Six Items or Less, Part 6: Hark The Herald Angels Sing, Glory To the Reborn Wardrobe

Today is the last day of Six Items or Less!!! After work, I will go home, run to my bedroom hurrah-ing with joy, rip off all my clothes, throw open my wardrobe and glory in the vastness of options, revel at the touch of fabrics my skin seems to have forgotten the feel of, exalt as the angels sing and heavenly light bullets shoot out of the majesty of my full and bursting closet, barely resisting the urge to throw all my clothes onto my bed and roll in them like I'm rich beyond words and they are my colossal fortune of green paper gold like I'm in some sort of strange movie about greed and lording my wealth over all the little poor people because I'm a right turdface, all whilst laughing maniacally!

I will bask in their beauty. And tomorrow...I will wear them. On me. And I will rejoice!

Sometimes My Posts Are Fluffy Like A Bunny

Today is the penultimate day of the Six Items or Less challenge!! I am so excited! I didn't anticipate missing my clothing this much. I know I've said over and over how easy dressing in the morning is with this challenge, but that's only because it really is. I'm just so...tired of it. I'm sure Wednesday will be a challenge in it's own special way, since I will hardly be able to decide "what to wear first?!" for my first day of free dressing! But I am ecstatic to be overwhelmed. I'm actually feeling a bit of agitated excitement right now in anticipation of being able to wear whatever the hell I want! Wednesday, I love you!

I hope everyone had a happy Easter! Mine was pretty darn good, I must say. A couple weeks before Easter I realized my dad never makes my mom an Easter basket, and yet she always has one for the three of us. So this year, finally, after years of being so self-involved I never looked across the table to see my basket-less mom (who never even complained about the oversight), I made her a basket of her own. And hid eggs. Aaaall around the house for her to find. It was fantastic! She really had a great time, and you could see she was so happy to be remembered. I can tell you now, I will never forget again. Everyone deserves a basketful of chocolately goodness, especially the Easter Bunny herself.

Later that day my Pepere came over for dinner. He didn't stay too long, as the elderly are best to drive while there's still daylight. It turns out, though, that we didn't let him drive home anyway. His car was spurting break fluid in obscene amounts, so my mom drove him back instead. Also influencing our decision was the fact that he ralphed next to my sister's car port before getting into his vehicle. Yes. Well. You sir, certainly aren't driving a probably brakeless car while your stomach is leading a revolt against you.

Today I finally purchased Gala Darling's Love and Sequins. The full series. It was half price so I could not resist! I had wanted to buy it in full previously, but the price tag was more than I could part with at the time. But half price is so generous, and so affordable, I couldn't let this deal slip by!

I love reading Gala's blog, and her radical self love philosophy makes me swoon! Reading her and Sarah Wilson's blogs have been really inspiring as of late. They are both really about taking chances, trying new things, respecting yourself, and making life better. And I have known for a while now that, in order to leave the job I hate, I'm going to have to act. I know, pretty simple to understand, really, but not always as easy to commit oneself to! It can really be paralysingly frightening at times. Acting can be difficult, takes effort, and does not guarantee the kind of success you may be expecting. It has the power to change everything. But, if you take responsibility for yourself (which can also seem scary!), you can influence whether that change is for the good or for the worse.

Nothing in my life will change if I don't make it change. If I don't act, I'll be staying put. I'll be giving in to everything that is, as it is, right now, and for always. I haven't always liked change, or challenging myself (because, unfortunately, it's so much easier not to), but I can recognize now that it's the things that have challenged me in that past that have been the most worthwhile. College, for instance. I dreaded it. Driving there freshman year with my parents, I had the largest pit of fear uncomfortably churning in and gnawing at my stomach the whole way there. But college helped me grow as a person, and I don't know who I'd be today without that experience.

Then there was study abroad. A few months before leaving it looked like I wouldn't have enough money to go. I had been anxious about leaving anyway, so this seemed a perfect way out of it, and I told my parents, "It's okay. I really don't have to go." But I found a job, made the money, and off I went, to spend four months in a country whose language I didn't speak. And it has changed me so much for the better.

I look back sometimes and wonder who the hell that girl was that made these decisions. I had generally been convinced she wasn't shy, timid me. But it seems that, in those moments of making a choice and acting on that choice, I really just sort of...stopped thinking (which is a miracle for me!). I just...did, instead. I acted, and let whatever was going to befall...befall me.

So I'm coming very close to taking action, and making a choice. I am already scared shitless, but I think I'm even more scared of staying where I am and remaining comfortable. I know that where I am now isn't what I want for my life, but day in and day out I do nothing about it. This blog itself is a testament to that - I started it to document my job search and getting out of exactly. where. I. am. now. Still!

So, it's coming. I don't know exactly what, but I feel the undertow of a wave I can't yet see. It's up to me to decide if this wave pummels me under, or carries me in to shore.

Sixe Items or Less Part Thank God This Is Almost Over! and Lemon Aid

Day 23 of Six Items or less.

Nothing to really report. It's still super easy to not have to think about what I'm going to wear every morning. However, I do keep thinking about the other clothes I own and can't wait to wear. There's one week left, so I am confident I will successfully complete this challenge. I'm just getting antsy and super excited that there are only 7 days left, which means they will in all likelihood be the longest 7 days of my life.

Also new in the neighborhood: the weird things I will do to rid myself of acne (short of chopping off my face, though don't think it hadn't crossed my mind)!

In this installment, our subject tries: lemon! Yes, lemon! That acidic fruit that makes your mouth pucker! It turns out it doesn't feel that much better than it tastes when dabbed on your zitty/open sore-cause-you-just-won't-stop-picking-it-fer-cryin-out-loud! riddled skin.

I've been trying this one out for, maybe three days now? Half of me thinks I'm seeing improvement, and half of me is convinced the other half is deluding itself so that this citrus circus it's putting both halves through isn't for naught.

My plan is to try each new natural remedy I can find for at least a week before moving onto the next. Hopefully that will be enough time to see if it's actually rendering any results.

For those wondering, I'm 24, and have never had acne like this before. I went on the pill while in college because I had fairly frequent blemishes, but I can't recall it ever being like this. Since going off the pill (for various reasons), my face has flared up something awful. I refuse to go back on the pill - one of the reasons I went off was to try and be more natural, and a chemically pill tricking my body and hormones into thinking I'm pregnant every month does not qualify as 'natural.' I also quit slathering on the topical prescriptions I've been using for years, because they too are full of chemicals I don't want to absorb into my body. While there isn't always a lot of proof these chemical cocktails have a harmful side effect in the small doses they're administered, it's just not something I personally feel comfortable doing anymore.

Enter the lemon. I'm hoping that the acne is due to my body's hormones balancing out and remembering what it is exactly they're supposed to be doing. It's been three months since I quit the pill, and I've had a face full of painful red bumps for about a month with no sign of them relenting of their own accord. I have contacted a naturalist in my area, but they have yet to respond to me. So until a professional that is not just going throw a "miracle" pill at me will help me out of my predicament, I'll take matters into my own, lemon-squeezing hands.

Let the experiments begin!

The One Where My Mechanic Thinks I'm A Pervert (Almost) or What I Did This Weekend

Few things suck more than working on a holiday. Even somewhat piddly ones like this'un. Everyone in my family has it off, schools have it off, and, well, a lot of other people do too. But not me. No sir. So I will do all I can today to eschew work. Starting here.

So this weekend I was a very busy girl, despite almost everything I planned to attend being canceled. Saturday I had facebook RSVPed to meeting up with many friends at Purgatory Chasm, picnicking and then hiking about. Come Saturday morning...canceled! So I went and visited with my former roommate and her wee baby thing (translation: three year old), and we had ourselves a lot of fun.

That night I went with my family to a benefit for the woman that works for my dad and her son, Joe. Sadly, Joe is fifteen and has brain cancer. He's his mother's only child, and she is a single mom. It's really quite heartbreaking, so I tend not think about the details too much. This kid is fighting very hard and is up against some daunting odds, so this benefit was truly inspiring. So many people showed up, showing support and donating money, it was just unbelievable. It makes me have a little more confidence in the human race.

One method of raising money was a silent auction/raffle. There were well over a hundred themed baskets, gift cards and other miscellaneous items donated, and tickets were 25 for $20. My mom and I both spent the $20, and walked around checking out all the baskets after our second glasses of wine. This was a mistake. I fully blame the wine for making us think it would be funny to put a ticket in the "adult toy" themed basket. I'm sure neither of us thought through to, "but...what if we actually win it??" The rest of my tickets were put in a variety of wine, Italy, and Ireland themed baskets, a gift certificate for a beginners pilate's class, a full car detailing, and some movie tickets.

They pulled the tickets at 11pm, when my mom, dad and I had already left. My sister and her friends were still there, and at 15 past I get a text from her saying, "You won raffle bag 75!!"

"Sweet!" I think, "I wonder what that one was?" And continue reading my book. I go to sleep, and in the middle of the night I abruptly wake up, feeling overheated. As I lay there listening to the rain outside, BAM! A thought bursts through so suddenly that I gasp audibly. "What if I won the adult toy bag?!? Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Scenes of a man standing at a podium, pulling names from bags, announcing the prizes to a crowd including the woman who works for my dad, my mechanic, many strangers and my sister and all her friends, races through my head. "They all think I'm a pervert! Shit! I can never go there for an oil change again!" A wave of intense embarrassment washes over me and I could barely quiet my rush of thoughts enough to make it back to sleep. Seriously. What made me think that was a good idea!? Shit, shit, shit!

In the morning I share my realization with my mother who thinks it's the funniest thing she's heard all year, and makes sure I know by laughing at me hysterically with a maniacal twist. It turns out it probably wasn't the adult toy bag because it had a much lower number than 75 (thank goodness my mom remembered - or took pity on me and lied), and that they didn't announce them, they just wrote them on a dry erase board with the bag number next to the winner's name. Phew!

Now if I did win the naughty raffle, at least no one besides me, and whoever I need to go and pick it up from will know. Really, though, that is mildly comforting. Oof.

Sunday is book club! Wee! Wait, what is that? It's...canceled? Then why did I bother buying the book on Thursday and marathon reading it for today? Bahumbug! Except it really was a good book (Water For Elephants) and I'm glad I read it.

Instead, me and said friend decide to go into Boston for the day! We go to the Aquarium, as she's a member and we don't need to wait in line or pay. It's all fun, games and good times, until I am stalked by a shark. No, really. In the middle of the New England Aquarium there is a a ramped spiral like so:

At each window is a ledge, and we decided to sit for a spell and watch the fish swim past. They all swim against the current, so from where I was sitting I couldn't see them approach, but I could see them as they swam away from me. Then, eerily slowly, one of the sand tiger sharks started to glide into my peripheral vision. First his nose...then those teeth....his eye....until his face was level with mine, and his eye was staring straight into mine...and then....he stopped. And stares. A shark, stopped and stared at me. Though there was glass in between the two of us, it was one of the freakiest experiences I have ever had.

Are you going to try and tell me this thing staring straight into your soul wouldn't give you the heeby-jeebies?

I nearly died from nervous laughter. And of course since the shark literally stopped right there, people started gathering around and taking pictures, as I'm choking and almost falling off the ledge in my fit of "oh dear god, what is it doing?!" It was the type of stare that said "When the floods come, I'm going to find you and eat you."

That, or maybe he wanted to be friends. You really can never tell with sharks.

Tanguillo de Embarrassment

I was thinking this morning about embarrassing moments. It seems like everyone can easily recall the most embarrassing moment in their life, but I usually struggle with it. This is probably because I do a lot of ridiculous things, so that in the scheme of things, truly embarrassing moments don't rate that much higher on the richter scale of "WHY DID I JUST DO THAT?!" than the regular day to day.

However, a few did come to mind as I made my way into the office. My iPod was set to shuffle, and the song I learned flamenco choreography to while studying abroad came on. Flashback three years (almost four years now, holy eff!) to Italy. My flamenco class has to perform, like, in front of people, for our final. I am terrified.

I do not handle public anything well. As a kid I kicked some righteous arse at it. I took dance class til I was five or six, and at all my recitals I'd be trying to corral the other girls into doing the moves we learned and quit-picking-sequins-off-the-floor-damnit! Basically, I was bossy, but I clearly also wasn't afraid of the stage.

I am now. Like...a lot. Shame really, because I look good in a tutu.

Anyway, we go to the stage we'll be performing on to practice. We have one dance we learned and would be performing as a class, then we had also had choreography we created as smaller groups for a project which we would also be performing. As my small group goes through our choreography, the rest of the class watches from the audience. After we finish and I'm feeling all proud that I neither messed up nor vomitted, a girl in my class comes up to me and, in front of the rest of the class, says, "Sarah, you may want to, uhm...wear spanx or, or something for tomorrow night..."

I what? Why would OH MY GOD I DIDN'T SHAVE MY BIKINI LINE!

I hadn't for pretty much the full four months I'd been there. It was fall and kind of chilly, so whose going to be seeing down there anyway, right??

Ruh-roh!

Honestly, I am grateful she told me. As mortifying as that encounter was (shit! shit! I can't believe they ALL saw my fuzzy-wuzzy bikini line!), it's better then, than when the entire auditorium was full to the brim with strange people.

The worst is that, if she noticied it, it was pretty bad, or else the entire exchange never would have happened. Stage lights are awfully unforgiving. Especially when they're shining right on your exposed thighs. Oi. Thinking of it now I still die a little. But it's past, and now I will never forget to do a little maintenence before lifting my skirt in front of an audience.

This is my class as a whole, performing to "Tanguillo de Cadiz." You can't really see me (I'm in the back and then switch to the middle), thankfully. I think my teacher took pity on me and placed me at the back on purpose. Especially when she realized vom would've been really hard to clean out of the wooden floorboards had I been placed up front. Wise woman.

You're All Going To Think I'm Crazy

I'm quitting sugar.
 
Yes, you read that right. And I'm not going to tell you that you should too. This is a personal choice. I only share this here because I want to be able to talk about it. If I fail, if I cheat, if I notice changes for the better or for the worse. I want a place to talk about it too, since I haven't told many people I know because I know what they'll think.

People will think I'm nuts. Sugar is in everything - well, everything processed. Which is what's so damn hard. It means I should eat only, and a lot of, vegetables and fruit. Which are more time consuming to prepare, and have a shorter self life than say, little Debbie Snacks. And damn, juice tastes way better than plain boring water. (okay, I never drank juice. still, I used to drink a lot a lot of iced tea which was high in sugar)

But I'm going to try. Slowly. I'm pairing down my sugar, bit by bit. And it has been a bit difficult thus far. Living at home, eating the meals my mother cooks...it means I have less control over what is going into my food. Not that I'm ungrateful my mom is kind enough to cook for my lazy buttocks (and her cooking is delicious!). If it were really a problem I'm sure I could ask her if I could make my own meals, but I'm fairly certain she'd feel, mm, just a tad insulted. So I don't and I won't. I'll just control as much as I can of everything else I eat. Will I never eat sweets again? No, probably not. It's my life, and if I want a slice of cake every once in a while, I will indulge. Life is not about total deprivation, for sure.

So that's the short of it. I'm quitting sugar. Stop reading here if you feel like I'm preaching, because I do not mean to, but I am going to go into why I'm quitting, for those interested.

Here's a rather lengthy video (at the bottom) about the science side of it, given by Dr. Robert H. Lustig, MD, a UCSF Professor of Pediatrics in the Division of Endocrinology. It's called “Sugar: The Bitter Truth,” and is very interesting if you have, say, a spare hour and a half.

If not, I certainly won't blame you. Here are some highlights:

• Americans consume 141lbs of sugar a year
• Just eating vegetables and fruits you would consume about 15g of sugar a day
• Prior to WWII we consumed 16-24g of sugar a day
• As of 1994 we consume 56.7g a day
• Today, adolescents consume 72.8g sugar a day.
• By cutting back on fat means a loss in flavor so products are pumped with High Fructose Corn Syrup (which functions exactly the same as sugar [fructose]) because it is extremely cheap
• Fructose, he bad sugar, doesn't stimulate leptin, which is what normally signals the brain when you're full. Which means we eat more of it before we feel satisfied, and that ghrelin, the hunger hormone isn't activated. Your brain essentially thinks it is starving.
• Fructose acts in your body the same way as ethanol (alcohol) but doesn't metabolize in the brain, so you don't feel the same effects as alcohol despite it being the same
• Therefore sugar is a toxin

Hopefully those bullet points make sense. It's quite possible I mixed up some of the science (you're talking to an art major here, people), so if anything is wrong, I apologize. And If this does interest you, I suggest you do some of your own research. There is a surprising lot for all that you actually hear about it (which is close to nada!) I now present you, Dr. Lustig!

If anyone is interested, or is at least curious but not ready to commit to an hour long video, here's another great resource for quitting sugar, a blog series by Sarah Wilson (where I first heard about quitting sugar), and another (much shorter!) news video out of Australia.

You Might Call Me Longwinded

But not today.

I just saw this cartoon posted over at Sociological Images, which pretty much makes the point I attempted to make in this post, only a lot more succinctly and effectively:

I repeat, "All Wonder Woman got were hooker boots and a bathing suit. What the f*ck was that about?" (George Lass from Dead Like Me)

Six Items or Less, Part 4: The Limited

It's day 16 of Six Items or Less. Thankfully, I am more than halfway through the challenge! Huzzah!

The experience thus far certainly hasn't been terrible. It takes a lot of the guesswork out of daily dressing, which definitely makes mornings easier. But also less fun. I have played (somewhat) with accessories, but I still really revert back to my tried and trues, which means there is very little creativity going on. Now that the weather is warming up, I decided to switch out my winter clothes while also completing a sizable wardrobe purge. So now I'm tempted by all the "new" clothes just sitting there in my drawers forlornly, waiting to be worn.

Sticking to my six has been pretty easy. Boring, yes, but easy. It really is a thoughtless habit now. The most that goes into it is thinking "what did I wear yesterday?" and then making sure I don't wear that.

Getting dressed, though, has never really been that much of an ordeal for me. At least not on the daily - give me some sort of special occasion and that's a whole 'nother story. Then I can't decide what is appropriate for this type of event, I need to canvas my friends and family that are attending and see what they're wearing, check the weather forecast to plan ahead, figure out if the venue will be air conditioned or heated and how my body will spazz accordingly, if my bag is big enough to fit a sweater just in case I guess wrong, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then I get there and usually decide I previously decided all wrong.

But everyday dressing? I always start with jeans. I used to wear nice slacks to work, but then I didn't care so much and realized most everyone else wears jeans daily too. So then you just slap on a shirt, maybe add a cardigan and voila! Sure, I have days when I feel like I have nothing to wear. But usually there is something I can throw on to at least look moderately presentable and then I'm good to go.

With being limited to six items I do always know I have something to wear, it's just not particularly exciting when the choice is solely between three tops. I'm no snazzy fashionista, that's for sure. I generally don't dress like a schlub, either. I do, however, like having a choice in the morning of what I'm going to wear. It kind of helps set the tone for my day. Putting mindful thought into my clothing is like a set up for putting mindful thought into my day. Right now, getting dressed is very mindless. And while it does reflect my day job perfectly (ahem), I will be happy for the clothing shackles to come off.

This is what comes up when I google image search "snazzy fashionista." I can only hope to someday live up to not-so-baby Suri's style standards.

You Can Find Anything You Want At A Flea Market. Except Sisterly Love

You can pretty much find anything in the world at a flea market. No, seriously. Fruit, antiques, sunglasses, furniture, those sequined, mesh slippers people went crazy over a few years back, garnet colored dragon statues, velvet art, leather chaps - anything.

But I think what my sister got today really takes the weirdo cake.

So, this afternoon I'm in the dining room ironing my striped button-down shirt for the week, when I hear the phone ring and my mom answer. It's my sister on the other line. She wants to know how to cook pizza dough, because she and her boyfriend bought a fresh pineapple from the flea market and are really hankering for some Hawaiian pizza.

My ever-knowledgeable mother reaches back into her Google-like mind and effortlessly delivers the answer. Then she asks my sister what else she got that day. This is the side of the conversation that I heard:

Mom: "So what else did you get at the flea market?

Uh-huh.

You got what?

Don't bring that in the house.

No, I'm telling you, do not bring that in this house.

Lorah, do not bring it in the house. I know you promise me things sometimes just to shut me up but do NOT bring that in my house.

No you will not do that. It isn't funny.

If you bring it in the house I will kick you out.

No I am not kidding.

I'm serious. DO NOT BRING THAT IN THE HOUSE.

Okay? Okay. I don't care, but do NOT bring it home.

I don't know, dump it in a graveyard or on some sanctified ground.

Okay. Mhm. Okay! Well, I've got to go make dinner. Enjoy your pizza!"

I'm sure you're wondering just as I was what in the HELL they could be talking about. At first I was convinced it was a mouse. Then I figured a snake (my mom wouldn't threaten banishment for just anything). But the graveyard bit completely threw me. What the mother could it be???

When my mom got off the phone I asked what that was all about, but she just told me I didn't want to know. Ha! Of course I do.

"Okay. Fine. I'll tell you. Apparently there was this woman at the flea market with all these t-shirts with skulls and stuff on them, and your sister wanted to buy one. The woman also was selling what looked like bags of dirt. So your sister bought a shirt, and the lady threw in a bag of dirt for free. It turns out this bag of dirt is, well, it's...


...it's dirt from a vampire's grave in Rhode Island...


...and your sister thought it'd be funny to put it in your bed."

Oh, what a sweet and darling sister I have!

Thanks For the Memories

A couple college friends recently re-discovered their old livejournals from high-school/college and shared a few select entries with me. One centered around my friend's first exposure to college as a freshmen and - hot damn! - all that guy-candy! It certainly brought my mind a-wandering back...

My high-school's graduating class consisted of about 57 students. Fairly small, but I've seen smaller (that's what she said! ha! I couldn't help myself...). Especially when compared to the student body I entered into (boy do I sound inapropriate today), of about 2,400 undergrads. Still, not huge (hehe!), but I sure felt like a small fishie in a big big...Great Lake.

In high school, I never went on any dates (I'll be honest with you guys, I think I actually had one the trail end of senior year), never was asked to dance at a school mixer, and wasn't exactly impressed by the males of the species in my vicinity anyway.

Upon entering college, it was just as Aladdin and Jasmine had always sang about! A whole new world! I mean, we're in college now, so all these guys must be really smart and good looking!

Well, they were generally more good looking, that's for sure, but the intelligence level wasn't exactly on par with what I'd expected.

I do, however, have very fond memories of my Social Movements class first semester Freshman year. I sat behind (as often as I could - damn you college for not having assigned seating!) this beautiful and very intelligent guy, Rion. Oh. Baby.

He wore those thin-like-their-vintage, oh-so-soft, muscle-hugging t-shirts that did just that - showed off his gloriously fit back in ways that would make angels sing Willa Ford's "I Wanna Be Bad." (or something sexier and badder, but, like, it's not even 10 am here, so let's stop demanding too much from Sarah, okay?)

I am amazed I passed that class. All too often I would stare at the back of this bea-ooootiful young buck and drift off into a reverie of fantasies my parents would be ashamed of.

Those were the days. When you could stare at the object of your affection in class without them even noticing.

Okay, that probably came off particularly creepy. But really, it's not like I hunted them down and stood outside their dorm window watching them remove said soft-vintage-muscley shirt like I maybe had dreamed about helping him rip- uh, take...off. No, no. That would be weird.

Yeah. That would be weird...right?


(Okay, so it is 10am after all. It's not my fault I'm a slow typer!)

Moderately Embarrassing Moments: Shoe Fly Don't Bother Me

We've all seen it (in movies, if not in real life). Someone emerges from the bathroom, only to have a tail of toilet paper stuck to their foot and trailing behind them. Laughter erupts and they end up scarred for life, never using a public restroom again and thusly giving themselves some sort of bladder disease.

It's terrible. It's a thing none of us wants to happen to ourselves.

Luckily, that is not what happened to me. No. What did happened, was that today I decided to wear these red flats I probably haven't worn in over a year.This was not a problem by itself. What was a problem, was that I wore them with my compression stockings (if there was any doubt in your mind that I might not be the coolest 24 year old in the world, let that thought be banished! I have tipped the 'cool scale' in my favor! Winning!), and now my shoes are continually falling off my feet, forcing me to shuffle around like an 89 year old. Which, of course, made me realize that perhaps the elderly aren't really slow. Maybe they just can't keep their shoes on their slippery-stockinged feet! Epiphany! I will never get frustrated with a slower-than-molasses-in-January shuffler again! I feel for them, I do.

Anyway, to remedy this I decided to stuff. My shoes. Not my bra. Though, I suppose that would work too, because who here at work would be looking at my shuffling feet when BAM I grew big boobs over night? And who could blame them for staring? Surely not I.

This plan backfired, however, much in the way that stuffing ones bra might.One of the tissues in my shoe made a break for it, and was hanging, flapping around outside my shoe, like it was screaming for help. Kind of like in those movies when someone gets kidnapped, shoved in a trunk, and then kicks out the taillight and starts waving their arm out the hole in an attempt to get someones attention that, "Hey! I'm in a  trunk! This is displeasing to me! Save me!"

I wave the white tissue of de-feet.

Unfortunately for my tissue, no one saved it. I didn't even notice it until I had walked down a busy hall, through the bustling cafeteria, back down the hall and was almost seated again at my desk. Oh, the horror. I shoved that tissue back into it's synthetic upper prison where it belonged.

I'm sure his escape act didn't go unnoticed. I'm actually fairly sure I saw the janitor looking at my feet, because I remember finding that puzzling at the time, vaguely wondering if he had some sort of foot fetish, and boy, isn't that weird? He probably was actually thinking I was a crazy person, who perhaps had problems with feet sweat and probably also odor.

Which, as you may have guessed, was moderately embarrassing. I'm giving the tissues in my shoes one more chance to behave, and if they fail me again, it's straight to the trash with ye'!

Six Items or Less, Part 3: Item Challenged

Alright, last nights wine consumption won out over posting my six items. But today is a new day!

Item One. A white shirt. This was my wisest decision, top wise.

Item Two. A floral print shirt. Quite nice, but it certainly stand out more than, say, a black t-shirt.

Item Three. Trouser jeans. Work-appropriate and casual!

Item Four. Black Cardigan. Nice choice. Wish I had chosen another to swap around with.

Item Five. Dark skinny jeans. Or boot cut. I don't really know. Also versatile.

Item Six. Blue striped button-down. Because that can be worn...Oh-so-many different ways. What was I thinking?

There are my six. You can see how this is perhaps a little more challenging, yes? Even adding a belt or some snappy earrings it's still pretty apparent I am wearing the same shirt I did Monday and Wednesday. I may be judged. I may be looked at suspiciously by my family and the people I work with...but I will persevere! 

And really, they can't complain too much. This challenge could've been much worse. For instance, Zero Items or Less. Don't ask me what less would be. I don't even want to think about it.

Six Items or Less, Part 2: Prints of Pain

Here we are. Day FIVE of Six Items or Less!

I have my six, and let me just say I did not make this challenge easy on myself (I'll try and post pictures of the six tonight - but seeing as it's Friday and there's wine waiting at home odds aren't really great).

Most people seem to stick with neutrals. Black tee. White tank. This is genius. I wish I had had that realization before going and picking a striped button-down and a floral print for tops. I mean really? Clearly my thought light bulb has burnt out and needs to be replaced. What better way to stand out and make it apparent I'm only cycling through 3 different tops for the next 30 days than by picking prints!

But that's okay. I am determined to own this. The first three days I pretty much wore my items without much accessorizing. Turns out laziness wins always.

Almost. But then I got really jazzy and snazzy and added...BELTS! Round my middle. I know! Outfit roller coaster ride! Who knows what crazy turn, flip, spin or loop-de-lou is coming next?? Full speed ahead!

About the most creative thing I've done can't actually be seen by anyone else. That lead in is really suggestive, and really isn't going to deliver. I'm still super excited about it, though. Ready? I fixed my boots!

My brown, not-even-remotely-leather boots were so worn inside that metal had become exposed near the heel. One day out on the town and it tore through my new pair of socks (side note: it is apparent I live in the "Red Sox Nation" as I actually just spelt "socks" as "sox." Oh, if my high school English teacher could see me now!).

So, creative as I am, I McGyvered a paper towel, cardboard, and some duct tape to solve my problem! I am really quite impressed with myself. I hadn't been able to wear them for a month, but this six items challenge had me desperate enough to fix them within three days! And I did it! For FREE!

Duct tape really can fix anything. It probably can't stop this itch I have already developed to wear different clothes. I'll hydrocortisone the crap out of it with my strong will to succeed!

And hey, after 20 days of extremely limited choices, and a closet full of pent-up frustration, I will probably be in the right frame of mind to forcibly make duct tape the answer.

Ouch!

I'm pretty sure I have enough crazy to pull this off, even if I'd have trouble later, you know...pulling it off.