Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

I don’t know when people generally start having mid-life crises’, but around a month before I turned 33, I started having this fear of getting wrinkles. It started with a conversation I had with a friend who casually mentioned her skin routines involving facial masks and exfoliating which led me to be filled with this feeling of oh shit. I am 33 years old and I haven’t moisturized daily, ever. Or exfoliated or done facial masks. I am going to wrinkle!

Since that initial freak out, I have found myself perusing the skincare aisles of every store (particularly Target) and stocking up on preventative wrinkle care.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with taking precaution, but it has led me to think about why I find it so important to not age. Aging is inevitable, people are bound to wrinkle and develop puffy circles are their eyes and grey hairs. But why was it so important to me?

That is where it hit me : my self worth.

I am by no means a supermodel, but I’ve been called pretty and take pride staying in shape (or at least trying to) . But I suppose that is all I can see as being worth anything. I know it’s no use to mope around with that sort of mentality, and ultimately I have the power to change my life to make it something I’m proud of; it’s all in a matter of actually doing it.  While its really hard to break free of that when beneath those layers, there is that lack of self-confidence, I’m going to try to make it my resolution this year to snap myself out of that. … on top of fighting wrinkles.

Anyways, until next time.


Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

Entry 33: Putting Effort to look like a Lady

I swore when I became a full-time housewife that I would never let myself go: I would workout, do household chores, do my make-up and curl my hair, so that my husband would come home to a hot and sexy wife.

Now I’ve been a housewife for close to a year, my husband comes home and with one look is like did you even comb your hair? 

No, I did not.

I’ve become the woman I swore I would never become: wearing sweats all day, a loose fitted shirt, and hair tied up in a messy bun. While I do feel like I have gotten in better shape with so much time to workout, I’ve realized that it’s too much effort to “get done up” if you will, when after the gym I have to clean the house and do all these chores. Besides which , the question I always find myself asking when thinking about putting some makeup on is Who’s going to see me?  Am I really putting on make-up just to go to Target? 

The other week I went to jury duty, and as I walked up the steps to the courthouse, I saw a woman, dressed in a pencil skirt, fashionable 3 inch stilletoes, and a Luis Vuitton bag around her shoulder. Her make up was done to perfection, and you could tell she had taken the time to blowdry and straighten her hair out. She reminded me of my younger self (minus the Luis bag because I can’t afford that shit), back when I had a 9 to 5, and suddenly I became self-conscious of what I was wearing, how my hair was in a quick bun, and how minimal my make-up was. Had I forgotten what it was like to be a confident woman?

Since then, I’ve been putting a little more effort in my appearance, actually showering daily, not waiting for my hair to knot up before brushing it, and putting makeup on in an effort to not lose my sense of feminity. I’m not going all out with my apearance, because – like I said before – who’s going to see me when I’m sweeping, but I don’t want to be that person that wears sweats every day out of laziness.

That’s all for now. Until next time…


Entry 33: Putting Effort to look like a Lady

Entry 30 : The Best You Ever Had

This girl that I had been friends with since … I don’t know for how long, married a guy who – back in college, offered me the best oral sex  that I would ever have in my life. We were at a party – which, anyone who knows me, knows that in college I very rarely went to these things or went out at all. My typical weekends consisted of studying and doing homework that wasn’t due for weeks. So the very fact that I was at a party was out of the norm for me.

It was the first time I had ever talked to him. I want to say that I saw him around school, but I can’t be completely sure since my face could always be found buried in textbooks.  What I can say is that at this party he was wasted and I was not,  which perhaps helped to further en grain the moment into long term mermory. Whether he had been serious or had been joking, I don’t know, but perhaps if I had been completely drunk, the offer might have been remotely tempting. Maybe.

I get that everyone does stupid crazy things when they’re younger. Someone might be able to quote a time when I did something stupid. (or not, because I was a goody goody) but now, 10 + years later, this memory is still the first thing that pops into my head when I see him or hear the mention of him. It was the first thing I thought of when my friend said she was dating him, going to marry him, and then going to have kids with him.

That guy is going to be a dad. 

It’s helped that me the girl don’t really hang out anymore so I haven’t had to have those thoughts about her husband running through my head, but whenever I do see them,  I’ve tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He probably doens’t remember since he was so drunk,After all, just because he offered me the best oral sex experience of my life, doesn’t mean he is a bad person. Right?

Entry 30 : The Best You Ever Had

Entry 23 : Awkward Silence

The morning that I was scheduled to leave to go to the airport and fly back to Tucson during my December trip to Seattle, I found my dad sitting next to me in silence, staring off into space while I perused my phone.  It took a bit for me to realize that he was just sitting there, and when I did – I felt really weird.

Let me explain:  Growing up, my dad traditionally said very little, conversations were at a minimum, and when they did occur, it was primarily to tell me what I could and could not do, or tell me to get something from the next room.

Maybe this is que upon realizing that my dad was just sitting there, I didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t like the television was on, there was no radio playing in the background, there was nothing particular on the wall he was facing.   Did he need something? Did he want me to interact or start a conversation with him? and if so, what was I supposed to converse with him about?

ugh, are you okay? I asked as I was trying to figure this whole awkwardness out.

Yea he said in his Filipino accent. I just want to sit. 

Then silence.

Ooo-kay I thought to myself, my eyes reverting back to my phone. I was still aware of my dad just sitting there staring at nothing, and the awkward silence that surrounding us.  I wondered what was going on in his head, and if this… whatever this was… was awkward for him as well.

My thoughts remembered my parents’ visit to the desert a few weeks prior, and how for the first time in my life- I realized the undeniable truth that my dad – with his white hair and wrinkled face, now looking at the white walls – was getting old as shit. It wasn’t the kind of old that was too old to be cool; it was the kind of old in which clear physical indicators  left no doubt that the circle of life was more than 50% complete.

I ended up putting my phone down and sat there in silence with him – taking in the moment of being in the same room in the midst of the awkwardness.

Until the silence broke when his boater Filipino English started asking a series of random questions:

What did you eat last night? (Thai) What time is your flight (11) What happened to your friend who went to Canada (Which one? ) The one who’s dad used to pick you up (I don’t know) Do you miss Lynnwood High (no)  What time is your flight? (We talked about this)

While at some other point in time, I might have been annoyed and either not answered him and/or completely snapped at him, this time – this time, I didn’t mind at all.  This ‘conversation’ basically lasted til it was time for me to leave.

Entry 23 : Awkward Silence