How do you measure success?
Is it in numbers, feelings or heartbeats?
Do you take a tally at the end of the day to see where you stand? Or is it in the general feeling you get in your gut in the dead of the night? Is it hard to swallow?
Ok, I lied, it’s always cold to me. I mean, I was wearing a wool sweater/sock/scarf combo in LA when it was 27 degrees out (that’s 80, to my American readers).
But for you normal folk, it’s probably finally reached that “winter” weather. And by that I mean snow, there is snow on the ground. That and I really need to find my Sorels.
I started writing for Fashion Magazine a few months back, and my most recent article is more useful than anything. Are you curious about what MUA’s think of us mere mortals? Well, I asked.
Guys, sometimes a full time job and moving twice in two months can shake things up a bit.
No, I’m not fully unpacked.
The past few months have been a whirlwind of things, feelings and events. Realizations, cross country plane rides, and a fear that has latched on and sunk it’s teeth right into me.
So remember when I realized something seriously messed up was happening to my stomach?
Well here’s the deal.
I went through that god awful diet, I even bought the damn $20 butter (actually not necessary apparently), and you know what I realized? It’s totally dairy. Glorious, tasty dairy.
So my Dad’s birthday came up this year, and I thought I’d bestow some of my beauty loving wisdom on him for a change. I scoped out some awesome mens beauty products from some seriously amazing brands and as it turns out, he loved them!
I know. I hate the word diet too.
But first I should probably clarify what exactly this “diet” is going to do for me. Probably a lot, actually. Considering how tired I am of constantly having painful reactions to foods and never knowing what EXACTLY the culprit is. Just today I had something totally vegan and I’m still painfully bloated, like wtf right? IS NOTHING SAFE?
Moving is stressful.
But being stuck in one place is worse.
Packing up all my stuff, storing it, living out of a bag (quite literally) until I sort out my life is something I should probably be used to. I don’t think I’ve stayed in one apartment for more than 2 years at a time, and even then, two years was a stretch. Packing everything I need for a few weeks in a bag, in a matter of minutes, is second nature to me. So why isn’t living out of one?
I ended up in the hospital last week.
I know, practically right after declaring my desire to be healthier, I ended up with an IV stuck in my arm, a weeks worth of anti nausea meds and a weekend of struggling to keep down food.
Because you’ll be ASLEEP, duh.
Ok, it’s not a real Batman mask (don’t sue me!), but goddamn do I ever feel a lil Wayne (haaaaaa. I need to sleep) when I wear this guy to sleep. AND SLEEP I DO.
I bought a scale today.
And I didn’t have a coffee (no fun) because I made the switch in my brain somehow where I’m like, “F*ck. This. I need to get my shit together”. You ever have one of those moments?