Eyes That Pop!

Photo by Joelstuff V3.3d

Curling your eyelashes has always seemed like a waste of time to me.  I can't imagine that the angle of my lashes truly alters my appearance in any appreciable way.  I have never owned an eyelash curler.  I have tried them before, out of curiosity.  I am sure my technique was pathetic as my wariness of bringing this strange plier-like device towards my eyes prevented me from curling any more than the tips of my lashes.  I was unimpressed with the results, regardless.


Eye lash curlers swear by the benefits of stylish lashes.  One woman I am acquainted with even goes so far as to steadily hold her lashes in the desired curl with her mascara brush, whilst simultaneously blow drying it into place.  Imagine if you will, holding a blow dryer to your eye, for the sole purpose of achieving the perfectly styled lash.  Would not the resultant eye dryness be too stiff a penalty to pay for said outcome?  Certainly, to this woman, the benefits of curly lashes outweighed the possible damage to her vision.


Upon watching an episode of the highly entertaining, and incredibly caddy "Housewives of Atlanta", Cynthia Bailey, one of the more attractive housewives, was mortally embarassed, when her BFFs surprised her with an engagement party.  As she walked in the door, newly engaged, the first thing she exclaimed upon entering the room was "OMG, I took my eyelashes off in the car!  I can't believe you are all seeing me without my eyelashes!"  It seemed an odd focal point of the festivities, but apparently to Miss. Bailey, the state of her eyelashes trumped even her engagement!


I admit to wearing mascara.  I can even notice the difference when I don't.  A book-club chum would often notice too, stating that with just a simple application of mascara, I turned into a super-model.  I am pretty sure she was overstating the effect.  I became self conscious when I saw her though, as my volumized lashes seemed to set her off. 


I have learned more about eyelashes than I ever cared to know since receiving the InStyle "Ultimate Beauty Secrets" manual, which is the perfect how-to beauty guide for non-girly girls, from a friend and blog follower.  In this magazine, 185 quick tips are shared for the expert application of everything from lipstick to foundation, and yes, even the perfection of eye lash maximization. Troy Surratt, contributing make-up artist, states that "Curling your lashes is the easiest thing you can do to make your eyes look bigger".  Having the biggest eyes possible seems to be the ultimate goal.  Curling should occur prior to applying mascara, and three curling passes is the magic number for a "lasting curve".  Further advice states that the hair dryer should be used on the curler to warm it up prior to curling, rather than bringing it up to your eyes.  I should ethically share this information with my eye-lash drying friend as it might save her sight whilst not sacrificing her curvaceous lashes.


 False eye lashes reportedly really make the eyes "pop".  The most bestest eyes are thus large and popping. They should be applied after all of your make-up, but before your mascara.  Tammy Faye made the mistake of not matching her lashes to her look, which is recommended.  For example, for a more natural look, individual clusters are preferable.  More dramatic looks can be achieved by gluing full strips to your eyes and lining and mascara-ing the heck out of them.  People would be well advised to stand back from the resultant, dangerously popping eyes!


I dare not share the valuable tip of using a plastic spoon, rested by the lashes, whilst applying mascara, to prevent smudges and slip-ups to my blow-drying friend, lest I put her eye sight in greater peril!  In fact I feel it would be foolish to recommend that to anyone!  But who am I to question the logic of make-up artistry?  Another gem is to apply translucent powder to the lashes before applying mascara for even thicker eye expanding lashes!


I use brown mascara, which incidentally, is supposed to make the blue of my eyes "pop" too.  I apply two coats for volume and I steer my brush strokes in a way that separates and fans out my lashes.  I neither blow dry nor curl my lashes.  I now know that pumping my mascara brush in and out of the tube will dry out the mascara, and I shall remedy this error forthwith.  I do use clear mascara on my eyebrows to help them hold their shape during the day.  I usually only apply mascara to my upper lashes, which according to the Beauty Secrets manual is great for "day looks". 

Removing mascara can be accomplished with the use of an oil based remover, followed by cleansing with your regular facial cleanser.  I remain mystified as to how one removes false eyelashes, but I assume since they can be removed in the car (a la Miss. Bailey), the glue used to affix them must be easily torn free. 

I doubt that I will ever apply false eyelashes unless mine all fall out and I need an eyelash "wig" or if they were an appropriate accessory to a Halloween costume.  Were I to be spotted by my book-club friend wearing "falsies", I can only imagine her over the top reaction!  I am willing to settle for reduced eye popping. 

Shave Your Balls Dammit!!

Photo by outcast104.

I feel I have gotten a little away from my blog’s foundational topic, pubic hair. Thus, I shall return to my roots, and share an alarming bit of information my new-found hairdresser shared with me. So if you’ve read my numerous blogs related to this topic, you know that the concept of a Brazilian Bikini wax was once foreign and bizarre to me. I have since explored the topic ad-nauseum and even went so far as to partake of this odd beauty regime.

I have vacillated between my concern for this being just one more oppressive beauty requirement imposed on women and the desire for women to feel a sense of empowerment and hot- sexy-mamma-ism. I was feeling more confident placing my vote with the latter view until my hair expert’s information led me back to the fence, leaning sharply towards oppression.

The pressure to go bare down “there” begins very early in a girl’s life. In fact, my lovely hairdresser shared that she herself, as a mere 14 year old, was considered pretty uncool by her peers for being the last one to catch on to the pubic hair removal trend. Turns out her and her pals started shaving it all off before they turned to waxing, later in teen-hood. I was aghast! 14! We live in a small town that I would hardly call cosmopolitan. It surprised me that this issue was even on the middle- school radar. “Why would you need to do that at 14?” I asked her.

“A lot of girls were having sex by eighth grade”, she answered, “Guys wouldn’t even be with a girl with pubic hair. They thought it was gross and that she was dirty somehow.” Pubescent teen boys were grossed out by pubic hair? These boys should just be grateful there was a naked chick in front of them, let alone worry if she still sported her NATURAL body hair! What a despicable double standard!

It started me worrying about my daughter again. Would this trend persist for her entrance into middle school? Would she be considering sexual activity? Would I catch her shaving…? How can I teach her not to leap on to this bizarre social expectation? I mentioned to my hairdresser that I had heard the trend was shifting back to au natural. She had heard about this but admitted that she is addicted to keeping things manicured. “I can barely stand to have it grow back in! I feel it when I move and it drives me nuts!” She shares that her husband doesn’t seem to care one way or the other (mine said he didn’t either). I wonder what he would say if she let it go for a while?

My kids haven’t seen my new hair style, and I am going to keep it that way. My daughter doesn’t need any additional incentive to think she should be doing the same thing. I am now in a panic! My daughter is a mere five years from these possibilities. How does one make their child resistant to peer pressure? How can I keep gawky, pimply boys out of her pants? My god! The 80’s were such an innocent time! They feel like the 50’s in comparison to this!

I had sex pretty early in my life. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t great either. I wasn’t even aware that my body could be judged by such standards and compared to other girls. Modifying my body wasn’t even a thought in my mind. But my daughter…she will have to endure all of the uncertainties and anxiety of entering into her sexuality AANND wonder if her pubic hair is appropriately styled! What the fuck have men done to step it up for us lately? We as women should make up some random, bizarre and utterly useless expectations for them, like say, waxing their balls, and refuse to put out if they don’t meet this standard! Better yet, we should always tell them that a former boyfriend’s dick was way bigger than theirs, and just let this info drop innocently on their lap one day. Then we can watch with delight as their insecurities build and they begin to think about not measuring up.

Screw You Bambi!

Photo by jonnnnnn.

I’ve spent some time looking into this mid-life thing from a different angle. What if a mid-life crisis is really just mid-life burnout? It’s possible that depending upon where we find ourselves in this crux of our lives, we might simply be tired. Burnout, according to a variety of sources, is an emotional, mental and physical reaction to chronic stress. We often associate burn-out with work, but what if we can burn-out within our lives too? I can think of a few chronic stressors present at home…relationships, kids, bills, responsibilities etc. etc. Even small issues may stress us in ways that we night not be aware of.

Small things like a couple of bushes I recently planted in the front garden. They are dwarf blue spruce and they are supposed to be “deer resistant”. I don’t think that means that deer can’t or won’t eat them, but rather that they will only eat them in a pinch, like now, in the dead of winter. A couple of years ago I had tried to plant some Mugo Pine shrubs in the same location. They are not deer resistant. In fact, they should be labeled “Preferred Deer Snack”, as the very next morning after planting them, nary a piney needle was present on the sticks that jutted from the trampled ground. And so, I feared for my new shrubberies, and had vowed to myself, that I would properly protect them from the voracious snacking habits of our local, starving, mule deer population.

I went to the hardware store and purchased some rabbit fencing. I envisioned molding a barricade of metal around each shrub, making them impermeable to the foraging rascals. My resolve was strengthened by the fact that I have not seen a tulip in my garden grow higher than ¾ of an inch in over four years. As the fall rolled around, and my rabbit fencing remained in the garage, I would drive in each and every day, see my vulnerable shrubbery, and promise myself, that very, very, soon, I would take care of them. Day after day I made that self-same promise, and each day, failed to secure my shrubs.

In haste one day, I grabbed some netting that keeps birds off of things, and wrapped each bush in a healthy weave of said fabric. It grips the needles and branches, and I was sure, that any deer who tried to bite these plants, would end up with a mouthful of unpleasant nylon, not unlike getting a mouthful of wiry hair. This worked for some time. But each morning as I sat with my breakfast, I would gaze out the window, and “check-in” with my shrubs to see if they had made it through the night. And so they had, but for one morning, not long ago, when I saw the familiar assault of determined hooves. Broken limbs lay splayed on the ground, and murdered webbing was strewn about. Damn those donkey deer bastards!

I immediately, well, the next morning, awoke and gathered me some rabbit fencing. I promptly cut and shaped four cylinders of armor around them, and left the netting on for good, f-you measure. Sure enough, those MF’ers can’t get at them now! I would dance a dance of spazzy triumph, if they would stay long enough to watch, instead of bolting in panicked flight. I am so sure of their safety now, that I no longer feel the need to check in. I can eat my cereal in peace.

What matter of brain damage was this? How much valuable time did my mind occupy on these silly little bushes! If only I had taken care of the matter directly, I could have saved myself this minor nuisance. I agree that this is a small thing, but my question is, how many small things like this in our lives do we let go and let go until finally there is a catastrophe of sorts, and we have no choice but to finally deal with it?

It ultimately is about controlling our lives and setting boundaries. Escapists run to the mall or sleep with the pool boy (men who sleep with the pool boy, would be considered to have other issues in addition to burn-out ). They look to avoid confronting these stressors head on. To begin to identify what they are, their effect on our lives and what if anything can be done to mediate them, requires substantial amounts of thought and introspection. Running away doesn’t fix these issues, it just delays dealing with them. Many mid-lifers who start new businesses or relationships, end up with the same set of problems, because whatever patterns they have adopted in their lives related to control and self-awareness, will crop up again and again.


How many big issues and little issues are there that need taking care of before you can truly claim control over your life? It is important to align your values and your actions. Control is about balance and self-actualization...or realizing how you can live up to your full potential.  It is not about making the most money or having the highest career status, but rather living in a way that honors what you care most deeply about.  Sometimes figuring that out is the hardest part of all. 

I am very pleased now that my bushes will make it through the winter. Perhaps, generous applications of rabbit fencing and bird netting was all I really needed!

Married Sex

Photo by gogoloopie.

Talk about a rut!  After 10 plus years boffing the same man, things can get a little stale, if you catch my drift.  I remember the early courtship days fondly, when we were both on our best sexual behaviour, dabbling in all sorts of sexual delights, multiple times per day, without fear of the daylight hours!  Life came at us fast and before we knew it, days stretched into weeks and  deciding whether we'd rather go to sleep or not was the extent of foreplay.

I have read a number of magazines that percisely predict the amount of times that a married couple should be making whoopie, to insure the survival of their relationship.  The numbers vary but average around 3 times per week.  I fear my marriage may be doomed, as we are certainly not keeping up with the Joneses on that front.  Don't get me wrong, I like sex, I just like sleeping more.

 In a recent Sex Panel, with my esteemed women's group, we discussed this very topic.  Frequency was wide ranging, but few in the group came even close to this normalcy expectation.  Most of their lives and relationships were dictated by kids and work and exhaustion.  The thought of meeting the weekly quota, to most of the panel, was not very appealing.  During our discussion, horror stories were shared of women who do it every single day, as for these women's husbands, sex was a key part of the bed time routine.  Some of these women were willing participants while some often reported sucking it up and performing their wifely duty.

 (I should note that none of the women in the panel were characters in the horror stories, for those husbands who freak out a little after their wives have been to panel, afraid of what dark and embarassing secrets she has shared about you! Panel is not about belittling our husbands, it is about sharing and reaffirming our feelings and experiences related to our sexuality. FYI.)

 As we delved into the topic of sex we began to discuss our attitudes and expectations for marital sex.  Some continue to have creative and mutually giving sex, while others "assume the position" without much in the way of foreplay or attention to detail.  Few married partners "make out" any more.  If there is any intimate touching there is often an expectation that sex is forthcoming, and so many women withdraw  small displays of affection if they are not in the mood for the whole enchilada.  Foreplay is sorely lacking in most relationships, and at it's worst consisting of the presentation of a raging boner and a pat on the arm.  Men, FYI, your hard-on isn't as exciting for us as you think it is!

In a previous panel, I talked about foreplay beginning way before a couple hits the sack.  One panel member quoted "Men have sex to relax, while women need to relax to have sex".  This statement rings amazingly true in the bizarre "thou-shalt-not-dominate-me" realm of the married couple.  If my husband gets frisky and starts patting my arm, I cannot even fathom getting it on if he has pissed me off recently.  If my mind is cluttered with a mounting to-do list, sex is the furthest thing from my mind.  Recall one member said her biggest turn on was when her husband did the dishes!

Things sure have changed in the rack!  But lately, I have noticed our lives are slowing down a little bit, and as the kids get older, long stagnant urges are bubbling back up to the surface.  The problem is, our sexual stylings have not pepped up at the same rate as interest has, and gosh darn it, I am sick of married sex!  I am ready for a little pizazz and a few bells and whistles!  I often ask my husband to pretend we are on our first date, because I can assure you, if he performed his regular act with a new partner, she would surely lose interest and dump his ass!  Every now and then he will rise to the occasion and show a little of his former tantric self, but most often, we are half asleep before it is finished, counting the hours left before the kids wake up and the whole daily cluster fuck begins again.

On a recent girls' trip, my friend and I stumbled upon a sex shop.  I will be understating the experience when I say it was amusing!  This is not the first sex shop I have visited, but the first since realizing I was after a little more excitement between the sheets.  As we began to browse the extensive inventory of lubricants and rubbery dildos, a most helpful, gay, saleslady appeared, quite naturally and easily sharing with us the perks of a particular vibrator.  "I have a lot of sex toys," she boasted, in a cool, professional manner.  The girl could have been selling girl scout cookies, as expertly and unabashedly as she shared the superior qualities of "Pink", a water based lubricant.  She didn't bat an eye when an older gentleman came in and pointed out the exact cock-ring he was looking for in the brightly lit, contemporay sex toy display.  His chosen toy cost $110.00 bucks.  As he paid, she sent him out the door with a spritely, "Come again!"

I don't think introducing a bevy of sexual toys is necessary to rev up sex, but I did buy a couple of accessories, as part of my contribution to the "work" required to keeping my relationship lively and healthy.  I hope that when I bring out my new double strap-on, my husband won't be too surprised....kidding, kidding.  The truth is, we have both gotten a little lazy in the rack.  It is time to press the reset button and reconnect with each other's needs. I am hoping with a little communication, and Pink lubricant, we can fight our way back to the good-old-days.  

Mid-life: Half Empty or Half Full?

Image by identity photogr@phy.

"A mid-life crisis is cliché until you find yourself having one,” according to Sue Schellenbarger, author of The Breaking Point: How Midlife Crisis is Transforming Today’s Women. As the number of career women entering their 40’s increases, so too does the frequency of the mythic Midlife Crisis. Long thought the domain of fragile-egoed, middle-aged men, the mid-life crisis is affecting women more frequently and at earlier ages than their male counterparts. In a Time Magazine article “Midlife Crisis? Bring it On!”, women are reported to be following the stereotypical crisis responses, including buying record numbers of motorcycles and filing for 2/3 of all divorces.

My sudden interest in this phenomenon is driven by my sneaking suspicions that I am smack dab in the middle of my own crisis. Having recently entered my 40’s, I am having some serious life satisfaction issues. I have yet to buy a motorcycle or hook up with a 20 something pool boy, but I find myself struggling to figure out why I feel mired within my own life. As I began researching this issue, I found that there are a substantial number of studies and a variety of opinions about the causes and consequences of the so called “Midlife Crisis”. It seems that trying to comfort middle-agers is quite a business. As those making the transition into the second half of their lives begin to re-evaluate the direction they are heading in, life coaching practices and meditation retreats are proliferating at a staggering rate, as these poor souls search for answers.

Middle age signifies the passing of a significant portion or one’s life, and with it the roles that we had established for ourselves. Discordance occurs when we begin to realize that things that might have seemed right for us in our 20’s or 30’s, no longer fit with who we are now and where we are going in our 40’s and 50’s. Emphasis has shifted from securing a mate or a career and raising children, to a more selfish part of our lives where deferring our own dreams is no longer an option. Often triggered by the sense of getting older or the recognition of the first signs of “physical decay” as Gail Sheehy eloquently states in a 1976 People magazine article, women particularly are driven to try and preserve or recapture their youthfulness or attractiveness, in a perceived now or never mindset. A different clock is ticking, as they see their romantic opportunities dwindling with the first signs of visible aging. Oil of Olay is flying off the shelves and the number of new clinics offering Botox injections for the emotively wrinkled, can’t keep up with the lines of desperate cougars. Eyebrows are becoming increasingly paralyzed, with lips puffing-up nearly as fast as breasts.

I see the evolving changes in my own face and body, and realize that this condition is progressive. I have stepped up my battle against the inevitable effects of gravity, stocking a variety of scrubs and creams designed to keep me looking like the 20 something models who are hired to promote the stuff (like they need it!). My bathroom vanity is so crowded with my expanding beauty regime, that there remains little counter space for my husband to even set his toothbrush. I chalked this up to having more time and interest in my appearance, but I realize it has more to do with hiding the fact that I am getting older. I am certain I am grieving the loss of my youth, but believe it is a small component of my personal midlife experience.

More than wrinkles, there is a feeling of unsettledness, rooted deeply inside me, that I am having trouble pinning down. Dave Schoof, host of TheDisquiet.com, a website targeting male mid-lifers, calls this feeling “unease” or “Disquiet”. I could relate to a lot of what this self-described “Mid-life Survivor” discusses on his site and in his various blogs. He describes this disquiet as the underlying cause of feeling overwhelmed or trapped by life, common symptoms of an impending crisis. The typical responses to a Midlife crisis, such as hooking up with younger partners, jumping out of airplanes or getting face-lifts, are used to try and avoid, numb or disguise the underlying causes of this inner turmoil. Once you can identify what is driving your unease you may realize that “your life might be out of alignment with your deepest values”, according to Mr. Schoof. People experiencing midlife crisis are re-evaluating the way they are living their lives in the context of where they are now and where they want to be.

There is some difference in the way men and women approach this middle aged puberty. Working women may reach a point of burn out and frustration with the overwhelming tasks of care-taking their husbands and children, while at the same time balancing a demanding career. Women may begin to reject the caregiver role, and instead seek out their own fulfillment. Some of this may be hormonal, but I grow tired of every emotional change experienced by a woman being dismissed as merely a product of her hormones.

Some of my “unease” comes from a feeling of loss of control in my life. As most women these days, I wear a lot of different hats: mother, wife, businesswoman, etc. I think part of my problem is that I try and wear all of these hats at the same time. I am never fully present in the moment feeling as if some other area of my life is being neglected. This leads to lots and lots of guilt and stress. “I don’t spend enough time with my kids.” “I am not as invested in my career as I should be.” “There isn’t any time for me anymore.” It is my nature to bend towards the needs of others, but lately I have started to resist this more, and am looking for a little more personal need fulfillment.

My career is one area that I have been reflecting on as I am experiencing tremendous burnout and have been for several years. My first instinct is to quit, and move in a completely different direction. Objectively, that is a poor choice, because I am finally where I want to be with my career, and this is the time I should be reaping the rewards for all of the work and sacrifices made over the last decade and a half. One issue is that the way my career fits into my life now, is vastly different than it was 10 years ago. I feel like it stops me from following my dreams and passions when at one time, it was my dream and passion. Complicating this is that I have a lot of things I want to do that don’t involve my career. I have begun to resent the interference my career causes with the rest of my life.

I think this is a common paradox for professional woman. Diverging needs create conflict and an almost paralytic effect on our ability to figure out what the hell we want to do! We have invested enormous amounts of time and energy into out careers, when suddenly we begin to yearn for something different. It is hard to give up on something we should value more and that we have toiled so hard to achieve.

I am paranoid about my ability to make clear decisions while I undergo this midlife re-awakening. I still am not clear of the cause of my “unease” and thus the means to fix it. Apparently this is a transformative phase in the lives of both men and women. From what I have read, this process isn’t a short one, and it is likely that I will be trying to figure this out for a while. In the short term, I am attempting to align my life with greater balance, and face the things that are unsettling me head-on. I will likely continue to try and stall the inevitable “physical decay” that I am beginning to experience and do my part to keep the anti-aging economy growing. I am also going to avoid any major decisions, much like I do when I am PMS-ing, for fear that I might sabotage some really great things in my life that I might just be having trouble seeing clearly right now.



Bitch and Ye Shall Receive!

Photo by carbonNYC.

So....if you read the post "Stuck in the 1950's", you were privy to some particularly heavy handed husband bashing.  If you are a woman reading the post, you likely recognized the nature of the rant, and appreciate it as the way chicks talk to each other about their boyfriends or hubbies.  It doesn't mean we don't love them, we just happen to share with each other the negative things our husbands do, while seeking support and commiseration.  We seldom share the good things.  It doesn't mean we take them for granted, we just don't need a shoulder to cry on about those.

A man however, reading that blog might become defensive on behalf of the poor guy, and suspect his wife doesn't appreciate him, and is somehow being unfair.  Trust me, your wife or girlfriend has shared such chats with her girlfriends, about you, at least that harshly, and perhaps even more so, depending upon how much you have pissed her off.  The thing about her girlfriends is, they get the purpose of the conversation and understand that the aforementioned rant does not reflect on the entirety of the man or the relationship.

My husband has assured me that he did not read that blog, after I sheepishly asked him.  I told him that I had bashed him pretty good.  I was a little worried about what he might think if he did read it.  I am not sure what specifically triggered him then, to offer to cook and clean for the full two weeks of our recent vacation.  We have a home in the desert, and we keep it cheap by eating in most meals.  I usually do the majority of the cooking and cleaning on vacation too.  At first when he offered, I was skeptical.  This would be something!  He assured me he wasn't joking, and intended to do all the grocery shopping and cook all meals!

And, he did it!  Early on in the vacation, my inner micro manager came forward at the grocery store, to gently prod him in the direction of the organic dairy products and steer him away from the frozen food section.  He told me to "Back off! I've got it!"  I did my best to butt out, and reasoned that drinking the cheap store brand milk or big, white, genetically modified eggs, wouldn't kill me in a mere two weeks.  So I zipped it, and watched him fill the cart with items that I generally would steer clear of.  Things like rainbow color "fruit" roll-ups, sold by the foot for the kids, frozen french fries, hot pockets, chips and dip...you get the picture.  I made a decision at check out, to butt out, and go with it, and let him do it his way.  If he wanted to do it, I wanted the full experience, for him and me.

I was worried I wouldn't be able to stand back and just let him do everything.  At home, I am up and running constantly.  Every moment occupied with completing some detail of the to-do list. I seldom sit still. It took a day or two, but I was surprised how easily I slipped into this new role.  I have spent a significant amount of time lounging on the couch.  I briefly tried to tuck my hand in my pants whilst sipping beer and watching football, but that was pushing the limits of this experiment.  I settled for plowing through the Twilight vampire series, reading one 600 page book a day.   I slept in.  I didn't wash one dish!! 

He made meals that were surprisingly, okay.  We had fish several nights, with some form of rice or veggie.  A couple of times I had to intervene for small things like, undercooked sausages or near raw baked potatoes.  For the most part though, he did a great job.  I began to realize how much I probably inhibit his participation in these day to day tasks by my constant interference and personal expectations.  It is like I had subconsciously set a standard that he couldn't possibly hope to achieve. When I stepped back, and wasn't critical, or comparing what he did to what I did, it was pretty much fine!

I found my mind unfettered by frustrations about the state of the house cleanliness, or whether or not everything we ate was organic.  I cringed when he served the hot pockets, and didn't partake of them myself, but of course, the kids loved them.  I realized that often, issues are only issues when I decide to make them issues.  Stepping back like that, I could more clearly see how unimportant some of these things were.  I have never let him take over this area because I never really trusted that he could do it.

It reminds me of our honey moon in Mexico, when he excitedly took me sailing on a small catamaran.  I had no idea he possessed these skills from his life prior to me and so didn't trust the experience.  I was in panic mode the whole time, certain the boat would flip, or we would end up helplessly drifting out into the open ocean.  He laughed at my nervousness and confidently handled the boat.  I realized that he had a set of experiences and skills that were in place long before I came along, but for some reason, I only trusted the ones that I had witnessed during our time together.  I think this applies to my feelings about his household skills as well.

When we first started dating, his condo was a mess...clean, but not really clean.  I spent a day scrubbing it down and furnishing it with essential items, like dish towels, that he was missing.  Somehow this imprinted on me that he lacked the capacity to do these things, and I stepped in and assumed the role.  I realize now, that he can do these things, but I have just assumed that because he doesn't do them like me, he can't.  I told him on our final day of vacation, that I was impressed, and that I was going to start delegating more.  Now that I had seen him in action, I was expecting him to keep it up.  For my part, I have to butt out and accept he'll do it differently, but he will do it.

I learned alot these last two weeks.  One reason I have failed to motivate him in the past to help out more, is that there were always unspoken conditions.  Another thing I learned is that some of my frustration is self inflicted...I make issues where there aren't any.  Should I lose sleep over counter top clutter or untidy shoes in the mud room?  I am not taking all the blame here.  Somehow he never communicated that to me or stepped up to do his fair share.  The rules are reset now.  I have new expectations.  Now that I know he can do it I will be more resentful if he doesn't, and you can only imagine what that blog will be like! 

Caution: Content May Include Pubic Hair

Photo by art_es_anna.

As I write this blog, and supportive friends return to read and comment on the contents created herein, I realize that the personal-ness of the content, may be TMI (too much information), for most of them.  I understand the reason that writers use pen names...more so when the main topics of said writer are pubic hair and husband bashing.  Writing is really personal, and it can't be good or very interesting if it isn't.  A quote from Kafka I read recently states "Writing means revealing oneself to excess".  I think even if I weren't telling people what style of pubic-coiffing I was sporting at the moment, the excessive revealing would still be true.  Even say, if I were writing about being worried about writing about pubic hair.

Great art, painting or writing, is created without fear or judgement.  The judgement that matters most is the judgement brought to the work by the artists themselves.  If a writer or painter were to put pen to paper, brush to canvas, and think at each idea or stroke "What if this isn't good enough?" or "What if people don't like it?" the flow of creative juices would be stoppered up, and the artist would fail to create anything spontaneous or meaningful. Once the creator begins to pre-edit his own content, originality and and creativity are stifled.  I am finding it harder not to pre-edit my personal girly-girl experiences, worried that I will begin to enjoy prolonged stares at the local coffee shop. If you know what my pubes look like, will you still respect me?

Great artists do not give a flying flat what other people think of what they create.  This takes an admirable amount of pilotes (balls), effusive self-esteem and leaden oblivious-ness, not present in the average human.  Most of these people I feel are also socially inept and disliked.  Part of humanity is caring about what other people think; about you personally or about the effect your actions might have upon the lives of others.  I am a big fat wuss.  My self esteem has been externally motivated for the majority of my life.  If you tell me you love it, then it is good...I'm not sure what I think about it, unless I know what you think first.  Pathetic really.  The worst of it however is how it hovers over the things I try and create.  Even when I go shopping, before I buy something, I look at it through someone else's eyes first, guessing if they will like it. 

The first few blogs were written in complete anonymity...I didn't really expect they would be read, and so I just wrote stuff.  Now, I know some people are reading it, not very many, but some, and I have begun to filter and edit. The same thing happened with my painting.  The first few times I messed with it, I had no expectations...I just did it, tried it, and waited to see what happened.  Somewhere I learned to have expectations...I could create some interesting things, and so everything from that moment on needed to be just as or more interesting as the thing before.  If I didn't think it was, I feared I'd lost whatever ability I had had, and began to doubt my ability to create anything good ever again.  When I began golfing a few years back, I was pretty terrible.  I recall during one especially high scoring effort telling a friend, "Man, if I had any expectations at all, I would be really pissed right now!"

I think it is too late for a pen-name.  I confused an editor recently by trying to change the author credit to a pen name before she printed it.  I told her I thought a pen name would be prudent, given that the article was about blow-jobs.  I finally just told her to use my name.  There is a lot of learning and skin thickening that must go on as you begin to write.  At first I thought I could write without concern for what other people thought, but I'm not so sure anymore.  I have an understanding of the concept of writing and creating without fear, but enacting it is a work in progress.   

Theoretically, if I pretend nobody will read what I write or ever see anything I paint, I won't care what it looks or sounds like.  If I stop caring who reads about my waxing habits, I should be set free. As a precaution, I think that I will start putting warning labels on my blogs.  If a blog is about pubic hair, and you would rather not read about pubic hair, you will be warned to move along.  Some of you will be personally instructed to never, ever, read the pubic hair blogs, and for the sake of our coffee shop encounters, please respect my request!