fashion friday--- best foot forward

Yo, homes.

Here's a picture of me in some newish stuff.

Swouse (sweatshirt/blouse combo)- GAP; Skinny Jeans- Miss Me; Boots- Nordstrom (b-day gift from the parental unit); Clutch- Ross; Watch- Fossil (gift from my in-law-parental unit)

This outfit is nothing glamorous or even that super stylish. But it's awesome for 2 & 1/2 reasons...

(1) The boots. They are awesome, and I love them.

(2 & 1/2) In this outfit I am both entirely confident and entirely comfortable.

I sincerely believe that good personal style is about 10% fashion and 90% confidence. And I want to show you an awesome example of this. Meredith from Yours, Mine & Ours is one of my absolute favorite fashion bloggers. It's not that she wears the "trendiest" stuff... In fact, the whole premise of her blog this year has been that you can look good and feel good without spending a ton (or barely anything, in her case) on clothing. The clothes make the man? No way, Jose. The Woman makes the clothes. (Literally and figuratively, in Meredith's case...) She is inspirational to me because she is witty and confident. Her posts are my favorite to read, and--although I don't share the same personal style-- I think she looks rad in everything she puts on.

Okay, and now for the slightly more manipulative reason for posting this outfit picture. I wanted to and am now actually going to show you a video (although I will probably regret this decision). It's for posterity, of course, so my children will know how weird totally awesome their mom was back in the day. But my face and hair in the video are a little ummm... disgusting. This is due to a strange disease known as Notshoweringfor2days. It's serious stuff. So while you are watching, picture the face from the picture above doing the awesome things from the videos below.

Enjoy.

In case you were wondering--- helium is sweet. The plastic balloon, however... not so much. Didn't stop me from appearing to eat it like a piece of chocolate fudge cake, though, did it?

perfection, you're an overrated kill-joy

(You are looking at the coolest building in the Med Center. It always reminds me of Reading Rainbow. I am tempted ever time it's lit up to belt out, "Butterfly in the sky! I can go twice as hiiiigh!" This has nothing to do with the post. I just didn't want to come empty-handed. You understand, right?)

Clint's birthday was this past Monday. It was a low-key night of Indian food (only after not being able to find an open Turkish restaurant) and a movie at home (which was sort of a depressing one). I didn't plan anything, because Clint had stayed up really late the night before to finish a project. He received one gift from me which I wrapped in tissue paper and put in a brown paper bag with a homemade card in the shape of a pumpkin taped to the front. Classy, I know.

I regale you with these details not to tell you what a bad wife I am (although I probably should own up to that eventually) nor to insinuate that Clint was disappointed by the lack of fanfare. I tell you because the way I felt that night was a perfect example of one of the things I hate the most about myself.

I expect perfection.

I may not plan perfectly, but gosh dang it I expect the outcome to be perfect. Or close to it. And I expect other people to be excited about the near-perfection they are witnessing. And when it's not perfect or almost-perfect, the result is a feeling of guilt and disappointment.

The ideal me would let these little moment just roll. And maybe there was a time when I was that me. But I'm not anymore, and that makes the guilt and disappointment even worse. It leads to occasions where, instead of enjoying every free minute I have with a very busy medical school husband, I spend that time paranoid about what I'm doing wrong. Is he enjoying himself? Am I enjoying myself? Does he like that gift? Did I spend too much money? Etc...

I know I'm not alone in this. And I hate that. I hate that many of us feel like this. Maybe in some cases this is due to a spouse, friend, parent, boss, etc, who makes you feel you are inadequate. But I think in most cases (and I know in my own case) this is only due to my own misconceptions. I have trained myself to be this way. I don't mind when others aren't perfect, but when I'm not.... Hello, Guilt!

You know what? I don't want to feel this way anymore.

I'm reclaiming my right to be imperfect and to be perfectly fine with it. So what if I don't know what Halloween costume to wear on the night of the Halloween party? So what if I forgot my camera on our date night? So what if dinner didn't turn out as delicious or as healthy as I anticipated? There is always another chance to improve.


I know there have been and will be moments to be truly disappointed and deservedly guilty in my life, so why would I want to waste any more moments feeling that way when I don't have to.

PERFECTION-- I LAUGH IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION.

Happy almost-Fridee (as they say in Spanish Fork, UT)!

surviving childbirth

...Is something I have absolutely no experience with. But I imagine it is not fun.

However, I did make a helpful discovery about it today.

(Disclaimer... this is a TMI post. Not for those with weak stomachs or heart conditions.)

So I was in the bathroom for the something'th time, and I was hating life. I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to being sick to my stomach in any way, shape, or form. (And no, it was not the "I'm pregnant" kind of stomach discomfort; it was the "I ate Indian food last night" kind of discomfort. So you can just put that thought aside, Mom ;))

Anyways, I thought to myself, Stomach pain has got to be the most miserable kind of pain. Then I thought, That's stupid; of course head pain is worse, because it's debilitating. (Yes, I do say semi-big words while having inside-brain-thoughts.) Then I rethought, No-- probably stomach pain-- if you count childbirth. Then that made me pretty scared, because I do hope to eventually do that whole bringing-of-children-into-the-world thing. 

And then I discovered how I would survive both my Day of a Thousand Bathroom Visits and said worst-stomach-pain-ever (a.k.a. Labor) when it finally comes to pass, despite being a total wimp and a half. 

I will play a game called Actually. And this is how it will go...

(During contractions...) 

This sucks. Nothing is worse than this. 

Actually pooping a large pumpkin would be worse than this. 

(During the sticking of needles in my back, because you best believe I will be medicated...) 

This is really the worst.  

Actually having bamboo shoots stuck under your fingernails would be worse than this.

(During more contractions...) 

Why do I want to die right now?

Actually you don't, because Chinese Water Torture would be way worse than this and this is no Chinese Water Torture.

(During the actual labor/C-Section...) 

I probably deserve a major award for this, because this is the worst pain in the world.

Actually William Wallis deserves a major award. He got his stomach cut open without medication. So suck it up, ya wuss!

And so forth...

Will this work? I have no idea. But the moral to the story is--- Wisdom Random Mind Tricks can come to you when you least expect it. Especially Even in a public restroom.

And now that you are probably all super-hungry because of the appetizing images I have shared with you, here's a peek at our favorite item at our favorite sushi joint...

You're welcome.

3/20---little less than entertaining

Blazer- AEO; Cardigan- Target; Jeans- Paris Blues from Ross; Boots- Madden from Nordstrom; Ropey necklace- AEO; Clutch- Nine West from Ross

 (When asked where I got the idea to layer a cardigan and a blazer, I responded, "Lands' End," at which I received a look that asked (rightfully so) Isn't Lands' End for old people? To which I'd have to respond...
Maybe.)

On Saturday I slept in until noon. NOON I say! It was gloooorious.

And then I moved myself a whole 5 yards into the living room and resumed the lounging position to watch Thor with Sir Awesome-a-Lot. In the middle of a sunny day! Can you imagine?! But you know what, I didn't even feel bad about it, because it seriously rocked. (The movie was sub-par; the watching of it in the middle of the day was what rocked. Just to clarify. I take great pride in my movie-critiquing, so I don't want to blow my reputation on a misunderstanding you see? (I say, as I smooth out my debonaire curly-cue mustache and grimace smugly.))

On a more serious note, we attended a memorial service this weekend for a medical student and fellow member of the LDS church from Clint's class. Half of his class must have been in that chapel to commemorate her life. I couldn't believe how strong the family was. And I couldn't imagine, as they read out the list of the young girl's accomplishments and all of the things she was active in, how she could have been so upset or disappointed with life that she would want to leave it so abruptly.

Now, I don't know the circumstances that prompted that sweet girl to leave this earth, and I won't pretend to. But I've been thinking about that a lot lately, trying to piece together some sense of reason. It's truly none of my business, but we do that sometimes in life-- look at things that we really don't need to know about and try to make sense of them. I think it's to preserve our sanity, honestly.

But anyways, in my musings I've tried to see myself in her shoes. I picture myself thin and beautiful with two sisters who adore me, musically talented, academically gifted with lofty (but attainable, still) career aspirations thanks to an impressive and lengthy resume.

Then I take that self and put her in my real self's darkest moment. And then I take away the ability to see an end to that dark moment. And then I understand a little bit better.

I know this may seem silly. I didn't know Clint's classmate at all. But it is important, you know? It's important to me to understand these things, because really you never know who is going through this very same thing themselves. Maybe the coworker who has become a little more reserved and has stopped making eye contact. Maybe the woman in front of you who just missed a green light because she was crying and was honked at over and over and over again. Maybe no one you know. But chances are, you and I met or saw someone today who is in a dark place.

In which case, I really hope I reacted well.

I'm sorry to be a downer today. Important things aren't always entertaining, huh? I guess that's why teachers get paid less per year than Julia Roberts spends on hair products.

But her hair is awesome.

Oh, and I don't really have a curly-cue mustache. I'm far too busy to turn mine into a curly-cue. I mean, who really has time for that!?

who the heck cares

So, blazers can wait today, because (1) Husband took awesome pics last night, and I somehow have deleted them from Picasa, and (2) who the heck cares, anyways?

That being said, I got a popcorn popper for my birthday. Something I have been longing for with all of my rolly-poly-treat-loving heart. Clint knew this and made my wildest dreams come true. (Side note: That was not the only gift from him. If it had been, it still would have been the superest. But it wasn't. Just so you know.)

So last night we decided to try 'er out for the first time. Worked like a dream. Seriously. Clint took a few precious hours away from his exam studying to watch a movie with me, and we stuffed our faces full of corny popped goodness. Didn't even need butter or salt. It was that good.

Speaking of movies, we chose to rent HANNA last night. Seen it? It creeped me out. Big time. That short, blonde man gave me the willies. I'm pretty sure I dreamed about him last night. My mind is just blocking it out for my protection.

Today I am in kind of a dark place. You know how some mornings you wake up in the dark, and it just never gets very light, except it's all in your head, so that makes you feel kind of crazy? Well, yeah. That's how today feels. And I already kind of said my prayers. So I am going to read some more Bossypants and hope that Tina Fey does the trick. 

(I think maybe I just really miss my mom. You know, sometimes you just really miss your mom, right?)

If that doesn't work, a DC run may be in order. And I'm not referring to the District of Columbia.

Peace, homes.

***Update: I have just named the popcorn popper Glinda the Good Witch--- Glin, for short. This is because she has magical powers and produces popcorn that is as light as floating bubbles. She will be written upon, and thereby christened with that name, by way of Sharpies at the first available opportunity.

****Up-update (don't know if it really works that way...): I was able to go home for lunch today. This was good on so many levels:
(1) Houston is so incredibly beautiful today; you wouldn't even believe. I stepped outside and immediately wanted to curl up on the grass in the sunshine and let the whole day cover me like a warm blanket.
(2) On my way home I stopped at a light on my favorite Speedway (a long stretch of slow-speed-limit-zone road lined with gorgeous trees and beautiful craftsman style houses). The SUV next to me had it's windows cracked and from it lilted a 50s Spanish love ballad. I was sure it was playing just for me.
(3) Peebers, milk, a handful of leftover popcorn & brownie batter with my best friend.

I guess my whole day doesn't have to spent in the dark.

2/20---giveth and taketh away

Publish Post

{Skirt- the Sister Missionary Mall, srsly; Polka-dot Blouse- thrifted; Blazer- thrifted; Necklace- most likely from Target long ago; Watch- Fossil; Bracelet- AEO; Shoes- Kohl's}

You know how when you are little your mom tells you that if you throw a treasure into the ocean, the ocean will give you a treasure in return? (And by your mom, I mean mine.) And you know how you always believed that, and you maybe still do? (And by you I mean me.) Well, she was right. And we are right for believing that. Because it's true. Metaphorically speaking (so don't go throwing your wedding ring into the ocean hoping a bigger one will come back, because it doesn't work that way. Either a fish will eat it and then poop it out, and then who wants it anyways? Or a sweaty guy in a very plaid shirt & little-to-no shorts on will find it with a metal detector in 1984. In which case, he deserved it.)

Back to metaphorical treasures.

Last night, after consuming large quantities of brownie batter, the I-regret-that-decision-stomach-ache that followed, and completing my weekly painting-of-nails-whilst-Huluing ritual, it dawned on me that I had felt pretty crappy all day. I felt like the entire day was spent creating a giant rubber band ball of sadness-- each part of my day adding another band of sadness to twist around the bouncy ball in the middle that was my tiny sad-soul. I won't bore to with the details. I will simply say-- Rubber band balls are awesome. Rubber band balls of sadness are not.

 It was after this sad realization that I had a rather lovely epiphany. This is where you find out why I started talking about the ocean stuff to begin with. I realized that I had put nothing into the world that day. I had not said a prayer; I had not read any scriptural goodness; I had not accomplished any major goals; I had not [fill in the blank, and you will inevitably be right].

I had not thrown a treasure into the ocean. So I could not expect to get one back. In all fairness, I did start to try once. I determined on my way home from work to be the most awesome wife-friend ever for my med-school-husband. But I took back my treasure at the first sign of choppy water. I did happen to make some really kick-bottom (yep--that just happened) Smoked Salmon Penne Pasta with Cream Sauce. Ummm, yeah, those are some leftovers I am indeed looking forward to! But apart from that, I took my treasures and hid them from God yesterday.

And so I was left with brownie batter, a stomach ache, and stinky nail polish. And those were not the "treasures" I generally hope for.

And so today, and tomorrow, and the day after that--- I am determined to throw some treasures out to the world. I will throw them with as much love and hope and courage I can muster. And I know I will get some treasures back. 

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. It's up to me to decide what to do with what He gives, I suppose. And it's up to me to decide what to do about what He has to take away.
Hopefully it's a rubber band of sadness. Know what I mean?

Happy Wednesday.

1/20---blazer days

So, I know I said I wouldn't do posts about fashion anymore. 

But no one has ever accused me of being stubborn. 

Plus, I got some new stuff. So, naturally I want to show it off, because I am a total show-off. 

That's what blogs are for, right?

Lately I've been really into blazers.

They are sort of hard to own, because they are sort of expensive. And I am sort of not rich.

But I've run into some good luck recently by way of a random 50% off sale at an American Eagle in San Antonio and the local Goodwill. Consequently, I am now the owner of 2 glorious boyfriend blazers, and I simultaneously disowned an old blazer that I purchased off eBay (when I went through a very dark stage of eBay-discovery) that had been dried by accident causing the satiny lining to hang out of the back. Not good. Plus one day I flexed and ripped the back seam with my muscles. Or something like that. At any rate, out with the old- in with the new.

So for the next little while, these posts will consist of their usual journal-style stuff but with a little added blazer-action on the side. Each of the next 20 posts will feature 1 way to style a blazer.

Is my life really that boring? you ask.

No, not really. I just really love blazers that much.

{Black blazer- thrifted; Striped shirt- GAP; Jeans- Miss Me; TOMS- Nordstrom; Glasses- GenX (Yes, the ghettofabulous store of Provo. Don't knock it till you try it.); Necklace- gifted from my Megan; Awesome piano face- acquired through years of practice}

Try to ignore the crazy-hair happening in the photo on the right. Please and thank you.

P.S. My birthday rocked. Thank you to everyone who sent me love. You certainly made my day. Pictures and details to come. I'm just a lazy-bum right now.

hey, don't i hate you?

No, not you. 

On Monday I got up and very begrudgingly went running. The begrudging became a little less grudgey when I remembered that I was trying out a new routine and only had to run for 15 minutes.

That's always nice.

Plus I pulled out some old stuff stuck in the back of my drawer and put together a really rockin' running outfit comprised almost entirely of spandex--or a something very closely resembling spandex. And how could that NOT make my world a little brighter, right?

So I got done with the run and felt pretty good about my 15 minutes of fun. So I did some crunches. And yeah, that felt pretty good. So I took a shower. That felt good, too. Then I went to work to be a responsible adult. Basically the whole day was like that commercial for some kind of healthy breakfast item where the chick picks one good thing and it eventually leads to her choosing to wash her face at night and waking up oh-so-refreshed. Yep.

This is the part of the day where I would generally say, You've put in a good day's worth. Grab yourself a large Diet Coke and something crunchy and watch your shows. But Monday was different. It was nice and cool outside (well, below 90* anyways). And I hadn't touched a Diet Coke in nearly 2 weeks. I was feeling strong. 

So I put my spandex back on. Then I took that spandex on a wog around the neighborhood. (Can't really call it a jog, but it wasn't exactly a walk, either...) The spandex and I were both grateful for the time outside. But the whole time I was wogging around I kept thinking, "What am I doing? This is not me. I hate running." I kept picturing my little sister coming to visit me and being like--"What the heck?! No Diet Coke?! No cable?! Frequent wogs?! Spandex??? Who are you?"

Stretching it out after two grueling 15-minute runs. As you can probably tell, flexibility wasn't my best grade on P.E. finals.

Yeah, who am I? I think these new changes are good. I think they will help my body to last longer and shoot straighter and jump higher. Or something like that. But at book club the other day, one of the girls I admire most said, "I love women with flaws. I mean, eat a cookie once in a while!" And I thought to myself, Yeah, I completely agree. Some of my "flaws" I hope I never have to change. Some of them--I hope--add character. Like eating several spoonfuls of dough before popping cookies in the oven. Like sleeping in excessively late on Saturday mornings. Like enjoying sappy ABC Family series on Hulu from time to time. Like believing a movie in theaters isn't worth it without popcorn and a big drink.

Maybe those things can change and maybe some of them can go away. But I hope I never stop loving "women with flaws." I hope I never stop loving myself with flaws. And most of all, I hope my sister still loves me even when I'm wearing spandex.

Do you have "flaws" that you love about yourself?

makeup tute

So, if you shorten "Tutorial," you get "Tute." Isn't that great?

Okay, okay. Immaturity aside--the past couple of weeks have really kicked my behind. I mean, I've been really busy I think. Don't ask me how or why, because I won't be able to tell you. I will fumble through an awkward explanation like I did at dinner with my girl-in-laws the other night, and none of us wants to see that. I think this awkwardness has something to do with the fact that "busy" in my world is being compared to my usual Get Up, Go to Work, Come Home, Cook, Sleep, Repeat. So you can see how adding a few more things in that mix would really shake up my world.

In the midst of my busyness--and after multiple pushings of the snooze button--I have rarely had time to actually get gussied up lately. This is unfortunate simply because getting gussied is one of the things I like most. But it just so happened that last Saturday morning I had relatively nothing to do (besides all the chores that I voluntarily exempted), and I decided it would be wise to put a little effort into my hair, makeup, & clothing selection. Because--menstruation cycle aside-- I was forgetting what it feels like to be a woman.

I found this lovely blog belonging to lovely Norwegian Star! ambassador Monique Lund. On said blog I found this makeup tutorial. Which just so happens to be great. And one of the few things on the blog I can actually understand, because there are no words. (Yes, I just like to look at the pictures. Pathetic, I know.)



(If the video is not working on your computer, just go to her post here to see it. Then come back--- don't want you leaving me for any Norwegian babe blogs.)

I followed this makeup tutorial with a few adjustments.
(1) I mixed my foundation with lotion. 1 part foundation to 2-3 parts face lotion. This makes the foundation more like tinted moisturizer and gave my face a healthy glow. I did still apply it with a large soft brush like Monique did, and I loved the results!
(2) After applying the foundation and lighter concealer around the eyes & nose, I then dusted my face with tinted mineral powder. I have this thing about foundation without powder. I don't do it.
(3) I applied bronzer where she applied her blush, then I dabbed a little gel blush on the apples of my cheeks to give them a rosy glow. I'm all about the glowing.

This was the final product:

As you can tell, I didn't go with the blue-brown eyeshadow. (I did try that the following night, and I looked almost hot. Almost.) I used her same technique but with a cream-pink-brown combo that Almay has me convinced brings out the flecks of green in my hazel eyes. That's probably a bunch of bologna, but hey! I don't hate it.

And you know what just popped in my head? "Man! I feel like a woman! Duh duh duh nuh-nuh-nuh duh duh!" Yeah, definitely was going to do that for a talent show in middle school. Not doing it was SO the right choice. Good times.