This is Where We Go From Here

As you guys know I had a third heart surgery last month and unfortunately it wasn't successful. Today I went in for my follow up appointment to figure out what to do next.

It turns out that the bad rhythms I am having aren't sustainable enough to fix them with surgery. And some of the arrhythmia I am experiencing isn't actually surgically fixable at all. We have discovered though that I have crazy low blood pressure naturally and not only is it causing me to have severely low energy (I am nodding out in the middle of the day while I am working) but it also may be contributing to my heart problems.

So the first plan of attack is to get me hydrated and pumped full of minerals and vitamins that will strengthen my heart and bring my blood pressure back up. Lots of water and electrolytes-- I have settled on Propel water because it doesn't have sugar and I need the sodium that coconut water doesn't provide. I have also been instructed to add more salt to my diet, which is a super weird thing to hear from your doctor! And lastly I am supposed to get more magnesium and potassium into my diet. Sucky thing is-- potassium is good for your heart but also lowers your blood pressure!!

He is also prescribing me a daily medication that will raise my blood pressure and hopefully help with the energy. The only thing is that is has some side effects and one of them is heart arrhythmia. So fingers crossed that the side effects don't get me!

He is also prescribing me a medication that I can take as needed for the tachycardia. I only really experience that right now whenI work out, so I just have to take it before I do that and hopefully it works. I have had issues with medications that break the blood/brain barrier in the past, but this is water soluble, so I am hoping the side effects are minimal-- especially since I am not taking it daily.

Lastly, he stressed finding holistic options. Which I think is really refreshing to hear from a doctor. He told me to find foods and supplements that are rich in the things I need to help stabilize my heart beats. He said he has had patients that figure out that a banana a day help them immensely. So I am going to try to holistic approach first for a bit. If that doesn't help, I am going to try the blood pressure meds. And if that doesn't help, I will go to the heart meds.

Basically it is a waiting game now. If my problems get significantly worse, he can go back in surgically and try to fix them. But right now they aren't severe enough to try that route again and my doctor thinks I will just get the same result.

So I am currently eating a banana and drinking propel water and taking supplements. I am staying positive because I think that is the most important thing-- especially because stress makes everything worse with my heart. I feel like things are going to be ok. They have to be!

Thank you again from the bottom of my crooked little heart for all of your love, well wishes, prayers, gifts, and cards. They honestly have done so much to help my morale and keep my smiling even when its through tears. I am on my path to wellness!!

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Real Life is Admitting When Things Suck

I am scheduled to have heart surgery in 2 weeks.
I have been very public about my surgery and certain things I am going through, but I want to get real real today.

I know I put a really brave and positive face on social media. I get emails all day long about how inspiring I am and how my positivity is so great. And most of the time I do try to stay positive. I keep smiling. I show up to classes and shoots and film my videos and keep that peppy Cherry face on.

But the truth is, I feel shitty. I feel shitty most every day. And nothing any one can do will make it better. And it takes all of the strength that I have just to get out of bed in the morning and not wallow in pain and self pity.
I feel like someone is sitting on my chest and I cant quite catch my breath. I feel like there is a little demon in there flicking my heart every now and then so that it doesn't beat quite right. I feel more tired than I ever have in my life. I find myself nodding off during the day like an 87 year old man. I don't know why it is like a man, it just made good sense in my head. I am sick, give me a break. I am tired of doctors appointments and tests. I feel like all I want to do is cry or sleep. And I have spent a lot of my days lately doing both.

I rarely see any of my friends or family anymore. Part of this is self inflicted and part of this is friend inflicted. I am not good at reaching out. I don't want to be a burden on anyone when all of my people are going through so much themselves. But part of me is becoming resentful. I cant even tell you the last time a real life friend or family member, and not some lovely social media stranger, has reached out to make sure I am ok. Love from strangers is amazing-- but nothing makes up for the love you get from people that you truly love back. And social media strangers aside, I have had more casual acquaintances texting and messaging than anyone that is close to me. And I try to ignore it. But it hurts. And I am already in so much pain all of the time.

I am scared. At least once a day I go into a full on panic attack. I think about them cutting into me. I think about the pain after surgery. I think about the possibility of having to go back. I think about the possibility of being left with a pace maker. I think about not being well in time to continue working. I think about the bills. I think about not being fixed and dealing with this forever. I think about losing my insurance after the ACA is gone and not qualifying for new insurance because I am a pre existing condition. I wake up in the middle of the night and my mind races.

I am a really active person and I am working really hard to get my body in shape. But my heart consistently holds me back. Sometimes even just walking up a flight of stairs leaves me so winded I have to sit down. I am frustrated that I can't push my body as hard as it needs to be pushed to see the results that I want. Especially when the rest of my body is healthy and ready to be pushed. My heart is like a fitness limiter. If it had a face, I would punch it right off.

The reality of having a medical condition isn't fun. No matter how many positive posts and happy smiles I put on my face-- I am hurting and I am scared and I am lonely. I appreciate all of your kind words and messages and letters and gifts, don't get me wrong. All of these things are the little rays of sunshine on my dark days. But I thought I owed it to everyone else struggling through health issues to be honest. If you are feeling all of these things too, you are not alone. Just do your best to keep going and keep that smile on your face even when you don't feel it. I can't say I am anyones champion, but I am doing my best.

I just want to be better.

P.S. My husband is the best husband that ever husbanded and has been my rock through all of this!

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Unfollowed.

I have never been the type of person that ever just wanted to be a pretty face with thousands of adoring fans telling me how perfect I am. I have always had really strong opinions and a giant mouth. I have always been unapologetic for taking a stance for the underdog and for my people. I have always been strongly outspoken on womens rights, LGBTQ rights, civil rights, environmental issues, health care, etc. This isn't new.

I know we all saw the Meryl Streep speech the other night. What I find so interesting is the backlash. I feel the same backlash on a much smaller scale-- but it still blows my mind. Why, just because someone is an artist, are they not entitled to opinions? Does being a public figure all of a sudden nullify any rights you have to being a human and having human emotions and thoughts? Is your doctor allowed to think and speak freely? How about your mechanic? How about a banker? Lawyer? Nail tech? Hair stylist? Can your neighbor express their thoughts as they see fit? I hope your answer to all of these is yes because we are all humans living in the free world.

Celebrities and artists have a bigger reach, yes. And they also have more influence, totally. And with that comes a great responsibility. But in my opinion the responsibility isn't to censor ourselves-- the responsibility is to speak out on the things that matter to us. If I make a post saying I will miss Obama and 500 Trump loving, gun toting, flag waving Republicans unfollow me... cool. If I make a post about gay rights and 1 person who thought being gay was wrong goes "wait! I really like Cherry and what she believes in, maybe I should take a second to rethink"... that one moment is worth those 500 lost "fans." I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET. I am not here to dance for you as you see fit.

I want to get one major point clear here-- I DO NOT DO WHAT I DO TO COLLECT FANS AND TO BE TOLD HOW GREAT I AM ALL OF THE TIME. Is it nice to hear nice things, of course!! Does it make my spirit soar when I get to hug a girl and she tells me my videos changed her life? YES! Am I going to cry myself to sleep because some girl that posts 1000 videos of contouring and looking "perfect" has about 15 times the following that I do? Nope. We all do what we do for our own reasons. I happen to want to share my passions-- which include both superficial and non-superficial topics.

Another point I feel strongly about-- my page is not your playground for "free speech." My pages are my online living room. If you walked into my living room and started attacking me and calling me names, I would gladly tell you to get out of my house. I have that same right online in my own space, just as you have that same right on yours. But just because my space is public, doesn't mean it isn't still mine.

I love when people leave comments to try to bait me and call me a whiny liberal baby and say I will probably delete their post because I can't handle an opposing opinion. And then I hit delete and laugh. I am all for differing opinions. It makes this world interesting and colorful. And I am all for well informed, educated arguments presented without attacking or name calling. I rarely delete comments from my page. But you better believe when some ignorant man calls me "a retarded bitch" for being sad that the Obamas are leaving office, he gets deleted and blocked. I don't encourage that behavior and will not dignify trolls like that with a second of my attention.

Lastly, if you find what I post SO offensive and distasteful that you cannot bear ONE more second of following me without perhaps dying... Feel free to just hit the unfollow button. Making a big dramatic announcement that you are unfollowing me will only be met with an eye roll and will only make you look silly. Exit with grace. Move on if you must.

All of that being said, I welcome anyone to follow me that likes the things that I post and is willing to skip past the things that they don't. I welcome open minded, free thinkers. I welcome anyone interested in engaging in respectful, adult conversations. If you want to see a pretty face with a vacant space between the ears and in their heart, I am not your girl. And that is ok.

I am a different flavor.

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Finding My Real Father

Me and Dad before the news

When I was 12, my parents called me downstairs and told me that we needed to talk. I remember my mom started getting choked up and the first thing that she said was "sperm doesn't make a dad, it makes a father." She went on to tell me that the dad I had known and loved for 12 years wasn't my biological dad. I looked over at my always stoic dad and saw tears in his eyes for the first time in my life. I felt like those movie scenes where the camera zooms in, but the background zooms out. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I had no idea what to think or how to feel.

They told me that mom had gotten pregnant when she was 16 and bio dad, Daryl, was 15 and just a friend of a friend. I was conceived and born in Southern California and as far as I know, bio dad only met me once or twice as a baby. His mom wanted to adopt me, but mine said no. When I was almost a year old, my mom decided that the neighborhood we lived in wasn't safe anymore so she moved up to Portland, OR to live with her dad. After the move, she lost contact with Daryl and his family and shortly after, met my dad and they got married and he legally adopted me when I was a few years old.

Being adopted is such a weird thing. I had a dad. And growing up, my dad was great. I didn't need anything. But I still felt like something was missing. I started to feel like something was wrong with me. What had I done to make him not want to stay? I dealt with so many years of abandonment issues. I remember the day they told me, going up to the bathroom mirror and just staring at myself. I felt like a stranger in my own skin. I felt like all at once I knew exactly who I was, but also had no idea. That night I lay in bed just feeling my face and arms and legs and feeling like an alien.

After that day, I thought about Daryl every now and then but never gave finding him much thought. My mom let it be known from the beginning that finding him was totally up to me and she would support me either way. These were the days before the internet-- finding a person involved a lot of work or Maury Povich. When I was 24, I was diagnosed with a heart condition and every piece of paperwork I filled out had an entire blank half that was "family history." I started to think more about finding Daryl, but was still scared and held back.

When I was 26, I moved to LA. One day I was getting my oil changed out near where I was born and drove by the hospital for the first time that I was born in. It finally hit me-- I needed to know. That night I called my mom and told her I was finally ready to find Daryl and she was behind me 100%.

The next day, I started what I thought was going to be a long and arduous process. All I knew about this guy was his first and last name, his approximate age, and where he want to high school. That was it. My first search was Facebook and that turned out to be a bust. Next I tried classmates.com since I knew his school info. I hit the enter button and up popped a face that matched with the name. I sent the pic to my mom to see if it was him and her words were "Oh my god. He is older, but I'll never forget that face."

I sat staring at my computer screen for a long time. I studied his face. He looked kind. He also looked like he had broken his nose a few times. He was young and handsome. I hoped he was a good man. I held my breath and wrote the weirdest and scariest email I have ever written in my life. I basically told him that I wasn't sure if he had a new family or if they knew about me and I wasn't trying to stir up any trouble. I told him that I wasn't asking him for anything-- money or a relationship-- I just had some questions I wanted to ask. I even said that if he could put me in contact with his mom instead, that would be totally fine. I didn't want to scare him away. I hit the send button and cried a little and then let it go.

Two days later, my mom called me crying, barely able to speak, and told me to open my classmates profile. There waiting for me was a message from Daryl. He told me that he had missed me my entire life. He told me that he had been through some trouble, but when he finally got it together, he couldn't find me or my mom and it was too late. He sent me his phone number and within hours, we were talking on the phone. He told me that his entire family knew about me and that he kept a picture of me in his wallet. He told me that I had 3 brothers. He told me that there were no major health problems on his side. He told me that his birthday had been a few days prior and that finding me was the best birthday present he could have asked for. He wanted to meet me immediately.

At the end of this day, my head was spinning. I was thrilled! I had been wanted after all! There was nothing wrong with me! I wanted to meet him and his whole family RIGHT NOW! I went home and Trevor sort of talked me off of the ledge. He told me that maybe I should slow down and take it all in and figure out what I really wanted to do and not get swept up in my Oprah moment. He was right. A few months later, Daryl was in town so I agreed to take Trevor to meet him and his girlfriend for dinner.

Me and Daryl at my wedding

We sat across the table from each other just staring at each others faces. I can't even tell you what a Twilight Zone moment that whole dinner was. It was the best and most weird all at once. After dinner we parted ways but kept in contact. The following year, Trevor and I got married and I invited Daryl. Let me tell you, he was the talk of the town. For 27 years, to my entire family, Daryl had just been a name. And all of my friends thought he was a babe, which was super gross and weird. It is the curse of having young parents. But I am glad that he came and was able to share in one milestone moment
in my life.

I don't consider Daryl my "dad." I also don't consider him my sperm donor. He is a nice man that gave me life. He has a good heart and he has tried his best. We have since fallen out of touch, but that's ok. I went into finding him with an open mind and no expectations and I feel that what I got out of it was the best of all possible scenarios. I know that a lot of people go on the same hunts only to have their hearts broken. I wake up every morning now feeling that my last puzzle piece is in place and knowing exactly who I am and why.
Thank you for my life, Daryl. It is the best gift anyone has ever given me.

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The Spark of Shopping is Gone

So today I went shopping for myself for the first time in as long as I can remember. I do get a lot of free clothing in the mail from companies and I just generally hate shopping so I rarely do it. I am the type of person that will find a pair of jeans that fit and buy 4 of them. Sometimes I feel like Homer Simpson-- with better hair. Today I was feeling bored with my closet so I thought I would explore the mall for Holiday sales and see if anything sparked my interest.
I happily stepped into the mall, filled with post Christmas cheer, enjoying all of the smiling faces and giant sale signs. But then I was quickly and forcefully reminded that I have recently gained some weight. And I instantly hated everything I put on. I hated the way everything made my butt look flat. I hated how everything squeezed me in the middle. I hate the dances I had to do to even wiggle into most of the pieces I chose. I hated looking at my body in the vicious 3 way mirror under the unforgiving fluorescent lighting.
Side note: why don't stores get better lighting in their dressing rooms??? Seems like good business sense to me. Do you want your customers to see every last teaspoon of cellulite on their bodies when they are trying on your dresses? Dummies.
So back to the matter at hand, shopping. I went to three different stores before I decided that no dress or pants on earth are ever going to look good on me again and I should just plunge myself from the top level of the mall. Then after a 1 minute and 37 second freak out, I walked myself down to the shoe department and bought myself sky high heels that I probably will never wear but make my ass and my legs look great.
I guess there is no moral to my story today. Just wanted to share how I am feeling and hope that it makes you gals feeling the same mall demoralization not feel so alone. I feel that all women, big or small, have these moments where your body just doesn't want to cooperate with what your heart deems to suit you. My best advice? Regroup and buy some shoes.

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Stop Searching for Outrage

I woke up this morning to an inbox FULL of the same comment from my youtube channel. The comment reads "Is that a fucking swastika on your necklace in photo 7 of your photo gallery? Take that shit down"

Not only was this left in my inbox as a private message, it was also left as a comment on dozens of my videos. Before I replied to this lovely lady, I took a deep breath to regroup and phrase my response firmly but with all of the kindness I could muster.

The photo (to the right) was a picture of me from high school. It is black and white. The necklace in question is actually an ANTI swastika-- a type of necklace that was super popular among the punk and ska crowd in the late 90s. This necklace was sold EVERYWHERE. I am sure many of you reading this had one. The circle and cross that made it anti were red. Which means in a black and white photo, it is really hard to see. Ok, I get it. To someone that doesn't know what this necklace is, at first glance it might look like I am just a super nazi.

Here is the thing though... Why did this girl feel the need to blast my social media, outing me as a nazi, before I even had a chance to explain or defend myself? This is a prime example of the beast of human that social media has created. Everyone is just primed and ready for outrage. In fact, people scour every last deep corner for it in hopes that they will be the one to uncover all of our dark, seedy pasts. And ok, I get it-- when you find pictures of Tila Tequila doing nazi salutes at a white supremacist rally, it is pretty hard to explain away. But a 20 year old grainy black and white photo is hardly a smoking gun.

I guess the point of my blog today is to stop the witch hunts. If you find something on the internet that seems suspect and you would like further clarification, ask the poster directly. Don't DEMAND something of a stranger based off of a half baked judgment. And regardless of what it is that you find offensive, it is never your right as a human to make demands of another human. Like it or not we live in a country full of freedoms and being an asshole won't change anyones perspective. There are a lot of things in this world and on the internet that you might not find to your liking. So keep moving. Or get off of the internet and actually make real changes.

Happy Thursday.

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United we Stand, Divided we Fall.

November 8, 2016. I cried myself to sleep. November 9, 2016. I woke up crying and walked around in a black fog all day. I was hateful. I was hurt. I was mad as hell and wanted to strike out at anyone that I deemed at fault.

November 10, 2016. I woke up anew. Today I realize that you can't battle hate with hate. It just doesn't work. I stepped back in the middle of a Facebook war last night and thought, what is my hate getting me right now? What is my hate changing? Nothing. It is just making me as bad and as hateful as the person attacking me. I told the guy on the other end that I respected him and chose to remove myself. I realized that after I did that, I had won.

One thing I refuse to do is run. This is MY country. This is OUR country. I am staying and I am fighting just like the generations before me did. The generations that fought for women's rights. The generations that fought for civil rights. The generations that fought to get our society to a place of love and acceptance. It is now our duty to keep that torch burning and keep fighting. Not everyone has the ability or the privilege to run... We must stay for those that have no choice.
Now is the time to support each other. Support your LGBTQ family. Support your family of color. Support your female family. Support your immigrant family. Support all of the family that is scared for what will happen in their lives now. Be the change you want to see.

Now is the time for everyone to get involved. Stop venting on Facebook. Stop twitter feuding. Get out there and figure out what you can do to change the things that need changing and keep the things that are working. MAKE your voice be heard. Get off of your couch and go to (peaceful) protests. Get out of your house and vote on the measures that will save our rights. Write to your congress men and women and TELL them what you need. Be active in your community. In the next primary-- VOTE. Lets get a candidate that speaks for US.

Am I angry? Sure. Am I scared? Absolutely. But today I choose to take all of those feelings and channel them positively. I choose to keep my head up. I choose to believe that love will win.
It's only 4 years.

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The Age Old Question...Kids?

So since I took a long blog hiatus, I am going to come back with guns blazing and talk about the subject you guys are CONSTANTLY asking me about. Am I going to have kids?

Growing up, I never wanted kids. I never had that pull to be a mom or get married or really do any of the things that are expected from females. I just wanted to be happy. Whatever that meant.

In my mid 20s I started to think about kids. I started to really think about whether or not I wanted them since I could hear that clock ticking quietly in the background. When I met Trevor, the urge for children became stronger than I had ever experienced. It was like I was standing in a bell tower and the clock was ringing all around me. When we fell in love and got married and started our life, I could finally imagine being a mom. I could imagine us lying in bed with our little human between us-- sharing our little life that no one else could touch. I started to glamorize parenthood. Sunny park picnics. Smiley birthday parties. Baby milestones. It started to seem like something maybe I did want.
And then I started to travel a lot. And my friends started having kids. And all of that came to a screeching halt.

I hate crying babies. I hate changing diapers. I hate temper tantrums and food flung everywhere. I hate answering to anybody but me. I love my freedom. I love traveling. I love my quiets moments alone with Trevor. I love sleeping in. I love reading quietly before bed. I love going to dinner with friends and drinking wine and not being distracted. I love my life. Some people call it selfish-- I call it content.
Then I started panicking. But wait, if I don't have kids, who will take care of me when I am old?? What will my life MEAN?
And then my rational brain kicked in.

I know plenty of dickhead kids that hate their parents and are drug addicts and shysters. I know people that have straight up stolen from their dying parents. There is no guarantee that your kids will give a crap about you. There is no guarantee that even with kids, you won't still die alone. What a weird reason to have kids. Not only that, but they say that the average cost of raising a child to 18 years old is about $250,000. If I invested that in a retirement fund for the next 18 years... I WILL BE A MILLIONAIRE!! Seriously. Kids take all of your money.

As far as my life having meaning... My life has plenty of meaning. I feel that my life has been filled with dozens of personal and public successes. I have a man that loves me, and that I love intensely and fully. I have friends that are there always. I have a family that rules. I get to see the world. I have all of the things that I need in my life. And I have freedom. FREEDOM. To me, freedom is priceless. The freedom to be and do whatever I want. I can buy a plane ticket to India tomorrow if I want to. I can sleep until 5pm if I want. I can quit my job and be a street performer for the rest of my life if I want. I have no one depending on me. Which means the sky is the limit. I don't have to worry about providing food and shelter and education and healthcare to a little human.

Trevor is with me. He has told me so many times that if I want kids... he will love them and be the best dad ever. And if I don't... we will spend our lives together having adventures. He is basically leaving the decision to me. Let me tell you, this lovely way of thinking is NO help in my decision making. But lovely nonetheless.

Now here comes my disclaimer: having and/or wanting kids is not bad or wrong in any way. No way ma'am. I have lots of friends with kids that are perfectly happy and that are amazing parents with amazing kids. I also have friends that are miserable with kids that are little bastards and I am always relieved when I get to go home. But the beauty of our generation is we get the CHOICE. We get to choose to be parents, or not to be parents. And no choice is wrong. It annoys me and makes me sad when I get relentless comments from people asking me when we are having kids and if I say anything at all about possibly not wanting them, there is always the appalled "Why?" Why?? Because none of your business, that's why.

Here is one thing to remember when asking people about parenthood... Some people simply CANNOT have children. I have a few close friends that have struggled with fertility and hearing those questions always appalls me-- the lack of care and thought that comes along with them just kills me.

Fertility aside... A persons choice to be a parent is no ones business but their own.
And as of today do I want kids? Nope. Will it change tomorrow? Maybe. But right now I am happy and content with my choice. And if I get old and my eggs dry up and I always wonder what it would have been like to be a mom, I can always look back at the badass shit I got to do in my life and the man I get to have forever and know that I made my best choice.

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Day 67- A Smile is Contagious

So today I had to run to the grocery store and as I was walking out, there was a man walking in with the BIGGEST smile on his face. Like, Black Hole Sun big. He was all alone and he wasn't talking on the phone or anything. He was just smiling at something happening in his very own head. And don't get me wrong... this wasn't a crazy person smile. He was just genuinely happy about something.
This smile was so big and beautiful that for a second I pondered asking him what he was smiling about so I could be in on his happiness. Did he win the lottery? He was in scrubs, did he just save someones life? Did he just get proposed to? Did he just find out he is going to be a dad? Did he just eat an amazing sandwich?? Did he find a triple decker girl scout cookie??? I really wanted to know!
But then I realized that his smile was his business and I should let him keep it. But I have to say, that darn smile was contagious. I smiled on my whole drive home.

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Day 62- My Love For Nurses

I love nurses. Nursing is one of the most under appreciated positions around. I just finished a marathon of Nurse Jackie and it got me thinking about my own experiences in and out of the hospital for so many years.
I loved my cardiologist. Loved, loved, loved. He was an amazing doctor and a kind man. But let me tell you, on the day of my surgeries, I didn't even really see him at all because I was knocked out before he got to me. You know who I did see? Nurses.
For my first surgery I went in and had a newbie nurse who botched my IV and had no bedside manner. Luckily, the surgery before me ran way late and they had to send me home and reschedule me. When I went back a month later, I was shell shocked and terrified. But luckily I had a good nurse who numbed me and put in my IV flawlessly. She was sweet and reminded me of my grandma. When I woke up, I found out that they hadn't been able to fix me and also that I had flatlined and I was shocked and scared and crying.  She fed me broth and rubbed my forehead and I started crying even more because she was so kind and familiar.
When I went back for my second surgery, I actually scheduled it on a day that she was working so that I could have her again. It was 2 days before Christmas and as I walked into the pre op room, there was a little gift waiting on my bed. It was a little heart shaped ring box and a heart shaped picture holder-- and a note that welcomed me back. Again, I cried. I couldn't believe that someone could be so kind and compassionate and make me feel so comfortable when I was so scared.
Through the years I have had many nurses-- good, bad, and straight up terrible. Some of them I remember, some of them I don't. But the one nurse that will always have a special place in my heart (pun intended) is my surgical nurse. She really made an otherwise horrible and scary experience bearable.
Nurses fill so many roles. They are caretakers, they are medical professionals, they care caregivers, and for me, they are the people that can make or break my anxiety when things are going bad. Next time you are at your doctors office... thank your nurse. You may only see your nurse for a few moments, but just remember that they are doing really crucial
things too. Your nurse is basically your doctors wing man. That is important stuff.
To all of you nurses out there... I salute you. Thank you for the time, the patience, and the care that you give us.

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Day 61- Keep Your Scene Drama

I travel a lot. I work in a lot of different countries, in a lot of different cities, with a lot of different girls. Listen, I am not naive to think that every girl is all sunshine and rainbows all of the time. And I know that within scenes of girls, there is always going to be some sort of turmoil. We have periods. It's unavoidable.

But here is the thing... I DONT CARE. My least favorite thing ever is hearing about local drama. Who hates who. Who screwed over who. Who stole who's ideas. Who is "stalking" you. I hate hearing it. All of it. I hate getting emails from girls before I hit a city, telling me all about how bad the local drama is. I hate when I get to a city, and the girls I am working with/on vent endlessly about the local drama. I REALLY DONT CARE. Like, seriously. Nothing you say is going to make me dislike the random people you are talking about. Nothing you say is going to get me on your side. Everything you say is most likely going to turn me off and force me to tune you out.

Let's talk about real life. Let's talk about you. Tell me what you do. Tell me what you like to do. Tell me about your husband/wife. Tell me anything but gossip. Hell, let's just talk about the weather.

If I am ever pulled into any scene drama, I will most likely just skip that city altogether. I really can't stress enough how much I REALLY REALLY DONT CARE. 

None of this stuff is my business. And it is really unfair when girls are trashing other girls who are my followers and like what I do. You are not making that other person look bad, you are making yourself look bad. And it also bums me out when I have potential hosts tell me that they would love to host my class but girl A, B and C can't come because they have some ridiculous beef. If you want to host my class or shoots, please know that everything I do is ALL inclusive. This means that if you want to exclude anyone, I will be happy to look elsewhere for another host.

I really can't stress all of this enough. I like my life to be as minimally stressful as humanly possible. And feuding broads seriously stress me out. 

Do something more productive with your life. Read a book or something.

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Day 48- The True Cost of Touring

So it doesn't happen often, but from time to time I have girls tell me that my tour prices are too expensive. This frustrates me for many reasons-- most of which is that I don't usually have time to fully lay out an explanation. So here goes.
Touring isn't cheap. I have to pay for flights, hotels, food, supplies (hair products, brushes, makeup), etc. This all comes out of pocket for me. Your ticket price is paying me directly for these costs. This goes double for classes that I do overseas. A lot of people in Europe and Australia don't understand just how expensive a round trip flight from here is. And that is one flight alone-- that doesn't count other flights/trains once I get there. When I get to the UK this summer, I am spending nearly a month there and hotels for a month alone are astronomical. Not to mention the fact that the pound is worth about 1.5 times the dollar so the exchange rate for me is pretty awful when I am buying pretty much everything in pounds. This is true for the reverse reason in Australia-- our dollar is worth about 1.5 times yours, which means that when I come home and exchange my earnings, I am losing a lot in the exchange.
Also keep in mind that this is a business, not a hobby. I pay taxes on all of my earnings as well-- which is another big chunk that doesn't come directly to me. Also when I am gone for a month, I still have to pay all of my bills-- rent, insurance, car insurance, utilities, etc. And when I am on the road, I have to eat out for pretty much every meal since I am rarely staying anywhere with a kitchen, nor do I have time to cook. I value myself more than eating fast food for a month straight, so eating nutritious meals 3x a day on the road also adds up. Remember too that every 4th day is a travel day-- which means airports-- which means extra pricey food/water.
I have not set out to swindle anybody. I am not charging any more than other people that do what I do. I actually looked into taking a class with a hairstylist that I follow recently and he charges $400 per person for his classes. The thing about classes and shoots is that they are a luxury-- not a necessity. I am not charging you a premium for water or shelter. I am charging you a fair price for a service that you can choose to accept-- or not. You wouldn't walk into a boutique and tell them that their shoes are too expensive and that they should lower the price for you. I would love to be independently wealthy and travel the world on my own dime and give away all of my knowledge and skills for free. But unfortunately that isn't my life.
I try to give at least 6 months notice before my tours start so that if girls are interested in booking with me, they have time to save. If you want to book the class at $75 (or £85 if you are in the uk) and you have 6 months to save, you only have to save $12.5 a month. That is a few cups of coffee. I have had girls ask for my class or shoots as birthday/christmas gifts. I have had girls do all kinds of things to make it to see me and take part in my activities. And I love each and every one of you for it.
I do my best to put out free content all over the internet. On youtube alone you can find over 300 videos for free that teach all kinds of things. I answer all of my emails and help however I can. I answer thousands of questions and comments. I do everything I can to make girls feel awesome about themselves. I don't charge girls for every single little thing I do. But my tours are my tours and they come at a cost. This cost has been carefully planned to cover all kinds of factors and it won't change. When girls stop booking my classes, I will stop touring and move onto my next project. But for right now, this is my job, and I take it seriously.
Please don't make me feel guilty for trying to earn an honest living. I do my best to make it fair.

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Day 46- Oh Valentine's Day

Sorry for the weekend hiatus. I needed some me time.
Yes, yesterday was Valentine's Day. And as much as I WANT to love it, I just don't. I just can't.
Growing up, I loved VD (sorry-- I am too lazy to keep typing it and the acronym makes me giggle). I loved crafting Valentines and picking the right candies for the right people. I loved opening my little Valentines box and dissecting every last one. I loved coming home and seeing the little display my mom had set up for me and my brother with balloons and candy. I loved the aesthetic. Hearts and teddy bears and pink and red. I loved it all.
As I got older, I realized that VD for adults is much different. It becomes stressful and anxiety causing. If you are in a new relationship, you agonize over what to get the other person that will be sweet, but not too over the top. And then you hope that they didn't get you something super extravagant that makes you look like an asshole. If you are in a long term relationship, you feel like each year you have to prove yourself more. And people start expecting rings. There are also those broads that measure their mans love by the gifts she gets for VD. Men everywhere are sweating bullets trying to prepare a night that is supposed to express their feelings through chocolates and dinner and giant stuffed things.
I know that VD is still special for a lot of people-- mostly females. I honestly don't know a man alive that gives a crap about VD. And even if he cares to make it special for his lady-- he still could live without it. But I get it... Something about this day makes people feel all schmoopy.
I honestly feel like it is a forced holiday. When I feel like showing my husband that I care, I show him. And he does the same. He brings me flowers when I am sad, or when the weather changes. He leaves me little love notes when he leaves for tour or when I get home. He gives me kisses and sweet words every day just because. And those little things mean to much more to me than a bunch of crap bought at the supermarket on a day that the world tells you to prove your love.
Maybe I am just a cynical jerk face. Those of you that cherish it can keep it. But the last 7 years I have been VD free and I am loving it.

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Day 43- I Can't

I know that when I put my opinions in the universe, I will receive mixed feedback. I know that sometimes I post things that are controversial. I know that I am bad at biting my tongue. I am a mind speaker. I defend myself. And I try to combat ignorance.  But I also try to promote diversity and kindness. I do my best. I am human. This week has been a trying week and I am just tired. Really tired. And I am also tired of friends emailing me privately to tell me that they agree with the things I speak on-- but no one speaks out publicly. So frustrating. I don't have it in me to post from the heart today. So I am going to curl up with some salty snacks and Real Housewives and call it a week. XOXO

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Day 41- Being The Child of a Teen Mom

If I had a child when my mom had me, I would have a 16 year old right now. Whoa. Let's pump the brakes here.
My mom got pregnant with me when she was 16. I was the kid in Junior High with the mom in her 20s.
I can't say that having a young mom made my life hard, or bad, or damaged me in any irreparable way. Having a young mom was actually pretty awesome. I was given a lot of freedom and a lot of autonomy. I was taught to be a good human and make good choices and then I was allowed to make my own choices without a lot of restriction. Because of this, I think I learned a lot of responsibility and maturity at a young age. Most of my friends weren't allowed to watch PG-13 movies or listen to uncensored music. Those friends were the ones that would come to my house to do all of the bad things they weren't allowed to do at home. Honestly, I think that a lot of my friends were sheltered because they had parents of an age that understood how scary the world was. My mom was too young to have old parent fear!
Mom and dad never hid or measured the alcohol in the house. And I never really cared to steal it. I didn't have much of a curfew, but I didn't want to stay out late and make them worry. I never had to hide if I was going to a party or hanging out with a boy. They trusted me because they raised me right. And knowing what my mom went through having me young, I was damn sure I was never going to be a teen mom. And I wasn't. Hell, I am not even an adult mom yet!
One thing I can say for you young readers... is to think really hard before you put yourself in a situation to have a baby young. You hear all of the obvious things-- they are expensive, they take a lot of sacrifice, they will "ruin" your body, they will take your youth away... And yes, I do believe that these things are mostly true. But one thing you don't hear a lot is what it is like to be the child of a teen parent. And even though I love me, and love the person I am because of the mom I have... I can tell you that the guilt of being a child of a teen parent is not something you want to bestow upon your children. Let me first be clear that my mom would NEVER ever intentionally make me feel guilty. She always tells me that I was the best thing that ever happened to her and I saved her life from going down a dark road. But I also know that my mom would have had all of the potential in the world to do so much more than just be a mom. She is smart, she is funny, she is beautiful. She is a giant pain in the ass-- but mostly just because she is driven and passionate. I think that if she hadn't of had me, she could have had a much different (and maybe better) life. She could have gone to college. She could have been the CEO of Apple. She could have seen the world. She could have had dozens of torrid affairs with mysterious men. She could have done so many things... and I know she would have been great at all of them (especially the torrid affairs). But she will never know who or what she could have been because she chose me instead.
I am not telling you all this to feel sorry for me, or
to defend my moms choices. The way our lives are written are written for a purpose. All I can say is that knowing that my mom chose me over a million other options sometimes bums me out. But honestly... I am pretty fucking awesome. So I still think she chose right.

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Day 33- Being a Difficult Friend

I know I am not an easy person to be friends with. My schedule is crazy hectic. I work for myself, so when things come up, I have to move plans around to accommodate work. I tour a big chunk out of the year too, so I am gone a lot and not an "around everyday" kind of friend.
Mostly though, I sometimes think I am just a difficult human to be friends with. I am not a touchy feely type of girl. By that, I mean, I am not the kind of girl that spills my guts out all of the time and I am not super sensitive to other girls. Sometimes I have to remind myself that a lot of girls are sensitive and need to be handled more softly. I am very type A. I speak my mind. I don't play games. I don't DO passive aggressive. If I am upset, I tell you. And I also don't deal with friend drama well. As I have talked about in previous blogs-- I am not afraid to break up with friends that are too much. I try to be forgiving, but I would rather just cut ties than be stressed out and emotionally drained.
I am also kind of aggressive. When a friend is doing something that seems harmful or bad-- I speak up. And I feel like sometimes this is to my detriment. It is a judgment call. And sometimes I speak before I really think about what I am putting out there. I never mean to offend my friends. And I never want my friends to think I am being bossy or meddling. But sometimes I am-- and I try not to, but I can't help it. I had a friend once that was in a terrible relationship. He would do terrible things, she would come to me crying and telling me it was over, and then a few weeks later, they would be back together. I was always compassionate and there to lean on-- I never judged or told her what to do... but at a certain point I had to tell her to either leave or stop coming to me. I can't watch my friends abuse themselves knowingly.
Sometimes I am a know-it-all. I am really bad at biting my tongue when I know someone is wrong even if it is something small that doesn't matter. I consider myself an intellectual and my brain is ALWAYS working. In a lot of these cases my intellectual brain speaks up before my logical brain can tell me to shut up and let it go. I never back down from an argument or a debate. My mom has called me the Debate Queen since I was little. She laughs when my relatives try to argue with me over dumb things on Facebook because she knows I won't stop until I win. And I won't. I can't. It's an illness.
I am not good with daily friend communication. Working for myself makes me live in a bubble of constant stress and high speed movement. I am always doing 5 or 6 things at once, and sometimes friends just don't fit into my day. That isn't saying that if a friend really needs me, I won't be there. I will. Always. But I don't think to check in with friends on a daily basis. I don't have time for it! I don't always even have time for my husband daily-- although that is easier since he lives with me and can sneak in kisses. I also don't make a habit of kissing my friends. I am not the type of friend that will sit and email you all day about my daily happenings. I don't care about what any of my friends had for breakfast. I really don't.
My best friend and I have talked on the phone maybe twice in the 15 years we have been friends. I am not a phone talker. Her and I can go weeks without texting and months without seeing each other and when we do, it is like no time has passed. I don't know what she is doing day to day. But I do know the big stuff. And I know that if I need her, she is there. And vice versa.
I am appreciative to my friends that have stuck around for so many years
. I don't take them for granted for a second. I know I am sometimes hard to be friends with. But I also know that I am loyal and honest and about as true blue as friends come. I hope that means something to my friends. To those of you reading this that ARE my friends... I love you guys. I know I don't always show it and I am not all mushy gushy... but you guys seriously save my life.
Sorry I missed a few days of blogging. I was up in Big Bear with my best friends for the weekend and I just didn't feel like taking a break from my real life to blog. But I love you internet friends too.
XOXO

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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 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 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 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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