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Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Do These Jeans Make Me Look Fat? Or, An Apology to Brian

(And that answer would have been “yes,” had I been able to get them around my butt.) 

The day a girl realizes she can no longer fit into her “old jeans” is a sad, disgraceful occasion that is mourned within the bonds of all womanhood. September 18 is a date that will live in infamy in my personal book, and that page may or may not be torn out at some future point. 
I know I’m not obese or anything, but let’s be honest: my pants don’t fit. After spending a year bemoaning and denying the fact that my pants will never again fit me, I accepted it. I figured, what the heck? I may as well try to sell the traitors on eBay (come on, I’m sure you COULD HAVE STRETCHED a little more). If I could get $20 out of each pair, awesome. As a seasoned eBayer, I know the secret to a successful jean sell is due in whole to good photos of your derriere. Seeing as it’s tricky to take those yourself, Brian was home from work and the man for the job. 

Sidenote: This whole process means nothing to men. Nothing. I’m sure he doesn’t understand how this could seriously alter my self-image, affect my eating habits, my mood , and act as a catalyst for my subconscious searching for some sort of control and stability in my life manifested through over-indulgent eating or excessive spending  and consequently our WHOLE LIVES could be ruined if this moment is not handled well!

After kissing goodbye a pair I was particularly fond of (7 A-pockets with pink rhinestones… the quality of the bedazzling, the QUALITY, man!), I realized that this was for the best. Plus, emotional attachments to inanimate objects are the demise of many a hoarder.

Brian was busy on his phone texting about what I can only assume was Fantasy Football (or Stuart Peterson) related, while I was smashing myself into what used to be my favorite pair of Rock and Republics. Literally, I had to jump up and down get these pants over my thighs, and they didn’t go much higher than that. Zipping was definitely out of the question , after I compromised Brian’s life by trying to button the first pair. Do you have any idea the kind of impact a button under that much pressure could have ricocheting off your pants and through a vital organ? For the safety of everyone involved, I just wore a long shirt over, held it down, and sucked in for the pictures. Afterwards, I had to peeeeel off my pants. 

But I mean, they probably just shrunk in the dryer...

And so, this is how the process went, sadly and smoothly, until about pair #5, when my eBay photographer had a lapse of attentiveness. I’m standing there, exposed muffin top and all, trying to suck in all my internal organs AND skin, stand up straight, and stick my butt out all at the same time. Trying to pose for a picture in 2 sizes too small jeans? WE CAN ALL AGREE THAT THIS IS WHAT HELL IS ALL ABOUT. I am not exhaling, a clear sign that I’m ready for the snap of the camera, and NOTHING. Brian was texting. NOT OKAY AT THAT MOMENT! I’m sorry. Brian Scurr, I am sorry for getting upset at you. My annoyance at your unwillingness to be ready the second I am was uncalled for. It’s just that my circulation in my lower appendages was being cut off, and that makes me feel angry. I was understandably embarrassed for showing you this sight that hopefully you have blocked from your memory. Also, kudos to you for not making any comments, or talking much at all. Way to play it safe.  Also, this will happen again every time I have a child. Also, I miss having eye contact with you this time of year, but I won’t complain too much, because basketball season is worse. I love you!

Here’s to hoping my public honesty will bring some good karma to my eBay life. Bid on those jeans!

Thursday, August 30, 2012

It's Newport, Beach!

(Brian thought that was a great title.)

It's amazing to me that you can desire something so deeply that the emotion can become almost physical. You know, really puts the "feel" in "feeling." Like, PHYSICALLY I need the beach. I want it. I need it. Deep down in me, I have a drive to do whatever is necessary to get to a beach at least a million times a year. I'll negotiate for 3 times, as a minimum.

I don't know what magic lure  beach has on me, because I honestly don't do more than my cycle of: lie on the beach and read for an hour, go in the ocean for an hour, eat. Repeat. It's just brings so much happiness to my soul.

Here are photos from a  couple of different trips to Newport and Huntington.

 Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, anyone? Brian and I went to Beverly Hills for a hopeful Lisa Vanderpump sighting at Sur. Unsuccessful.

 We found Sam Woods!

 Sheer happiness in the purest form. Insert dolphin emoji.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Confessions of a Poser

Everyone had that pair of Nikes that they truly believed made them run a little faster. Why? Because the awesome guy with frosted tips on the commercial jumped so high, those shoes had to be yours. It was the only way to rival your playground frenemy.

In my case, coolness came in the form of Bonne Bell lip gloss. The older girls at church debuted it, the little tubes dangling from their car key chains. Oh, and they had cars. Awesome. Never has there been (or will be) so much coolness in a Young Women’s room. Not long after I saw the older girls with it, Heather Pittman, aka “Tether Heather” donned similar Bonne Bell kissers…from a holographic tube. Obviously, I needed to pop some of that in the shopping cart on Mom’s next shopping trip to blow people’s minds with my hip self, and improve my tether ball game, simultaneously.

My dabbling in the art of all things incredible didn’t end with Bonne Bell. Attending middle school in the country’s most fashion forward city, Albuquerque, I was quick to learn that tying ribbons on my backpack handles and zippers was the cutting edge trend. Backpack couture at it’s curlicued finest, and it likely took years to catch on in Milan.

Obviously, I’ve always been just really, really cool.

Well, now that that big 2-6 is approaching, you’d think I’d stop being such a follower. But, no. I recently found a new idol that has replaced Marykateandashley (one person) (sorry I’ve betrayed you Marykateandashley) (I will reconsider when you decide to come out of your unfortunate Homeless Stage that’s lasted a decade).

Um, did you watch the Bachelorette!!? Never had I watched a full season, and I AM IN LOVE WITH HER. No, really. Are you? Please? Because I feel like a complete stalker. It’s actually embarrassing, but now that the Fish Filet is in the open, shame doesn’t stop me. I like all things Emily Maynard. Isn’t she probably the cutest girl you’ve never met? I’ve even been working on my Southern accent.

Just kidding.

I was innocently messing around online one day, and by the time day turned to night, I’d come across photos, tons of clothes, and—GOLDMINE—THIS website. Oh yeah, baby. Now, Emily wears Towne and Reese, so I bought Towne and Reese. She wears Stella and Dot, so I bought Stella and Dot. It’s like that old Mom-adage: If Emily jumped off a cliff, would you jump off a cliff?  Uh, let me be the first to tell you, if my fake best friend Emily jumped while on a show, I’d DVR it, rewatch it a few times, check out her awesome outfits and sweet tan, buy the knock-off, cheap-o versions of it all, and then, yes. And I’d be smiling the whole time, because I’d think I’d look like her. Success.

Just one example of earrings I bought so I can pretend I'm her.

I know I will one day wince at the continuation of my obsession to emulate who I deem cool, but for now, I’d appreciate any confessionals that you do the same thing. Do you have a little poser in you? If not, I’m a total loser. BUT—wait until you see the new Emily-inspired jewelry collection of this loser.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Happy To Still Be a Little Crazy in the Eyes.

You know those friends that know you on a whole different level? The kind that already know what you’re thinking with just a glance? My best friends know me well enough that we don’t have to waste precious, painful ab-laughing time on the formalities of the “what have you been up to” conversation. Even if we haven’t spoken in months, and we don’t know what the other has been up to, that can be wrapped up speedily. We can then revert to our own language, full of so many inside jokes that we can basically just speak in sounds and faces.

 The stars were all aligned last month, and I had the pleasure of getting my immaturity on with so many of my best friends! ALL IN A MONTH! All in 24 hour trips!

Jess and Janae found me after an hour of texting (about Mean Girls) at LAX. I met Jess (who has been in my phone as Satan for 6 years, and I can’t remember why, which makes it hilarious all over again) and Janae at BYU Hawaii. We bonded together quickly roasting ourselves on the beach together every single day. Years later, we’re doing it all again, minus Cheesecake Factory, Patti, and Katie. Catch you on the next girls trip, Tricia!

Santa Monica lent itself as a nice backdrop to:

Bike riding, flea market, beach, the Pier, nails, tons of food...not bad for a quick trip!

It was so nice of Janae to suggest the idea, for a number of reasons.
 A. She is pregnant;
 B. She is kind of a famous blogger, and it’s nice to see she remembers the little people;
C. Jess and I really bring out the weirdness in each other after about 11 PM. She eggs me on, I can’t help it.

A couple of weeks later,  Natalie had a big birthday, so Marcella helped me plan to get up to Salt Lake! We had a little sleepover at the amazing Grand America (I'm coming back to sit in you, huge Bathtub), and went to the temple the following day with Russ and Camille. Oh, and I shopped. A lot. I bought everything that Camille tried on. It started as a joke, but as it turns out, I wasn't joking. I love being a Lewis family poser/stalker.

My roommate Kendyl won Miss Utah USA, and was in Las Vegas for the Miss USA competition! Amy, Jackie, and my mom were Miss Utah groupies and the competition. Cute Amy made shirts, and I stole one of many pretty Kendyl pictures from online to make signs. Way to go, Ken!
I truly believe I will always share a special friendship with my close college friends. It’s a relationship impossible to create with any new friends, presumably because I have grown up enough to stop acting like, well, a college kid. Slash, a little retarded, a little maniacal, and super fun.

Believe me, my college besties have seen it all...I should have made them sign non-disclosure agreements.