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Day 230: Trying by Not Trying

"Sometimes things don't go your way, and that's the way things go." -Tiger Woods

Imagine a girl who has become the opposite of a girl that is trying to get married.

Imagine a girl who hasn't showered in two days. Her two-day old non-washed hair is greasy and pulled back into a pony tail, with a headband that is desperately trying to hide the worst of it, but is severely inadequate.

Imagine this same girl running to her tutoring assignment in a sweatshirt and coat in 70 degree, humid weather...humidity+heat+running+unshowered body....you do the math.

Imagine said girl wearing an outfit of her own design. Black and White polka dot rain boots, leggings, short ruffle flower skirt, bright green shirt, hot pink sweatshirt, coat....if you can imagine a thrift store throwing up on a person, you can imagine this outfit.

Imagine this poor girl and what she might look like with a cold sore. Then triple it and imagine her with three cold sores. I'd describe the cold sores, but I'd rather let you imagine them. The words hideous and monster may come to mind.

Imagine pimples. Two, to be precise. The kind you might see on an unfortunate teenager, but are actually on an unfortunate 29 year old.

Imagine the girl sitting and tutoring her heart out but having a hard time doing it because her little eight year old tutoring buddy is so distracted by her tutor's armpit sweat marks that she can't look at anything else or talk about anything else.

Then, imagine this girl getting ready for her trek home, being stopped by a guy that also tutors, and wants to metro home with her. They metro and they talk. She is less than charming and more than boring. And then, as he's leaving, imagine that he asks her out. Yes. The monster with the diseased face and the crazy clothes, and the smelly body odor, and the sweat spots, and the bad attitude is the one that gets a date.

Maybe trying is overrated, and the real secret is not trying.

End Note: Before anyone gets excited about an upcoming date, I said no because I already had plans. Oh well. :)

Day 104: What's that smell?

"Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Albert Einstein

I must be insane. I put my shoes on the same way every day. I step outside and I walk around in the same way everyday. And everyday those shoes on my feet walk straight into dog poo. That's right folks. I'm sorry if that sounds crass, but it is the truth. If there is canine feces anywhere, I promise you, my feet will find it (Okay, it doesn't happen everyday, but it does happen at least once a month, which I think is well above the average). I think I might need to start approaching this differently.

It all started when I was fifteen. I was walking to the school bus (I was one of those really cool kids that took the bus to school everyday). It was snowing. I walked through the snow. I boarded the bus. I sat in my usual spot. The bus was stuffy, with the heater running. We had only been driving for twenty seconds when the most horrible stench reached my nose. It took about twenty more seconds for everyone on the bus to start screaming and moaning, demanding that whoever smelled like dog poo exit the bus immediately. Even the bus driver was making retching sounds. I, of course, was joining in the public exclamations, until I looked down and noticed something. My pant leg from the knee down looked awfully muddy. I looked at my shoe. It was also covered in mud. My heart sunk to my stomach as I realized not only was my shoe covered in the one thing that was making dozens of high school students filled with hatred and disdain, but my pants were also covered in it, somehow being transfered from my shoe to my pants while I crossed my legs (that was the only explanation I could think of). I frantically tried to wipe my shoe on the seat in front of me, separating myself as much as I could from the smell...but, as fate would have it, I was discovered, ratted out, and promptly ridiculed. I went straight to the bathroom at school to wash it off my shoes and pants, but I most definitely carried the faint stench with me the rest of the day.

This was just the first of many such instances. But having relived that experience in similar fashion THREE times in the last month, I can't help but think that I must be doing something wrong. I mean, seriously, three times?? So yeah, I get it. I feel like the universe is teaching me something important (that obviously has something to do with dating). I've narrowed it down to three different life lessons:

1) Men love good smelling women and I smell bad. Maybe I need to shower more often and Febreeze should be my new, inseparable companion.

2) Men want a woman that loves animals and I just think they are okay. I should love animals more and maybe they'll start to love me more (and stop leaving me lovely presents to step in).

3) Men want a woman that isn't afraid to get dirty. Maybe I'm overreacting about this and I should just embrace the fact that this is what my life will be...

Well, which one of these lessons I'm suppose to learn, I'm not sure. I guess I'll try to adapt my life to all of them.

Day 97: You and me both, Kim Kardashian.

"I thought I'd be married by now." -Kim Kardashian

I had an epiphany in the supermarket line. Well, I had two of them. 1) Me and Kim Kardashian are the same person and 2) I want to get married more than anything in this world. Let's handle this one epiphany at a time. I will give you the eerie run down of the first one.

1. Kelly Kitchen (KK) ----> Kim Kardashian (KK)

2. Amazing Sense of Style ----> Okay sense of style

3. A family full of beautiful sisters (and a brother) ---> a family full of okay looking sisters (and a brother or two)

4. I love to bedazzle everything ---> Kim does too.

5. Dark luscious hair ---> Dark luscious hair

6. 21 blog fans -----> Thousands of Twitter fans

7. Voluptuous ---> Voluptuous

8. Thinking I would be married by now ---> Thinking she would be married by now.

As for the second epiphany, I don't really want to get married more than anything in the world. So I am going to try to be more like Kim Kardashian and try to want it more than anything in the world. I will do this by recommitting to this blog (Confession: I don't know if anyone noticed - or even follows this anymore- but I kind of stopped trying for the last couple of months. Sorry about that, but I am going to force myself to try again).

Day 58: Face your Fears

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." FDR

Almost four years ago to the day my sisters and I had a "Fear" Party. We all sat around the kitchen table and wrote down everything we were afraid of. Then we went around the circle and read them aloud and committed to overcoming them so that we could all live our lives without fear. I wrote down 25 things, and have crossed off 15 so far. Not too bad. But before I'm ready to get married, I have some fears I need to conquer (Like #3. Getting Married). But seriously, I think learning to go forward with faith is a must before committing your life to one person for eternity, right?

I've always had issues with elevators, and lately that "issue" has grown a bit more since I saw the trailer for the new M. Night Shyamalan's "Devil", where five people get stuck in an elevator with a devil. It looks so creepy. Sometimes when I ride in the elevator, it reminds me of it.

Today I got on at the tenth floor, ready to go home. On the eighth floor, a young Asian guy got on and he did a double take, then blatantly stared at me. I kept glancing at him, thinking, "What is your problem??" Well, he hurriedly apologized saying,"I'm so sorry, it's just that you look just like an ex-coworker of mine. I was just thinking, 'What? She's back from the dead?!' " Then he laughed and got off at the sixth floor. Weird.

Well, not half as weird as what happened next. Out of no where, the elevator shuddered strongly and stopped on the third floor. I kept pushing the first floor button, but it wouldn't move. So I pushed the door open button. Nothing. (Did I mention my phone died earlier so I had no form of communication?) [Insert eerie music here]. Out of nowhere it started moving down again. Phew. Safe.

Well not safe, because after another jarring stop on the first floor, it once again refused to let me out. This was getting serious. (Is anyone at this point thinking what I was thinking? Well, if you're thinking my elevator was broken, that wouldn't have matched my thoughts. If you're thinking my elevator was possessed by the spirit of my twin, the dead co-worker, then you and I have the same brain). So I frantically started pushing the "open door" button. It refused. Then I started moving up a bit, then down a bit (If now you're thinking that sounds like fun, like a ride at Disneyland, that is where our thinking parts ways...it was not as fun as it sounds).

It kept going up slowly, and I was sure it was going to plummet me to a horrible, painful death (Okay, that does sound like that one ride at Disneyland). Then it stopped. It waited. The doors opened. This girl looked like she was about to get out and I screamed and pushed her out of the way, saying "Don't get on there!! Save yourself!" We waited for the next non-possessed elevator and had a pleasant, uneventful ride to the bottom.

I WILL ride in an elevator tomorrow and conquer my fears (okay, but probably not that same elevator)...and maybe dealing with this fear will get me one step closer to dealing with #3.

Day 51: Cut Cut Cut

"Some of the worst mistakes of my life have been haircuts." Jim Morrison

I'll just put it out there right now, I'm not against men cutting hair. I'm sure they are just as talented as women at cutting and styling and perming and primping and whatever else, but I have learned from experience to never let men cut my hair. My hair is fine, and thin, and tricky. Like me (well, at least that last adjective describes me). And men don't seem to know how to handle my hair, or me.

A couple years ago my favorite hairstylist moved and I was in desperate need of a cut. My sister recommended this place she had gone to, so I tried it out. I walked into the salon and it was pretty busy, but I went up to the counter to ask about the wait. The receptionist said they had one person available, and I thought, "Lucky me!" But then I saw who it was. Coming towards me was a man. Not just any man, but a big, burly, mullet man. His fingers were the size of deli pickles. (Had I walked into a salon, or a gas station at a truck stop?) With all my heart, I wanted to run out of there, but then I thought, how bad could it be? He got a job here, didn't he? I sat down in his chair and told him what I wanted. He looked at my hair, looked at me and said, "I'm a beautician, not a magician." He actually said that to me three more times during the haircut. I'll let you guess how that one turned out.

My sister is getting married tomorrow, and my straggly hair was looking pretty bad so I thought to myself, I've had short hair before, it looks good, it's time for a haircut. I went to a salon where my sister got a great haircut. I walked in, and of course the only person available was a man. He was a little Asian man named Bill, which was opposite from my last man-cut experience, so I thought I'd go with it. The entire time he kept saying, your hair is so difficult to cut, it's so hard. I told him, if you can't handle it, I'll wait for someone else, but Bill was determined to conquer his Everest. Well, he did it. He cut it. All I can say is, my quest for marriage will have to be put on hold until my hair grows out. I'm pretty sure "butch softball player" or "least feminine haircut outside of West Virginia" is not going to help me out.

Day 38: Beauty Queen

"It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty nine than she was ten years before." Jane Austen

I am twenty nine. And today I was beautiful. You know those days when you walk around, and you're sure that every man you pass is watching you walk past because you look THAT good. Well today was that day.

There were some important people coming to work today, so I put aside the slacks and shape-shifting sweaters, pulled out the new dress and the heels, did my hair and make up, and walked out of the house with the confidence of a woman who could be a part time model (but she'd probably still have to keep her normal job).

Here's the tally: three "Wow, you look beautiful today"(Okay, one of those three was a woman, but I'm still counting it), two whistles (And they weren't ethnic...they were white guys. I never get white guy whistles), three double takes (yes, I looked and I counted), and two guys going awkwardly out of their way to talk to me about something pointless (I like to think they were trying to think of an excuse to come talk to me).

Yes, it was one of those days.