Big Easy: The Lower Wing (It's kind of mermaid-ish.)

So late a few nights ago two ladies came into my store to poke around. Their names were Kim and Eden and they were so excited to be picking up some new stuff. Kim had, literally, the most GORGEOUS blue eyes ever and whenever I'm helping clients I like to help them show off their best features. They had expressed that they don't normally go very bold with their make-up but wanted to try something new. My motto at work when I'm working with clients is, 'Go bold, or go home.' Unless they're looking for something for work.

Anyway, gold on blue eyes is perfect because it has such great contrast. On the color wheel, orange yellow is across from the type of blue Kim's eyes were (sort of an ice blue in the center but deeper as they faded out). I picked up Goldmine by Urban Decay and ran it half way down her lash line and to give her a pop of color (since she wanted to go bolder than the bronze we did originally) I ran Junkie through it. Because they were both UD pencils they blended together seamlessly and created this hot metallic green right in the center. Her eyes stood out so much in comparison to the gold and bronze we tried before, even her friend backed me up on it. Throughout our consultation I kept realizing how good the liners looked in conjunction with each other. So the next day I tried the look on myself, even though I have brown eyes instead of blue. I got so many compliments from my co-workers and clients and even afterwards a few people I saw outside of work told me it looked really cool (even boys~*).

So seriously, don't be afraid of going bold! It's a nice (sort of) subtle way to throw some color into your look without going crazy. It definitely looks more edgy and more striking without top liner, which I had originally done at work. However, I thought to film it after I had already done my make up for the day. If you don't want the color to be the focal point of your look then keep the top liner on to balance out the brightness.  I think that's the best thing about it is that you can tone this down or play it up how ever you want. You can even try different colors or eyeshadows! I think next I'm going to play with some purples. Let me know how it works out for you!

time machine mascara queen

I asked my mom if she made the decision of what she wanted to do with her life at 21 like I had to.

The closer I get to my senior year of college the more nervous I get about what I'm supposed to do. I'm not particularly excited about senior year considering I lost some of my closest friends on a huge of account of me being an asshole and at this rate I'm not sure if that will ever be repaired. But Manhattan is like America's Next Top Model, nobody goes there to make friends. I know I didn't.

I don't know if acting is something I'm still capable of doing and I know that I don't want to do make up for the rest of my life. I love doing make-up and putting it on people and coming up with looks and making people feel pretty or scary or excited, but I don't want it to be my job. I just want it to be another thing that I do, another thing about me.

I've played around with the idea of starting a make-up line and figuring out a safe way to do it in my kitchen. I've played around with wanting to write for teen magazines to girls so they'll hate themselves less. I've played around with wanting to be a motivational speaker, indestructible 'too cool for you' indie movie actress, relatable major motion picture actress, make-up mogul and bad ass business woman, ambassador of some kind of love yourself company. But everyone says to you that you have to pick one.

I don't want to pick one.

This might sound a little dissociative identity but there are so many versions of me that fit so many different molds. Stefani is what people call me, but they've all met a very different type of person.

I don't know how to be myself because I don't know which one is the real me.

Let's take a look.

Stefani at School: Whether she's talking about margaritas or being 40 twice divorced, you can find Stefani talking about how much stuff she has to do and how much work at Sephora she has to go to while boisterously telling you how great she is. Stefani at School might have her Judy Garland accent on or be telling someone how much of a 'perfect princess' they are for helping out with something (if she likes you). You might also hear Stefani telling someone to go away in a scathingly polite way. Her 'frattitude' (friendly attitude) and harsh comment spoken in a sweet manner are the deciding factor on whether people think she's 'fabulous' or 'just a huge bitch'. You'll often find her complaining about how exhausted she is and how badly she needs a coffee or how much she'd wish someone would take her major a little more seriously. She is also normally found at: Sephora (her work place), Cafe 101 on her lap top with Starbucks, The Costume Shop, or poking through affordable shops in SoHo.

Stefani at Home (in Boston): Stefani at Home has less friends and less people to impress so she spends more time thinking about who she wants to be. You will often find her at work or at odd jobs people call her to help with. She is often stressed about going back to school or requesting off the right days of work to go back to New York or figuring out how much money she'll need but the end of the summer. Since most of her friends are sleepy, busy, or soon undergoing surgery she spends most of her time in her house or on her own. With no one to really talk to, she spends most of her summer and other breaks soul searching and figuring out who it is she wants to be. She's often polite but even more often she is wary of the future and always feels like she might have her period. She is normally found at: home, which is an apartment above a hair salon, at Diesel Cafe furiously typing away or writing a in a journal with coffee, at Starbucks across the street from Diesel doing the same, at Buffalo Exchange, crying in Found over Chanel shoes, or at Sephora at the Prudential Center (place of employment).

Stefani with Home Friends: Probably the most realistic of the Stefani's and the most comfortable in terms of who she is because it's easier to tell people who have seen you scream-cry and shake over a crazy exboyfriend that you're sad and you don't know what you're supposed to do with your life. You see, the difference between people who have known her since she was 14 and people who have known her since 20 do not have the same understandings about her. Stefani is most likely to be found in Jenn's bed asking for answers, getting coffee with Bridget asking for answers, going on femi-dates (feminist dates that are really dates where I pay for myself because it's 2013) with Keith asking for answers, or getting lunch with co-workers asking for answers. And trying to give so many answers with the best of her ability. She is playful and witty with razor sharp remarks on certain life choices of people she used to know because regardless of how poised she wants to make herself seem she has no problem indulging in ignorant bullshit.

Stefani with Herself: A big mess.

A.

Big.

Big.

Mess.

I'm constantly swirling myself around between Stefani and Blair Waldorf and Audrey Hepburn and Miranda Priestly and bad ass mysterious indie girl and Girl Next Door meets Girl Next Whore and sweet romantic possible girlfriend and awesome friend who will listen to everything and  I don't know how to be all of these people at once.

I don't even know if I want to be all of these people either.

Are you supposed to pick? Or does it just happen on its own?



After a short pause my mom responded, at age 52, "I still haven't."

do what you love.

I've spent half of my day looking up talent agencies to submit my resume and headshot (that doesn't exist) into. I've considered over and over again submitting to Ford+ and Wilhelmina Curve but I'm not 5'8 and I figure if you're not going to meet the height requirement why even bother?

Can you still do print if you're not 5'8?

All of this sprung up because I was paroozing my Instagram and saw that a friend of mine was in the midst of filming. I don't know if it's a short film or not but I made something wake up in me. Something burn up and get me all kinds of fiery.

I've wanted to be an actress since I was five years old.  I can almost feel the eye roll you all made from this kind of cliche. 

I was cast in my first play at age four. My sister was doing a community theatre production of Alice and Wonderland and I liked picking her up and dropping her off at rehearsals with my mom and I think eventually I just begged my mom to let me stay. I had about six lines and was the youngest one in the cast, one of the Queen's cards. The director (and Queen of Hearts, Pamela DePasquale) had me introduce the show, and since I had no understand of what projecting was I just shouted 'WELCOME TO OUR PLAY! WE REALLY ENJOY IT. AND WE HOPE YOU. ENJOY IT. TOO.'

The home video might be my favorite thing to watch because I was just such a tool.

That's when I loved it. I liked being other things, I liked playing pretend,  I liked making people laugh, I loved the applause.

Through kindergarten to eighth grade I signed up for whatever acting/performance job was available at school, raised my hand to read characters in books, anything, ANYTHING to be somewhat acting. Every play we read in English class my hand shot up to read for the lead part, any dance that needed choreographing in the Christmas concert I stepped in, any loss of direction in a show I tried to come up with a solution. I just wanted to be on stage...I needed to be on stage.

At home, my sister and I did a plethora of fake commercials and dance recitals for our parents and just to put on camera. We went as far as to write scripts and build sets. I remembered really recently that we filmed a scene where I was on a train and we drew up train seats with people sitting on them and left a blank space for me. (We could go hard, or we could go home.) 

IN FACT, I auditioned for Zoom when I was around ten and made it to the second round of auditions in this big building. I think the reason I didn't get the part was because I sang this weird song that the older kids at school were singing that was about hating school and killing teachers. They put us on the spot to sing a song that you had to act out and I don't think mimicking a gun and saying, 'Murder her behind the door with a loaded .44, now she don't teach no more (no more).' was what PBS was looking for at the time. Not to mention, at ten years old, I don't even think I knew what I was saying. I'm 21 and still don't know what a .44 caliber gun looks like, to be honest, I don't even think I knew that a 'loaded .44' was a gun.

High school came and without question I joined drama club, scoring a supporting role in the Drama Festival production of A Simple Task. I was more at ease in Drama Club because most of the juniors and seniors knew my sister Courtney, a Drama Club alumni and popular among the wretched artsy souls of Somerville High. (Weirdly enough, I think if any of you met Courtney today you would not have guessed that she was ever in drama club.) These people were strange and emotional like I was and it was cool finally being at school and feeling like I fit in with people instead of only fitting in at Magic Circle Theatre, a repertoire theatre summer camp for kids ages 11-14/15. I'll make a whole different post about camp though, it holds a very special place in my heart and has really shaped me in different ways.

Through the years we put on shows like A Simple Task, then sophomore year (under a new director) we performed Thank You For Flushing (My Head In The Toilet) where I played smaller roles as different students and a mean popular girl. Junior Year, I held a lead/supporting role with my other half (Guchie, a six foot two half Brazilian half Japanese man with a taste for other men) as Narrator 1 in The Brother's Grimm Spectaculathon (probably one of the funniest shows I've taken part in). Finally, my senior year we put on Tracks, a darker play for Somerville High where people from different walks of life end up in a train station/purgatory where they have to wonder if the train will take them to heaven or hell.

All of these shows were taken to the Massachusetts High School Drama Guild Fesitival, where many schools throughout Mass compete in a big drama competition starting with prelims all the way to finals. Somerville High hasn't won in many years and we only got past prelims once in my four years of high school. However, I did get an award for my performance in Tracks where I played the Homeless Girl who is the 'all knowing' character as she's been in purgatory the longest. It was definitely one of the hardest roles of my career because I couldn't fall back on just being sassy like I had before, I had to really feel things and I worked so hard on trying to own that role. It was really amazing to have an auditorium full of my peers (8 schools worth) give me a standing O for that award and it's really something I'll never forget.

Also in high school I starred in a PSA against dating violence for my friend Mitch (and EXTREMELY TALENTED videographer, photographer, and director: here's his page). Unbeknownst to me they had entered it in a county wide contest against other schools and we ended up winning which got me and the crew an interview on Fox News (I wasn't aware of the political standing of the network at the time, I just thought it was cool that I was on the god damn news and was 17).

I mean, before I'm done going on and on I guess I should talk about my 'shining' moments in which the Pace BFA Acting class of '16 would call me a 'star' for:

Me as Rose Alvarez, Bye Bye Birdie. 

 You know, now I would probably feel really weird getting this role as I would be a white woman inherently whitewashing a character who is supposed to be of Spanish descent. In all honesty, I can't roll my 'R's by themselves, they have to be after a consonant, and I thought that was the deal breaker for this role.

I had never intended on ever auditioning for the musical because I didn't think I could sing. In fact I still don't think I'm all that great of a singer, especially in comparison to the people I'm in college with right now. Some of whom have already graced the Broadway stage. I had never seen Bye Bye Birdie or knew who Rose Alvarez was until I asked Guchie was the part was, his response: 'She's a slutty secretary, it's perfect for you, you should audition.'  So I did, with no thought that I would actually get the part. But hey, I did, and I really enjoyed my time in the show.

For the record, I only really wanted the part once I heard the opening horns for the reprise of One Boy. I'm a sucker for horns.

Belle, Beauty and the Beast. 

My senior year, I went out for blood. I wanted this part HARD and there were a few huge chances that I wouldn't get it. There were new people auditioning, talented freshman and sophomores whose talent I could range. I felt my most insecure when auditioning for this, down to SOBBING at my singing audition because I was flat during 'Oh, isn't this amazing/It's my favorite part because/You'll see...'  It was more stressful that a lot of the music was at or just higher than my range. (Hell if I even remember what my range is but I'm not a soprano, that's for sure.) Being Rosie was much easier because all of that music was in my range.

When the cast list was posted I was elated that I got the part and when I had the one on one with my directors, they explained to me that they didn't think I was going to be able to do it at first. 'We didn't think you'd be able to be so angenieux, we thought you were going to be too Rosie but when we saw you with Chris we were really surprised.' It doesn't shock me to this day that they thought I would be too bitchy to be Belle. My face still hurts from smiling so much.

A quick YT search and you'll probably be able to find me singing in each of these shows. I will be the first to tell you that it's not mind blowing and I still can't watch myself perform. Me hitting a high G? AHAHAHAHA, not in a trillion years.

Moving on...

Beauty and the Beast was the last show I performed in. I've worked on plenty of other shows in college but only behind the scenes because since then I haven't had the guts to audition for anything.

For anyone who hasn't yet moved to New York to pursue their acting career:

Manhattan is going to eat you alive if you let it. 

I let it consume me. In high school they warned me of 'little pond, big fish' syndrome and I told people over and over again that I was prepared to be a little fish in a big pond but boy was I wrong. I guess you're never really prepared until you get there.

Moving to New York and working backstage as a make-up artist has really humbled my high school Sharpay attitude (and trust me, I was a HUGE theatre bitch back then). It's helped remind me that I absolutely love acting and working together with so many creative and talented people to create a final project that can do and be so much for an audience.

Acting, performing, doing make-up has never been 'for me,' it's never been about the gratification of someone telling me I'm talented. For me, it's about making someone feel something, about making someone happy, entertained, sad, drawn to something, it's about encouraging a feeling or a thought or an idea. I do all of this for other people because doing those things make me so happy. I love putting myself in a second skin and the feeling of being something different, of channeling my energy into a different person, a different place or thing.

And I miss it.

I miss getting on stage or being behind a camera. I miss learning lines and I miss forgetting lines and I miss trying on costumes and meeting castmates and being excited. I miss watching the people I'm with make huge acting breakthroughs and getting notes and helping encourage cast unity and focus games and all of that other cheesy stuff.

I don't get annoyed when people in New York think I'm just a make-up artist, but sometimes it makes me lose myself and it makes me afraid that it's all I'll ever be because no one knows me as anything different. I've only auditioned for one thing since I've moved to the city and I shook through the whole thing. Scared. Embarrassed. Begging myself to feel at ease.

Tina Fey said, during her interview at ItAS that to be successful you have to be more than one thing these days. No one will take you seriously if you're JUST an actor. So I think it's good that I have the advantage of doing make-up, writing, and acting all at the same time.

I just need to have the strength in myself to know that as long as I love it, it can't hurt me.

I'm prepared for rejection. I just need to jump in. I need to know that I will do it. I will get parts. I will be in indie films. I will get to do what I want to do.

So if you're younger than me and you're scared to audition for a college Acting program because you don't think you're good enough, or if you got rejected from all of them, or if you're scared to do something because you have all this fear standing in the way: throw all that shit out the window. You are your biggest fear, so tell all those thoughts telling you that you can't over a 36th story balcony like a bong you're hiding from the cops.

Do what you love, fuck the rest.

Love Always, 
An inspired struggling artist in her early twenties: 

I might write a book.

I was thinking about doing that. This is the basis of what I want it to sound like, tell me if it sucks, I literally have no direction. 


PS. I'm supposed to sound like an asshole. 

'Your twenties aren’t exciting.

Having nearly completed one year of them I can tell you, truthfully, that your twenties will not look like they do in commercials, or in young adult novels, or on other blogs that tell you that your twenties aren’t exciting but if you’re quirky enough about your situation you’ll become funny enough to live in Brooklyn and have lots of other quirky friends and eat tofu on Thanksgiving because you are so totally over your meat eating family and their (and by their I mean your dad’s) Republican agenda.

Your early twenties are going to look like high school. College is going to look like high school. Nobody is going to tell you that, but that’s actually what it is. It will just be more fun because there will be more liquor and more gay boys to kiss when you’re drunk.

Maybe I’m just giving you a quick recap of my so-far-early-twenties.

I’ll give you the low-down about what my situation looks like right now. I am in the café that I’m always at in the summer. I am sitting in the back because it’s mid-afternoon and everyone is here, and when I say everyone I mean ever twenty-something to thirty-something who doesn’t have a job. I swear to God there should not be this many part timers at this café that are over the age of 25. It stresses me out that I’ll be here five years later typing away on my MacBook Pro thinking I’m better than everyone else.

This café is the most pretentious one I’ve seen and I’ve just spent, collectively, 27 months in New York City. Davis Square used to be where townies and meth heads united, but in the past few years the Tuft’s students have over run it with falafel places and two (soon to be three) FroYo confectionaries.

Excuse me while I vomit.

Diesel has modern lighting fixtures, expensive and ‘deep’ art, and rustic hodge podge seating ranging from booths to tables to a big community table in the back, where I am, at the end, praying that some fifty year old wannabe graphic designer doesn’t sit next to me because I’m saving a seat for my friend Bridget.

I spoke too soon. It literally just happened as I said that.

This man is wearing a graphic T with a bird on it; he is eating a bagel.

I want to remind him that one day you need to grow up and stop thinking that messenger bags are for you. This is not Portland. We are in Massachusetts. There are too many hip fifty year olds near me right now. Please go away.

Anyway, today I woke up unfathomably optimistic and I wondered if maybe I was just manic. Originally I woke up at 4 AM and got afraid that the demon from Paranormal Activity was in my room and watched Gossip Girl on Netflix until 5:30.  I woke up again at 10 feeling heart heavy or because I had a dream that my ex-boyfriend’s boyfriend sent me a text saying that he knew about our situation by Joe (my ex-boyfriend), and that he was moving on.

My ex-boyfriend does not have a boyfriend. Actually, he might, who knows, he wouldn’t tell me anyway.

As a reminder, I will tell you: Your love life in your twenties is not exciting.

Having nearly completed one year of them I can tell you, truthfully, that your love life in your twenties will not look like it does in commercials, or in young adult novels, or on other blogs that tell you that your love life in your twenties isn’t exciting but if you’re quirky enough about your situation you’ll become funny enough to find a boyfriend in Brooklyn and have lots of other quirky friends and eat tofu on Thanksgiving because you are so totally over your meat eating family and their (and by their I mean your dad’s) Republican agenda.

Truthfully, my love life looks like it did in high school. I am consistently gravitated towards the same boy that I fell in love with when I was fifteen.

Before you ‘ooh’ and ‘aww’ about how my object of attraction is my ‘high school sweetheart’ I will inform you that my relationship is the kind that requires years of counseling and a hospital visit. You can make your own decisions about which one went where.' 

I think maybe I'll make a character and make it not as 'true to life' but that's a lie because I normally only write about what I know best and that's being a total loser that thinks she's better than other people because she goes to school in the city and constantly ruining everything but when I say ruining everything I don't mean like...in an 'I listen to MCR and my parents hate me' way. I mean like, in a 'really Stefani please stop being so crazy and dumb' kind of way. I also think in run on sentences and my seventh grade teacher told me that I need to stop writing like a talk, but aha! bitch I'm not in 7th grade anymore. 

WHATEVER. 

Painstakingly and uncomfortably yours, 

SHOULD I?: A Review of MAC's Lady Danger

     I decided to call my product reviews 'Should I?'s because they only reason people look up reviews is to answer the question 'should I buy it or not?' Today I'll be reviewing MAC's 'Lady Danger' lipstick. 

                                       

     As seen above, Lady Danger is a matte finish lipstick. It is described as a 'vivid bright coral-red' on the MAC website, but I would like to refer to it as a 'hot red' instead. When I went to the MAC counter I swatched three different matte reds, Ruby Woo, Russian Red, and Lady Danger. The lipstick in question stuck out the most as it is the only orange based/warm tone red out of the three. After thinking about it for a spell I asked the MAC counter artist what she thought. Her question to me was if I minded a little orange in my lipstick. 

     Naturally, this scared the shit out of me. 

     I've never been anyone to wear a warm-toned lipstick because I am always afraid of the dreaded 'yellow-teeth' problem and always thought that warm-tone lips wouldn't work for my cool tone existence. However, working for Sephora has enlightened me that I'm neutral toned leaning a little bit more yellow than pink. (I originally wrote 'pank' and I don't know why.) So I figured, 'Why the hell not?' and decided to try it on. 

     I was pleasantly surprised with the color pay off and the vividness it had when I first put it on in the store and because it doesn't take much to sucker me into buying a bright lip, I purchased it immediately  (It was one of those days, y'know?).

     Conscious of my ability to chronically have dry lips I made sure that I exfoliated and moisturized my lips before putting this puppy on today. I did NOT use lip liner for the sake of seeing wear and tear throughout my time out this afternoon, but you're free to use lip liner. And would you look at that, it passed the yellow teeth test! (More or less.) 

Also, excuse my mild 'stache, I haven't bleached or removed in a bit. 

     I didn't notice any immediate dryness, though around hour four I could feel it settling and when I rubbed my lips together I know longer felt the pull of lipstick being on my lips. The crackliness that my lips tend to get when they're trying out felt apparent. I didn't have a decent mirror with me, but used my phone to check up on my color. After drinking a canned iced tea in blistering heat, I found little wear in the color pay-off and nearly no smudging (this was hour two). The lipstick remains matte and almost moisturizing (but perhaps that was from my chapstick before hand). 

After six hours, this is what I was left with: 

This was with light eating and drinking. 

     I feel like not enough blogs show you the 'after' picture, but whatever, I ain't go no shame. I think around hour four or five you would want to re-apply, right around when it starts to feel drying. I was impressed with the lack of dryness in this lipstick as I know that mattes from MAC do little to help out with flaky lips. It does tend to feather as it wears so if you're going to wear this to an event, I'd bring a little powder or concealer to clean up the edges, and of course, always use a lip liner first. 

     Overall, I'd say that this is a GREAT spring/summer shade in terms of red lipstick. I think it has the ability to remain classic while having a sassy fun edge to it. If mattes aren't your think but you like the color don't be afraid to throw a gloss on top of it! It wears beautifully! 

So: 

TL;DR 

SHOULD I? Yes! But only if you like a little orange in your lipsticks or are a fan of mattes. This is one of those colors you'd want to try on first and get a feel for. 

WHAT WOULD I WEAR IT WITH? For an everyday look, I'd pair this with a fresh face and lots of mascara, but I think you could wear it out with a coppery/gold eye and some brown smoked out liner if you were feeling frisky. 

I MEANT CLOTHES, STEFANI. With whatever! The cool thing about red lipsticks is that you can wear them with anything and they always look cool and like they're supposed to be there, even if you think they'd be out of place. Today, I wore it with a yellow t-shirt with maroon writing and some shorts, but its one of those lipsticks that you can dress up or dress down. Don't be afraid to be bold! ITS RILL CUTE, Y'ALL. 

And here's a gratitous selfie of me with Lady Danger on accompanied by my outfit and messy room: 

Love always,
A red lipstick hoarder with a lot of time on her hands: 

million dollar body

You can decide to watch these videos first, or read first, either or: 

Filming these videos was really hard for me, mostly because I have so much to say when it comes to body image and body positivity. I think, in terms of big and touchy topics like this, I am always better at writing than I am at speaking. I'm better at writing about love, acceptance, anything really, than I am at  putting it into words. I wanted to make these videos so I could get a message out there, a message that I can't say I always follow either. When I told my mom about what I was posting she said, 'I'm not so much concerned with what you're telling other people, it's that you're believing it yourself.' 

Loving your body is hard when you are told every day that there is something to hate about it. Seeing airbrushed perfection in posters and magazines and on TV is hard, not comparing yourself physically to other people is hard. Despite the leaps and bounds I have made, I still have days where I am stressed out about my body and how I look. Even the most body positive people and bloggers admit to not always feeling their best. Not to mention, having been in a state of near eating disorder-dom, those seething thoughts of never being good enough will come out to play whenever I feel stressed out or sad. 

I made these videos, not only to help you guys, but also to help myself. Having that reminder that I said it, having a reminder that I'm amazing the way that I am, and beautiful the way that I am pushes me to believe it. I can't tell girls and boys to love themselves if I don't love myself either. 

Physically, I'm at peace with myself. There will always be little things I want to tweak here and there, but my body is awesome and it's mine. When it comes down to it, what I look like hasn't been something that has got me down these days. Being in my early twenties has given me some different battles to face: trying to process who I am and what kind of person I want to be. What can I change about myself emotionally? As a person? How can I be better? Something I think I have done in the past, is place the blame of me being uncomfortable with myself on my body instead of me as a person. 

In short, I'm really just trying to figure myself out. I've put my insecurities about my body on the back burner to sit and simmer on their own and hopefully fizzle out. I guess you have to see yourself from far away, as you are as a whole, instead of just the parts you don't like. Just like you can't always remember the good times of a bad relationship. You need to see the big picture. 

The big picture: you're great, and you've done so much and touched so many people by simply being alive. You're so much more than just your body, and I think that's where body acceptance makes an appearance. Once you accept what you are, you can accept WHO you are, and then make the changes you want to make after the fact. 

You're beautiful, and I'm beautiful. 100 pounds heavier, 100 pounds lighter, and at the weight I am right now. 

Love always, 
Consistently trying to figure it out: 

the old chapters: bare

I decided to post some of my most favorited long tumblr posts and poems under the guise of 'The Old Chapters' so people can have a sense of where I came from. 

This is 'Bare': a long blurb from my journal that I wrote last summer. It's pretty interesting to see where I was a year from now and who I ended up becoming. 

Life's a pretty weird thing in retrospect; but without further ado: 

BARE.

This is the longest and truest thing I have ever written in my journal. I use names, places, and things. If you have ever wondered who I am in real life, I would give this a read. If you have ever been skeptical of who the ‘real me’ is, then I would give this a read. It’s long, and you’ll learn something. I can guarantee you that you’ve never seen me be this honest, even if you’re considered my closest friends. If you read it all, I’ll be really impressed with your attention span. 

8/29/12 

Iced vietnamese coffee tastes like burnt chocolate and espresso with milk. I’m sure that’s all it is essentially. Just like all human bodies are simple elements mixed into complex negative and positive charges, and some water. The human body is a Crystal Light trvael pack apres the shake and small spill. 

The human body is also a miraculous thing. Has anyone ever thought about the fact that the body heals itself? That our genetic make-up recognizes a tear, big or small, in what is considered our protective armor and billions of electrodes charge through billions of neurons telling the skin cells that they need to start multiplying or there will be major problems. And we, the ‘id’ we, don’t even need to consciously think about these things, they just happen because our bodies are built like that. 

That’s insane.

It’s insane that I don’t have to think about ho to write or how to walk to Deisel, my body just knows how to do these things because its well trained. My fingers know how to record every word I’m thinking without me having to concentrated on making and ‘n’ or an ‘o’ shape.

Our bodies, physically, are amazing. Not in a way that we say it because we don’t want to say ‘cool’ and sound uneducated, but in a way that our bodies contain so much complexity that it truly should cause amazement.

The past few days have given me time to think rationally irrational.

I realized that I am always thinking. Not about involuntary movements, like blinking or breathing, but just about everything I see all the time. I slip into a constant inner monologue every time I come across something and it’s incessant. I think over my inner monologue, about every day things, and even now, while I think about what I’m going to write next, it keeps going. 

I think I can hear my subconcious. 

I think it’s because I’m never really awake. 

I’ve had a headache for two dys and I thought I was having caffeine withdrawals but its not. I think it might just be because its that time where I get my monthly migraine. That’s a thing that happens to me. I’m really exhausted but I can’t really think about why that’s a thing. I think it’s my dreams. They keep me awake. 

I’ve been having dreams about Joe again which is weird because I hadn’t thought about him in (what I consider) a long time. I’m always still kind of half-hoping he’ll come into Diesel but I don’t think he comes here anymore. 

The only people who come here are girls who wear cardigans and boys who have beards and too many ignorant opinions on indie music. My hands smell like brown sugar and Beyonce is playing over the sound system. I am going to take this as a sign that tonight will be pleasant even thought I am spending it by myself. 

I wrote in this same journal a year ago when I was starving myself that I liked myself better when I’m alone, and I do. 

I don’t know how to be this person around other people. I don’t know how to have these conversations about the human body or about my alternate dream universe or about my conscious sub-conscious because I’m scared of it just becoming me talking and the other person having nothing to say. 

So instead I talk about boys who stopped caring about me weeks and years ago. It makes me sound superficial but at least it gives me feed back. It’s like I’m a front woman in a band waiting for the crowd to respond to my resounding, ‘Yeah, what’s up tonight CLEEEVVVEEEELAAANNDDDD?!’ (assuming my thoughts, feelings, and friends are indeed Cleveland, Ohio) and only hearing crickets. So if I reword it to something sassy like, ‘Whose gettin’ fucked up tonight CLEEEEEVVVEEEELAAANNDDDD?!’ I get a big roar from the thousands of people in my audience.

Who doesn’t like hearing a little ‘pity me’ gossip? 

Me. I hate that.

In real life, I’m not really all that sassy. Being sassy is my personality’s red lipstick and it’s matte, moisturizing, and long wear. Sometimes I get really tired of trying to be a sarcastic bitch when really I just want to law down in the woods and talk about real things and not the sex I had a month ago (which was the first sex I had since Joe.) 

Part of me thinks the reasons I want to see Joe so bad is so that I can blurt out, “Well yeah, I had sex with someone else,” in order to make me sound less pathetic but the fact that I want to see him and tell him that just to feel that satisfaction is pathetic enough of me. 

I just want him to see me and care about me for three days again and then go away. But I think  I want that from anyone who is mildly attractive. 

But hey, I’m mildly attractive. 

I feel really bad about the way I treat Gerald because all I do is talk to him about how sad I am all the time, when I’m not sad all the time, I just feel like complaining because Cleveland. Gerald is essentially my best guy friend and I can only imagine how annoying it is to hear one of your friend complain about your legitimate best friend. I’m blessed that he hasn’t drowned me in a pool of my own vomit collected from that party almost two months ago. 

I need to treat Gerald better because ultimately I’e been a really shitty friend to him in my personal opinion. Gerald is not silent cricket Cleveland crowd people. In real life, I don’t think anyone is, but it’s just easier for me to think that everyone thinks I’m boring because then I can sacrifice actually trying to make friends with people and ultimately letting them down. 

I don’t think I’m a bad friend entirely, and I don’t know if I’m a good, bad, or medium person but I cannot attach myself to people. I know others would scoff at that statement. Guffaw, even. But as stated previously, I just like complaining about people wronging me and leaving me because I occasionally like playing the victim. ALAS! AN ADMITTED FLAW! 

But as I was saying, I move on from people with ease, once people become ‘out’ in my life, I stop wanting them. Even with friendship. I never really miss anyone, even when I say I do. I’m only a bad person because I lie about my feelings. I think the only reason I don’t miss people is because I’m not attached to them, only because they don’t know me. 

The only three people I’ve ever missed are Joe, Alex, and Mallory. Joe is one of the sole reasons I grew up the way that I did and in a way he molded me this way. He knows me without having to be near me because ultimately: parts of me are products of him. I met Alex at one of the most vulnerable points in my life (as adult life as I can say it was) and there was no reason to pretend to be somebody I wast my Freshman year of college. I never had to put up any defense because Alex has always been someone who genuinely cares. Who genuinely wonders the same things as me and understands me on levels that I can hardly understand myself. And Mallory?  I have never felt it appropriate to omit any detail of my mistakes to her. I have every chance to lie to her about my whole life because we’ve never met in person. I choose not to because, like Alex, she just gets me. But in totally opposite yet equally loving ways. “I feel as though I can communicate with her with simply a look.” 

The people that come to Diesel are either actually quirky or quirky in a Zooey Deschanel way or that are Tufts students who want to seem hip. Truthfully, Diesel is pretty hip. Their bathrooms are gender neutral, their coffee is free trade, and the are is by local pretentious wannabes. The collection of hipster lesbians behind the bar changes every four months, at least for me. I always see some familiar faces though. A handful of girls that come here are aesthetically pleased by me every time I come in. I am not a lesbian wet dream. When I was 17 and realized that I can be sexually attracted to girls while simultaneously being sexually attracted to boys, I thought that I was. 

Regardless, I am attractive.
I also have a fat ass. 
I will always recognize that trait about myself even when I have a 14 year old daughter who thinks I’m embarrassing when I play ‘Gasolina’ in the car.

Anyway, I don’t look like the type of person who would spend a majority of her evening in Diesel. At least not anymore. My shorts are hipsterly high-waisted, my button up isn’t tanned over with age, or tea, it’s light blue and wrinkled. My sweater doesn’t look hand knitted, and I don’t have elbow pads and my purse looks fashionable and expensive. 

Girls who look like they kill cows by buying leather bags (thought I’m not carrying a leather bag) don’t normally hang out here. Or at least not by themselves. My hair and face aren’t natural and I don’t smell like amber rose essential oils. I don’t even own essential poils. I don’t own a pair of jesus sandals. I’m judging people by their appearances again, but in reality, I don’t really look like a hipster, y’know? 

I think that if you read this book it would reveal that I might as well have an asymmetrical  hair cut and pretty girl 50s glasses and wear hemp swing dresses and never drink Starbucks. 

Or I could be anybody. Maybe this journal looks like anybody and everybody. 

You know how a lot of thug ladies in high school talk about being real? I’ve been told that I’m real a lot, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve never met anyone faker than me. The same girl who has preached body love but has wretched her dinner up over her toilet twice in the past two weeks, I am more humble than anyone realizes. I am more insecure than anyone realizes. I incessantly talk about how great I am just so I can try to convince myself that it’s true. 

I almost threw up on the girl who came into Aldo to tell me she recognized me from my YouTube channel because I’m not that special. 

I don’t think that I’m special, but I feel sometimes that I could be something of the like, 

I don’t always think that I’m pretty and I don’t think I’m pretty without makeup on. 

I think I’m really exhausting to know as a person and be romantically involved with because I’m high maintenance in a way that I like attention but not gifts or extravagant dates. Andrew can vouch for me being exhausting, I’m sure of it. 

I have a goos sense of style but I don’t always dress the way that I want to. 

I think to think for myself a lot but almost always let other people make my decisions for me. 

I need to grow up and slow down in two totally different directions. 

I need to be able to be the only person I need. 

But I don’t want to be so solitary. I don’t want to be so solitary but I have been so solitary for so long. I am so set on just being the only person who knows this version of me that I haven’t let anyone into my life in years. 

Are there people I know? Of course! 

Friends? Of course! 

People I care about? Of course! 

But I don’t think I’ve made deep enough connections with people to feel like they are people I’ll know (or have known) forever. It’s easy for me to lose touch with people until I go crazy from spending too much time with myself. I’m a friendship succubus. 

But am I supposed to have been able to make these connections by now? Why am I so afraid of people? Why am I so uncomfortable by the thought of making and meeting new friends? Why does that sound so emotionally exhausting? 

I want this journal entry to end on a note where I convince myself where I’m leaving my past behind and turning over a new leaf of me making an effort to be more myself to all the new people I’ll be this year. But I know on the surface that I will Meryl Streep a la Miranda Priestly my way through classes (that will be choking with Freshman) and not attempt to get to know anyone because I am cripplingly afraid of other people and cripplingly afraid of myself. So in turn, I will pretend to be a sarcastic, scathingly witty mature 20 year old who has a demeanor of fucking over 40 men and making them cry. I will pretend to need all the attention all the time and pretend to act like I’m better than everyone else, but I’m not any of those things.

”We are who we pretend to be. So we must be very careful who we pretend to be.“
- Kurt Vonnegut  

I jut wish I knew when I was pretending.
I wish other people did too.

End Scene.

Love always,
the person who grew up since this was written: