Woman the fuck up Chelsea. Woman up.
Chipped blue nail polish isn't cute anymore, you're not 14.
You're a grown ass woman who should wear eye cream, who has found the perfect department store moisturizer, and smells like lavender, and eucalyptus (I'm just guessing this is what a real woman smells like-it seems "spa" like and grown)....
.... It's really hard to take a woman seriously when she smells like a fucking baked good; sugar cookie, almond biscotti, etc. Even though, I love it.
This whole "needing to be more of a woman" thing started the other day, of course, while I was nearly naked- (since we always make rational decisions about ourselves when we're naked?) I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; parading about my house in my torn, faded, 3-year-old? thong, my mess of untamed hair and split ends. Then, I looked at my hands, and my feet, a vision of a spa day, long, long ago. Big toe painted? Sure- what, you mean you paint all of your toenails? It all became clear....
I want to be the kind of woman who gravitates towards the Real Simple magazine at the grocery store. Who buys linens. I want to be the woman who showers everyday....and busts out the curling iron just because. Who doesn't think it's acceptable to wear sweatpants all day long...
The woman who knows how to pair meals with the perfect wine. Who gets out of bed before 9am and has a morning ritual that involves rose water and meditation. Who buys soy milk and nice purses.
I want to be the fucking Kardashians meets Giada De Laurentiis, meets Kate Hudson- so it looks like even though I'm put together, I'll still drive with all the windows down in the car and drink microbrews, not simultaneously.
I want to buy aprons with patterns of beachy landscapes, and kittens. No I'm not fucking joking. I want to have a proper teapot and make side dishes, instead of a measly pot of pasta with canned sauce (my Italian Grandmother is rolling over in her grave right now, "canned sauce!? THE BLASPHEMY!") I want to know how to make a special marinade and have the perfect substitution for when I'm out of vegetable oil.
I don't know if it's what happens when you're disgustingly in love- or when you're just a hormonal hot mess and all you can think about are fucking bundt cakes, but I want to be a person who would even OWNS a bundt cake pan??
The truth is, I think I want to be that kind of woman....but I'm NOT that woman.
Right now, I'm the woman who; wears a messy bun five out of seven days, doesn't always wash her face before she goes to bed, who forgets her Granny's birthday, and writes important information on gum wrappers. I'm the the woman who should change her sheets more often, doesn't know how to cook a decent piece of meat, and wears Dr. Pepper chapstick.
I'm the woman who can't keep her mouth shut, even when it's inappropriate to speak up. The woman who would rather cook together than alone, or just dine out for that matter. The woman who says vagina too often in public and gets distracted staring at people's asses in yoga class. I'm the woman who isn't afraid to do some ball busting, who has never watered or owned a plant and who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to rap to Biggie Smalls out loud, at the gym.
....could be worse I suppose....
What kind of woman are you????? Sorry men.
The blog one year ago today: Preservatif?