Monday, March 22, 2010

Since I'm totally into feeling awkward,why don't I do some Circus shit!?

You know what's humbling?

Putting yourself in a situation that is completely foreign, unfamiliar and uncomfortable and saying, "what the hell, I'm gonna do this...," then gracefully stepping off the foundation that makes you feel so secure and trying something new. By going into something without knowing what to expect and without expectations on yourself- it makes you present- stripped bare of all ego, of all pretentiousness, you're there, fighting the natural urge to judge yourself when you look's very human and raw, when there's no more "perfect."

I took an aerial fabric class the other day, and let's be honest- I'm a fragile flower, I don't do things that "compress my wrists" or require the use of ROZEN. Uh, I take yoga- I'm peacey and wear stretchy paints and am sort of skinny/fat, thin with just the phantom outline of muscle tone. Ya hear? So when the bad-ass instructor informed me to "pull myself up with my upper body strength" I was like- fuck, do I look like Pink, can you just lift me up? Upper body strength.... I couldn't win a push up contest if there was a million dollars and gold encrusted truffles waiting at the finish line, presented on a silver platter by a man that looked Jake Gyllenhaal. With the promise of nookie afterwards. THAT, is how much upper body strength I do. not. have.

For future reference; I also don't do things that require unattractive foot wear, have a cold surface that could break my ass, require extensive clean-up (part of the reason I quit tennis, there were too many fucking balls to pick up), involve smelly rooms, raw meat, or require me to cover my shoulders (I'd like to make the decision myself.) Look, I've got standards.
Otherwise I'll end up running around wearing Teva's in a nursing home, covered in a crocheted fucking shawl, while hosting a craft session with steak shish kabobs as hors d'oeuvres.

...but I digress. I'm on a mission to kick my "perfectionist" in the ass, to not take life too-damn seriously all the time and to break the hypothetical walls I've built up around myself that are there so that I can "ideally"; be the best, look good, avoid failure, have an excuse, stay "comfortable," and be a passive observer in creating my reality. Sometimes, that just seems easier- because you know what to expect.

When you're always the one in control, you don't give yourself SPACE for error, or perhaps for something totally magical and life changing to happen.

I struggle with wanting to have everything turn out exactly the way I see it in my head, or "it isn't good enough" which is a mindset that really cuts you off from the spontaneous events that could fall into your lap.

This month, I'm taking on doing things that A. I've always wanted to do (because they scare me, seem challenging, or seem like a fucking lot of fun) or B. Erase the lines of what a "perfect scenario" is and throw myself 25,000 ft. from my comfort zone- completely knocked on my ass, ready to stand up, evaluate my new surroundings and say, "Damn, that was awesome- let's do it again."

Tomorrow I'm taking a Pole Dancing class and throughout the next couple months I'm going to; get acupuncture, take a pottery class, go ziplining (I LEAVE FOR HAWAII FRIDAY!), take a helicopter tour, swim in a waterfall, take a Greek cooking class, go on a hot air balloon ride, take a ballroom dancing class, become a mentor (what? I swear, I'm a good influence), start taking a series of meditation classes, crash an Indian wedding- I'm convinced they have the most beautiful weddings, but I need to crash one to find out, host a Couchsurfer, apply to a writing retreat to finish the musical I'm writing with My Love, take a spontaneous road trip...ANNND buy my first piece of art.

Basically, I'll be really fuckin' busy.

By changing up our usual patterns, you allow there to be room for growth, for excitement, for purely enchanting moments to occur. Or, you just end up with a bunch of bruises and sore laterals, but hey-that's better than ending up with an indentation of your ass on your leather couch.

"Do as you've always done, things will be as they've always been."....and even if I end up looking like a fool, I prefer the magical stuff.


Monday, March 15, 2010

That one time I got naked....Happy birthday babe ;)

Remember that time I asked a total stranger to make me a purple grape vodka drink, then I took all my clothes off?

No? Oh, cause that just happened.

So, I had this brilliant idea to take nude pictures for My Love's birthday- I was like, "Hey, I'm gonna be all, bad-ass-naked-brave-modern-woman-who's-confident-with-her-body and I'm gonna get bare to bone, in the most Non-Hustler way possible" for my man, and he's going to think I'm a goddess, he'll renounce porn forever and I'll basically win at life. Thee end.

That was my mindset and since I'm all competitive and annoying like that, I wanted to be on the top of "Best Present Giver" list, since he generally murders me with gift giving- cause he's thoughtful, sweet and irritatingly clever and I just buy him t-shirts, or take him to restaurants I've been wanting to try. What's more thoughtful than pictures of my tits in all their perky glory for all eternity, that will withstand the time of breastfeeding, sagging, drooping and such.... thoughtful? I think so, so get naked.

I show up to the photo shoot- proud and ready to give The Girls Next Door a run for their money, I was strutting my best, "I am woman hear me roar, I'm proud of what Momma gave me! Woot!"- the photographer was incredibly welcoming and sweet, we chit chatted a bit about life and Starbucks, you know, important stuff and she says, "Alright, just throw on your lingerie and we'll get started...."

....suddenly, my fucking top lip started sweating like Whitney Houston in a Barbara Walters interview. Then, the palms started sweating, then the backs of the knees, then my hands were shaking, I was walking like a baby giraffe in heels and then I was just a big soppy, sweaty, vulnerable and almost-naked mess. I knew there was only one cure, COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF VODKA, and a little background music. It was becoming out of body, as in, "I am here. And now I am naked? Now, I am not here, I am checking out and thinking of what to cook for dinner....or if I have belly button lint?" No lint, phew.

Check and check.
We start to shoot the photos and I'm thinking, "alright, I got this...." until we start posing- I'm arching, and pushing, lifting and bending. Sucking, cinching and vogueing. Being sexy is fucking hard work, and this isn't my first time in the Sexy Rodeo, it's just my first time in the NAKED-Sexy rodeo, with strangers and blackmail material. There's things sticking out that you don't want sticking, rolls you don't want rolling, bends that aren't so bendy (this isn't Cirque Du Soleil people, fuck) blemishes you don't seen, not-so-sexy-wanna-be-sexy-faces.

If sex were as hard as posing like sex, I would suck at it.
After nearly an hour, I finally felt comfortable to strip down- it was liberating, exciting and completely nerve-wracking. Questions like, "I wonder if my nipples are shaped weird?" Come into your mind, or "I wonder if I have cellulite that I've never seen because my mirror doesn't reach back there...." And, sip the vodka Chelsea, drink up.

Thirty minutes in, all is going groovy- I'm prancing about in my skiivies, with my grape vodka drink, and sure enough, I'm feeling pretty sexy.

By the end of the day, I had; faced a fear, checked off an item on the Life List, upped my rank in girlfriend status, and accepted the rolls, the awkwardness, the discomfort and the body, that is MINE. The one that's soft and strong, exposed, thin-skinned and rough all at once. The body that My Love holds, cradles and adores- the one that he loves. This body in all of the imperfections and parts I PINCH AND PROD, is perfectly beautiful the way it is. IT'S UNIQUE, because it's mine....and I can't compare or covet anyone else' "perfections," we all have our own UNIQUE, "perfect."

To My Love;
26 beautiful years ago, you were born. Somewhat selfishly, I think you were born for me, because you round out the "perfect" of my life. You are my partner, my soulmate, my best friend. You'll eat cheese with me at 3am and scratch my legs when they're itchy (weird animal trait? I know.) You're the one I want to become "we" and "us" for.

You are my heart. Happy birthday my sweet. (This is the last time I'm taking naked pictures for you, next year you're getting a fuckin' gift card to iTunes.)

Monday, March 8, 2010

But lying can be so much fun......

"If you can be 'closest' to the truth without hurting someone, then everything will be ok."
Sage advice from my Dad...or, adapted from Bon Jovi to my Dad. Something like that.

I've only lied to my parents once in my whole life, the lie; "No. I didn't drink seven Mike's Hard Lemonades and throw them (in complete disorientation) into a neighbors backyard when I thought I was throwing them in the ditch...." Obviously, I got caught. I got caught, and my dad CRIED.

He didn't cry because I was experimenting in underage wine cooler tastings, but because I had lied to him.....I had kept something so trivial, so silly hidden from him....afraid of what his reaction would be.
My daddy is a big man, a strong, tall, ex-football player, track star, bad ass.....teddy bear, kind of a man...but he couldn't handle the idea that I would be dishonest with him, for any reason- had they given me some inclination that they wouldn't accept me in ALL of my adolescent mishaps and "flaws"....?? That was heartbreaking to them. Their philosophy was;

You only lie if you aren't give then option of telling the truth.

You lie when you feel like you'll be judged, or someones idea of you will change. You lie to yourself, when you resisting acceptance from the truth, or the consequences of the reality. lie when you're afraid of losing someone, or you're afraid of losing SOMETHING within yourself that is fed by the lie. Whether it's because it's easier to keep going "as is" because truth can be painful and denial is so much easier, or accepting the reality could mean certain circles around you change....and sometimes, nothing can be scarier that that.

From that moment forward, sitting on my parents couch at 14, with the taste of bad liquor still in my mouth, I decided I would never, ever lie to my family again.... there was nothing that could "shock" them. Not only did that our relationship get stronger, but it made me HONEST with myself too. The best person to keep me in check, was me....if I was being honest with myself.

My family has endured years of painfully honest confessions of insecurities, brutal self-loathing from time to time and telling my Dad in Jamba Juice at seventeen, that no, I was not a virgin. And in every moment even the ones that were "unfavorable", with open arms, my truths- were OKAY...and guided, lovingly, never held against me, never condemned.

Whether it's our friends, ourSELVES, or our families, we have to understand that one person's truth isn't necessarily going to work for US and that's OKAY. One person's religion isn't going to fit for another person, sexual orientation, spouse, fling, career path....whatever it may be, that they choose, OR YOU CHOOSE, is OKAY......Accept them, lovingly, warmly......

I'm doing my first giveaway..... leave a comment; CONFESS one lie you've told.....and one TRUTH you need to accept. The winner will be chosen at random from a drawing and win; this lovely necklace, a stick of Dove Deodorant (thanks to Dove), and a MIX CD from ME with songs about TRUTH. (5 runner-ups will receive Dove Visibly Smooth ;
  • Dove Visibly Smooth minimizes the look and feel of underarm hair overtime.
  • Dove Visibly Smooth is NOT a depilatory.

So tell me, what LIE have you told????

[In the spirit of truths and lies, here's some full disclosure for you: This post is connected to the Athenos Two Truths and a Lie Party in Denver, where they're giving away lots of cool stuff, including a free trip to South Beach! I'm going, so if you're local, you love hummus, wine and trivia fun, come join us! Just RSVP here.]

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I can sleep when I'm dead...or during that "really important" conference call.

"Chels, this is what you asked grateful."

I sprawled myself out on the couch and whined like a little bitch about being "too busy" while I kicked my little black boots in the air and shook my dangled earrings in childlike fury. I didn't want to look at the 7,000 emails that were piled up and the cell phone that I didn't have for three weeks (thanks to a little spilt milk in the tracking ball) wasn't missed either. I didn't want another text, or a phone call- I didn't want to feel the pressure, of "immediate response" when your Blackberry starts buzzing and people are on the other end waiting on your answer. I didn't want another social obligation, or event that needed to be "fit in..."

...all I wanted to do was lay down, on my cozy couch- and breathe. Maybe fall in and out of naps while watching reruns of Property Virgins and drinking orange juice from the carton.

I was feeling the strain of needing to be a "yes" person all the time, so much so that I was HOPING for a cold, or the stomach flu, or a funeral- yeah, (I'm morbid and horrible, I know)- so I wouldn't have to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn't "make it", or why an assignment was late, or why I didn't have enough energy to squeeze in a stock phrases were; I'm stressed, I'm overwhelmed, I'm too busy...and fuck, I'm gonna die. Using certain phrases consistently, over a period of time- no matter what it is, will eventually make that belief TRUE.

All the things I was saying about my circumstances could easily be turned into a positive phrase, if I changed my perspective.

My Love said, "You asked for ABUNDANCE....and that is what you're getting." I could look at everything as "overwhelming" or I could simply start saying "thank you."I could get off the couch, check the emails, head out the door with a fucking smile on my face or I could sit there and loathe an event that hasn't even occurred yet, which is useless. Receiving my abundance with gratitude makes it so much easier to get through the moments where you feel like there's "too much" and that "too much" is so much better defined as living a FULL life. Even though it's hard to do...shouldn't that be the goal?

Sure, there's gonna be times when we need to reevaluate, say "no" when we're bending before we break, or our priorities aren't lining up with the end goals....or, we simply don't want to sit through another pointless fucking phone call, lunch date or distant-cousins-softball match. But the for most part, BUSY IS GOOD. BUSY MEANS YOU'RE IN DEMAND.

... I started thinking about my life, my priorities, and all those times when I felt like everything was stagnant- when I was living in the stark reality of waiting for life to happen to me, rather than being a conscious creator in life happening because I'm engaged in it and dictating its direction. I think when there wasn't enough work, or creativity- when I felt like I was scraping from the bottom of an empty well....and now, that well is overflowing, I'm complaining that the water is running my shoes. Or something like that.

Fuck the shoes, and the flood....we want a flood! We want to fill FULFILLED and overwhelmed and FULL...and more is better than nothing at all. Bring on the rain and all that soppy goodness.

Right now is when we should be worn out, we should be packed and crowded- active and present. Reminding ourselves that everyday, we spend bemoaning ourselves, our lovers, our home or our circumstances we're wasting vital time where we could A. change it, or B. be grateful, for everything is fleeting, good and bad.

Saying "I'm stressed" just reinforces that into a reality.... so instead I'll be; engulfed, overcome, submerged in prosperity. AHHH, that feels so much better.

How do you react when you're "overwhelmed?"