November Bella

I’ve never been happier for the month of November to arrive.  It’s not the cool, crisp days or the beautiful fall foliage (although those are definitely a couple of my fall loves).  It is not even the thoughts of a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with family or the kick off to the festivities of the holiday season.

Why am I excited to see November get here?  This exasperating election season is finally over!

The endless phone calls will stop.  The negative campaigning will end (for a little while anyway).   My mailbox will no longer be stuffed full of propaganda.  The commercials highlighting comments taken out of context will be off the air.  My dog Bailey can rest from her constant vigil at the front window to scare off door to door campaign volunteers.

I try to never discuss politics.  Some people thrive off of it, but I do not.  I have found that most people don’t want to have an enlightened discussion but instead want to tell me why my opinions are wrong (and how people like me are ruining America…or are bringing about the end of the world…or whatever).  Politics have turned grown adults into school yard bullies.  I’m done with all of it.  I agree that all voters should be informed, but yelling at me isn’t going to win me to your side. 

You vote for your candidate and I’ll vote for mine.  They may be the same person, or we may be cancelling each other out.  For me, as long as you use your right to vote and don’t forfeit it, then we have nothing to argue about.  Now, let’s all settle down and enjoy the rest of the season (preferably with a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte….can we agree on that?).

October Bella Article

Back in June, I had all of these grand plans for my summer.  I would decorate and paint my one untouched room.  I would sew all kinds of adorable items for my ETSY shop.  I would clean out my closet and take a truckload to Goodwill.

Here is what I accomplished over the summer:  gained 5 pounds, napped my days away, and I managed to create one apron for my shop (anyone need an apron?).   I felt horrible.  If I were coated in slime, you wouldn’t be able to tell me apart from the giant slugs in the backyard.  

As summer drew to a close, I realized I needed to do something.  I needed more energy.  I needed to lose those five pounds (plus about 30 more on top of that).  I needed to make some major changes in my life.  I needed more than just a diet plan.  So through the help of my source of all info (Google) I ran across health coaches.  I then narrowed it down to one, Taunya Bruton in Christiansburg.  So far, this has been one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I’m sure she wasn’t quite sure what she was in for during our initial consultation.  I basically started with all of the things I WOULDN’T do….I’m not going to the grocery store every day, I am not buying weird or expensive ingredients that my Kroger doesn’t have, I’m not cooking meals with ingredients I can’t pronounce, and I’m not giving up sweet tea.  Taunya assured me that I didn’t have to give anything up and that the entire program would be tailored to me and my needs.  There were no restrictions, no points to tally, no calories to count.  She is like a dietician, counselor, and teacher all rolled up into one.  I am making changes in all areas of my life, not just what I eat.  As a result, I am a smidgen smaller, I feel better, and I have more energy.    And I haven’t craved sweet tea since I started changing my diet to more whole foods.  How is that for miracles?  

To go or not to go...that is the question (July's Bella)

           It’s approaching, it’s just around the corner.  As it gets closer I can hear the Jaws theme growing louder in my ears.  Ba-dum, ba-DUM, BA-DUM…the fear sets in as the ominous event nears.

My 20^th high school reunion is this August. 

Many people look forward to their reunions.  They want to catch up on old times and laugh about all of the fun had during those four years.  I haven’t yet decided if I will attend or not.  I am not one of those adults that feels the need to relive their high school glory days.  There were no high school glory days for me.  I am not in contact with anyone I went to school with (besides Facebook, and that doesn’t count).  My fate in high school was sealed in junior high; I was overweight (or big-boned), I wore big plastic glasses, and my teeth were all crooked.  I was the classic definition of a geek.  I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t athletic, and I couldn’t even make up for those short-comings by being smart.  I mainly tried to blend into the concrete block walls. 

                 

           Although I changed physically by high school (I lost the weight, I got smaller glasses, and I got braces); my social status remained the same.  I was teased, sometimes mercilessly.  Gym class was the worst.  I was always chosen last for any team.  Why do we force kids to choose teams anyway?  Why can’t teachers just assign teams so that no one feels subpar and unwanted?  Anyway, I was last.  Sometimes I lucked out and was next to last.  The best was when I got to be team captain and a collective groan went through the gym because nobody wanted to be on my team.  I hated games that involved running around bases.  As I would approach the base for my turn to hit, kick, or whatever other humiliation the PE teacher had in store for me, the other team would all yell “MOVE IN!!!!  CLOSER!!!!  WE NEED TO SEE THE HAIRS IN HER NOSE!”  Ok, that last one is a lie.  I don’t have sticky out nose hairs.  Some kids would try their hardest to kick that stupid ball over all of their heads.  My goal was to head back to the end of the line as quickly as possible so I would usually kick straight to first.  I barely made it two steps before the rolling ball was caught and I was out (or what I considered “safe”).

                As all of my classmates cried on graduation day, I was ecstatic.  I was done.  I never had to go back.  I moved on to college where I could start fresh.  People would get to know ME, not only see me as the nerdy seventh grader who just longed to get through the day without being the butt of any jokes.  So why would I want to go back and relive all of this?  

I used to dream of my high school reunion.  I would be model slim with long and silky hair.  I would have my doctorate and my husband would look like George Clooney.  Life didn’t turn out that way.  Life turned out normal.  I’m not skinny but I’m comfortable in my skin.  My hair is frizzy but I embrace my inner Medusa.  I have multiple degrees, but none high enough to put Ph.D. after my name.  And I am not married (much less to George Clooney…but we all know he will never get married so I’ll use that as my reason why).   I feel no need to go back two decades and catch up with people that never paid any attention to me before.  It has taken me a very long time to leave that girl behind, with all of her insecurities and dreams of invisibility.  I’m scared that if I go that girl will return and I’ll hide behind the potted plants.  

Yet there is part of me that wants to go, to prove to myself that I am no longer that person.  I want to believe that I am strong enough to be the person I am now.  I want to say goodbye to the insecurities and be proud of who I have become.  And I also want an excuse to buy a new dress.  Possibly a green one that will blend in with those plants….

               

June Bella

The Traveling Red Dress

If you are not familiar with Jenny Lawson (a.k.a. The Bloggess) and The Traveling Red Dress, take a moment and look her up online.  I’ll wait.

Are you done yet?  Are you as inspired as I was?

Jenny started the Traveling Red Dress after she fell in love with a red ball gown.  

“I want, just once, to wear a bright red, strapless ball gown with no apologies.  I want to be shocking, and vivid and wear a dress as intensely amazing as the person I so want to be.  And the more I thought about it the more I realized how often we deny ourselves that red dress and all the other capricious, ridiculous, overindulgent and silly things that we desperately want but never let ourselves have because they are simply “not sensible”.  Things like flying lessons, and ballet shoes, and breaking into spontaneous song, and building a train set, and crawling onto the roof just to see the stars better.  Things like cartwheels and learning how to box and painting encouraging words on your body to remind yourself that you’re worth it.” – from TheBloggess.com

I have never considered myself beautiful.  When I get dressed for work, my goal is presentable.  When I get dressed for errands on the weekend, my goal is to not be naked.  That is how much preparation goes into my daily appearance (not much, admittedly).

Then I read about The Traveling Red Dress on Jenny’s blog.  I followed it over to Facebook and found women offering up dresses to share.  I posted that I was looking for a dress and within 30 minutes I had one promised to me.  I had no idea what the dress would look like, and I opened the box from Brooklyn with some trepidation.  What if it is ugly?  What if it doesn’t fit?  What if it shows my legs or my wobbly bits?!  And the dress was perfect in every way.  

You may think it is a little narcissistic to play dress up and pose for professional shots.  But it wasn’t that way at all.  For one afternoon, I felt beautiful.  I felt like anything was possible.  If I could take myself (with all of my self-consciousness and insecurities) and strut the streets of Lynchburg in order to pose for photos; I could do anything.  

I am my own worst enemy.  Nothing holds me back more than myself.  On the inside, I am creative and colorful.  But my outside is reserved and wants to blend in with the background.  For a couple of hours in March, I let my inside out.  It was difficult for me to let go.  But it is even more difficult to hide when outside in 50 degree weather in a shockingly red strapless dress. 

From this experience I learned that I need to let my outside show more often.  I need to take chances and do what I want.  I need to stop holding myself back.  I need to be me.

If you have the opportunity, get your own red dress.  Be true to yourself for one day.  Realize your potential and worth.  And maybe, just maybe, you might find yourself being a little more open and a little less afraid.

A big thank you to April Moore of April B Photography and Lindsay Benoit of Artistic Trendz in Lynchburg for a day of magic.  You can find more of April’s wonderful work at www.aprilbphotography.com.  

For the love of wild animals (March Issue of Bella)

I don’t have kids.  I have a dog and a cat.  And I should probably never have kids if my parenting skills were judged on my animal raising abilities.

The dog, Bailey, is the poster child for those bawl your eyes out commercials of adorable but sad puppies in shelters.  Never mind the fact that Bailey is overweight and has cushy beds in every room of the house.  According to the looks she gives me, I should be arrested and featured on “Animal Cops”.  Around 5:15 every day you would assume she was starving to death because I NEVER feed her.  She will lie down and look up at me with these big brown eyes that are just dripping with sadness.  Little whimpers of desperation escape her as she withers away before me.  She barely survives from one meal to the next.  When the longest fifteen minutes of her life have passed (dinner is at 5:30), she comes to life and skips into the kitchen after me (if dogs could skip…).  She alternates between jumping and barking as I fix her a big bowl of life saving food.  Her eyes are filled with excitement over a bowl of dry crunchy dog food.  And suddenly all is right with the world (until 7:30 anyway, that is her nightly Greenie time and we go through this whole ordeal again). 

Bailey is also a tormented pup.  She is a very submissive dog which I apparently take advantage of through various forms of abuse.  This abuse ranges from Halloween costumes (it was for a free day at doggie daycare) and bows around her neck.  I have even put a blanket over her head to test her canine IQ (the faster they manage to get out from under the blanket the higher their IQ).  Whenever I do anything to her, she hangs her head and slinks down to the ground.  Then she lets out a heavy sigh of resignation and just lays there.  I think she believes that if she stays there motionless for long enough I will leave her alone.  I guess this means her IQ is either in the negative numbers or off the charts because she is smart enough not to play my silly games.

But Bailey is not the only one whose life I have in my hands…there is also Phoebe the cat.  Phoebe came to me as a stray that was too young to feed herself.  I had to bottle feed and then wean her.  I essentially saved her life and she understands that.  I know this because whenever I leave the house she thinks I have left her for dead.  I am her only hope for survival. In order to escape the loneliness she will gnaw on her tail like a fox chewing through its tail to escape the trap.  I can typically leave her for a weekend but anything longer requires supervision. 

I recently returned from being away for two nights.  Phoebe greeted me at the door waving her bloody stump of a tail in excitement.  And because she had run her tail against the walls, my house looked like a Barbie-sized crime scene.  I was hoping Horatio Ken did not appear to try to arrest me in Miami Barbie CSI’s pink Hummer.   Phoebe ended up losing part of her tail and is now on kitty Prozac that I rub on her ears each night.  Hint: when the pharmacist tells you that you must wear latex gloves when applying the medicine to make sure that none enters your bloodstream; don’t say “Do I have too???”

Truth is I love my wild animals.  They make my life more fulfilling and I can’t imagine life without a little zoo in it.  There are definitely some days that make me question my caretaking abilities.  Bailey and Phoebe may be a little neurotic, but we are a little family.  I would imagine that parents feel the same way, not always sure of what they are doing but offer lots of love and support.  Maybe I wouldn’t be such a bad parent after all.

Be happy with your single self...

When I first learned that this issue was all about weddings, I struggled with what I should write about.  As a sometimes cynical (ok, mostly cynical) still single woman in her mid-thirties, I didn’t want to take the Bridget Jones route and quote divorce rates.  I didn’t think all of the wedding planning advertisers would appreciate me advertising for divorce lawyers.  Then I thought about giving advice on how not to be a bridezilla on your wedding day (such as “Who cares that your future mother-in-law is wearing white?  No one will confuse her for you….the BRIDE!”).  I assumed that the readers preparing for the beginning of many years of wedded bliss would not appreciate my thoughts.  

                Instead I decided to write something for the singletons out there.  A magazine full of happily ever after may inspire some women to dream about their future, but other women won’t read it because nothing applies to them. I’m writing for those women.  And I am writing my story.

                My last long-term relationship ended just over a year ago.  The relationship wasn’t bad, but it just wasn’t quite right either.  I couldn’t stand his family; my family couldn’t stand him.  It was a match not made in heaven.  I stuck with it because I figured he was good enough.  I thought this was my last chance at marriage and a family.  When we split I didn’t spend months mourning him, instead I mourned my dream of being a wife and mother.  I envied others who had found someone to marry.  Their lives seemed better than my own.   I wondered what I was doing wrong since I was still single. 

                I have been out on dates over the past year but I just wasn’t interested in anyone.  Instead of looking for another Mr. Almost Right, I did some soul searching.  A friend once told me that I shouldn’t judge my own life on traditional standards.  It took me a long time to realize she was right.  Just because I am not married with children yet does not make my life any less meaningful.  A husband does not equal happiness.  I’m not saying that people who are married aren’t happy (so save the hate mail for now) but that it is possible to be happy without marriage.  I can also do things a little out of order and I don’t have to wait on a husband in order to become a mom.

                I recently read an essay written by a woman about my age who had overcome cancer.  She said that before her illness she longed for becoming a wife and a mother.  She felt incomplete without those things in her life.  After she was diagnosed she realized that she was lucky to call herself a daughter, a sister, and a friend.  I am glad that it didn’t take a life threatening illness for me to understand the same things.  I too am a daughter, a sister, a friend, and the proud mom of Bailey and Phoebe (my two wild animals).  I am comfortable with who I am.  Marriage may be in my future but then again it may not be.  I have come to accept that.  It doesn’t mean that my future dreams have died; it just means they have changed. 

                Therefore my advice to you is to accept who you are and the path your life may take.  Consider your life whole before you decide to share it with someone.  Believe that who you are is enough.   Oh, and if you are planning your wedding, please don’t try to convince your bridesmaids that they can wear their dresses again.  They can’t.  Butt bows will never be fashionable. 

My New Year’s Give-Ups (January's Bella article)

This is similar to previous blog posts...you can always tell when I am low on material!

Ahhh, January.  The beginning of a new year.   And what also comes with the beginning of a new year?  Resolutions!  I guess I need to steer clear of the gym until about mid-February…

How many of us make resolutions?  Most of us, I’m sure.  But how many of us actually keep those resolutions?  I’m guessing a much smaller percentage.  I for one just gave up on resolutions.  I never kept them.  In fact, my resolutions barely made it past January.  So now I make my New Year’s “Give-Ups”.  These are the things that I know I can’t master so I am simply giving up on them. 

The first “give-up” is losing weight.  It’s not gonna happen.  I go to the gym so that I can continue to eat what I want without gaining weight.  This summer my doctor listened to everything that I ate, how much time I spent at the gym, and he did some tests.  His diagnosis?  I am a healthy fat.  In other words, although I am overweight, I am perfectly healthy.  He went on to tell me that I would survive well in a famine-stricken country.  Thanks doc!  Therefore, since my doctor has told me that there is nothing wrong with me, I have stopped worrying about losing weight.  I used to think that losing weight would make me healthier….not so…I’m already there!  As a result I am telling the scale to stuff it.  As long as the numbers don’t rise, I’m a happy camper.

My second “give-up” is my house.  With teaching, tutoring after school, and working out in order to keep this rotund shape, I barely have time to feed myself, much less clean.  Instead of stressing about the rodent sized fur balls on the floor, I need to let it go.  It’ll get clean at some point.  The world will not stop spinning if I leave some dishes in the sink overnight.  Dexter covers his ‘work space’ in plastic wrap before slicing and dicing.  I just need to Dexter-ize my house.  That way I can cover the entire house in plastic covers and tear them off when the dirt reaches condemned house levels.  But until I find clear wall, furniture, and floor slipcovers, I’ll try to relax about the stuffed toy that the dog tore the innards out of (and that the cat spread all over the house). 

So what are you giving up for the new year?  We try our hardest to be everything to everyone; at some point you have to decide to let some things go.  And once you do, you might find some time to relax or do something enjoyable.  I know I will be sleeping in a few extra minutes and not making my bed the next day….it will still be there when I get home.    

What?! It’s the Christmas season already? I had no idea…

Thanksgiving, the gateway holiday to the Christmas season, has passed.  No matter what holidays you celebrate, you will be hit over the head with Christmas until it passes.  I actually started having nightmares about the upcoming holiday season as far back as July (I guess it was my own personal version of “The Nightmare Before Christmas”).  I would awaken with a start, with an overwhelming sense of dread.  In my dreams, I had completely forgotten about Christmas!  It was suddenly Christmas Eve and I hadn’t done a thing to prepare.  There were no gifts, no tree, no lit up reindeer in my yard.  Of course the reindeer fall over every day they are out there so it looks more like Christmas hunting season at my house.

How could something like this happen?  Hallmark introduces ornaments in July, catalogs begin arriving with holiday gift guides as early as September, and Thanksgiving symbolizes giving thanks for Black Friday ads in order to plan shopping strategies with the fewest number of casualties.  The mall is pulling out the decorations before the lights go out in the Halloween jack-o-lanterns. 

I could go into the same complaints about the commercialism of the holidays, about how the meaning is lost amongst all of the tv ads, catalogs, and reminders to buy, buy, buy!  But I’m not…because I love every minute of it!  I become such a little kid at this time of year.  I love buying just the right gifts for family and friends.  I am comforted by the soft glow of the lights on the tree (well, at least until the cat turns the tree into her own playground and I have to dodge the flying ornaments).  I sing along with every song on the radio, and my singing is so spectacular that even the animals leave the room.  I’m sure the fish would leave also but he is stuck.  Hopefully the water muffles the sound somewhat. 

But then, when it is all over, I go through shock on December 26^th.  It’s like I need a 12-step program for Christmas withdrawal.  The songs are over, the commercials have ended, and the stores are already squeezing Valentine’s Day merchandise onto the shelves.   I hate to take down my decorations, I find it all very depressing to pack everything back up into the attic for the next 11 months (except for the tree – I’m ready for that to come down because the cat has already taken the decorations off and rolled them under the couch).  As kids, my sisters and I would never let our parents try to put any of the presents away because that meant the magic was all over. 

And that is what the holiday season is all about; the magic.  I hope you and those you love enjoy the magic of the holiday season (just don’t forget about the mayhem altogether!).

I'm a success!!!

I did it!  I got my first response to one of my articles that are published in a local monthly magazine.  And it  was hate mail! 

Now, everyone who reads what I write knows that I tend to be a little on the sarcastic side and a little less on the warm and fuzzy side.  I wrote about extreme couponing and how people are basically greedy for hoarding coupons so they can turn around and hoard items they will never use.  I was not making negative comments about strategic couponing (where you collect coupons from different resources so you can buy items you will use), or feel-good couponing (where you buy stuff to donate).  No, I wrote about the lady who bought out an entire store's mustard supply because she got a great deal on it (and she hated mustard!).  I could have taken one of those smiley, happy people angles and how we can save society through couponing.  But I didn't.  I made fun of people who have forced stores to create very long and hard to read coupon policies.  I also made fun of myself. 

And as a result I got my very first piece of hate mail.  My column was called disgusting and I was called selfish because I don't use my coupons.  My complete lack of organization makes couponing very difficult for me and the fact that I pay full price at Kroger means that millions of people (and animals!) are starving.

Here is the article in full:

Extreme Couponing Craziness

I was in the grocery store the other day and noticed that the store had placed a full sheet of single spaced rules regarding coupons.  I didn’t read it because my attention span won out (as well as my strong desire to get out of the store as quickly as possible – I despise the grocery store).  I assumed these new regulations were due to people who hoard coupons like some people hoard cats.

I watched the TLC show “Extreme Couponing” one time and decided that the people featured on that show should really be featured on “Hoarders” instead.  Who needs six million jars of mustard….when you don’t even use it?!  I personally know of one woman who stockpiled a pantry full of Hamburger Helper when neither she nor her husband liked it.  Why you ask?  Because she had a coupon!  Well, evidently she had multiple coupons.  Women were featured on the show that displaced their children’s belongings in order to store multiples of whatever useless crap they had bought at the store. 

These women would shudder to know that I throw away my Sunday coupons every week.  These coupon zealots would probably have a stroke if they knew that I didn’t feel the need to shove grocery items into every square inch of my home.   I tried clipping coupons.  I really gave it an honest effort.  But due to my complete lack of organizational skills it turned into a disaster.  I remember as a kid my mom had a little basket that she would keep her coupons in and every week she would go through them based on what we needed.  I attempted that method.  First I would pull the sections from the newspaper and leave them on the coffee table for a week.  The next step was to go through them and cut everything out in order to leave it in a cut up pile on the coffee table.  I would then head out to the store completely forgetting about my coupon stash because the cat had scattered them up under the sofa.  I decided to refine my methods and kept an organizer in my purse for all my coupons.  I crammed coupons in there every week.  But then my hatred of being in the grocery store would overcome me and I would rush through and not touch my little organizer.  When the organizer literally burst at the seams (although I had mastered putting coupons in, I had not mastered removing expired ones) I gave up. 

Couponing is not a sport.  You can’t letter in it in high school or get a scholarship into college because you have mastered saving money on stuff you don’t use.  Extreme couponing is the epitome of greed…buying obscene amounts of stuff just because you have a coupon is greedy.  The woman who bought all of the mustard off of the store’s shelves because she had coupons was selfish, not smart.  I love a bargain, but not at the expense of sanity. 

So there.  Maybe not Pulitzer Prize winning writing, but it is hate mail inducing.  I did respond to the hate mail writer telling her I appreciated her feedback and I was sorry that she missed the point of the column.

I haven't heard back....