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Blah Blah Blah, The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

Things That Make You Realize You Are Too Old To Be Considered “Cool” Anymore

June 20, 2017


You might have been wondering where I have been…

To put it bluntly I have been away aging in a hole.

During this lovely period I was enlightened to the fact that I am actually, legitimately too old to be considered “cool” anymore.

Here within are some of the reasons why.

Things That Make You Realize You Are Too Old To Be Considered Cool Anymore

  •  When you can’t wear those hipster-high-waisted used Levi’s everyone looks so sexy in because they wouldn’t look good on you… They’d look like Mom jeans with the addition of camel toe.
  • When you are wearing a ripped sweat shirt and a twenty-year old deadpan asks you if it’s Yeezy and it is 100% your brother’s old hand-me-down shirt.
  • When you honestly (hand on heart) as an educated woman can, literally, not figure out Snapchat. (I have tried for the record three different times on different days and just don’t get it.) (This may or may not have also included watching a YouTube tutorial and STILL not understanding.)
  • When all the hipster kids you see on Instagram are waiting for Kendrick Lamar at Coachella and you are Googling the New Order performance.
  • I still have never tried matcha.
  • I still don’t know how to pronounce acai.
  • I have never done a cleanse.
  • I eat toast on the regular.
  • Circling back, I don’t know one Kendrick Lamar or Frank Ocean song.
  • When my heart shattered into a thousand pieces because my DVD player on my antiquated computer broke and I can no longer make mix cds.
  • When I’m genuinely contemplating going to the Counting Crows/Rob Thomas concert-and am quite giddy about it.
  • I’ve never done Molly.
  • Oh yeah, speaking of, I’ve never been to Coachella.
  • One of the reasons I’ve never been there, is that I generally think it would tire me too much. I really like to sit and enjoy air-conditioning.
  • I still use my library card-almost daily.
  • Not to be redundant but I’ve never been to Burning Man (obviously).
  • On my Google history is a lengthy list of acronyms friends use on the regular that I don’t have a clue what they mean. For example, but not limited too:-IRL, GOAT, SMH, HAGN, IDK, DGMW, YMMD.
  • I still don’t know what woke means.
  • I still handwrite letters.
  • I do not have a tattoo.
  • I do not watch The Bachelor.
  • I don’t have eyelash extensions.
  • The thought of microblading my eyebrows terrifies me.
  • I don’t vape.
  • I’m petrified of the sun and will only go to the beach with an umbrella looking like a bee keeper.
  • I’ve never done Whole30.
  • I only have two Apps on my phone, one of which is still Shazam.
  • I shop for bras that are comfortable, not sexy.
  • Going to bed before midnight excites me.
  • Canceled plans also make me pretty happy.
  • I consider my old college t-shirts and tube socks suitable workout wear; not these mesh leggings and sports bras with five straps across your tits.
  • I don’t go to Equinox/Soul Cycle/Juvenda Yoga.
  • I like a white wine spritzer.
  • I still order the bread basket.
  • Happy Hour is my favorite time of day and the most appropriate time to drink before I get too sleepy.
  • I would gladly cancel any party plans to binge watch House of Cards and feel no remorse, only joy at watching Claire Underwood.
  • I’d like to be Claire Underwood.
  • Not leaving the house on a Saturday is considered winning.
  • Also, not getting dressed is a good day.
  • I still live for Sex and the City reruns.
  • Jake Ryan is still considered my “dream man.”
  • Farm stands get me high.
  • I miss the days when I used to buy my bikinis online at Victoria’s Secret. Not like now having to purchase in person to see which has the most ass coverage.
  • It might be time to start wearing one pieces. But, all the one pieces are too high-cut and show too much ass.
  • There really isn’t an appropriate type of swimwear for my body type evidently.
  • Who is A$AP Rocky and why does he spell his name like that and how do you pronounce it?
  • I can’t wear crop tops.
  • My last name isn’t Hadid


Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

How To Avoid Failed New Year’s Resolutions

January 17, 2017

I always feel a slight pressure with the new year. Like most 2016 had me walking around in a somnambulant state. The feeling of “bad luck” “things not working” tethered to me, weighing me down. Yet, I’ve rolled into 2017 not feeling particularly lighter. The miasma of last year still lingers around me I fear.

I’ve tried to kick off 2017 with a gusto. Did I mention I signed up for a twenty-one day yoga challenge? Today was indeed day nine! Unfortunately, I have yet to do day one due to a hectic schedule….but, the intention was there, right?

I’m just not sure how you kick past problems. Rid yourself of all that was lacking last year? Are there people who quite literally woke up January 1 and things just clicked? The clouds parted and there they were basking in the light and glory of all things fabulous 2017? Who are these people?

I didn’t do the typical setting up for failure by making new year’s resolutions. They always lead to disappointment after week three I feel. Yet, I did somewhat promise myself that I would have a better year.

But, here I sit and things oddly look and feel quite a lot like 2016. So what are you/we to do?

I read a great article the other day which said every new day is a chance to restart, to go from the beginning as if it’s a new year/new quarter/new whatever. I think this is a much better tactic then thinking all will change due to a new calendar year. Rather, if we make slight changes each day in a slow crawl to our ultimate goal, that seems more realistic and a better chance of a positive outcome to me.

So today, maybe I’ll try day nine, even though I haven’t done the first week and not beat myself up about it. Or maybe I’ll read a little longer tonight, eat a little healthier, write a little more. Any of the things I wanted to try do more of this year. Certainly, it will be a slow start and things won’t change overnight, but we have to start somewhere, right?

Just take it bird by bird….(read the book if you haven’t)!


Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

2017-What Are You Doing?

January 9, 2017

So…it’s been a while. The holidays/end of year had me in silence. Yet, it is always a good thing to leave something you love, only to circle back in appreciation.

December was a dichotomously dreary month for moi. Some days I would say “that’s it, I am over everything and shall leave it all behind.” Mind you I had no real plan of what this meant, where I would go, or what I would be doing. But, the feeling behind the sentiment was an itchiness of things not working in life and the cowardly way one just simply wants to escape. On the other hand, I had some of the best conversations with friends old and new. Not garrulous exchanges, yet honest and raw, both fun and somewhat heavy. It made me never want to leave the nest and safety of my day-to-day life and the support group I have made that keeps growing.

So there I found myself torn between me, myself and I. Frankly, I still am. I have reached a point where I’ve told the universe that whatever you send my way shall be my path.

So what has it transmitted to me? As of right now crickets and chirpy birds. Danada, nothing. I am still waiting, hoping and that will be me for 2017 I think. Sanguine expectations and a patient student of life.

What are you waiting for in the New Year?

I’ll let you know how it goes for me:) (obviously.)

Patiently yours….


Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

Holiday Survival Guide

December 2, 2016


The holidays are a mixed bag. Some people seem to be blissfully happy, relishing in making ginger bread houses and purchasing their presents and gift wrapping in October. Then I have a handful of friends who completely lose their sh*t during the holidays. Their singledom turns them into weepy willows and they misplace their minds and sanity. I’m not sure if it’s the mistletoe, the punch bowl with no one to fill their cups. Whatever the occasion, they all seem to need constant supervision and be handled with kid fleeced-lined gloves.

I fall somewhere in the middle. I have a penchant for Christmas music, anything sung by Bublé or even Bing-King-of-White-Christmas-Crosby. Currently, I’m listening to choral music (Kings Choir Cambridge is my jam and I can’t get enough.)

I love the decorations and excuse to drink warm wine and sugary drinks. Yet, New Year’s Eve gives me serious acute anxiety.

“What will you be doing for New Years?” in Manhattan is a loaded question. Almost everyone answers with something fabulous.

“Going to St Barts, White Party Miami, just a quick ski trip in Gstaad,” everybody seems to answer.


Normally, I passively respond with a quick, “not sure yet,” knowing full well I’ll be at my parents’ house going to bed around 11 pm and praying to the gods that next year will be better then this one.

Wherever you fall in the holiday pendulum I’ve created a survival guide to help you get through the season. Here it is.

Holiday Survival Guide:

  1. Find yourself a punch bowl and fill it.  That’s correct, I’m encouraging you to go to T.J. Maxx and get a bowl like your crazy old aunt Sue would have. Big enough to fit a puppy in with a huge ladle and little glasses. Fill that bad boy up with a Martha recipe, or any recipe really. Even if it has 7Up or ginger ale, so long as there’s booze and a maraschino cherry that’ll do.
  2. Watch any movie with Hugh Grant. I know the obvious choice here would be Love Actually, but Four Weddings and A Funeral is cinematic greatness.
  3. Listen to Mariah Carey’s version of, “All I Want For Christmas,” each morning. There is no way any human could be in a bad mood.  This song is like Prozac for the ears.
  4. Bake. I get that a lot of my remedies revolve around food and drink, but you tell me if you are still in a bad mood with the smell of warm cinnamon wafting through your house.
  5. Go to a skating rink and watch people whiz by you. There is something antiquated and pure that skating brings to your subconscious mind.  It’s simple winter fun and will warm any stone-cold heart.
  6. Little Women. Find it. Watch it. Any version.
  7. Give gifts. I don’t care if it’s as small as bringing a damn candy cane to your best friend’s house. Giving is truly better then receiving and there is something joyous in watching any adult turn into their six-year old versions of themselves while they unwrap something.
  8. Purchase anything made out of spruce or evergreen. If you can’t do a tree buy a bow or a wreath. The smell of nature, forest and pine will trigger some sort of happy memory for your Scrooge self; I guarantee it.
  9. Wear sparkle. You know you’ve wanted to all year, now here is your excuse to dress as if your kindergarten self styled you. If you have rhinestones or satin on, nothing can stop you from being your best self.
  10. Buy yourself some bubbly. (Again, seems like I’m just trying to get you drunk but, you tell me the last time you were grumpy with a champers buzz.) December begs for something with fizz-albeit prosecco, cava, or of course champagne. Pop it. Celebrate it. Anything really.
  11. Flannel. Flannel everything-sheets, pjs, robe, blanket. I don’t care what it is just get it on and around your body.
  12. Gratitude. Find yourself some gratitude. Look at the people around you and be thankful. Even if you are turning into an old spinster with no one to join you under the mistletoe, at least you have good friends to whine about it with over no doubt; mulled wine.


Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

What Will Your Legacy Be?

October 9, 2016


What’s your legacy going to be?

The word “legacy” seems to be trending right now on my self-help sites and blogs.

It is the “mindful” of the moment, the “kale” of yoga/health-conscious trends. Yet, in my head, I always thought that legacy had more to do with when you were “older”, when you had “kids” etc.

Yet, yesterday I read that legacy starts NOW with a ripple effect. For some reason this really shook me and gave my heart a light tremor.

It’s no secret that my theme this month and for the past while has really been feeling like I’m just not where I want to be, or more precisely, THOUGHT I would be in life. So the word legacy makes me a little predisposed to feel slightly-inwardly panicked. I’ve sat on this for a few days now, but I really keep circling back to the thought that your legacy starts NOW.

My next brain wave was that legacy doesn’t need to be defined in the archaic Americana way many of us think of it. For instance, my first understanding of the mental image of the word, is doing so well financially in life, that you buy a Hall at your old Alma Mater and have it named after you; now that’s a proper legacy!

But, the more I meditated on the concept, the more I thought that your legacy CAN start today with small acts.

Just the other morning my Mom and I were crossing the street right when a blind man was coming from the other direction. Next to him coming from behind was a taller gentleman in sweat pants. I noticed that he was walking up to this blind man and I turned to look as they passed. I could see that he had taken the blind man by his arm, locking arms the way you would an old friend or confidant. Leading him across the cross walk while holding him and telling jokes the whole time. If anyone had looked they would have thought the two were old friends. Yet really, a total stranger with such a pure act of goodness. They got to the other side and parted with a wave and a smile. My Mom and I stood there in awe, both near tears with our croissant crumbs nearly falling out of our agape mouths.

It made me think, this is the type of legacy I’d like to start within my own ripple effect. We are all capable of small acts of kindness on a daily basis. Your legacy doesn’t have to be millions of dollars and the “perfect life.” It can be changing a “perfect stranger’s” day.

“Be the wind that makes the waves.”

One of my favorite quotes shared by one of my oldest and dearest friends years ago.

If one small breath or smile of kindness could shift someone’s day/destiny and if that is all the legacy I have for right now, then I am ok with that; more than ok.

*the ice artwork can be seen here:

Blah Blah Blah, The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

How Do You Make Luck?

October 3, 2016


For many years I had the notion or mental image that I would have a piece of good fortune that would steer the course to my future. It would be a catalyst of sorts that would push me in the directions I needed to go. I couldn’t exactly tell you what it was specifically, but in my mind I would meet someone or something would happen and then I would be on my “path.” Yet, the older I get the more abundantly clear it is that that might just not very well happen.

Now, if your first thought is, “you have to make your own luck,” let me just stop you there. I agree to some extent yet, I also strongly feel like the universe needs to give you or send you some luck.

My sister has a friend whose luck is truly ridiculous. She seems to be laced in horseshoes and talismans. I am not sure what it is about her, but she will say she wants something and somehow the universe sends it to her. Like one of those stork cartoons it just comes swooping down and drops it in her lap. She seemingly flows from one serendipitous moment to the next, blessing after good luck blessing falling towards her. While I sit here unable to procure the flukeish luck of a parking spot.

So what is it? What makes some people lucky and others not? And most importantly how do you make luck? It is something I’ve been wondering about, pondering for the last couple weeks.

Will my luck come in my next life? And who really cares about that? Are you reading this thinking, but you are indeed lucky? That angle doesn’t really work for me either. So how do I make luck? How do I conjure kismet?

I try to be a good person. That always seems like a nice place to start. Yet, it feels like luck is something you are either born with or not. You are either born with blue eyes or not; same goes for luck. So if you don’t have it or aren’t born with it, how do you get it?

I spoke with my friend last week who was visiting from out of town and she told me that she really has to work hard at things, that “things don’t just come easily to her.” I understood this, not sure if I would go as far as to deem her “unlucky” but, would certainly say she wasn’t blessed with the luck gene. Another friend of mine told me that the two of us “would just always have things harder than other people, that things would always be tougher and more of a struggle for us.” Again, my thought is f*ck so I am indeed just unlucky.

So what am I supposed to do with this? Continue my day knowing it will always be uphill for me and never an easy road? Assume things aren’t going to fall in my lap and that lucky moment I’ve been waiting for will just never happen? Or do I have to go out and try to make my own luck? And if that’s the case does someone have an instruction manual on how to do so?

It is really something I contemplate and genuinely wonder. Just how, just how am I supposed to make my own luck? More to come…


Blah Blah Blah, The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

Life Is Messy No Matter How Much OCD You Have

September 12, 2016
Father Time waits for no one.

Father Time waits for no one.

It’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog. I’ve been dealing with the “realness” of fall and trying to clean up my life, my act and just generally get in gear and get it together. But, here’s the thing and my realization is–life is messy, no matter how much OCD you have.

Fall is always a time for rebirth, getting back into the “school of life.” Lord that sounds dorky, yet isn’t it true? I still run on a collegiate clock and fall means reflection and waking up to an alarm clock that buzzes, “what in of the f*ck are you doing with your life?”

I have long since past my “scary age.” Doesn’t everyone have “that scary age” when you were in your twenties, you heard it ring out, said aloud and uttered by those in their thirties or forties and thought, “God that’s old, by the time I’m that age I’ll have my sh*t together and be a Forbes cover of the perfect successful adult.”

Um, yeah my scary age was quite literally two years ago.

I’ve gotten to the point where there is a little heart flip in me that wonders when I look at calendars or truly think about my position in life, if I’ll ever get to the place of the person I wanted to be, the person I had always envisioned?

Now my friends and I discuss not having kids, and being great aunties. Not that I ever necessarily wanted babies, but the way Father Time is dealing my cards, will that even be an option for me?

But, here is the thing I DO want to take away from all of this and utilize on this blog, these things. Yes, I’m obviously going to always give my restaurant, movie, food, music recommendations-but, I also REALLY want to converse about the underbelly of life. I’ve found if you enter a dialogue with people about these things everyone is feeling this way on some level or another. We all have fears, doubts and worries that make us human and really make us all alike. Everyone’s life is messy and I’m over worrying about tidying it up and all about embracing the grime that plagues us all. From now on you can find this section under the “thoughts” and the “stuff no one wants to talk about.” More to come….



Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

Be Inspired By The Olympics

August 8, 2016

I am definitely not in the best shape. Ok, I’m in pretty terrible shape. I have three rolls on my belly currently. A dimpled butt that is slowly working its way to my upper thigh region. Everyone I know is “eating clean,” going “gluten-free,” and “giving up dairy.” Meanwhile, I’m just here on my couch eating chips from the bag and watching the Olympics.
Yet, I have found some of the stories of this year’s Summer Olympic Games to be inspiring in the most surprising of ways. Sure I could ogle Michael Phelps’s torso for the better half of my adult life. But, it’s not just the physicality of the Olympics that’s getting to me, it’s the spirit in some of the players that’s really striking a chord.
I’ll begin with 41-year old gymnast, Oksana Chusovitna, who is competing in her seventh Olympic games. Now, let me stop you right there. Take a minute, process. 41-7th OLYMPICS!!!!!
Don’t we as women feel like we are dealing with our age on the daily? In regards to my aforementioned falling bottom, there is a voice in my head that says, well that’s because you are getting older. But, here is a woman, Oksana, who is looking age in the face in a sport mainly dominated by pre-pubescent looking tiny nymphs, who says, age is just a number. When I watched her on that vault, the sheer joy she so obviously displayed made me think to myself-stop letting age and circumstance define you.
The other day I felt too embarrassed to walk the beach. Too pale on a beach which was too busy to bring myself to walk my dog. How pathetic is that? But, now when I think of Oksana, I say screw it, I’m going to do what I love, what brings me joy; no matter what.
The other athletes who really moved me were the women’s beach volleyball players from Egypt. When we think of beach volleyball, we undoubtedly think of scantily clad women literally sweating their butts off in the tiniest bikinis ever. Yet, Nada Meawad and Doaa Elghobashy stuck to their beliefs and donned a head hijab and fully clothed uniforms to play against the bikini-clad German team. However, for me, this wasn’t so much about East vs. West or clothed vs. bikini, so much as it was about sticking to what you believe in and culture, but still doing what you love. I thought it took courage and pride to play a sport in a uniform different from everyone else’s. Yet, there they were breaking the mold, breaking the stigma, playing a sport they excelled in which inevitably brought them joy and pride.
And of course lastly, I have found the story of refugee swimmer, Yusra Mardini, beyond uplifting. Over a year ago, Yusra was on a boat filled with refugees trying to escape Syria and land in Turkey. The dinghy’s motor quit and Yusra along with her sister and another woman (the only three that could swim) jumped into the water and pulled the boat to safety. A year later here she is swimming at the Olympics. She did not medal, did not even make it past the qualifying round, but she won my heart and I’m sure the hearts of many. What fortitude and brawn must it have taken to go from near-drowning to swimming in the pool at the Olympics. I can not begin to even imagine. To me, it wasn’t about her “winning” or “medaling” yet the true championing here was the resilience of spirit to overcome and persevere.
All three of these women inspire me in different ways. Their strength, not in their athletic abilities, but in their bold individual characters. They motivate me to not let my circumstances, age, or even mindset get in the way of my dreams or my happiness. I’m sure there are many more stories like these in the Olympics. But, I implore you to watch and find one that resonates with you. Not just for the athletic side, but for the emotional and strength of spirit side as well. If these women can have the courage to bring themselves to compete in the Olympics, what can we bring ourselves to do to fulfill our dreams in our day to day? Let’s break our own molds, our own preconceived notions of age, gender or any thoughts we have holding us back and chase our dreams of gold medals in the games of life.



The Truth No One Wants To Tell You, Thoughts

The Truth About Working Out That No One Tells You

July 23, 2016

My Instagram feed is filled with toned abs and buttocks I can’t remember having the likes of since I was a pre-teen. I oggle these bronzed and lithe bodies, sometimes being such a creeper I’ll take a screen shot so I can really zoom in. I am fascinated, in awe, and jealous-all at once.
The limber girls who do yoga in their bikinis?!?! Hopping into some contortionist pose while their triangle top stays perfectly intact. They make it all look so easy, so effortless. Here’s what they aren’t showing pictures of or telling you about though; working out is hard. Or, more precisely, getting back in shape is HARD. The beginning roads of wellness are paved with hurdles of unwanted rolls, and jiggle-lump-bumps that make you feel like crap.
A life-long athlete myself, I had let it all go. Lazy days where walking my eight-pound pup sufficed as exercise was a regular routine. Until one day when I couldn’t take looking at the tone-taunters of social media, and thought, that’s it, it’s time for you to start working out.
I’m still in the process of this journey, no where near “being in shape.” And let me tell you, IT IS TOUGH.
I’ve started doing yoga. By this I mean attempting- in the privacy of my own home- doing a couple of videos here and there.
And what do I do when I’m in downward dog? I stare at my ponch tummy that’s what. A nice little Buddha belly that likes to make eye contact with me mocking me while I try to hold my body up. It ridicules me with its soft dimples saying “take a look at where all those croissants have made their home.” Yet, I keep going, even though it’s difficult.
Half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.
Are there humans who can put both their feet down on the ground in downward dog? Are you supposed to have your feet flat? I wouldn’t even know, I’m just proud of myself for even trying. It’s a process, it’s laborious, and nobody tells you this. They just all post their “after- a- year- of working- out bodies,” but never their “during,” or “beginning shots.”
“It’s all about the journey not the destination.” Um, I’m not so sure, I’d like to be at my fit destination and not have to go through the humility of getting there. The wobbly limbs, the roles you feel that you never even knew existed. The harsh reality that you can barely touch your toes…yeah not so much. And though no one ever tells you that working out is hard, they do talk about the endorphins and how great you’ll feel after. That I can get behind, but not too sure about the during. Talk about a humbling dose of reality when you are red-faced and winded five minutes into a “relaxing yoga video.” The stretch where you discovered a roll that seems to wrap itself around you like a snake, from under your boob, all the way to your back!?!? Yeah, that was a particularly awesome day. But, you keep at it. The second you start to feel a tiny bit stronger than the day before. Or maybe .05 ounces skinnier, or just the general well-being after a good sweat sesh. It’s worth it for sure, not just for the physicality, but for the mental health too. Deeper sleeps, happier days, mental clarity-they are all added bonuses to the exercise plan. Yet, it’s not easy. It’s tough, it’s humbling, sometimes or most in my case, it’s kind of humiliating. But, we all have to start somewhere. I just wish more of social media were that somewhere. That somewhere where you have to begin, not the perfect end road destination, but the tedious-often times hard to motivate road it takes to get there. That’s what I’d like to hear more about, see more about. I guess we just have to remind ourselves that all those greased up tight bodies staring back at us from our iPhone had to start somewhere. And if you can’t picture it, or remind yourself that they too had a beginning, you can read about it here. I’m going to start a section called the truth of things, and one will be “working out.” Let’s pull back the veil of perfection and start talking about the real way we all got there. “The truth about working out.” More to come….

Blah Blah Blah, Thoughts

Be Your Own Fairy Godmother

June 13, 2016


Birthdays. In my opinion they simply blow. There I said it. They are such friendly reminders of how you aren’t quite where you want to be in life, how your body is widening at a rather rapid pace, and how gravity does indeed take its toll. I know, I know, I’m one of THOSE people. Yet, this birthday I did realize, though I am not quite where I want to be in life, I am slowly crawling to where I want to be as a person.

However, there still seems to be some of my old die-hard habits that need to be broken. Anyone whose read on here before knows I pitifully fall into the category of those who live in the future. That’s right, I’m not one who dwells on the past, but rather, I have the odd ritual of doing a lot of “I’ll do that when the time is right,” “when I have more money,” “when I’m in a better place.”

What is this mythical better place I’m always striving towards? I wonder in my mind.

I realize I’m even a nut about my clothes. What you ask? Let me tell you… I have a bit of OCD, and some of my most prized clothing I keep in wardrobe bags?!?! Like I’m some intern of Rachel Zoe, I tote around my coveted pieces as if I’m about to dress Cameron Diaz. I think I feel the same way about certain items of designer wear the way some women feel about their diamonds or Birkin bags.

The other day I caught myself checking on my clothing. What in of the fuck? Ahhh yes, I unzip the garment bag and literally inspect some of my favorites like a complete and utter psychopath. What am I looking for exactly? I’m not sure. Moth holes? Sometimes I try it on to make sure it still fits. I know I can barely believe I am admitting this. So the other day, I was doing this odd routine with one of my favorites. Now, there is nothing ridiculous about this item, it’s not embroidered with fourteen karat gold or such. Frankly, if you saw it, you’d think it’s an ordinary black blazer. But, to me it’s a pièce de résistance. I picked up said blazer in Italy at the outlets years ago. It’s Balenciaga from the time of Nicolas Ghesquière. It has intricately woven sleeves that I like to run my fingers over, like the Queen’s jewels. Again, don’t ask. As I was going through this motion, it dawned on me that I have owned this rather seemingly ordinary piece of clothing for over four years, and never worn it. It has sat in my closet in its garment bag, like so much of the rest of my life, “waiting for the perfect time.” It is a black blazer people. I’m not sure why this stunned me so much, but to say this was an analogy for my life and my psychological patterns would be a gross understatement. I tucked this away in the back of my head and then, a few days later, had a valiant act of courage, and brought this fashion artifact with me from the safe confines of my parent’s house into the wild streets of New York City.

One night, not a particularly fancy night, but one night, I decided to wear it. After four years, I took it out from its safe haven of the past four years and put it on. I wore it out the doors into the busy-frenetic-dirty streets of Manhattan. What exactly happened? Did I have the BEST night of my life? Did I frolic with Leonardo di Caprio and meet my future ex-husband? Nope. Nothing, nada. Honestly, I don’t even think I got one compliment on the stupid thing. But, herein lies the rub…though this wasn’t a Cinderella moment and this certainly wasn’t a glass slipper slipped on to a night of magic, I broke the psychological chain I lived with for so long. I did this, not in the future, not in the past, but now. With so much fucked up shit going on in the world, on this birthday, I promised myself to live as best as I can in this very second. I’ll nuzzle my pup more than sanely appropriate. I’ll tell the people I love that I love them every free second of everyday, until they are borderline uncomfortable. I’ll wear those stupid clothes and not save them for a day that might never come. It may not make me Cinderella, but at least I won’t be living for a fairy tale that might never happen. Instead, I’ll be living a beautiful ordinary life, everyday, as best I can. That’s my birthday wisdom and wish for you too. Take out whatever you can out of your psychological closet, or do whatever you’ve put off for the perfect moment; today. Be your own fairy godmother and own Cindafuckingrella. There aren’t glass slippers to be had, but there’s magic in the moments if you to look for them.   Bon anniversaire.