Unhealthy love.

I don't know if I mentioned this before, but as a wee one I grew up on a farm in Jamestown, IN. Be jealous. 

Anywhodiddle, I loved it, I was very one with nature there.... we raised animals *cough, cough* cats.... we explored, we had a good childhood there.... then we moved to Northwest Indiana.... thanks mom and dad. (I kid, I kid)

But, while I lived on the farm I was somewhat (TOTALLY) a tomboy. I played with guns, camo, dirt, and I kind of dressed like one too. Here are some of the examples of clothing choices I made: 

My uncle would send his old camo to us.....I wore them. As clothes.

Khols always had the best selection of cargos... in the boys section for me. 

These bad boys #forlife

My all time favorites looked like these (That my father bleached)

It got so bad that my dad was embarrassed to be seen with me when I dressed like this and he 'accidentally' (completely on purpose) bleached my beloved cargo pants and threw them away.... much to his she-grin I found them, got them out of the trash.... and still wore them. Because I was a boy. Pretty much. Minus the obvious lack in anatomy. After that he took matters even more into his own hands when Easter rolled around one year, and I refused to get out of my overalls. Yes. I'm telling the truth. My father took me to Nordstrom's and stuck me in the middle of a section of dresses and said, 'We aren't leaving till you pick one.' I cried. Bawled in the middle of the store. I pleaded. I asked him, "Why are you forcing me to....be...a....girl????? They dress so stupid.... do you want me to be slutty??" His response? "No, I just want people to know I don't have two sons.... go try this on." 

He really had a way with words. 

So I tried the dress on. We got it. I wore it for the next three Easters. 

It took me a while to come to grips with the fact that I had lady bits, I was a lady, and I was not a little farm boy anymore..... pretty much until I made it half way through high school. And I don't have those urges anymore like I used to, those longings for cargos, camo, and simpler times.... well, there is one thing. One item that I still crave from time to time to rock: 

I can't help it. They call my name. I LOVE overalls. LOVE LOVE LOVE. It's unhealthy. But it's who I once was and still desire to be sometimes. So there you have it, a little history on this face.

Be Afraid.

Happy almost Friday! 

How to not pass out.

Well, it's Monday again.... that's always something to not look forward too. Ever. I am starting to resent Sunday's because they end so fast. But here we are....and you know what Monday brings?? Confessions. This week my confession is pretty relevant to the happenings of my day so far: NEEDLES.

I hate shots. I HATE shots. I can't help it, I've always been this way, and we do not mesh well, shots and me.

When I was younger my dad would have to take off work to be able to come with when it was time for me to get a shot because they need someone to hold me down...... I had tendency to kick and/or hit whoever was yielding the needle. There may have been a time when it took more than just one (5) person to hold me down. It was not pleasant. I still have a scar from that episode. No, I'm not joking for dramatic effect it is really there.

This all being said, today I had to get my blood drawn, and I was not excited about it. I tried to sleep through the alarm (Thanks mom for the wake up call). I tried to get stuck in traffic. I tried to do many things to avoid this, but I still made it in time..... and I'm a big girl. (Thought process: I can handle it. Even if I don't want too. Because I may have passed out the past six time's I've had my blood drawn before hand. But I can do this. I am not a child anymore. Even though I really was bummed I had to drive myself there. Because I am a big ole wimp....okay??)

So I made it into the room and did my whole spiel, "I don't do needs well, I may pass out, I promise I will try not to hit you, I cannot promise I won't cry, will you hold me afterwards......" The usual. They were super understanding. They made me lay down, pep talked me, and then it happened. I may have blacked out. I may have woken up to being held in the arms of a very nice German lady singing me Edelweiss..... No big deal.

I survived. I did have to stop a few times to make sure I didn't pass out again on the way home....thank goodness there was a mall, Ulta, and Starbucks on the way home to make sure I was healthy enough to drive.

I guess this was not really a good way to teach you how not to pass out at all, huh? Rather this was just a straight up embarrassing confessional. You're welcome. I think I'll take a nap now.... or just pass out.... or whatever you want to call it....so.... much....blood... loss................

Orange arm. Bloody.

Monday Confession: Fighting.

I cannot stand fighting. With anyone. I cannot stand hearing people fight. A long time ago my mother taught me the art of, "the silent treatment" and that too scares the crap out of me....It's like fighting with your eyes. It all is just 'too much muchness' is you ask me..... So today with my Monday Confession I am going to help you all learn my ways of avoiding confrontation with style, confidence, and flat out avoidance. 

Top Ten ways to avoid Fighting: 

1. Fake amnesia, the first sure fire way to make people leave you alone is to pretend you don't know anything or that at least you have forgotten it tragically. Then instead of yelling you get sympathy food and gifts....

2. Start singing, "This is the Song that Never Ends".... although that can get pretty annoying so this might actually back fire.....hmmm. 

3. Giggle uncontrollably. They say laughter is the best medicine, right? 

4. Poke the other person with a fluffy pillow until they stop trying to fight and start trying to have a good time... with fluffy pillows? 

5. Pretend you are asleep until they buy it....then go somewhere where everybody knows your name....and they are always glad that you came. 

6. Put Family Guy on TV. I mean, really? How could you not laugh at that show. Takes frowns and turns them upside down. 

7. Start dancing to polka.....or line dance. Can you really be mad at a chick dancing all crazy?? I think not. 

8. Paint your face like a clown... you can make a lot of people confused. Unsure. Scared....... but usually not made with that on your face. 

9. Buy a puppy.

10. Finally.......Just decided to live on an Island by yourself forever and ever. Then you will never have to worry about fighting again! 

Well, I hope that helped you all! Have a great Monday! 

Deuces. Duckfaces.  

Monday. Confessions.

Monday...everyone hates them so I figured I'm going to theme Monday. CONFESSION MONDAY. 

Here we go. 

My confession: Icing...in a can. 

Some people have been privy to this issue I've had, but not everyone has....and it's embarrassing and really hard to find a logical reason or explanation for it.Other than I love sweets? Sugar? Icing.....

It started many years ago, I was just a child. Impressionable. Unsure about the world. Seeking solace in anything tangible and stable. I wanted to feel attached and apart of something that would never run out on me (without the option of a refill or easy repurchase.)  One day I had a tasty little cupcake right in front of me. I bit in. I hated it. The cake was dry. Lacking flavor. It was a joke. But then I looked deeper and realized I could just lick the icing off... That is when it happened. Euphoria.

For years I have been in search for the perfect icing. Every new icing is a new adventure for my taste buds. I know that with that first lick, that first scoop, I will hit a new magical accord in my life. Icing really is what dreams are made of. But later on in life I started getting a little resentful of the fact that I always had to find a spoon for the vats of icing that I was purchasing (in a normal quantity, STOP JUDGING). If there was no spoon, there was no happy moment for me....until I found a spoon. It was really hindering my joy. Seriously. 

Then I saw it. It happened. Right there in front of my face. The answer to all my question. The hero to my spoon trauma. 

No-Fuss. YESSSSSSSSSSSS. (ignore the need of a  mani)

All of my icing prayers and wants=cured. My confession this Monday? I eat this crap straight out of the container. All day err day. Get in my belly. Tasty goodness. My word to the wise? Don't knock it, till you try it. 

I hope you all enjoyed my confession. I feel a little bit better about life getting that off my chest. 

By the way, You guys like my leggings (they are icing spill proof):

Happy Monday ya'll. Happy Eating :)