Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Beauty’ Category

At The Club

photo (23)

On Sunday night, the club I used to frequent had its 20th anniversary party.

I missed going because my car decided to quit and I had to bring my mother’s car back with me, and Mama’s car doesn’t go to the club. 

But car issues can’t stop my nostalgia. 

Margat and I used to be regulars at the Lizard Lounge’s goth night.  It’s called The Church.  When we first started going, I experienced Good Baptist Girl Guilt from attending a place that clearly was subverting the term “church” in less-than-holy ways. But that didn’t stop me.  

Also, I got over that guilt pretty quickly because:

  1. Um…they kind of have a point. And I appreciate that they’re upfront about it.
  2. Good bartenders.  Goooood bartenders.  
  3. The Church creates an atmosphere that recognizes and respects beauty.

I feel beautiful there.

I wear the lipstick that I like, which is darker than beauty professionals have decreed that I *should* wear. I wear black eyeliner, even though I have been told that I really *should* wear brown. I wear dresses that are more sheer than they *should* be, as well as skirts and corsets that are more revealing than they *should* be. I often wear things that don’t compliment (read: cover up…because as it turns out, they compliment it just fine) my body type. Sometimes I wear bright colors; most of the time I go in all black, even though I’ve been told my skin is too pale to wear all black. When I go to the club, I actually dress the way I feel most beautiful, not the way I’ve been informed that beauty is supposed to look. And unlike every other place in my life, The Church recognizes it and celebrates it as beauty, too.

photo (24)

At The Church, I dance.  I love to dance. I love the way my body moves. And it doesn’t really matter how you dance there.  You can dance gothic. You can swing dance to Concrete Blonde with your roommate. You can tango. You can simply bounce in time to the music (or not…whatever). All (well, most…see below) expression is welcome.

My club experience outside The Church has not been a positive one. I can’t think of a single such outing that did not involve someone coming up to me on the dance floor and grinding on me without my permission, or groping me while we’re waiting at the bar (also without my permission), or if he did bother to ask my permission, yelling at me or belittling me when I had the audacity to say no. As if a total stranger has any business being up in my business. As if I owed them something just by daring to exist within their field of vision.

The unspoken rule at most clubs is that you have to make a choice – be seen or be safe.

That doesn’t fly at The Church. 

The sign by the front door says, “Enter without prejudice,” and they mean it. I’ve seen bouncers escort people out because they were being disrespectful of someone’s apparel or lifestyle. I’ve had a bouncer hover near me when a guy wasn’t hearing the no as quickly as he could have, just in case I needed him to intervene.  That same bouncer asked me after the guy finally did go away if everything was okay, making sure I still felt safe being there. As a result, there is an atmosphere of acceptance and comfort there that I just don’t get other places. When respect is the expectation of an establishment, it is often the outcome.

And it’s beautiful.

I’m woefully behind on writing about personal beauty for 31 Days.

Read Full Post »

Drink the Wild Air

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” – Emerson

I am playing catch-up with my 31 Days of Beauty posts.  Sunday was supposed to be Day Three and the third installment of my Emerson inspiration.  Then my car decided to freak out and stop working on my drive back to Denton.

I don’t even have a picture.

I suppose it would have been very easy to grab a selfie in the wind (because West Texas…and trucks speeding by at 75 miles an hour WITHOUT GETTING IN THE OPPOSITE LANE) while I was waiting on Dad to come rescue me. But I was not feeling beautiful.  I was feeling annoyed and stranded. Also, after the car completely shut down, the air conditioner didn’t work so well, so I ventured into the grass on the side of the road, and most of my attention was focused on looking our for rattlesnakes (because West Texas.  The struggle is real.).

Suffice it to say that I did not get a picture in time for this post.

I am actually pretty surprised that I don’t have a picture of me with my hair all wild and swarmy around my head in the wind.  I love that. My love of strong breezes comes from growing up on the farm, where the land is so flat you can actually see the sides of the roads meet at the horizon in the distance. Mesquite trees (bushes – let’s be real) are no match for that wind. There’s nothing to stand in its way. Think Chicago – only not knife-like and stabby in its frozenness. Imagine warm gusts whipping around your body, throwing hair, clothes – basically anything not pasted down (and even some things that were) – into a frenzy.

And yet you stand. Embracing the wind but withstanding it as well. Strong.  Grounded.

Beautiful.

Drink it in. Drink the wild air.

I’m writing about personal beauty for 31 Days.

Read Full Post »

Swim the Sea

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” – Emerson

When I was a child, my mother insisted that we learn to swim.  It was mostly for safety – one of those “on account-a you never know” things. But I really took to it.  We didn’t live anywhere near the ocean, and lakes were for fishing, but I spent a large percentage of the summer in the swimming pool.

I love the water. In the water, I feel graceful.  In fact, the water is the only place I feel graceful. Once I’m in the water, I feel beautiful.

It’s the whole getting-to-the-water thing that isn’t my favorite. Being that exposed in public is not something that I enjoy.

I am sure it has a little to do with my weight.  When I was swimming (and dancing…and running…), I was smaller, and it was easy to find a swimsuit that didn’t look terrible on me. But even then, I would dash to the side of the pool, still in my t-shirt or with my towel wrapped around me, and then shed it seconds before I dove in.

I was just in a hurry to get to the place where I felt pretty, and I didn’t want any unnecessary, preliminary attention to mar the experience.

The water was freedom.

I swam all through high school.  If my school had had a swim team, I would have wanted to be on it and might have been interested in something athletic beyond junior high track. I trained to be lifeguard but never passed the timed test.  I probably could have passed it once they took the timed test out of it, but if I were drowning, I’d want to know that the person charged with rescuing me could get their ass there in a hurry, so I declined the offer to retake it.

I haven’t been in a pool in a few years.  I’m not even sure that my swimsuit fits now.

It might be time to remedy that.

I’m writing about personal beauty for 31 days.

 

Read Full Post »

31 Days of Beauty

photo (9)

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

This weekend, I am hanging out on my parents’ farm.  The first thing I did after petting all the animals was check out the garden. If the picture above looks a little fuzzy, it’s because it was taken mid-duck as I was trying to avoid the dive bomb by some sort of flying insect.

I have a love-hate relationship with sunshine. I am fair-skinned, so my skin is pretty sensitive to the sun’s unforgiving rays. A day spent outside means bathing in a vat of high SPF sunscreen, as well as multiple reapplications throughout the day.  My shoulders are freckled from the day nineteen Mays ago when I spent the day at a Duran Duran/Deep Blue Something concert to raise money for the families of the victims of the Oklahoma City bombing. I didn’t reapply the sunscreen, and I walked away with water blisters.

Not pretty.

But if I take the necessary precautions, the sun is my friend. I love the feel of it on my arms and face when I’m driving or out for a walk. I love watching the sun rise (well, at least when it’s not coming through my office window, stabbing me in the eye). It means a new day.

This month, I’m writing 31 Days of Beauty. Every day, I will discuss a different aspect of personal beauty.

Day One – Live in the sunshine.

Day Two – Swim the sea

Day Three – Drink the wild air.

Day Four – At the club

Day Five – Badass boots

Day Six – Beauty is hard

Read Full Post »

I’m always wary of people who tell me they have a favorite number.  I give them the side-eye and demand that they explain themselves.  That very few of them can actually do so only reinforces my wariness. When someone asks what my favorite number is, I never know what to say.  Because…favorite number of what?

Favorite number of cups of coffee in the morning? Two.  One for practical, waking-up reasons, and one for the bliss.

Favorite number of place settings?  Twelve. Because my ideal dining room table seats ten, and twelve gives me some leeway for things to break (inevitable) without busting up the set.

Favorite number of pairs of shoes?  Based on my current closet space – about ten.  Based on my fantasy closet space…I don’t think they make a number that big.

If pressed to choose, I usually answer with a random number in the 4,000s, because I feel bad for the 4,000s.  Everyone always wants tiny, single-digit numbers.  Big numbers need love, too, y’all.

If I had to pick my favorite number of days, though, it would be 31. My favorite months are 31 days long.  I mean, that includes my birth month and Christmas and October, so I admit there’s an unfair advantage there. And despite the fabled 21-day habit formation period, I know that many people have found that it takes a lot longer than 21…or 31…days to make a real change. And whatever the norm for habit change actually is, the time it takes for me to make a lasting change is probably longer.  I would guess that I take up to a year, which is why I love New Years Resolutions so much. I’m a slow adapter. 

But I also know that, since my commitment to 31 days of no fast food last October, I have spent less money on fast food in the last 7.5 months than I spent in just three months last summer.  So positive change, while not complete (because I love me some Whataburger onion rings), was definitely set in motion by the 31-day commitment.

And I think that’s what my beauty challenge needs.  A dose of good ol’ number 31.

I look over my pictures in my phone of things – mostly in nature (-ish) – that have caught my eye. For example:

photo (18)

(Rainy day tree)

And I look at the things on my beauty board, and I see a lot of beautiful things that other people have said or done:

And these are great stories and great words. But my focus on what beauty means to and for other people has allowed me to detach from my own experience of beauty.

Well, no more.

If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that beauty is personal, and it demands to be embodied. For women especially, beauty (and whether or not we think we “have it”) seems to control a substantial part of our personal identity.  Many of us focus on inner beauty, not only because it’s important but also a little because we are afraid that when we look in the mirror, we don’t see any outer beauty.  But it’s there. Even beauty of spirit will manifest in a tangible way. It might be as simple as the way people carry themselves.  It might be in the way someone speaks. It might be in the way someone dresses. But however it decides to show up, it does indeed show up. It doesn’t stay in our heads or in our souls.  

Beauty gets physical.

So next month, so am I. August will be 31 days of personal beauty. I am going to talk about myself – what makes me feel beautiful and what keeps me from feeling beautiful. I’ve spent enough time on the sidelines.  It’s time to play.

My OneWord365 is beauty, and I’m linking up with Amy Young’s Trusting Tuesdays.  Join us to discuss how your year is going.

 

Read Full Post »

photo (11)

It is not easy to define what support looks like in practice.  It might seem easy.  Then you meet people and discover that they often find it difficult to take others’ needs into account when they are deciding how they are going to behave in life.  This might surprise you, but it probably shouldn’t, as you are people, too, and have probably not centered your own life around what the general “other” needs.

It’s even more complicated when you’ve been burned.  When you thought what you had was support but found out that what was really going on there was agenda.  Or when you had an agreement, and that agreement was not honored. Or when you really did have support – one that you thought would last forever – right up until the moment that it ended.

Today, I want to talk about two places I’ve found support and what that looks like.  I want to talk about two of my online writing communities.

I also want to invite you to join us, because, dear reader-writer-friend, I want you to have support, too.  If any of this interests you, follow the links to find out how you can get involved.

The first online writing community I joined was the writing community at Andilit.  It was created by Andi Cumbo-Floyd who wrote The Slaves Have Names (click and buy – you know you wanna) about the people who were enslaved on the land where she grew up. I am boggled, both by the enormous amount of research it took to tell as much of their story as possible and by the humble grace and beauty with which she tells it.

I joined because I had this scrap of a manuscript, and I needed fresh eyes. What I found exceeded (and continues to exceed) my expectations.

I get monthly editing for up to five pages of work from a professional editor.  Five pages is a drop in the bucket as far as a full manuscript goes, but for the turtle-esque pace with which I edit my own work to the point that I am willing to let another human being see it, this works out perfectly.  I am saving up for a grand editing once the manuscript is totally finished (and if you are looking for such an editor, I highly recommend Andi), but it’s great to have help along the way as well.

I also get monthly editing from a workshop of others in the group for up to five pages.  This was the part that scared me when I first joined, because I tend to helicopter-parent my characters.  They’ve been through so much already; I want to protect them from judgment. But as with most overzealous protection, this doesn’t help them grow, so I begrudgingly submitted pieces for workshop.  It has been a godsend.  It’s a critique, but from nice, friendly people who write very different things but are still enthusiastic in their desire to help you make your work better, and they expect the same from you. It doesn’t mean the critique doesn’t ever hurt, but it hurts in the good kind of way, like having sore legs the day after a challenging run.

In addition to all of this, Andi facilitates a private Facebook group for members where we post articles or posts on writing that we find, our own blog posts, and anything else writers might find helpful to their craft.  She ends out weekly writing prompts to keep us from getting stuck.  Andi teaches several online courses at reasonable rates. She also lives on a farm where she is hosting a writer’s retreat in July (another thing I’ll be saving toward so that I don’t miss it again next year).

The second online writing community I joined was Story Sessions. I meandered into Story Sessions via Elora’s blog after I read Every Shattered Thing (go ahead, click and buy – I’ll wait) and thus had the insatiable urge to read everything she has ever or will ever write. I feel almost as protective of her main character as I do of  mine.

There are many options for membership.  All of them, however, include a private Facebook group and private members-only content on the website, weekly writing prompts, a monthly newsletter, and story coaching with trained coaches. There are e-courses offered (I’m in the summer session of Story 101 now, and it is glorious) as well as various collectives (mini-courses on a variety of topics), virtual retreats, movie nights, and an annual in-person retreat. We also meet in person in more casual groups on a regular basis, because we just can’t help ourselves.

My favorite thing about Story Sessions are the write-ins.  This might sound funny to members, because my crazy schedule doesn’t allow me to engage in them very often, but I LOVE them. Many of the blog posts I’ve written in the last year of which I am most proud (and all of the blog series I’ve started) were birthed at a Story Sessions write-in. On a weekly basis, members are invited to an online Fuze meeting where we are given prompts, time to write, and an opportunity to read what came out of that time to the other people attending the session.

All that I have said is just a small taste of what you would get from membership in these groups. These words don’t do them justice, because the people in these groups are my friends, and when have words ever done a friend justice? I have read many a snotty piece on how Internet relationships aren’t real relationships, but I can’t help but wonder where those authors are looking.  I know online relationships can be real, because I experience them. And while it’s even better when we have a chance to get together in person, the foundation of our friendships started via the Internet, and they flourish there.

I love these people.  Mercy, how I love them.

I would consider myself lucky to have just found one such community, but I have two.  If you are a writer/artist in need of support, give us a try.

Read Full Post »

I have a hard time getting enthusiastic about summer.  This summer is not so bad, for two reasons:

  • It’s hot.  No – you don’t understand.  I live in Texas.  It’s HOT.  We’re having what we call a “mild” summer. I am grateful for this.  Unfortunately, “mild” in Texas means it’s only supposed to get to 97 on Monday.  Yippee.
  • Summer usually means less money in the bank because I usually don’t teach.  This unfortunately also coincides with having all the free time in the world to daydream about traveling and other expensive luxuries…because I usually don’t teach.  But I managed to pick up a class this summer.  My student loan corporation will be happy.

But even during the worst summers, I have to admit – it’s certainly pretty:

photo 1 (1)

photo 2 (1)   photo 3 (1) photo 4 (1)photo 3photo 2  photo 4photo 1

So I am thankful.

I am keeping track of beautiful moments and words this year on my Beauty board on Pinterest.

I am also linking up with Amy Young’s Trusting Tuesdays – check it out!

Read Full Post »

Beauty Update – May

It’s summer here.  Translation: I’m a walking sweat factory.

Or, as I prefer to think of it, “My thighs are so sexy, they can’t stop touching each other.”

My tendency in summer seems a little counter-intuitive to me.  I feel gross and sweaty and hot (temperature-wise, not rawr-wise) and uncomfortable most of the summer (which in Texas is basically May through September). But summer is when I most want to dress up or engage in traditional beauty regimens. I wear jewelry more often.  I give myself regular pedicures and paint my toenails.  I am more likely to style my hair.  I wear lipstick.

photo (3)I steal hair clips.  Oops.

I also – inexplicably – find myself more likely to exercise.  One might imagine that I would want to sit in front of a fan and do nothing, but no.  I do more Pilates.  I dance around the house more.  I am more likely to go to the gym.

I am also more likely to take on summer projects, like my Getting It Together series.  Apparently, it’s not enough that I discover my own beauty.  I need to surround myself with it.  This will be fun.

One thing that does make sense to me is that I tend to eat better.  I tend to eat more fresh fruits and vegetables – particularly if they can be eaten cold – and I eat less heavy food. I often lose weight in summer, not because I’m particularly trying to do so, but because I’m taking in healthier things and drinking more water.

I think the slower work schedule of summer slows me down enough that I remember to take care of myself.  Maybe that’s what all these seasonal habits tend to be.  I’m not running in three or four different directions at once.  I can take a break.

And taking a break is beautiful.

Join us at Amy Young’s Trusting Tuesdays to read how others are doing with their OneWord365 and add a post of your own!

Read Full Post »

Beauty – April Update

Image

 

April is a funky month for me.

It’s not the weather. The weather in Texas is actually pretty perfect in April, especially this year.  It’s been cooler than usual, which for me is a glorious thing.

It’s partially the time of the school year.  April is a rushed month, trying to pick up momentum again after they’ve had a taste of Spring Break so that we can finish the semester.  That’s challenging, especially when we’ve missed as many days for weather or sickness or some other reason as we have this semester.

It’s mostly that I associate spring with loss.  Many significant people in my life – my friend G from the Bangles post, MeMaws and Granddaddies, uncles and aunts – have died during the spring.  The Boston Marathon tragedy last year fit in a little too well.

But there has also been comfort and hope, and that’s been beautiful.

Yesterday, I looked down at one of Granddaddy’s old cardigans that I was wearing, and I noticed that the tag still bore his name.

The Denton Community Market, which is the most beautiful thing Denton does, opened again.

And speaking of Boston, these pictures of survivors are my favorite thing on the Internet this month.

Edited to add – And oh gosh, this love letter to the Boston Marathon by Esther Emery.

So April is still beautiful, even through the melancholy.

I’m linking up with Amy Young’s Trusting Tuesdays, as we keep account of our OneWord365.  Join us?

Read Full Post »

Click

This month might be slow (-er than usual) around here.  I have a couple of places where I’m guest posting, and I will still do a couple of link-ups.  Or I will procrastinate and end up writing here more often.  Whatever happens, the reason is that I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo.  I have a goal of 75,000 words for the month on an old-but-new-again project called What Not to Say. It’s a commentary on the things that folks, trying to be helpful, say to single people that actually aren’t that helpful at all.  It has its own blog space, because eventually I want it to become a community project, as my experience as a single person, vast and wondrous as it may be, is still just one person’s experience, and as self-important as I am, I don’t really know how to market what would essentially be a manual on how to get along with me.

So I’m spending a lot of time that I’m in front of a computer typing furiously toward 75,000 words, and I’m spending the time I’m not in front of a computer scribbling furiously in this lovely journal:

Image

(My journal, my self)

I started this project years ago.  I stopped because it made me angry. All.  The.  Time.  I couldn’t let go of the anger that these memories were stirring up in me.  And it’s good to vent – to get emotion out so that it doesn’t consume you.  But when you vent (and vent…and vent…), and you are still angry, it’s not healthy.

So I stopped.

I was scared mid-February when I started getting the urge to pick it up again.  I didn’t want to go back to that place.  I especially didn’t want to go back to that place during the end of the school year, because that tends to be an annoying season to me anyway (see last post), and I didn’t want to fuel the fire.

Then it wouldn’t let me sleep. I would wake up with words, and I would not be able to fight them.  At first, there were snippets that I could save as notes on my phone.  Now, they’re whole chunks of text that would take forever to type out on Margaux’s touch screen, so I get up and type or scribble in the middle of the night.  This project has become my life again.

But now it’s different.  I’m different.

Jennifer Upton said, “You can’t see beauty if you’re bitter,” and it clicked.  I was anxious about pursuing beauty this year, but it has prepared me for writing something that has been a source of hurt to me.  It has prepared me to reframe my experiences – to say the true things while still acknowledging loving intent and leaving us a place to go from here.

So if you don’t see me a lot this month, that’s where I’ll be.  Clicking.

 

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »