Day 29- My Trans Girls

As many of you know, I travel the world teaching hot babes classes on vintage hair and makeup techniques. From time to time I get messages like this that elate me and break my heart at the same time. I have always been an outspoken supporter of the LGBTQ community. I don't give a shit that it is a trend right now... I don't care what celebrities are transitioning. My heart has always spoken to me on this topic. I love love. I love people living in the bodies they feel right in. I love people expressing their gender identity however it feels right to them. I love people just coexisting and letting each other be.
When I get emails from trans gals telling me they are afraid to attend or asking my permission to see if it is ok, it makes my little heart hurt. I can't imagine what it is like to live in a world that is so hurtful and judgmental that even attending a class that is meant to be super fun and welcoming fills you with anxiety and fear. I had a trans gal attend my class a few years ago and she was just the sweetest gal I ever met. She sent a similar email but actually asked if it was ok for her to attend. I immediately wrote her back and tried my best to make her feel welcome. At the class, she timidly asked questions and when the class was over, she waited behind everyone to get a picture and was the last to ask. She said she wanted a picture but didn't have a friend with her to take it, so I asked the gal standing next to her if she would mind... and of course she didn't and happily took it for us. My trans lady was so grateful and sweet and I was so happy that I could give her a night that was a positive experience where she felt like just another one of the girls and no one stared or judged or had a shitty attitude.
Today I got this email from a non-binary trans person asking about my classes and expressing apprehension at attending. My favorite part was the little height pun. I love when people can still find humor in a potentially scary situation. I think we will get along just fine!
Even as I am typing this, I am getting all of the feels and my eyeballs are welling up. My hope is that someday everyone will be free to live in the body that they fit and no one will care. Until then, I will keep loving all of my ladies of all sizes, shapes, races, gender identities, and whatever other variations there may be. I will hug you all the same.

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Day 28- Give Me All Of The Food

In about a half hour, my group of girlfriends are coming over to watch Sisters and veg out. We are ordering pizzas, drinking wine, and my girl Lauren is bringing a bag full of cookies and brownies she has stolen from her work. Why do stolen treats always taste better?? I dunno, but they do.
I think it is important for girls to have nights where you just forget about the calories and the processed foods and the sugars and just enjoy yourself and be a teenager again. It is important for me, at least. I work hard most days to try to eat right and work out. Call it a "cheat day"... call it being irresponsible... I don't care what you call it... because it is about to go down and I feel 0% remorse. Mostly I just want to hang with my girls and laugh and be ridiculous and not obsesses over everything I am putting in my mouth. My ass will survive.

In other news... my hand looks INSANELY huge in this picture. I swear I don't have Dave-Grohl-In-The-Everlong-Video-Hands. That is all. Thank you, and good night.

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Day 27- Quelling the Overshare Beast

I know I put a lot of personal stuff on the internet. Maybe more than I should. I have friends that are ultra private and won't even put their kids faces on social media. And part of me admires that attitude. But I have always tended to be the opposite. I blame live journal. If I experience something great (or something bad) I want the whole world to share in my wonderment! I just ate a burrito the size of my head! Instagram! I just saw a guy riding a unicycle with one leg in London! Facebook! I just killed a grizzly bear with my bare hands! Twitter!
I think it is such a strange concept to be a "public figure" since the advent of the internet. I mean, I basically owe my entire career to the world wide web, so I can't hate on it too much. But I also feel that the longer I allow my entire life to be public, the more intrusive I feel the internet can be.
The more of your life you give to people, the more of your life people feel entitled to. I made a video about our wedding... and mind you, I also shared a lot of details about my planning beforehand... but I wanted our vows to be private. When I expressed this feeling, I had a good amount of my followers get upset because they somehow felt that I owed that part of my life to them. I was so bewildered! Here I was pouring almost my whole life out to the internet and it wasn't enough! WE WANT MORE!! A good explanation of how it feels is feeling like people literally want to wear your skin. Would that be enough though??
When I first started navigating the world of being a social media influencer, I shared everything. EVERYTHING. At some moments Trevor would grab my hand and say "Can this just be for us?" He was really good at quelling my overshare beast. But just in this list year, I have self quelled a lot. I am starting to like the feeling of being out and not always thinking of how to capture what I am doing for you guys-- and instead just enjoying myself, my family and my friends.
You guys have probably noticed less day in the life videos and also less personal instagram posts. I like not having to remember to always pack my camera when I am going on vacation. I like not having to set up a selfie at just the right moment with the right lighting when I am trying to experience something new or share a moment with Trevor. I feel like it is healthier for me as a human to start to draw these lines. Ironically I am telling you all of this on my super personal blog. Ha! But I have full control here. And I compose these blogs when I have time and energy and I can think about them. And I still get to choose what and how much to share. I like that control.
Next time you get on a site like Perez Hilton (I know, I am guilty too), or you pick up a Star Magazine, or you watch Inside Edition... Remember that these people you are so starved to know every detail about are just that, people. Gwen Stefani's divorce is none of our business. Kristin Bell's kid is none of our business. David Bowie's cancer was none of our business. Remember that even though you WANT this information, you are not ENTITLED to this information.
The same goes for social media influencers. Yes, we share a lot of our lives. And even if you feel that we share all of it, so you should have access to all of it, we don't and you shouldn't. A lot of editing goes into our posts. For so many reasons!
My blog sort of has ADD today. But I guess my point is that I will give you guys as much of me as I possibly can. I will be real and authentic and I will not censor myself. But please don't bleed me dry. I am still just
a person.

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Day 26- Aging Gracefully

So today I had a facial laser treatment done called Clear+Brilliant. This is my second treatment and I am pretty stoked. Basically it helps with fine lines, wrinkles, dark spots, acne scars... and it just generally brightens up your complexion. My favorite thing it has done so far is lighten my freckles!! Yes!
I was offered these treatments by a company in exchange for YouTube videos as a trade. They are expensive and a little painful and I am not sure I would have taken the leap into the world of medical treatments had it not have been for the opportunity sort of landing in my lap. This office also does a bevy of other treatments-- Juvederm, Botox, Velashape... you name it, they have it. And I do definitely feel that once you start getting treatments that make you feel good, you start thinking about other treatments that might make you feel even better!
So where is the line?
Honestly, I don't judge anyone that does anything to themselves. Fillers, tattoos, implants, plastic surgery. Whatever. It's your body honey! Who am I to judge?? I do also believe that some people do these things for the right reasons and some people do these things because of societal pressures and mental disorders. But again... I haven't walked a mile in your shoes.
I myself feel that there is a fine line between light upkeep and going overboard. This is totally a personal feeling about what is right for me. I know I won't ever get plastic surgery. Having heart surgery twice in my early 20's scared me enough and I don't think I could ever do that electively. Fillers and injectables and laser treatments (oh my!) are another world. Obviously I am not against laser treatments. But even those aren't invasive. At most it feels like a sunburn for a day and then you are back to normal. And it doesn't change the shape of your face. It just brightens your skin a little. Fillers and injectables scare me. I see SO many young girls getting lip fillers and botox when they don't need it and honestly I just think it looks kind of weird. The nurse at my office told me she has 16 year old girls going in there for preventive Botox and lip fillers and they jones like addicts when they haven't been in a while. She said one girl was like "I need my syringe!" And once you pass a point, everyone kind of starts to look the same. You see it a lot in LA. All of these mid 40's women that look like the exact same person. My gym is crawling with them.
Are there things I don't like about my face? Of course! Do I wish my lips were fuller? Oh my god yes! But I really love that my face is my own unique face. And I would be horrified if I impaired my face and it turned out badly when I have a perfectly fine face to start with. I do like to use makeup and clothing and accessories to jazz myself up. I like to be able to be a chameleon and change how I look. But I also like to wash it off at the end of the day, look in the mirror, and see me. The same face I have looked at for the last 33 years. If I can stave off some wrinkles with a little face cream or a laser treatment or two, fine. And who knows... maybe in another 10 years I will be a Botox fanatic. But for right now, I will embrace the way I am aging.
And that one little smile line on the left side of my mouth is staying no matter what. I earned that sucker.

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Day 25- The Things We Do When Our Men (and Women) Are Gone

As you guys know, Trevor and I travel a lot throughout the year. Which means that I am home alone a lot. Trevor was gone this weekend so it made me think of all of the things I do in secret when he is gone. I laugh at myself constantly.

First-- I watch ALL of the bad TV. Like, the worst. Marathons of Real Housewives and Bad Girls Club and any other terrible reality show about bitchy women I can find.

I also don't do the dishes. At all. And sometimes I don't even rinse them when I put them in the sink. Which when Trevor is home, makes him mad enough to kill.

I also leave my dirty underwear in a pile on the bathroom floor. Along with assorted tops, shorts, and gym clothes.

I also pile clothes on the foot of the bed. If I am getting dressed and discarding options, they always go in that pile. I also put clothes that I take off but aren't dirty there too. And they just lay on my feet while I sleep. 

Apart from being a total slob, I also have weird habits.

I am afraid of a dark house alone and we have an old house so it creaks. This means that I have a very precise way of turning the lights off when I go to bed. I turn the furthest lights from our room off first. I keep the hall light on until the very last second so that I do not have to withstand any kind of darkness for any length of time.

I also keep the bed made when I am sleeping. Trevor sleeps like a savage and the sheets are always a mess in the morning. But I sleep like a lady and rarely move at night so I just get out of bed and pull my side of the covers up and voila! The bed is made still!

Oddly enough I still sleep on my side of the bed. I don't know why I do this when I have a full bed to spread out in. I think it is 7 years of routine.

I also don't wear pants. A lot. If I go sans pants when Trevor is home, I will get zero work done because he will be fondling me like a 15 year old boy all day. But when he is gone, all of my bits are free to roam and I can still get my business done.

My favorite thing to do when Trevor is gone is NEVER closing the bathroom door. I am a very private bathroom person. So when he is home and I need to do anything in there, the door closes behind me. But when he is gone, oh man... That door is permanently open and holy moses, it is liberating!

I am sure there are all kinds of other weird little things that I do, but these are the ones I can think of now. 

I miss my husband when he leaves, I really, really do. But man, it is fun to have single lady rituals.

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Day 24- Flaky Friends

I like a lot of flaky things. Biscuits, chocolate, snow... But I can't stand flaky friends. I was having dinner with my best friend and his lady tonight and we started talking about flaky friends and how annoying they are.
There are many types of flaky friends, and you come across them all in LA.
There is the noncommittal flake. When you ask them to hang out, it is usually replied to with a "I might be down." Which is not the same as a friend that has a busy schedule and might have to work last minute or do something else important. This person literally has nothing better to do, but just doesn't want to commit to one solid plan.
There is also the exploring-my-options flake. When you ask this flake to hang out, they will always reply with "who else is going to be there?" This makes you feel shitty for two reasons. They ask who else will be there because 1) they want to know if anyone better than you will be attending because you alone aren't good enough to warrant a trip out of the house or 2) they dislike most of your other friends and want to avoid most of them. There is no winning with that question.
There is the always-late flake. They will show up... but they will NEVER be on time. I am a punctuality freak. I was raised to believe that being late shows the people waiting for you that you think you are more important than them-- that their time means nothing to you. The late flake will turn being late into a cute little joke, like they are a character on a sitcom and every time they say something about being late, a laugh track will play to cut the tension. There are no laugh tracks in life.
There is the no-show flake. This is probably my most hated flake. These are the flakes that DO commit but DON'T show up. Or they send you a text 10 minutes before you are supposed to meet to let you know they aren't coming. As if that makes it less rude. I host a lot of girls nights and parties and most times I ask for RSVP's to make sure there is enough food and space. When someone just no-shows or late-bails me, it really chaps my ass. (Emergencies are different. But usually it is just self entitlement.) I had a girls night once that 14 girls RSVP'd to, and 2 showed up. TWO.
There is the never-invites-you-out flake. This friend hangs out all of the time... when YOU make plans or ask them to hang. This friend will never actually invite you out to do anything ever. Friendships shouldn't be work. Friendships also shouldn't feel like weird relationships. If you don't want someone in your life... Just don't hang out with them anymore. Don't do fake hangs!
This leads into the never-pays-for-anything flake. This is pretty self explanatory. They get cheap when the dinner bill comes. They never uber split. They cut out on tabs. They never offer gas money when you drive everywhere. This flake is really just a scrub in a flakes clothing.
I am sure there are many more flake varieties, but these came to mind first today. And now I am tired and full from my dinner with my not-flaky friends so I am calling it a day. Feel free to offer other flake varieties below...
Happy Sunday.

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Day 23- Girls Night

So I spent all day doing hair for pinup photoshoots and in about an hour all of my girls will be here for drag movie night (watching Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Too Wong Foo: Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar)
. So no long philosophical blogs today. Sometimes it is more important to live life than to talk about it. But I made a promise to myself that I would blog every day. Sooo...

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Day 22- Ode To My Bed

I love my bed. It isn't the fanciest. Or the most ergonomic. Or the latest model. But it is my safe haven and I love it. I have extra soft sheets. And an extra fluffy down comforter. I also have two perfectly firm pillows with head dents in just the right places
.
Because of all of this, getting out of bed is SO hard. Working for yourself means you need an extra dose of self discipline and motivation. I set my alarm for 7:30am every single day. And it is rare that I am out of bed before 9. I just can't leave the warm embrace of my loving bed! If Trevor is also in the bed? FORGET ABOUT IT.
That's not to say that I am wasting my time in the morning. I usually just lay there and answer my emails and check my various media. But still. I feel like a hobo.
Yesterday I didn't leave the confines of my room until 11am. 11AM!! I know. Don't judge. Please. If you knew my struggle, you would understand. If you slept a mile in my bed, it would all make sense. Speaking of which... I think it's time for a nap...

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Day 21- Being Heavily Tattooed

If you guys follow me on my various social networks, you probably saw today that I posted a comment left by someone on my video about how my tattoos actually grossed her out. I really thought this comment was funny and kind of dumb and I laughed it off and posted it as a joke.
But it got me thinking about being a heavily tattooed woman in 2016.
I started getting tattooed 15 years ago. The world was a different place then. You just really didn't see that many heavily tattooed people-- least of all women. I have always been a punk at heart and I have always wanted to sort of live on the outskirts of the norm. When I started getting tattooed... I did it to be different. To be unique. To stand out. And boy did I!
What I didn't realize was the lifelong dedication visible tattoos are.
I get emails all of the time from people asking advice for first time tattoos or from people wanting to get hands/necks/faces. Let me first say that I am just one person who has lived with being heavily tattooed for many years, and these are my experiences and opinions. But I know that a lot of my equally (and more heavily) tattooed friends tend to agree.
Before you get heavily tattooed, you HAVE to think about it. Tattoos are not something that should be done on a whim. Especially big pieces, or very visible pieces. If you are going to a tattooer with any sense of ethics... they will also tell you these things. Most reputable tattooers won't tattoo hands, necks, or faces unless the person is already heavily tattooed and already spent some time living in that body. This is for a reason! They aren't just trying to be dicks, I promise.
One of the major things you have to get used to is the attention. And a lot of people get tattoos in the first place for attention... but oftentimes don't realize what they are getting into. Get ready for daily stares. Daily questions. Daily touching. Get ready for people to want to talk about tattoos in the most inappropriate places. There is nothing more awkward than your gyno inserting a speculum while she asks you which tattoo hurt the most. Get ready to be judged when you are trying to appear professional. Once you get tattooed, your personal bubble no longer exists. I have been touched, grabbed, and fondled by men and women equally with no permission asked or remorse given for not asking. I was once standing in line at the grocery store, having just finished a heavy workout at the gym. I was wearing a sports bra and a tank top, and the woman behind me ran her hand down my disgustingly sweaty back and said "Wow! Your back piece is beautiful!" Dude. Just no.
I can say that the world has changed a lot in 15 years. I don't get nearly as many dirty looks as I used to. Now that tattoo shows are the norm, people don't judge as harshly. Preppy girls now have neck tattoos. It is a different world. In general. You will still get haters, I promise.
And even though society has shifted a little... corporate America hasn't. Getting a job with visible tattoos is still just about as hard as it used to be. If you don't have a set career, please dear God do not get your face tattooed. Nothing bums me out more than seeing 19 year old kids with no future plans that are fully blasted. I got lucky to have the job that I do... but I still don't have my hands, neck or face slathered in tattoos so that if, God forbid, I ever need to get a "real" job, I can cover everything up.
At the end of the day... tattoos are a personal choice. No one can make that choice for you. But think long and hard before you make the commitment to be a "tattooed" person. Honestly... I got them in the first place to be different. And now I kind of just feel like another one of the flock.

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Day 20- I Suck.

Guys! Today has been hectic and I just remembered I haven't blogged! I'm at the jd McPherson show and remembered. As you can tell by my face, I am super remorseful.
I love you all and will return to regular broadcasting tomorrow. Xoxo

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Day 19- I Don't Have to Love What You Love

Today I posted a video on youtube titled "Caveman Contouring." In the video, I tell my viewers that I am going wayyyy back and getting real vintage to show everyone how they contoured in the caveman days. I then proceed to cover my face in mud from my front yard using leaves, with a voiceover of me grunting and subtitles that explain what I am doing in a humorous way.
Most of the comments express the hilarity I was aiming for. But I got one comment from a gal that said she was disappointed because she felt I was poking fun at girls that use contouring to feel better about themselves. At first it made me feel really bad. And then it made me think...
1) I am 100% all about girls doing whatever it takes to feel happy and right in their own skin. I don't ever judge what someone else does. I definitely think that there are different strokes for different folks and respect all choices. 2) I also feel that humans have a right to be silly and poke fun at things that they think are too serious or in some way funny. Makeup gurus take themselves SOOOO seriously! I just thought that making a video that was absolutely ridiculous would sort of lighten the mood a little. I wasn't attacking. I wasn't saying mean or hateful things. I wasn't calling anyone out or saying what they do is wrong. 3) If someone made a parody video about vintage hair or makeup styles-- I would absolutely love it.
Want my honest opinion? I HATE contouring. I think it makes young pretty girls look insane and overdone and old. I think it is too much product. I think it is bad for your skin. I think it makes everyone that does it look like the exact same person. I think it is a waste of time because girls are just as beautiful without it. Do I think this will be one of those trends like frosty pink lipstick that we will all look back on in 20 years and laugh? Yeah, probably. Do I judge girls that love contouring? Nope. I also hate crocs, harem pants, and Taylor Swifts music. And I have the right to express these views. Do I think everyone that loves those thing is horrible? Nope. We just have different tastes. And that is great! That makes the world unique and interesting and challenging!
The day I say "I hate you for wearing mom jeans! I want you to die because they make your butt look weird and flat!" is the day that I am being mean and bagging on girls for trying to feel good about themselves. But until that day, I will be weird and silly and try to make you all laugh WITHOUT being an asshole. I hope I am succeeding.
(p.s. that mud smelled really bad. You're welcome)

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Day 18- MLK

Today is such an important day. Today we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
I have a lot of thoughts about racism and segregation and privilege that I will talk about in future blogs, but today I want to share my experience in Memphis at the Lorraine Motel.
It is no secret that Memphis is my favorite city in the USA. The food is amazing. The history is dense. The culture is real. It is not the biggest or most glamorous city. But it speaks to my heart. One of the things it is most known for was that MLK was assassinated there. What a sad and heavy event to be known for. But one of the most beautiful things that came out of it was the Civil Rights Museum that is actually located in what used to be the Lorraine Motel. The outside of the motel has been preserved as if in a time capsule (shown left). But the inside is a journey through the struggle with slavery and segregation in our country. It took us several hours to get through the museum. There is so much to see, and read and learn.
At one point in the museum, they have an actual bus from the 1960s that you can get onto and inside is the story of Rosa Parks and the beginning of the freedom rides. As we were getting off of the bus, a little African American girl (probably 6) and her parents got on the bus. She looked at Trevor and asked him what happened to his eye (as kids do) and her parents were mortified (as parents are) and he explained it to her, and we all laughed and parted ways.
Towards the end of the museum, you walk around a corner and the room that MLK slept in the night before he was shot is encapsulated exactly as it was the day he died. It is the actual room. And you look out of the window, and you see the balcony where he was shot. It is literally about 3 feet from you. There were a lot of near cries in this museum, but this part gave me goosebumps and flipped my stomach upside down. But still, I did not cry. I fought it SO hard.
After this, you cross the street to the annex where the hotel was that the James Earl Ray stayed and shot MLK from. This part of the tour talks all about the forensics and how they found him. Trevor got ahead of me in this section and as I came around the corner, I saw that he was again talking to the couple and their little girl. As soon as Trevor saw me, he said "Oh there she is!" Apparently, the little girl had asked where the pretty lady was (that was ME!!). The little girl turned around and came at me sprinting into a hug. Her parents again were embarrassed but we all laughed. It was seriously so cute. Still mid-hug, she looked up and touched my hair and said "Your hair is so pretty!" I softy grabbed one of her little braids and said "Your hair is so pretty!" Eventually we all parted ways and Trevor and I exited the museum.
The second we were in the car, I burst into tears. It wasn't the museum. It wasn't the history. It was the little girl. It was the fact that the history that that place held had allowed her to run up and hug me. The sacrifices that all of those people made allowed that little girl to touch my hair and talk to me and feel like she was just another human-- just like me. 50 years ago, a little girl would have never done that. She wouldn't have even thought about it! She wouldn't have been able to. But on that day in 2015, she did. And it was ok.
I think that this world has a long way to go in a lot of ways... but I think that there are a lot of beautiful things that have been made possible by the struggle and sacrifices of many. Today we acknowledge MLK and his part in this story.
May we never forget that change can be made through passive resistance and love. And may we never stop fighting for change.

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Day 17- Shopping Anxiety

Shopping. It is a word that inspires excitement in the hearts of many women. But for me, it incites instant anxiety. Don't get me wrong, I love having new things. But thinking about facing crowds of people, neon lights, and rows and rows of things I may or may not like, or may or may not fit is not my idea of a good time.
The worst place? Forever 21. I went there today when I was at the mall having lunch with my mother in law and the second I walk in, I feel like Alice in Wonderland after she drank the juice that made her little. Not only is it huge and brightly lit with techno music pumping... but there is ZERO organization. Is it by color? No. Is it by style? No. Can you find all of one item in one place? No. The racks are over filled so most of the times I try to look at something, other items fall on the floor. And a lot of the time, things are already on the floor, thrown down in a pile, or slung over a rack. Loose knits are tangled with nearby hangers. Spaghetti straps are all knotted together. And the mother of all causes for my anger is when I get a cute little number home, wash it once, and then have to give it to my kids infant daughter.
Not to say it is only Forever 21 that causes these feelings. Another one that does me in every time is Guess. I figure the ladies work on commission there because even if I am only there for 5 minutes, I get asked what I am looking for about 27 times. I appreciate a helpful salesperson, but I hate being attacked like I am roadkill. The worst is when you say you are just browsing and they start bringing things out to you and saying "This totally looks like "you"!" And I am so polite that even if it is a hideously bedazzled and stone washed pair of jeans, I am like "Oh yeah! So cute!" and then I somehow get talked into trying them on even though I know I would never ever buy them and then I have to Macgyver my way out of the store without being caught so the salesgirl can't ask me how they fit.
Then when I try to walk into a more upscale boutique, I instantly feel like I am in my own personal Pretty Woman hell. Only I know I won't be a millionaire next week so I can't go back in and show those bitches who is boss. So I just walk around uncomfortably, feeling eyes following me and staring at my tattoos. It is even worse when it is a day I am still in my gym clothes or "kick around the house" clothes and have just decided to stop off to browse. But sometimes I want to wear pretty things that won't fall apart!
Let's talk about department store dressing rooms. JC Penny and Sears are the worst. H&M isn't far behind. Things draped from every square inch that need to go back and not an attendant in sight. A cup of mystery liquid from In N Out with no lid in the corner. 18 screaming kids wanting nothing more than to not have to watch their moms try on high waisted jeans. And the lighting. Dear god, the lighting. And H&M decided at some point that we need to see ourselves all the way around so not only can I see the dimples on the fronts of my thighs, now I can see them in 360!
I could go on and on about the perils of shopping. But instead I will say that I have recently discovered online shopping (I know I am late to the party). I do have a weird body shape, so a lot of the time I will find a brand I like, find a store that carries them, go try things on to see how they fit, and then I can order online as I see things that strike my fancy. I 100% shop online for anything I buy at Sephora. That place is another that makes me want to claw my face off. And these days most online stores have excellent return policies.
There really is no point to my post today. I just had to endure about 20 minutes of shopping and it led me into a tailspin and I had to let it out.
Happy Sunday.

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Day 16- Those We've Lost

Charlie. Charlie made everyone laugh. He always wore tie dyed shirts and hemp necklaces. Before I met him, I called him Buzz because he looked like Buzz from Home Alone. He had blonde hair in a bowl cut, he was super tall, and he had flat feet, so he kind of loafed around.
Today is the 14th anniversary of Charlie's passing.
I met Charlie my freshman year in high school. He was a year older than me and he was in my drama class and he had a sweet little school boy crush on me. My favorite game was making Charlie blush. It was SO easy. Sophomore year I started dating his best friend, Mike, and we continued dating until I was a senior. In these years, Charlie, Mike and I became really close. We were the 3 stooges. We had closed campus for lunch, so Charlie would sneak me out in the back of his Toyota wagon so we could go eat Taco Bell and he could smoke weed. We would listen to NOFX and sing at the top of our lungs and I would scold him when he would speed.
My parents went through a brutal divorce when I was a sophomore. At that time we were living in a house where I had an outside door to my room. I would sneak out and Charlie would pick me up and I would cry and we would listen to dueling banjos and we would air guitar until my tears turned into laughs. He would tell me about all of his insecurities with life and with girls. I would tell him about my own insecurities and fears. One night Charlie had a party when his parents were out of town and in the morning, I went to his room wrapped in a blanket and climbed in bed with him and we just laid there and talked about life. Until a bee stung him. That was a very random bee sting.
I remember his passing like it was yesterday. The phone in the kitchen rang. It was my ex boyfriend Mike, who I hadn't spoken with in years. He said "Charlie is dead." My first words were "Charlie who?" I only knew one, but surely it couldn't be OUR Charlie. I had just seen him at the mall the month before. I hadn't seen him in a while and I yelled his name and he turned around and we ran at each other in slow motion and he scooped me up and spun me around and we laughed and talked about how much we missed each other. He looked great. He was the same goofy Charlie.
Apparently about a few weeks after I saw Charlie, he started turning sort of yellow so he went to the doctor. The doctor told him that he was having problems with his liver and that he needed to stop drinking and smoking pot. They gave him antabuse to make sure he wouldn't drink, but he was spitting it out when he left the clinic. He was only 21. At 21, you still feel invincible. Surely they were mistaken. Within a week, he was in the ICU in late stages of liver failure. He was moved to the top of the donor list and was within a few hours of death when they found him a new liver. Surgery went well and the liver seemed to be taking. Everyone thought he would be fine. That night his liver rejected and he was declared brain dead.
I asked Mike why he hadn't told me sooner. Why he hadn't told me so I could have been there or said goodbye. But the truth was, it happened too fast. And no one really thought Charlie would die. I don't think anyone ever thinks that an otherwise healthy 21 year old can be gone that fast. But he was.
I feel like humans always have regrets when loved ones die. I should have been there. We should have talked more. I should have told him I loved him the last time I saw him (which luckily I did). It's weird to think that you didn't know the last time you saw a person was going to be the very last time ever. Years after he was gone, I called Mike and asked him to take me to Charlie's grave. It was the weirdest thing in the world to see his name on that plaque. It still doesn't feel real.
I have no regrets with Charlie. That guy saved me in so many ways and I feel lucky and honored to have been a small part of his short life.
I guess today I just wanted a piece of him to live on. I miss you Charlie. Maybe you're up there playing dueling banjos with Bowie and Lemmy now.
XOXO

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Day 15- My New Ring

Today I was awoken at 9am by the doorbell. My eyeballs flew open, I tossed the covers off of me, bolted to the door and flung it open to find a terrified Fedex driver holding the box that contained my new ring. That poor man. But I GOT A NEW RING!
This was something I have been thinking about for a while. I loved the ring that Trevor proposed to me with and put on my finger when we said our vows, and it has so much sentimental value... But my heart has always yearned for an antique ring. I know that upgrading is a common thing women do on milestone anniversaries so I presented the idea to Trevor last year and was actually surprised by his initial reaction. Sometimes I forget that he is a man. He was sort of hurt. And it made me feel terrible! He thought that me wanting a new ring meant that the one I had somehow wasn't good enough. Wasn't big enough, or flashy enough. Or that he hadn't picked the right one. I didn't look at it like that at all! I explained to him my reasons for wanting a new (old) ring and he said he understood but still seemed bothered so I told him to forget about it and I forgot about it too. Definitely wasn't a big deal!
A few weeks ago we were laying in bed and he rolled over and told me that he wanted me to buy myself that new ring. That at the end of the day, its going to be on MY finger forever and either way, we are still married. We had a little chat and decided that it was the right decision so I started looking for rings and within a few days I found the one that spoke to my heart.
I was thinking about selling my old ring to help pay for the new one. But when I had it appraised, the idea became too real and so I sealed it up a little plastic bag and tucked it away in my little safe. The sentimental value is worth more than the dollar amount. That is the ring that he put on my finger when we said our vows. It's got its own history even though it isn't an antique.
I like sparkles. I like antiques. This ring is an art deco piece from the 1920s and it makes me happy when I look at it. It is also kind of romantic that this ring has its own hidden history. To me a ring is a symbol. It is a place holder. It is the lights and the curtains and the dancers. It isn't the script. I could have a piece of string tied around my finger and my heart would still feel exactly the same about my beautiful husband. I feel the same way about the marriage license. It's the business side of a marriage. Every morning I wake up to his smiling face with no ring on my finger and nothing changes. Tonight when Trevor gets home, we are going to have our own little secret ring ceremony and say some new vows to swear this pretty little sparkler into our life. We live life by our own rules.

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Day 14- Finding my Place

Oh hi guys. This is officially the start of my second week as a blogger. I did it!
If you guys follow me on youtube, you probably saw the video I posted this week about feeling a little lost. Around the holidays I started getting sucked under by depression and anxiety about where my future is headed. I am generally a pretty positive person, but man, I was struggling bad!
Doing what I do is fun-- it is! But it is also monumentally stressful. Every single morning that I wake up I think "Ok, how am I going to pay my bills this week." I have my hand in multiple honey pots trying to make it all work. And for the most part, I have an amazing time and feel like what I am doing is worthwhile.
It is just the adulating part of it that is stressful. Anyone that works for themselves or  works freelance understands this struggle. No health insurance. No 401k. No paid vacation. No sick days. No job security. It is a scary world! It is also kind of stressful trying to be everywhere all at once. I answer all of my emails, most of my comments, all of my messages... Plus trying to book all of my tours, film and edit my videos, etc. It is a lot of work for one solitary person with no assistant!
I have ridden the youtube wave for the last few years. And when I started, there was a lot of money to be made in the land of youtube. But in the last few years, youtube has changed how they distribute advertising money and the funds are being stretched too thin for the average person to really profit anymore. If you are thinking of quitting your day job to be a youtube millionaire, I would advis
e another hair brained scheme. I started doing my hair and makeup tours as a way to meet all of the lovely ladies that follow me and also to supplement my income. For a few years it was great!
But now I feel that all of this is starting to slow down a little. And I am stuck with that age old question... what is next??
I have a business degree (and a drug and alcohol counseling degree) and honestly I have no urge (or financial ability) to go back to school ever. A lot of people suggested opening a brick and mortar store selling rockabilly stuff and my vintage clothing that I sell on etsy. This would be great if I lived in the Midwest where rent is basically nothing. But I live in LA where rent can be $10k a month. I just can't afford to open a store-- as fun as it would be!
I know there is no quick and easy answer. I did enjoy reading a lot of the suggestions I got on youtube though. And some of them actually did give me some new ideas.
Who knows where life will take me. My anxiety has started to get better though. I know whatever I do, I will land on my feet. And if I lose everything and become homeless, I can live with you guys right?

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Day 13- The Gym

The gym. It is a scary place for a woman.
You know what is even scarier? Classes at the gym! All of those mirrors. All of those eyes. All of those pelvic thrusts and leg lifts!
Last year I decided that I was really going to make the gym my (eh hem) bitch. And I tried... I really did. But it was SO boring! I would run on the elliptical for 30-40 minutes and then I would try to work with weights for a while but my mind would wander and I would think of 800 other things I could be doing and I would leave.
Last year I also met my friend Cora. Cora is a beast. She works out more than anyone I know. And she just so happened to work out at my gym. One day she asked if I had ever taken a class there (they offer several different classes a day). I hadn't but I had always been equal parts curious and terrified.
The average gal feels self conscious at the gym. This is based purely on the self consciousness of being a woman. Now cover yourself in tattoos and see how that magnifies. EVERYWHERE you walk, eyes follow you. Lifting heavy weights and making stupid faces? You better believe someone is watching. It was a mixture of these things that made me horrified to even step into the class room alone.
But my pal Cora told me about some good classes and encouraged me to join her. So my first class I walked in and went straight to the far corner and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Halfway through the class, I forgot anyone else was there and just focused on pushing myself. And every now and then Cora and I would catch eyes in the mirror and laugh at ourselves.
The mirrors are actually a great distraction... I just focus on my form and when I just don't want to make eye contact with anyone, I watch my feet. I also remember that everyone else is in there is self conscious too and no one is trying to make you feel bad. That is your own silly brain.
I would definitely encourage anyone that is a member of a gym to take advantage of the classes-- especially if they are free. Good instructors will push you and help you with your form so you don't injure yourself. You can do anything from kickboxing (my favorite! We call our instructor Future Butt because he yells that at us when it starts to hurt-- and he looks like Jay Z) to aerobics, to boot camp, to spin classes, to yoga... there is something for everyone! Don't be scared!
Here I am almsot a year later and I go to almost 3 classes a week. I don't know any of the instructors or class participants by name-- but I am not afraid to make eye contact and smile. Or yell out counts in class when things get hard. Or clap at the end of a good class.
I will not win any awards for miss gym congeniality this year-- but at least my ass is getting tighter.

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Day 12- Breaking up with a Friend

Breakups. We have all gone through them. And they always suck-- no matter what side of them you are on.
But how many of you have ever broken up with a friend?
I actually blew my friends mind a few months ago suggesting this very idea. She was having a hard time with a friend that was just, frankly, a shitty friend. I said "Why don't you just break up??" She didn't even know that was a thing. But let me tell you, it is.
As I have gotten older, my patience for toxic/needy friends has slimmed down to basically nothing. I am a busy lady. I barely have time for my husband. I am not going to waste my time on friends that suck the life out of me. And I shouldn't have to! The point of a friendship is to help make life suck less. My best friend makes my life awesome. She always makes me laugh. I can be me 100% with her. We can go months without talking and when we do, it is like no time has passed. We have both been there for each other through the worst times of our lives. I know I can trust her with my life. And I honestly love being there for her. Being her friend has never felt like a job. And I have never felt like she was a needy girlfriend. That, to me, is the true mark of a keeper friendship.
On the other hand, I have had friendships that were completely opposite. I have had friends that drained the life out of me with their constant drama. I have had friends that spilled my dark secrets. I have had friends that got weird and jealous about other friends. I have had friends that were horrible, sloppy embarrassing drunks. I have had friends that competed with my man for love and attention. I have had friends that were never there to hear my problems, but always expected me to be there for theirs.
At some point I stopped for a second and asked myself why. What was the point of these people being in my life. At some point, can you even call them a friend anymore? If a friend doesn't contribute in a largely positive way to your life-- YOU DONT NEED THEM!! It doesn't matter if you have known them since you were little. Or if they USED to be the best friend ever. Or if they are married to your brother. You have complete control over your life-- and your friends.
I have learned as I have grown up that quality over quantity is what I value in my friendships. I would rather have 3 close friends than 100 shitty ones. Don't be afraid to break up with the shitty ones. Or even to distance yourself from the subpar ones. Your life load will get much lighter.

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Day 11- RIP Bowie

Today is a sad, sad day. A lot of celebrities have passed in the last few years, and a lot of them make me feel sad, but none have hit me like this one.
If you grew up in the 80s-- David Bowie was an integral part of your childhood. Jareth the Goblin King was one of my first loves. As a child, watching David Bowie in the Labrynth made cross dressing seem normal. It was the first boundary that he broke down in my life.
As a teenager, I felt weird in my skin. I felt like I didn't belong and that no one understood me. But Bowie understood. He sang about the things that mattered. He wore the clothes that no one else dared. He opened doors for all of the freaks and weirdos in the world to be able to be themselves and feel ok. He also gave us all a common thread-- his music. I can't tell you how many times I have talked about David Bowie's music in my life-- or made a friend because we both just "got it".
I can't think of another celebrity that has left such a legacy in my life. I am truly sad today that such a genius is gone.
XOXO

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Day 10- So Tired

Hey guys... my blog will be short and sweet today!
We took a mini road trip down to San Diego last night to see Trevor's band play. It was super fun, but I stayed up late and am exhausted. I am actually not tired from partying-- I am mostly tired because we all stayed in Trevor's brothers' studio apartment and our friend Kevin snores like he is a chainsaw/dying. Seriously. It was a good solid 4 hours of us going through all of the stages of being mad, annoyed, insane, exhausted and then hysterically laughing. Then today I drove 2 1/2 hours back home and now all I want to do is curl up and sleep for a week. Also, I already broke my goal of eating better this week. For breakfast I had eggs Benedict with a biscuit, BBQ chicken, poached eggs, and bacon hollandaise. Oh and hashbrowns. But I did drink a fresh pressed juice... So there's that.
So today my blog is boring. But I figure that is what Sundays are for. Hope everyone had a good weekend. I will be to my usual witty self tomorrow.
XOXO

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Day 9- Lord Help My Self Control!

Food. I love it. I love all kinds of food. Sweet, salty, fatty, carby. I love it all. I even like healthy food. Just not as much as the other (tastier) stuff.
I am a rampant snacker. I don't usually eat big meals... But oh man, I can snack ALL day. I snack out of hunger. I snack out of boredom. I snack when I am sad. I snack when I am happy. And don't even get me started on desserts. When a meal is done, my mouth instantly tells me that I need dessert. Every. Single. Time.
So I am really trying to harness all of the self control in my being this year. I am trying to eat better. I really am! So far I am 3 days in on being responsible. And it's so hard! It is especially hard when I travel because a lot of the time I just eat what is quickest and easiest. I am usually at the mercy of whoever I am staying with, so I never want to be a pain. And in the midwest and the south, people don't eat healthy! I mean... the odd person does. But in general, it is really hard for me to find any healthy options-- especially when I am in small towns. So I usually end up going with delicious fried chicken, BBQ, or diner food. My mouth is always happy-- but the dimples in my thighs are not.
I honestly FEEL so much better when I eat well. My body is happy and runs like it is on premium fuel. When I eat fatty stuff, I feel tired, lethargic and kind of sick. So even though I need to eat better for my health and for my fitness goals-- I mostly want to eat better so I feel better.
Here is my lunch today. Flatbread with garlic hummus, red peppers, cucumbers, avocado and salt and pepper. It was delicious. And I didn't even have dessert!
What easy, healthy, and most importantly, DELICIOUS things do you guys eat to get you through the day??

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Day 8- Give Me That Face Spackle!

Today was the first day that I put a full face of makeup on since New Years Eve. It is funny how different I feel when I am "Cherry Dollface". It is easy to say that natural is beautiful and empowering... But darn it I feel pretty when I am wearing makeup! I feel powerful when I get out of my car and look really put together. I know when I see other women getting out of their cars all put together I think "Wow! I wonder what she does! Who she is! Where she is going!" It makes you stop and think. It just does.
I talk a lot about loving yourself and being body positive. And I firmly believe that confidence and happiness comes from within. But some days you just need a pound of face spackle and sky high heels... And that's ok too. I think my point is that no matter how you look-- or want to look-- there is a place for you. We don't all have to be crunchy earth mamas to be considered "real" women.
No lengthy blogs today. Happy Friday!

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Day 7- Why I Hate Girls... AKA My Girl Posse

Girlfriends.
Growing up, I always had TONS of girlfriends. Me and my best 4 girlfriends in middle school even dubbed ourselves "The Buttmunches" and had club names (I was Cherokeebler). We had probably a million inside jokes and didn't make any important moves in life without consulting each other (i.e. haircuts, wardrobe changes, crushes).  (right)
When I got to high school, the school boundaries changed so my 4 best friends went to one school, and lonely old me went to another. Around this time, I was starting to get more into punk and being a weirdo... so I didn't relate to a lot of the girls at my new school. But I did relate to a lot of the guys... so they became my new besties. I stopped caring about being cute and shopping and flirting with boys. I was more focused on doing well in school, going to punk shows, and looking as weird as I could. The boys accepted me. They let me be who I wanted without judgment. So I became the "I don't really get along with girls" girl.
Let's be clear here-- I didn't WANT to be that girl. I just felt like I had something to prove since most of my friends were guys. I needed a reason. I needed an explanation. And eventually I started believing it. In my early 20's, this became more evident than ever. I was insecure. SO insecure. So instead of finding girls who I could relate to and building friendships-- I was just a total asshole (more on this in later blogs).
Around this time I met by best friend Caitlin. She was the chick that hung out with all dudes. She played sports. She had a crazy good punk record collection. She liked to go to psychobilly shows. She didn't give a shit about girl drama. One sleepover later and I was completely in love. I didn't know that girls like Caitlin existed! And here we are, almost 12 years later-- still best friends. (left)
In my mid 20s something started to shift. I actually WANTED to have more girlfriends. I wanted to go shopping and have a girl crew at shows and vent about my horrible ex. I watched Sex & the City religiously and yearned to have a group to drink cosmos and talk about dicks with. I could do this with my guy friends-- but it just wasn't the same!
Eventually as the years passed, I amassed a group of lady friends that was awesome (right). And then I moved to LA. Holy moses, let me tell you how hard it is to meet cool, down to earth chick friends in LA. SO HARD. For the first two years I was here, I thought it was hopeless. My best friend screwed me over, my next close friend turned into a drug addict, and after that it was just a chain of flake after flake.
But then something happened... I met one rad chick, and then another, and then another. I started hosting girls nights and encouraging the cool chicks I knew to bring other cool chicks. At one point my house was filed with nearly 30 super rad babes. Now I have a solid crew again. There are about 7 or 8 broads that I consider my closest pals. And it rules. I always have a gal to call when I want to watch a movie and drink wine. Or when I want to go shopping and need help. Or when I want to back over my husband with my car and need to vent (and/or need help).
My girl crew is amazing. It is full of very diverse, smart, driven, hilarious women. None of them take themselves too seriously. They are always down to get silly-- even if that includes a 2am photoshoot in a vineyard in Napa (left). I honestly feel that I couldn't have picked a better group of ladies. If any of you reading this are struggling with wanting/finding girlfriends... My advice is to DO IT!! There is nothing better than the love and support of other women.
Start organizing girls nights. Movie nights. Craft nights. Book clubs. Girls nights out. Just do it and invite whoever you can. You might get some duds. Ok, you WILL get some duds... but odds are you will find some keepers along the way too.
Every girl needs a girl posse.

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Day 6- Growing up in Oregon aka "Rain"

Today was a pitiful day for this former Oregonian. El Nino has been hitting Southern California hard this week, and today I had to stop at the grocery store in the middle of a monsoon. Oregonians are used to rain. It shouldn't have phased me. But I sat in my car for 20 minutes waiting for the rain to get lighter. I was actually hiding from the rain. I hang my head in shame.
Growing up in Oregon, I never even thought about the rain. It just was. Yeah sure, we would take vacations to warm sunny places, and to me, that was vacation-- Not real life! People didn't actually LIVE in these places. Except they did. And they do. And I had major rain blinders on.
I moved to LA in December 2008... it happened to be the rainiest December on record. To me, it was a completely normal Christmas! But Californians were incensed. I couldn't understand what all of the fuss was about! In Oregon, we had beautiful summers. From about June-August, it is all sunshine and lush green and birds chirping. The rest of the year it is gray. Gray, gray, gray. With lots of rain. In fact, there are WEEKS when it doesn't stop raining. And it isn't the fun monsoon rain... it is just drizzle. Depressing, horrible drizzle.
You get used to living in the rain. Or if you know nothing else, you have a routine that is normal to you. No open toed shoes, no bare ankles, no painted vintage clothing, no paper umbrellas, no curly hair, no outdoor events. You invest in a good raincoat and lots of socks. Do you invest in umbrellas? Of course not! Seeing an Oregonian carrying an umbrella in the rain is like seeing a jackalope.
My first full year in LA was like an awakening. Sun year round?? Sign me up! When it rains, it goes away after a few hours?? What witchery was this? People actually got to LIVE here? My first Christmas that it was 70 degrees, I lost my mind. GUYS! I'M WEARING A TANK TOP, GUYS! ON CHRISTMAS! I sent pictures to everyone I knew in the Northwest.
Here I am, 7 years later, and I have still not gotten sick of the sunshine. I bask in it. I still send my Northwest friends pictures of me basking in it weekly in the winter. Sometimes I even send videos of me driving with my windows down. It just seems like the right thing to do.
I love when Californians find out I am from Portland and they gush... "Ooh I just LOVE Portland! I LOVE the rain!" I always laugh to myself. One week of rain a year is romantic. It's fun and new and exciting. Spend a year up there and tell me how you feel about the rain.
Not saying that I don't love Oregon... I do. For so many reasons. But gosh darn it, I don't miss the rain.

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Day 5- Marriage

Marriage.
What a weird concept.
You spend your whole life with one person-- experience all of the joys and hardships together-- and are expected not to kill each other. Huh.
Seriously though, I love my husband. I love him with every last fiber in my body. More than I ever thought I could love another human being. We have been together for nearly 7 years and I still get butterflies when I hear him coming home from work. We spend probably 70% of our time together kissing, cuddling, and otherwise entwined with each other. We make each other laugh constantly. I genuinely enjoy his company. And not a day goes by without him dipping me and kissing me at least once.
That being said, no relationship (or marriage) is perfect. I get a lot of tags on our photos together like #relationshipgoals or #perfectmarriage and they make me laugh sometimes. Of course all I show anyone publicly are the good times. Why would I post when I want to punch him in the face or back over him with my car? Don't worry-- these moments don't happen often. And I would never actually murder my loving husband. But no relationship is all puppy dogs and rainbows. We have dealt with jealousy, mistrust, miscommunication and other petty bullshit that humans put each other through. We have had a few screaming matches in our day. There was one night ever that we went to sleep in different rooms (later we decided this was really stupid and we never did it again). There are times when I just need to retreat to a room alone and cool down. Once or twice I have shown up on my best friends stoop crying.
These things are normal.
It is what happens in the aftermath that determine the feasibility of your relationship.
The one thing I can say above all, is that Trevor is an immaculate communicator. If something feels weird, or one of us is mad, or off-- he is the first to say "what is going on here? Let's talk about it." And getting from point A (the problem) to point B (the solution) isn't always easy and there are usually some speed bumps. But talking it through works 10 times out of 10.
I know I am lucky to have the man that I do. I know that a male communicator is a rare spectacle indeed. But I also believe that even if it doesn't come naturally to your man (or lady!), it is the trying that counts. A relationship is a 50/50 partnership between two people and it never works if both people don't both put in the work.
Not sure what the point of my post is today. I guess I just wanted to let you know that my husband is a rare gem and I love him to pieces.
But he is still a shithead.

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Day 4- Growing up on a Houseboat

My childhood is something I rarely talk about. And although there are some skeletons that are better left in closets there is definitely a lot of it that I would be happy to share. Let's begin...
My mom got pregnant with me when she was 16. (more on this story later) At the time we lived in Southern California, but she moved up to Portland, OR to be closer to her dad (my grandpa). Because of this, I spent most of my formative years living with my grandparents on a houseboat that my uber talented and crafty grandpa built.
When people hear "houseboat" think "woohoo! Lake Havasu spring break '99!!" This wasn't one of those. It was literally a house on floating logs. Like, a real house. And it was chained up to a walkway. The back of the house didn't have a yard (obviously). But what it did have was a swim float. This basically consisted of a 15'x15' "deck" on the back of the house with a little shed in the corner. I can't even tell you how much of my childhood was spent on that swim float. Summers were
spent basking in the sun in my super sweet neon pink and green 80's bikinis (or some other variation of "clothing" that I so uniquely put together, left). Oddly enough, I didn't actually learn to swim until I was 10. I wore a LOT of life jackets. And winters were spent playing in the snow or feeding ducks (with my super babe grandpa, right). Actually, all of the times were spent feeding ducks. I loved feeding ducks. A lot. I just recently found out that bread is bad for ducks. Sorry ducks.
My grandpa loved to play jokes on my dad. One summer, my dad was on the Fun Island (a big round floating device that was reminiscent of a giant cinnamon roll, but bright yellow-- because everything was bright yellow in the 80s), and he fell asleep. Generally the Fun Island (no idea why it was called "fun" it basically just sat there and did nothing but float) was tied to the swim float and on this afternoon, that was definitely the case as my dad dozed off. Well, as soon as he was catching flies, my grandpa untied the Fun Island and let my dad drift off to sea. Ok, it wasn't actually the ocean. What it really was, was a channel off of a river that was probably no more than 50 feet wide, but in my 5 year old brain, my dad was on another continent. My dad made it down the river a little bit before he hit the other bank and woke up. Luckily, he didn't go too far so we could still see him (not so we could rescue him easily... what's the fun in that??). He woke up and hilarity ensued. He was SO confused. Until he looked across the river and saw us all clutching our bellies and crying with laughter. Poor dad.
Needless to say, dad never fell asleep on the Fun Island again. Turns out it really was "fun" after all.
More houseboat stories to come... Happy Monday y'all!

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Day 3- Pressures to be "Perfect"

Today my nails are chipped. And that's ok. The world keeps turning.
Today I want to talk about the pressure to be put together and perfect 24/7. I think this is a pressure that many women feel, but I especially started feeling it when my following started to grow. Being stopped on the street for pictures made me start to think "Oh God! What if I haven't plucked my eyebrows or I have a giant pimple and someone posts a photo of me! Gasp!" I spent a few years making sure that I was perfectly coifed every time I left the house. Even if I was just running to the post office. Just in case.
Then I started going to the gym regularly. And this cycle became more difficult and more stressful. The first time I was asked for a photo at the gym, I felt like I was having a panic attack. WHAT WOULD PEOPLE THINK?? But I will never be the asshole that refuses a picture for my own insecurities so I did it. And no one said a dang thing. And my life kept right on trucking.
One day I realized that I can't sacrifice fun things and my own health just to be pretty all of the time. Seriously. How dumb is that? If girls want to gossip and say that I am not as pretty in real life... well then, so be it. I would rather girls say that I am really nice when they gossip. And they WILL gossip. It takes a lot of work to be put together all of the time. And that work takes a lot of time. And that is time that could be spent cuddling my husband, or reading a great book, or cooking a delicious meal, or working on my fitness.
Not to say that I don't like to be "pretty"-- I do! And I still love slaving over my face to look like a perfect pinup. But I just don't feel like I HAVE to. And that's a pretty awesome feeling.

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My new layout!

Hey all! Just a quick note to let you know that the lovely Aleksandra Lukac has revamped my blog! Look how pretty it is! Ooooooh!
Just some tips on navigation...
If you want to subscribe or translate my blog into your language, check out the menu bar at the bottom. There are also links to all of my social media and tags down there.
Thanks to everyone that has stopped by so far and left a comment or followed. Love you guys!
Again, big thanks to Aleksandra! She revamped my site all the way from Vienna!
XOXO

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Day 2- Post Holiday Funk

Day 2 of my blog. I haven't linked this sucker anywhere yet, so I think the only person reading it is me. That's ok. Ha.

Today I feel very tired. Holidays are always really emotional for me... Yesterday it all sort of came to a head and I spent a lot of it crying. My poor husband. Luckily he is very supportive and always around to lend a hug and a tissue. I feel like this weekend is my last weekend to be a schlub and cry and eat all of the bad food and lay around and be a turd. Starting Monday I get back into beast mode and get motivated. I know everyone says this, but I am serious!!

Trevor and I have started going on walks and I think that helps my life balance. Fresh air and sunshine always peps me up. Today I feel tired but I also feel hopeful.

THIS YEAR IS MINE.

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Day 1

Well hello there world...
I have been struggling lately to sort of find my place in you. I feel torn between being Cherokee and Cherry and figuring out who everyone wants me to be versus who I want me to be. So this year instead of making a resolution, I am issuing myself a challenge. My challenge is to write a blog every single day about something real in my life-- and include a picture also of something real. I need to put something in the world that makes me feel substantial, and I think this will help. I hope.
I have no idea if any of you will read this. I have no idea if anyone will care. But honestly if I can be the realest me, and hope that I make some connections and try to reach out to others that share my feelings, that is all that
I can ask for.
This is not a fashion blog. This is not a modeling blog. This is not a beauty blog. This is a real person blog.
Thank you ladies (and few fellas) for always showing me unconditional love and support. I hope this project enlightens.

XOXO,
C

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