for a while. </div>
<div>
#5. Let people help you. There were days that started okay for me
then I would be FLAT on my back in insane amounts of pain after a few
hours. You need to let people help you. << A big thank you to
everyone who helped me and checked in on me. Especially Amanda D., Elizabeth H. and my Manfriend. >> </div>
<div>
#6. Make sure you REALLY want it. </div>
<div>
It’s painful, expensive AF (if
insurance won’t cover it), takes a lot of time to recover, takes you out
of your normal life, impacts your everyday life for a while, there are
stitches, blood, scabs, scars and still…
3 months post-op it’s not comfortable for me to lie on my side or on my
stomach to sleep. I had to learn to sleep on my back which was
MIIIIIISERABLE. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Those are some points to consider. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Would I do it all over again?
Hell yes. My breasts aren’t “small” afterwards but they fit me. They
don’t plummet to my waist anymore when I take my bra off. I can see my
torso for the first time in my life. I can sit
and stand up straight w/o feeling like I’m drawing unwanted attention to
chest. I can work out with more ease and my bras don’t have to have 4
clasps on them with straps the width of a child's forearm. Yes, ma'am. I would daaaayyyum sure do it
all over again. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
JUNE: </div>
<div>
June was INNNNNNNNcredible. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
We traveled to Vegas (I was still
REALLY sore, only 4 weeks out from surgery), I visited home to see my
family in NY, we went on an all-expenses-paid trip to the most beautiful
place I have ever been in my whole, entire life, Banff Springs
in Calgary Canada (I earned that trip for us through my side-gig with
Rodan + Fields) AND ………wait for it………. while I was in NY with my family…. I
got engaged!!!! </div>
<div>
<<If we know each other in real life, are connected on
social media, or if you’ve been reading this blog
for a while you have heard me refer to my “Manfriend”. >> We have been
together for over 6 years. I was completely shocked by the proposal. He
had it all planned to do in Charlotte, then like an ASSHOLE I booked
myself a plane ticket to New York for that exact
same weekend. I didn’t ask him to come (I didn’t assume a baby shower,
maternity photos and skincare – which is what I was going for - would
be a rip-roaring good time for him). Little did I know that he had
planned the proposal, had my friend invite me to
a girl’s night out for that Saturday night (so I would save the date and not plan over
it), rested easy when he saw that I put “GNO” on my calendar then
FREAKED out when I erased it <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1924182684" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">two weeks later</span></span>
and wrote instead… “flying to NY”. He had to re-work his entire plan.
He
ended up flying to NY a day after me, hiding out at my uncle's house, getting my local
family together last-minute and doing it in front of everyone. I
was completely shocked. IT.WAS.AWESOME. I was in tears, sobbing like a
child. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
We have been through a lot <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1924182685" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">in 6 years</span></span>,
as individuals and as a couple and although in the last few years I
realized that I didn’t “need” marriage, that happiness was
more than enough…. I am overjoyed and so incredibly thankful. I am here to tell
you... no matter what has happened to you, no matter
how your life has derailed from your original plans, no matter how sad
or broken you feel, if you focus on creating and (re)building the best
version of yourself you will, eventually, be happy. Once you are happy
and fulfilled… the minute you don’t “need” something
or someone. The moment you give up the idea that you can “control” it
all… something magical will happen. Whether it’s a relationship, a job,
an opportunity, whatever it is. That sounds corny, I know, but I truly
believe it and know it to be true. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
#3. JULY: </div>
<div>
Work, work, work, work, work (…. I hope you said that to
the tune of the Rihanna song cause that’s how I meant it). </div>
<div>
Whoa. July
was BACK TO REALITY. I worked my fool a$$ off in July. No more days off
from my corporate job, I went back to teaching
Pilates (after 8 weeks off after surgery), my Rodan + Fields business
had its biggest month yet, I had 3 photography sessions with
families and spen tcountless hours editing AND I finally sold and closed on my townhome. July was a blur and although I was feeling insanely happy from
vacations and an engagement and I was SUPER happy
to be back teaching Pilates I’m not going to lie… there was a bit of a
hangover from all of it. June was blissful. I was so FKing happy that it
scared the life out of me. In July fear overtook my head. I felt
almost like the bottom was going to fall out.
Like…. "wait... other people get this much happiness, but not me". My mind got the
best of me and I started to get down and really anxious in July. I started
focusing on my fears instead of my countless blessings. I say that not
to be a buzz-kill but to keep it real. I think
it’s important to mention. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
With social media it’s easy to think that everyone else is SUPER
happy; especially in the summer. There are cookouts, and vacations, lake
days, beach trips, new houses, kids out for the summer, your teacher
friends posting about how they don’t have to
work, people celebrating and sharing pictures of parties, engagement
announcements, weddings, pregnancies, births, kids going to college,
etc. It’s all awesome, but WHOA can it trap you?!?! You start to compare
your real, everyday life with everyone else's highlight
reel. It can make you feel like crap. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
There is no such thing as perfect
and the person who seems to “have it all” has usually come out of some
MAJOR SHIT, works REALLY hard, has failed a million times, gets scared,
nervous, anxious and discouraged just like
everyone else. We all have “seasons” in our lives. Some are incredible.
Blissful. Some are terrifying. Others are full of change and upheaval.
Once in a while they are calm and peaceful. Many times they are stressful,
depressing, disappointing and nerve-wracking.
I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but I
thought maybe you (like me) could use reminding. Count your own
blessings instead of everyone else’s. You have no idea the path they
have traveled or what it took for them to get where they are. Congratulate people when they are high and love them when they are low, but don't compare. Comparison is the thief of joy, man. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
The thief
of joy. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
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</span>MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-52942548120579505052016-05-04T16:40:00.001-04:002016-05-04T16:44:26.381-04:00Dear, Precious Girl... <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoes: Aldo, Jeans: Old Navy, Shirt: Versona, Earrings: Lotus, Bracelets: Gifts (thank you, Barb), Gemstone Ring: LeVian (my To: Me, From: Me 30th bday present)</td></tr>
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<br />
Hey, Hey, Hey... long time, no "see".<br />
<br />
I haven't blogged in 3 whole months!! Daaaayyyyyyuuummm.<br />
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In part because I have been busy with other things. Also (and probably in larger part due to the fact that) until it gets warm out, I don't give a shit about getting dressed. I hate fall/winter clothes. I live in yoga pants and resent any and every occasion that forces me out of them. Now that it's heating up though (and my insides are coming back to life), I'm back.<br />
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In the time that I wasn't blogging I had two interactions that made me sit back and think about the content of today's post.<br />
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#1. I met a young girl who lives across the street from my family in my hometown. She is in high school. She is athletic, talented, so pretty and sensitive. I knew all of those things the moment I met her. I do not know her well, but I felt very connected to her immediately.<br />
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#2. I spent time with my sister-in-law's niece who is a young teenager. She is still figuring herself out, stuck somewhere between a child and becoming a woman and dealing with other girls in school who aren't always nice to her. She too is sweet, smart and beautiful. <br />
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I saw a little bit of my younger self in both of these sweet girls and I got to thinking about a couple of things.<br />
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#1. Time passes SO quickly. It blows my mind to think that I am more than 20 years older than these girls. The days are long, but GOT damn the years are short. <br />
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#2. Things seem so BIG when you are in the middle of them. Your whole life is whatever town you live in, the school you go to, the boy or girl who has broken your heart and your insecurities; it is insanely difficult to see your life beyond its current state.<br />
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So I got to thinking about what I wish I knew when I was a teenager, or maybe things I would go back and tell my younger self, or things I would tell my daughter if I had one.<br />
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1. Don't ever step foot into a tanning bed. You look ridiculous with a tan in the winter and it will catch up with you. Believe it or not, you will turn 30, 40, 50, etc. <br />
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2. Please don't smoke. <br />
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3. Thank your parents for paying your bills, for feeding you, for going to your games/plays/etc and for carting your ass around. <br />
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4. Social Media... share, relate, but don't air your dirty laundry and please, for God's sake... keep your ass covered. <br />
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5. There is this thing called "the cloud" and nothing you post online or send is ever really "gone". <br />
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6. Don't talk shit about people. If you would not say it to their face, or want it said about you... zip it. <br />
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7. EVERYone has insecurities. Remember that when you think you are alone. <br />
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8. Don't slouch (literally or figuratively). Train yourself to stand up straight and walk tall. Carry yourself with confidence. ALWAYS. <br />
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9. Exercise for strength not to punish your body. <br />
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10. What you think, you become. That is real shit, so I will say it again. WHAT YOU THINK, YOU BECOME. <br />
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11. Read. Always be able to answer when someone asks... "Read any good books lately?" <br />
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12. Floss. <br />
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13. Jealousy and envy are a waste of your precious time and energy. If you are jealous of someone else, it means you are busy counting their blessings and not yours. Knock it off. <br />
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14. Everything changes. Be thankful when things are good and stay hopeful when things are not so good. <br />
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15. Don't date a person who says shit like... "Don't ever cut your hair."<br />
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16. Support your friends. <br />
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17. Don't you ever, ever, stop hanging out with your girlfriends when you start dating someone. Do NOT be that girl. EVER. Ever. Ever. <br />
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18. Make your own money. Always. <br />
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19. Smile. You'll feel better. <br />
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20. Drinking too much is not cute. <br />
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21. Always have more than one income stream, always. <br />
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22. Don't be afraid to reinvent yourself.<br />
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23. Wear what you want to wear. <br />
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24. Break up with people who aren't good for you. Partners, friends, whatever. Life is short. <br />
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25. Live by yourself at least once in your life. <br />
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26. Be the person who sees the good in people. <br />
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27. People will show you how they feel about you. Actions trump words. Always.<br />
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28. Travel.<br />
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29. You will get your heartbroken and you will be okay. Eventually. <br />
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30. Trust your gut. If it "feels" wrong, it probably is. <br />
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31. You can love yourself and work on yourself at the same time. <br />
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32. Explore LOTS of different things. <br />
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33. If you're good at something, help other people with it. If you are not, ask for help. <br />
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34. Most of the time, happiness is a choice. If you're always feeling sorry for yourself you will live an unhappy life. Guaranteed. <br />
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35. This too shall pass.<br />
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36. You will attract what you believe yourself to be. Water seeks it's own level. Be your best-self and you will attract someone who thinks just as highly of you. <br />
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37. If you are thinking something nice about someone, say it. They may really need to hear it. <br />
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38. Pay your bills first. <br />
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39. Don't over-pluck your eyebrows. <br />
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40. Don't be afraid to call yourself a feminist. A secure man should not be surprised that you think yourself equal. There are beautiful differences in the sexes, but you should damn sure get paid for doing the same work.<br />
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41. Make sure your friends don't all look, act and think like you. <br />
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42. There will always be people with more than you and people with less. <br />
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43. Read, watch and do things that force you to think. <br />
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44. Not everyone is for you and you are not for everyone and that is perfectly okay.<br />
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45. Understand that you are much, much more than your body. <br />
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46. Develop your mind, love people with your huge heart and be an interesting person to talk to. <br />
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47. Eat more plants. <br />
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48. If someone you are in a romantic relationship with keeps you a secret, move on. <br />
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49. Don't have a baby with someone if you wouldn't want that baby to grow up to be just like their father (or mother). <br />
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50. Don't put yourself into a box. You can own 47 red lipsticks, curl your hair, dead lift twice your body weight, bake muffins and know how to replace an engine in a car. There are no "boy" things or "girl" things... there are only things. <br />
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51. Not everyone gives and receives love the same way. <br />
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52. Your time on this earth is precious. Don't waste it wishing you were different. Figure out who you want to be and create habits that get you closer to your goals. You are what you repeatedly do. <br />
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53. You are remarkable. <br />
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54. Social media is a highlight reel. That's it. <br />
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55. Fight the urge to shrink.<br />
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56. Work hard at something you love. <br />
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57. Alcohol and drugs will not solve your problems, but they will most definitely add to them. <br />
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58. Bullies usually hate themselves, not you. <br />
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59. You can be whatever you want. Live wherever you want. Do whatever you want.<br />
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60. Be content, but do not settle. Baby girl... do NOT settle.<br />
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61. The things that break your heart are not accidents. Stand up for what breaks your heart... women's issues, animals, children. Those things are the things God placed delicately on your soul and they are not by accident.<br />
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62. Do not apologize for being sensitive. Sensitivity and strength are not mutually exclusive. <br />
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63. Pray and give thanks.<br />
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64. Don't waste your life dieting. Worry more about losing yourself than you worry about losing weight. <br />
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65. Call your grandparents.<br />
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66. For the sake of all things holy, put your phone down when you're talking to people.<br />
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67. It ain't over til it's over.<br />
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On any given day you can wake up and decide to write your own story. It does not matter what happened to you, what your parents did or did not do, if you had money or were flat broke. It does not matter what town you are from, what mistakes you learned from, who doubted you, or who talked shit about you. Your life is yours. Do NOT let anyone else's opinion of you dictate how you show up in it. You are given one, single, precious life. Make yourself proud, mama. Make yourself so fucking proud. <br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5502378136018427934.post-14985553887613734262016-02-01T15:17:00.001-05:002016-02-01T15:27:59.807-05:00What's your "WHY"?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Hola Mamacitas!<br />
<br />
I'm fresh off a trip home to New York where the manfriend and I spent a few days with my family. I got a lot packed into a few days! I went up to help my cousin launch her Rodan + Fields business last Thursday and stayed until Sunday afternoon. While we were there I put on a presentation for my cousin, hung out with my dad, stepmom and brothers... celebrated my mom's birthday a few days early, celebrated my grandmother's 90th birthday, ate too much, hosted an R+F brunch at my SIL's house and busted my ever-loving ass to qualify for and win a R+F leadership trip/vacation to a resort in June.<br />
<br />
I know that I just mentioned Rodan + Fields 3 times in the previous paragraph, but stay with me (because that isn't even the most annoying part). The most annoying part is still ahead.<br />
<br />
As many of you know, I decided this past summer to start my own Rodan + Fields business. It's not something I ever saw myself doing, but it has turned into one of the best parts of my life (FO REAL). As part of leadership training I am going through, I was asked to really dig into my "WHY".<br />
<br />
Your "WHY" is basically the reason why you would join a direct sales company, run the risk that people are going to talk shit about you, run the risk that you'll "fail", put one more commitment of time, energy and money on your plate AND commit to learning an entirely new business? What is going to make you work when you don't want to? What is going to make you get up when you fall? Go the exta mile when you are tired, disheartened, nervous, scared, etc?<br />
<br />
Doing that "assignment"... writing out my try "WHY" was pretty friggin eye opening for me. It's a bit personal (obviously) but I am sharing because it made me realize that I have a reason to work really hard and do more than I ever thought I was capable of... and once I got to the heart of those reasons, they inspired the shit out of me. Maybe your "WHY" has nothing to do with working a business, but if you have ever desired to do, have, or experience "more", then you have to figure out what the hell is going to inspire you to work to get it. We all know that coasting (and bitching about being unhappy) is actually a hell of a lot easier than doing the trench work that is involved in changing.<br />
<br />
My WHY:<br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">I
keep inspirational quotes all around me; written on sticky notes by my
nightstand, on my bathroom mirror, on my refrigerator, and pinned to a
cork board at my office. They say things like:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">“Life is not about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself.”</span></span></li>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">“It’s never too late to live the life you have imagined.”</span></span></li>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">“Self-made or never made.”</span></span></li>
<li><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">“What is it that you plan to do with your one, precious life?”</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">WHY*<br />I
keep these phrases within view so that I am constantly reminded to
live. Truly live. To be brave, to take chances, and to focus on what is
important to me.</span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><br />WHY*<br />In 2011 I got spinal meningitis during the only 6-month period of my
life that I was uninsured. I was acting as a consultant with my
current company and I got sick. Really sick. I have never in my life been in that much pain. I was taken to Urgent
Care, a stand alone ER, then rushed in an ambulance to the hospital. My manfriend held me up as a doctor gave me a spinal tap and there I stayed, in the hospital, for a while. Drugs, tests, scans, etc. My "manfriend" had to
call my family and tell them that the doctors were saying I may not make it and that they may not be able to make the trip from NY to NC
in time to see me before I died. It was terrifying. When the entire ordeal was over I
was out of work for over a month and over $54,500 in medical debt. </span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><br />I
make a good living from my corporate job but it has not been enough to
get me out of this crushing debt. </span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"> Being in debt is an incredibly heavy weight to carry and it limits the choices you have in life so I needed to get out from under it. (I spent 4 years trying to get out of it organically... by going to work, saving money and paying it down every month and I was only half way through it.) </span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><br />WHY* </span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">Ever since I got sick I am
incredibly sensitive to wasting my life. I do not want to wake up one
day and realize that I did what I was "supposed" to do but not what I
wanted to do. I want to create an exciting like. One that gives me the
opportunity to help other men and women have a chance to live on their own
terms. One that gives me security in knowing that I am taken care of.
One that allows me to see the world. Give back. One that allows me to do things for the man I love. One that makes my parents, my brothers and extended family proud of me. </span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"><br />WHY*<br />Because
I am the daughter of teenage parents. My mom and dad split when I was 2 but I grew up watching both of them work all of the time. My mom would work days, evenings, nights, holidays, weekends, etc. She was always working. My dad had different jobs. He is a hustler; always working a day job and then coming home at night and working on a side gig. Ever since I
was a small child I have been aware of money. It made me anxious, nervous,
terrified. Talking about it gave me a stomach ache. I have vivid memories of coming into the kitchen in the
middle of the night and my mother sobbing over a pile of unpaid bills. If we keep the lights on this month we may be without a phone for a while. I'm not saying we had it worse than everyone else, I am just saying that money was ALWAYS a source of anxiety. Also... I have always felt like I wanted to prove people wrong. When kids get pregnant at 15 and 17 most people don't have high hopes for them or their baby. I wanted to be the exception to the rule, but part of me wondered, "who am I to live a life of adventure and abundance"??? I should be content with "enough" and at least that way I wouldn't run the risk of publically failing at anything. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">I have since decided to give ZERO fuks about "publicly failing" and THAT decision has made all the difference. </span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"></span></span><span class="ClearAll">Authenticity, a genuine desire for all women to feel confident and beautiful, and opportunity...that is
what Rodan and Fields represents to me. That is what I will share.
My hope is to spread the word so far and wide that eventually I can work on my own terms, run my
R+F business, teach Pilates, travel the world with the man I love and live a life I am proud of. One that is
a little non-conventional requires a bit of bravery and leaves me with no regrets. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="ClearAll">If you've ever wanted something really badly but not been able to accomplish it, maybe it's in part due to the fact that you have never peeled back all of the emotional layers of the excuses you're making and dug down, deep for your "WHY"? Putting mine on paper and out into the universe has helped motivate me. Maybe it will help you too??</span><br />
<br />
<span class="ClearAll">What's your "WHY"? </span> <br />
<br />
<br />MMHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07961269636678513365noreply@blogger.com0