Thursday, February 24, 2011

I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR (especially during a wax job!)

I am coming back as a man in my next life.  Yup, you heard it here first.  I am so over being a woman.  Being a woman has just become way too much maintenance for me!

You know, last night I was sitting there covering up my grey roots, yet again, when I got to thinking about how super easy men have it.  As a kid, I use to always feel sorry for my Dad and his daily shave of his face and neck, but now that I am in my early 40's, I can see that he has absolutely nothing on my daily routine.

Oh its starts off innocent enough. First you start shaving your arm pits in your preteen stage and then you might as well start shaving your calves, and what’s that you say, all your friends are doing their thighs too?  Well I guess I better start mowing the lawn up there as well, and before you know it, there isn’t a speck of hair on your entire body, well of course, with the exception of your head and a nameless area (after all this is a family friendly blog) and even that nameless area is debatable with some women.

But you think that this would be it, wouldn’t you?  Oh no, then we have the joys of entering in our 40's and you get up that one morning and you pull out your magnifying mirror (because let’s face it, you are starting to loose your sight and can no longer see the flaws without 200x magnification) and OH MY GAWD, horror strikes!  “What’s that at the corner of my mouth?”  Oh my lord, is that the beginning of a Foo Man Chu moustache.  And, if that isn’t the icing on the proverbial cake, upon closer inspection, I start to wonder if I am now sporting a full goatee.  Eeeek!

My esthetician thinks I am crazy.  She says there is nary a hair on my face. I think she is just being polite. Could also be the fact that she is in her 40's too and may well be as blind as a bat.  But personally, I think that she is worried that if she tells me the truth, I will go screaming off into the night and reside with the rest of the apes, and she’s probably right, you know!  But I’m no fool. I can see it in her eyes and I know what she is really thinking!  I know secretly she wants to grab my face and say to me “Look Bush Baby, stick your entire face in that vat of wax because you are beginning to look like the hairy woman from Borneo!” 

And if this isn’t the worst possible news, I now spend my free time with my face glued to the mirror looking for strays that have sprung up somewhere new in the middle of the night.  I swear that while I am sleeping there is a Hairy Fairy that comes and spreads “instant growth” manure on my face!  I’d certainly like to catch that little bugger and clip her wings! 

And then the other day, another woman said to me “wait till you start growing nostril hair.”  WHAT?  Are you kidding me?  I certainly thought that was only reserved for men, but in any event, I spent the next two hours inspecting my nostrils for any indication that I might have had a reforestation going on!  Ugh I say!  UGH!

I am at a loss on how to beat the fact that I am starting to revert back to one of my ancient ancestors.  I have thought of buying bulk containers of Nair Hair Remover and filling up my bathtub and just dipping myself in. Or, I could just give up and starting swinging from the trees like the rest of the primates.  In the meantime, I am packing up my bags... I have just been sent my invitation to join the Gorgades, a Tribe of Hairy Libyan women.  Don’t laugh, I hear your invitation is in the mail too!

Until Next Time.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011


They are calling for snow tomorrow, but I am hard pressed to believe them as delicate crocuses and snowdrops beneath the aged maples are desperately bursting forth with the colours of early spring.  Robins mark their territory by singing their beautiful lyrical tunes and I feel a stirring deep within me.  It is the bursting of life all around.  Gently, I run my hands down the vine of my honeysuckle and feel the beginning of its blossoms forming.  I softly tilt my head towards it and breathe deep willing the little buds to tantalize my senses with their fragrant scent. I resign myself to the fact that several more months of patience will provide me with the perfumed benefits of my abundant foliage. My heart pitters and patters quickly as I know in a few short weeks, I will be deep into the beautiful grace of the season of spring.

The crispness of the air, the blueness of the sky haunts me with childhood memories I just can’t seen to grasp.  Cloudy images dance before my mind and I feel melancholy but am not quite sure why.

Old 80's tunes break out on the radio and I see myself in my youth full of wonderment and anticipation on what the years will bring.

She does this to me, spring that is. She washes me with a sense of happiness followed by a deep unfulfilled longing and a small heartache.  Every year as far as I can remember, my soul yearns.  I am never quite sure of what I am searching for, but I feel that I have lost something precious. Perhaps it is just the simplicity of innocence.

My eyes flick towards the vast sky drenched in my favourite colour of  cerulean blue and it beckons me, and for a brief moment, I shelve my thoughts as I stand outside with my face upturned to the warmth of the sun with my feet strongly planted into the earth.  I am connecting.  I am growing.  And I am waiting.  For her that is... for the lovely joy of Spring.

Until Next Time.

Friday, February 18, 2011


It’s been about 8 years since I had a weight scale in my house.

Dealing with the fact that I get a little OCD with my body mass, years ago I felt it was detrimental to my health to have one of those pesky nuisances sitting around staring and beckoning to me.  I swear it spoke these words “oh come Average Girl, get on me, show me your numbers baby”.  Followed by “GET THE HELL OFF, YOUR KILLING ME WITH ALL THAT POUNDAGE.  I CAN’T BREATHE WOMAN!” Other days, that little bundle of grey joy would say “What?  Did you eat that whole bloody pound cake by yourself?”  Offensive as it was, I just couldn’t tear myself away from morning and evening weigh ins.  I had developed this love hate relationship with my scale, whom I had affectionately named Oscar, as in Oscar the Grouch.

Finally, on one cloudy day when I had taken enough abuse from him, and without the slightest bit of remorse, I dropped kicked Oscar to the curb and never looked back.  After that, the only time I ever weighed myself was when I attended upon my doctor for my yearly physical, at which time I would stand on the scale backwards and say to her assistant “I don’t need to know, ignorance is bliss.”  Yes, I would venture to say I was a tad in denial, like an ostrich with her head in the sand and I was enjoying it.

I figured that as long as my clothes fit, life was grand.  However, I forgot to factor in that I wear a lot of cotton fibre that is forgiving and stretchable.  And I came to the realization that even cotton can stretch only so far.

So, in January of this year, I decided to give myself some tough love and a dose of reality. I broke down and bought one of those fandangled, fancy, schmancy electronic scales. Shiny and new, I decided to make friends with her.  I called the scale a "her" because lets face it, women are a tad more sensitive in the weight gain area. I handled her gently and secured her battery and lovingly caressed her stainless steel exterior.  Thin and sleek, she was all that I wanted to find within myself.

Stripping down to all my glorious nakedness, I stepped upon her with hopeful eyes.  In that moment, I watched as the numbers moved fast and furious liked I had just pulled the arm on a slot machine. Had I won the jackpot? I almost could not bear the anticipation. And then in bright blue neon lights, I realized that I had won a jackpot alright, a jackpot full of fat and I was horrified.  That number couldn’t be right?  No bloody way, could it be right!!! So, I stood on one foot and that damn thing didn’t move in numbers. Then I balanced myself on the side edges, nothing moved again.  What was with this stupid scale?  Finally, in a desperate attempt, I hung my heels off the back edge while balancing precariously on my toes.  Weebling and wobbling, I held my breath, looked down, and you know what, it did not move one bloody ounce!  She was brutally honest and she screamed those electronic numbers in my face. I was perplexed.  I did not understand. I wanted to be her friend. Hadn’t this always been the way with Oscar.  I would hang off edges and he would take off a pound or two just so I felt better.  But not her, she gave me the truth and she was mean.

And it was at that moment, I longed for Oscar.  He may have been old, a tad crabby, a little bad for my ego, but on those rare moments when my self confidence was wavering, he always tipped the scales in my favour.

Until Next Time.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Do you know why you started blogging?  Did you have a pivotal moment? I did. Back in March last year, I discovered this blog created by this wonderful person named Jain.  Her blog was beautiful.  In fact, I would go so far as to say “breathless”.  It was mostly just photos and tablescapes outside, but honestly her blog should have become a book. I loved her blog so much, that I would look at it several times a day. Some days, I almost felt like I was stalking her, I wasn’t of course, it’s just that her photographs were so charming and calming, and quite frankly, portrayed a life that I wanted to lead.  Based on her, I had hoped to create my own little piece of beauty in the blogging world.  I think I have failed for the most part.  I was so haphazard with the content, I went from goofy, to inspiring, to photographs, to goofy, to discussing intimate parts of my pain, to goofy and to finally wanting to help all bloggers achieve more followers.  My blog constantly changed in appearance and I was never satisfied because I just had not chosen a direction.  Together, my blog and I have become a little lost lately.  It’s okay tho, because everything is a learning process for me and I have never been a girl with a proper plan.

So you are probably wondering why I am babbling on about this, well this new challenge in our lives with my sister-in-law’s health has made me take an abrupt step back and look at what is important to me, as sometimes my priorities become a tad askewed.

I really love my sis n law, she is wonderful and it pains me to think of her life being in such a precarious position.

She is doing significantly better, surprising since her organ is so damaged.  She is so scared and we are scared for her.  By the way, I really appreciated every single kind comment from you, including CWMartin for putting a prayer on his blog.  Thank you.

The only way I know how to help my sis in law is to stand beside her  instead of stand behind her which means that I am going to change my life as she changes her.  She has to be in optimum health if they go ahead with a transplant, so I am going to do it with her so she is not alone.  In fact, I started on Monday with my cleanse and let me tell you something, I lost 6 pounds of crap in two days.  I didn’t realize I was so full of crap, okay I did know I was full of crap (unfortunately, in more ways than one).

Although I have always known this about myself, I am not sure you do, but if you haven't figured it out yet, I am an all or nothing type of girl who has never been able to strike a balance.  I give my all to something until it absolutely exhausts and drains me and then I walk away from it. However, I am hoping to change that personality flaw.

Which brings me to blogging, I have to say that I put this crazy undo amount of pressure on myself to constantly blog 4 or more times a week.  Crazy huh?  Scared that you might leave me if I didn’t.  I felt this need to assist everyone in finding new followers, which was really exhausting me.  And worried that if I didn’t help you, that again you'd leave me.  I don’t even know why I worry about such trivial things except that perhaps I am a far too sensitive for my own good, am a people pleaser and suffer a terrible personality trait when it comes to dealing with rejection.  Yes I know, who cares if people come or go off the blog, apparently I do, because I constantly get my knickers in knott over it. On top of that I follow like 150 plus blogs and I was killing myself to get to each blog to read their updates and leave comments, not too mention the fact that in my real life, I work full time, write a column for a newspaper, suffer from chronic pain and share my life with my better half and a sweet but demanding pooch. These past five days made me realize that you would all go on if I didn’t read you daily and you probably care less if I comment or not and I had to wonder why I was putting this inordinate amount of pressure on me.

So this is what it has come down to, it's time for a change for me.
I am not going to blog a zillion times a week and I hoping that you will happily kick my ass if I start to do it again because I have realized that there are just so many hours in the day, and if you let it, blogging can sneak up on you and take over your life.

I am going to set some ground rules for myself on my blog and get back to basics  with it and what I am about and what it is I want to write at that moment. You are either going to like or not, and I have no control over that and that's okay.

I am going to get back to basics in my life with just simple pleasures, like less tv and computer, more reading and walking and smelling the roses.

And I am going to focus on mine and my sis in law’s health.

In other words I am going to live up to to my words earlier this year of going from average to memorable.

But mostly, I am just going to find Tracy. She is actually pretty awesome when she isn't in a tizzy and being all obsessive compulsive. 

Until Next Time.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


I have no Passion anymore!  There I said it and I can’t take it back.  Yup, I have become a passionless dried up, in serious need of a good exfoliation, prune.  Is this something that happens when you hit your 40's?  It’s a question I have often asked of myself in the last two years.

Sometimes, I wander around my house searching for my Passion.  I look in the kitchen cupboards (nope not there), under the rugs (nope), in the hallway closet (nothing), upstairs (not there either)  and then I go outside and I say “here Passion Passion Passion... here girl, where are you girl?”  Sadly, she never comes.  I did notice in my 30's that she would sometimes wander away for short periods of time, but eventually, she always came back. And now well... she seems to be gone and I can’t find her.

There are days that I actually think about putting up posters on the telephone poles or taking out a newspaper ad that says: “Looking for my Passion, she’s pretty witty, incredibly feisty, drawn to the colour blue, loves to dance in the rain, let’s her hair go loose in the wind, can’t get her to stop talking about art... If you have seen her, please send her home.  Signed Shell of my Former Self!”

And, before you say it, no I have not hit menopause, but I am seriously wondering if I am starting to hit the dreaded mid life crisis.  It’s not that I want a younger man, why would I?  Have you seen my better half?  Good looking arab man with his dark, brooding eyes and his squeezable, yummy butt.  It’s not that I want a fast car, I have new red jeep and although its not a little convertible, it is kind of smoking hot looking and practical to boot.

So what is it?  And why did Passion leave me?  Adventure I think..  I have lost the art of going on a good adventure.  I tended to blame Passion for leaving me on many things: the amount of pain I live with, the fact that my better half loves being a homebody, the town I live in, the job that I do, but the fact remains, that Passion has left me because of me.  I never kept her fueled up enough.  I stopped taking her for nights out on the town.  I replaced spontaneity with complacency.  I forgot to learn new things that would have really got her mojo revved up.  Ultimately, I took her for granted and she got tired of it, and she left me.

I feel sad without her and at a bit of loss.  She was the very best part of me and now everything feels mundane.  She made me want to get up and go each morning instead of throwing the covers back over my head.  She made me fight back when I knew things were wrong, instead of standing there nodding my ahead in order to avoid confrontation. She made everything feel like it was in technocolour.  She forced me to do crazy, stupid things that gave me such an exhilaration that it would leave me on a high for days.  She could take any old grey sky and turn it blue.  Oh how I love her.

What I wouldn’t do to get my Passion back, and secretly, I am afraid that she is gone for good. I am holding out hope though that she will realize that there is still a flame that burns in me and that together we were and could be a good team again.

In the meantime, if you happen to see my Passion, I would really appreciate it if you could kindly tell her that her best friend is really very sorry and that she will never take her for granted again.  And then dive on that little bugger will ya and ship her collect to me via Fed/Ex!

Until Next Time.