Remixing it up

The kid is letting me have the computer so I figured I’d use the time wisely (cha!) and post something, just a little catch-up on things, life, whatnot…

For those not in the know of knowing, I joined the Wardrobe Remix group on Flickr and began snapping a photo of myself every morning before leaving for work.

I felt myself fall into a rut of not dressing all that well when R left (I have to think of a better word, that makes it seem like he dumped my ass or something. Well, he sorta did. For that woman named Navy).

It’s not that I was smokin’ up the place with my ensembles before, but I was really starting to let myself go the month following his departure. Not unlike how I was letting myself go when I was desperately unhappy at a job a few years back.

Well, that was more the job I hated and not that I was sad with R away (even though he lived in NY at the time) but I started to feel myself waking every day and carrying myself in a similar (non) fashion. Generally not caring about my appearance or attempting to look my best.

Back then, I would look down at myself during the work day while sighing inwardly, “Girlfriend, get it together. Did you even shower today?” Some days, admittedly, I did not.

That is another nice thing about getting older. You see yourself going down paths that you had taken before, and you can attempt to head them off before things get ugly. Really ugly.

To be honest, I do feel a bit narcissistic posting so many photos of myself. Not to mention, I’m not in the best shape I’ve ever been in considering back pain = no gym in a while, but caring more about me and holding myself accountable has helped tremendously.

I DO try to mix up the photostream so it’s not all me, me, me all the damn time but I do greatly appreciate those that not only put up with those photos, but leave comments that have your girl feeling rather good about herself.

Did I just, sorta, kinda talk of myself in the 3rd person? Let’s disregard that, shall we?

With this new ME, ALL THE TIME project, I have gotten to the point where I’ll snap a photo and realize what I’m wearing doesn’t look all that scrumptious, and I’ll change into something else. Hey, R said to keep busy. I do nothing if not listen to that man.

The byproduct of this has been getting hit on a bit more. Imagine that, you dress better and feel good about yourself, might even a crack a smile a time or two throughout the day … and men start thinking you want ‘em and shit.

Well, I don’t know if the particular person I’m about to dish on thinks I want him, at least, he better not because I shut that fool down every chance I get.

Don’t you love when you’re pretty certain a guy likes you and you have absolutely no interest? It’s the best drug ever. Put down that crack pipe, and put down that man!

Not that I put him down needlessly and wantonly, necessarily, but he does things like stopping by my cube and saying:

“I’m leaving for the day.”

He started doing this a couple of weeks ago and the first time it happened, I sat there for a moment, perplexed. We don’t work directly together, I wouldn’t even notice he was gone so why the progress report?

I dragged my eyes slowly from my computer screen since I was probably busy emailing Inga, Jo, Mia or I might even have been doing some work.

I turned my head to look in his direction like it was the last thing I wanted to do, gave him the most withering gaze and said, “Are we dating? And I didn’t know about it?”

To Marco’s (that’s his real name. I could think of a fake one but what beats Marco, really?) credit, he threw his head back and laughed. My smart ass mouth, I’m sure, is part of the reason he likes me.

I wasn’t absolutely certain Marco had a crush on me, other than doing things like the checking in all.the.damn.time but today, today I was officially informed.

My hugely pregnant co-worker (not to be confused with the co-worker who just had her baby, or the co-worker who just found out she was pregnant) was sitting in my cube when Marco stopped in for one of his rounds of: Where in the office and/or field is Marco De La Rosa? (I made that last part up, sue me.)

As soon as he left Allie (not her name, but close enough) stage-whispered “he” while silently making a heart figure on her chest and beating it a few times. She then finished off this display with a flourish by pointing both fingers straight at me.

I know I’m not describing it nearly well enough but trust me when I tell you, it was highly amusing.

I figured that Allie may have come to the conclusion on her own as, hello, she’s pregnant… she knows the lay of the land and all of the tricks of the trade that lay upon it. I laughed and asked, “How did you know?”

“He told me”, came her reply.

That? Surprised me. I didn’t know the crush level was high enough to warrant repeating it to another person, a girl, a co-worker that everyone knows I talk to all the time (that girl is my dog, my homie, the reason I stay somewhat sane within those 3 walls - it’s a cube, remember? What I’ll do when she’s on maternity leave is anyone’s guess).

I’m flattered by it all but not interested in the least. I have a man that makes my own heart pound (sometimes in anger, sometimes in a fit of piqué, but always with a lot of love). But, it sure is nice that my newfound joy of not dressing like a slob is being appreciated.

*I’m fully aware that I was pissed at R for a almost a week over his own opposite sex co-worker type situation but if you know nothing else, know I’m the Queen of Double Standards. And sales.

Red Doors & Oranges

This weekend, I was at Walgreens buying a whole bunch of crap I don’t need when I passed by some products that were on sale.

Sale! Try 50% off! Anyone that knows anything about me, knows that a sale like that will stop me in my tracks.

I did scope out whether everything in the line was on clearance but they didn’t seem to be. Half off of a whole line of beauty products does not instill great confidence in the items sold. Either I’m going to try it and see exactly why they were trying to pawn it onto unsuspecting customers, or I’m going to love it and never be able to find it again.

I picked up this moisturizer and was reading the label when I almost immediately got hooked: “helps protect and repair aging, sun-damaged skin”.

I guess this is where I can pretend that my skin is flawless, perfect in every way and I’m afraid to go rollerblading for fear of falling and cracking my porcelain façade.

Lies.

I live in Arizona and I have very fair skin. And even though I’m not much of a tanner (except for the one unfortunate summer after I turned 30 - oh boy - let’s not speak of it again) I think by virtue of living here (and, oh, being 36), I have noticed some changes to my face and some of those changes are sun damage.

SUCKS. The hardest part about getting older, at least for me, is watching my skin change. Wrinkles - bah. Who cares?

The overall appearance of my skin, though, just doesn’t look as fresh. It makes me want to search for that Fountain of Youth that I used to scoff at when older women would yammer on about when I was young and fresh.

I never noticed those few spots on my face until I went for my spa day on my birthday last year. I think I was taking a blog break aka R was here, we were busy getting busy so I never got around to posting about my experience at Red Door.

I’m not linking them, because I’m about to talk shit about them and who links things they talk shit about? I’m much too polite for that.

R was really sweet to get the spa day for me. Last year, I asked him for a) a Coach bag b) a puppy (thank GOD he didn’t get me one) or c) a spa day. I SAID OR, PEOPLE. I’m not a demanding bitch. Most of the time.

He went into Red Door himself, he picked out the package on his own and need I remind you? R’s a pretty macho I AM SAILOR dude. The thought of him standing in that girly place surrounded by chicks trying to sell him shit sent me into fits of giggles.

The spa day, over all, was fun. It was sort of relaxing. The facialist (word?) was probably the nicest one… but she tried to sell me each and everything she put on me my face by sort of, kind of, putting me down.

Like when you’re in the nail salon and all you want is a pedicure and they try to up-sell you on a manicure by telling you how shitty your nails look.

But that’s a nail salon, and this is a swanky not-cheap spa.

Every time I was handed off to a new technician, they felt the need to remind me, “Oh you have one the basic packages…” I shit you not, I heard this at least half a dozen times that day. It made me more and more mad as the day went on, to the point I wanted to grab the manicurist by her smug face and tell her to piss off. Oooh! Relaxing.

How rude to keep reminding someone of that. If you know I have the basic package, then you may also know that it was a GIFT and a not-cheap gift (snooped for the receipt. I’m sorry, happened to see the receipt) at that, by a man that doesn’t normally go around buying this type of shit for women (bless him).

By the time my pedicure was completed and I was supposed to have my makeup done, I just sort of fled out of there and never went back.

However, every day I’ve looked in the mirror since then, I’ve noticed these damn sun spots. Thank you, FACIALIST.

All that to say, I have noticed a change in my skin since using this moisturizer, and it’s only been a few days. Seeing my face look fresher, plumper (in a good way) and seeing those sun spots fade makes me want to leap for joy. Buy it by the vat-load. Hurl jars of it through the plate glass window of Red Door and tell those bitches to step off.

If you see it, pick it up. If you don’t like the smell of oranges, don’t buy it. It smells like you rubbed orange rind on your face. I don’t mind it, though, it makes me feel rather fancy and not unlike a fruit salad… and hey, I’ve smelled worse.

If it doesn’t work for you, don’t come crying to me. Take it back to Walgreens where it belongs, there’ll be more for me!