Just Take It!!

I am not a fashionista, but I consider myself a person with general good-taste and style.

I assembled myself an outfit yesterday that I was actually very proud of and felt very confident in. It was a very 'Lauren' outfit. If I were a selfie person, I may have even posted a hashtag OOTD. It was  just a multi-colored striped shift-dress, a denim jacket, some cognac-brown riding boots and flesh-toned fishnet tights. It doesn't sound spectacular, and I didn't exactly spend hours coming up with this ensemble. I try to dress a little nicer (okay, a lot nicer) for church because a) I actually have a job there (that I really like and enjoy, I might add) and b) I don't get to wear nice clothes working in a preschool.

After church, I went to lunch with a friend, and the waitress complimented my outfit, and my first impulse was to tell her that the dress only cost $15 and that the jacket was 10 years old. Of course, I just said "thank you!" But I realized I always do that. When someone pays me a compliment, I usually find some way to down play whatever it is they're complimenting, as if my things are not worth their nice comments "I like your top" "Oh, it's from Target". "Cute shoes" "Thanks, I've had these forever". I'm not the only one who does this, though. I've noticed that many of my other female friends do this as well. It goes beyond just being humble, it is like a weird, learned behavior that we have all picked up from each other where we can't just take a compliment and run with it. We either have to down play whatever is being complimented, tell the complimenter where said item was purchased or give a compliment in return. 

I was so eager to de-value my outfit that I had felt so good in because...why? I'm not supposed to take compliments? I don't deserve them? Because that's a load of crap! So what if that dress was only $15, it was cute AND a bargain! So what if I've had that jacket since college, a good denim jacket never goes out of style! And no one needs to know those details, and since no one really reads my blog...no one is going to!

"I"m a damsel, I'm in distress...I can handle it!"

The Beatles sang "When I was younger, so much younger than today/ I never needed anybody's help in any way/ but now those days have gone and I'm not so self-assured/ Now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors...Help! I need somebody"

These lyrics do not apply to me. As I get older, I am become more and more independent. If it's out of a sense of self-assurance or sheer necessity, who's to say? But my need for 'somebody' is decreasing while my knack for being my own problem-solver is increasing.

This morning as I was putting away laundry, my problematic closet door came off it's track and the wheel came off. Then the other door came off it's track. If you're good at math, that is 100% of my closet doors not on their track. And I have to admit my first instinct was to lay down on my bedroom floor and cry. Which I did. I cried because my closet was broken. I cried because I couldn't fix it. I cried because I didn't have 'someone' around who could. I cried because I was tired. I cried because in that moment I felt like I wanted someone to help me and I shouldn't want someone to help me because I'm an 'independent woman who don't need no man'. Then I put on my big girl panties and assessed the situation.

It was frustrating. I had to get the wheels back on the first door and get it back on it's track, and in the process, the wheels came off the second door, and then the first door was actually in the way of getting it back on the track. Trying to hold the door up on my own was very tricky, it wasn't heavy, but it was awkward. There was the looming possibility that I would drop it and the mirror would break, cursing me with more bad luck than I need (as if I could tell the difference). I would have loved to have called for back-up. There were definitely some choice words uttered. But I fixed it.

The point is, there are instances where I don't need anybody. I can fix a closet door by myself. I can take my car in for it's scheduled maintenance on my own, and when a weird light comes on, I can look it up. I've gotten pretty brave when it comes to killing bugs and spiders. I may not need any one, but it might be nice to have someone around once in a while. It's nice to know I can do these things, but it'd be okay if there was someone else around to do them too.

I'm a damsel. I'm in distress. I can handle it....but I don't always want to...

#thestruggleisreal

It has been over two years since my last post, and I wish I could say that so much has changed...but not really.

I have a new job...but I still feel 'stuck'
I have a new address...but I still don't have a 'home'

I still whine about the same things, I still run away to Disneyland, and I still live too far away from Broadway shows.

So why am I writing now? Well, if my life were a sitcom, today's episode would be called 'A Hardware's Night' or 'Hardware Times Come Again No More' or some other cutesy play on words that would accompany the events that led to the minor freak out I had at the hardware store today.

I am a girl. I am single girl. I am a single girl that sheds like a golden retriever. My hair gets everywhere, and all of the sudden my shedding has caused my bathroom sink to drain v e r y  s l o w l y...

There was a product that my dad used to use in my bathroom sink when I lived at home, since this product unclogged the sink I shared with my equally shedding sister, I figured it was strong enough to fix my clog as well! But this industrial strength hair-dissolver, sink-unclogger stuff isn't something a person can just buy at Target, I had to go to a hardware store.

I feel I'm decently equipped when it comes to minor household fixes. Just yesterday, I helped my dad with a light fixture at my parents' house, but walking into that hardware store made me feel like a stupid little girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to look for, who to ask or what to ask for. I just felt so helpless and idiotic. Part of me was angry because I'm a feminist and I should know these things just as well as any man, but part of me was upset because I'm single and I don't have a husband to take care of this stuff for me.

This has been the identity crisis I've been struggling with for years...I need to know this stuff, but I don't want to need to know this stuff. Any of it. Unclogging sinks, fixing lights, getting my oil changed or my tires rotated...I don't want to be helpless, I just want to be helped out!

Single people use blenders, right?

Yes, we do...but we don't get to register for them. Just because I'm not in the "marriage" stage in my life doesn't mean I don't need things for my apartment. There is no such thing as an apartment-warming registry. Bed, Bath & Beyond hasn't quite jumped on that bandwagon yet. Four months ago I moved into my first apartment and I'm still working on filling it. I did get some hand-me downs: silverware from my parents, a coffee table from my friend who moved and a sofa from an old lady at my church who apparently had cataracts. I have some left over stuff from dorm-living: stolen plates from the caf, a nice collection of dollar tree spatulas and other things we collected over the years. I had a decent collection of 'starter' items. Some good, solid basics. Mom stepped up and sprung for a toaster, and the 'rents pitched in the extra microwave they had sitting in the garage to help my kitchen come together. Trying to make this apartment 'home' involved hanging a few pictures, getting some curtains, and a couple of throw pillows to try to spruce up the hideous sofa, and the whole thing has come together quite nicely for what I've had to work with. It's nice and I get by.
Except I need a blender.
Granted, I can get a no-frills blender at Target for around 20 bucks, so it's not a HUGE deal...it's just...the principal...when you think of bridal registry, blender is the first thing you think of, right? It's like the stereotypical wedding gift. There is something about buying yourself a blender that just seems so...sad.
I realize that almost everything I just said set feminism back about 50 years...I may as well vacuum in pearls and pumps and enjoy unblended drinks from now on...