Tag Archives: mirror

Day 15: Halfway to either success or failure…

April 15

Success or failure: why does it have to be one or the other? Why do I have to either succeed OR fail? Can’t I still succeed even if my crowdfunding fails? Or is crowdfunding a failure if you don’t reach your goal? Or is the fact that ANYONE, even if only just one measly (sorry, no offense) person donated, is THAT enough to say “FUCK YEA, I ROCK, SOMEONE BELIEVES IN ME!!!!”????!!!! 

Everyone should get a pair of gold shoes, they make you feel like YOU'RE FUCKING AMAZING!!!!
Everyone should get a pair of gold shoes, they make you feel like YOU’RE FUCKING AMAZING!!!!

Well it’s Day 15, I’m still at 105 buckaroos and I need (yucky math) 600 and some odd dollars to reach my goal…so I feel both happy and fucking miserable. (Head in hands) “Count your blessings” I say to myself in the mirror, even though I look at my face and don’t recognize it.

“Do you ever feel like you look at yourself in the mirror and instead of seeing yourself as you are now, you see yourself as you will look in another 10 years?” I posed this question to a person very close to me who reacted as if he has never even looked at himself in the mirror period, and I admit I felt very narcissistic and vain in admitting my thoughts, and then very weird in the fact that after further explanation this discussion ended unsatisfactorily (oh shit, is that a word? Well autocorrect didn’t call it out, so I’m going with it!).

Oh Hell! Yep that's me! (aging by the minute...)
Oh Hell! Yep that’s me! (Look away children, you can’t un-see this! And yes it will happen to you too someday, eeks!)

I feel like maybe that imagined mirror image of myself (yes, I had to explain that it was the way I imagined I would look in 10 years, because no I don’t have some special power or magic mirror that shows my actual older self, wouldn’t that be cruel? Very [what’s his name] Dorian Gray-ish, no?) is some kind of sign of my insanity. I mean, really, apparently no one else has these kinds of horrifying visions.


So next question is this: am I the good crazy or the bad crazy? But yet again, does it have to be one OR the other??? Can’t I be a little of both? (Characters are supposed to be a little of both, right? Likable and hatable? [wow, why do those words look SO wrong?!? “likable and hatable” that CANNOT be right, right???] Well is that okay for a real person too???)

As it stands, at least I have (almost) enough donations to be able to submit an essay to the cray-cray writing contest that’s giving away a freakin’ Bed-and-Breakfast mansion house in Maine?!?! Or I could submit my poems and short stories to a few contests, or maybe even (dun dun dunnnnnnn) a chapbook contest??? Wow! So many possibilities! I could also save it and keep stashing bits of cash aside so that in the Fall I can attend the next Fiction Writing Seminar with Tod Goldberg, where we will both probably look 10 years older after a long hot summer in So Cal…in Palm Desert no less! Can you say triple digits?!?!

And my birthday is in 3 days, so there’s that. I will be a year older, technically speaking. Come on, help me make 33 the best year yet (It’s like number alliteration, whaaat???)! I have SO much creative energy just waiting to explode all over your face! (Okay, sorry, that was too much and could be misinterpreted in many various ways.) I’ll just pass you a hankie (you know “handkerchief” which is suuuuuch a weird word to type out or even say aloud because, well, who uses those anymore???) to wipe my creative juices off your brow. Ew. Okay, this just keeps getting weirder so I’m just gonna stop there and ask you to disregard this last paragraph as I tend to really lose it near the end of my blog posts (blushing and staring in the mirror to make sure nothing has actually exploded all over my face).


Day 13: Dress to Impress

Monday, Sept. 23

Change of strategy for surviving a month of no makeup (well, 17 more days at least, but who’s counting?). Today, I dressed cute. No, not as in wearing my “cute” yoga pants and my “cute” moisture-wicking fluorescent tank (you know, the ones I bought to wear to the gym while I was still optimistic about finding time to go to said gym). I wore (que trumpet sounds)…denim shorts (no, not the cut-off daisy duke style, but a flattering dark denim short with braided belt) and a pretty red-striped tank with lace detail on the back (one of my faves).

Maybe it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for me it was. So far I have been dressing…well, comfortable (as in sloppy, ugly, unkempt, messy, okay you got it). Part of it has been due to a mild depressing feeling from not wearing makeup. This feeling of not being myself. Liberating (as in no muss, no fuss) but strangely sad (as in I don’t feel the joy that makeup and clothes give me).

But there are more moments when I do see myself (sans makeup) and actually am getting (a little) used to seeing what I look like. Okay, maybe that seems weird. But here’s the truth—I used to wear makeup every single day. Every. Single. Day. Whether or not I planned to leave the house. And when you wear makeup you stare in the mirror, and you see every little part of your face. But…when I don’t wear makeup, I don’t look in the mirror as much and therefore don’t scrutinize my complexion or overall looks as often (a happy side effect).

Maybe this is a good thing? (Question mark intentional) Because I’m not sure yet. It’s not that I had such a terrible self-image before, but I knew it could use some improvement. And it’s not that I felt over-burdened with the task of applying makeup each and every day, but I was very uncomfortable without it.

To wear makeup or to not wear makeup? There are no right or wrongs on this matter. That is a question that each person has to figure out themselves. For me, it is important to look presentable. And this is something that I’ve felt compelled to do since childhood (wearing socks to match the outfit, the scrunchie to match the socks, the earrings that coordinate with the whole “theme” of the ensemble).

I miss the days of childhood where it was so easy to look cute. No makeup. Hair up in a scrunchie. Cuffed socks. Stretch pants. Oversized, tie-dyed T-shirt with a ring/clip accessory. Gigantic peace-sign earrings. And I was set.

Now I have to thrash around my closet, searching for the ONE pair of jeans that FITS just right, then the shirt that is dressier than a T-shirt but not quite a blouse, then the shirt that goes UNDER that shirt for midriff and see-through coverage, then there’s the right bra, the shoes (boots? sandals? flats? tennies? (Yes, I still call them “tennies”, insert smiley face with tongue sticking out here)).

Oh yes, then there’s the makeup. To match or not to match your eyeshadow?

At least that is the question I don’t have to answer for a while. And who knows, maybe I won’t care anymore at all (okay I will). But maybe I’ll care less? Until then, there are the clothes. God save the clothes!