Peek-A-Boo

Lately something has been happening- I have been attracting men out of the woodwork. Autumn is my rutting season; the time when I feel alive and ready to snuggle. In their primitive state, I think men are picking up on this. Random men have complimented me on my clothing, my smile, even my lipstick. Hey, I'll take it.

I don't think there's anything particularly remarkable about this, more that I'm putting out good energy. 

1- I'm in my "duck it" phase; the phase when I'm about enjoying life and not worrying about my age or my dating status, etc. 

2- It's freakin' Fall! This is my favorite time of the year and I look up in wonder like a little kid every time I go outside. 

3- I smile all the time (see above 2 reasons)- who can resist a person truly just happy in the moment?? 

This has been great for my self-esteem, if not a burden on my social calendar. It seems that a down day (i.e. a day I emerge only to aspire to wearing pajamas all day in true Bridget Jones fashion) are wishful thinking. 

This has also been the case of the online dating scene. Many men have come out from the woodwork and favorited me, winked, and emailed. My friend has given me a look that's both perplexed and full of awe. "What the hell?" she asks, when I show her pics, "they're cute and you have your own posse!" Yes, it's been fun to flirt and get my mojo going. 

But there is a percentage of these guys that come on super strong. The favorite you, send you multiple emails in a day, facebook friend you, and then... well, then they start sending you pics. Let's take Lothario Lad. He's a super cute guy 6-7 years my junior. He goes through all the super strong come-ons that I mentioned above. First he sends me a pic of himself. Normal enough. "Umm, okay, thanks for that." Then he sends one with his shirt unbuttoned. "Uh, weird," I think. The pictures progress (or shall we say regress) until he's wearing his underwear and then- OOPS! nothing at all. Oh boy. 

At first this odd behavior was amusing. I very mildly encouraged it with emails of "nice," "okay then," and "there are no words." Hell, you're a good-looking guy and if you want to show off your good-looking body go ahead. But now it just feels exploitive and wrong. I mean, is he a voyeur and really gets off on this sort of thing? Does he think that women respond to pics like men do? Does he think I'll return the favor and send him pics of myself? Does he think I'm a "talent" scout?

I really don't know and don't care but I tried to squelch this by saying, "Women aren't as visual as men. Naked pics from a complete stranger will only do so much." His response? Another pic asking if I wanted to see him full-on naked. There's no need. I feel like I'm dealing with someone with low self-esteem or perhaps just very singularly focused. I mean, who would send pics of themselves to someone that could just blast them on the internet? Maybe these guys don't care but it exceeds the realm of odd to me. It's guys like these that keep blogs like mine going.

The Lengths We Go...

It is listed on my dating profile that I have fantastic taste in music (the best), great taste in literature, hit or miss on movies, and TERRIBLE taste in tv. Seriously, I should not be trusted with the remote. Ever. This tv folly is an unfortunate truth that I have to live with, as does anyone that watches tv with me. I will watch Jersey Shore, any number of shows about Gypsy weddings or breaking out of the Amish community, Moonshiners (how there's enough ammo for multiple seasons is beyond me), and even Total Divas- a show about women wrestlers.

Yeesh, I can't even look at myself right now.

I was getting ready for bed last night and channel surfing to clear my head. As I was flipping through shows I came upon yet another reality show about Tori Spelling and Dean-what's-his-name(?). She talked about her last desperate attempt to save her previous marriage and what led her to meet her current husband. The day before she met what's-his-name, she went to a voodoo priestess. As she regaled the story of being cleansed by first taking a milk bath then getting soaked in chicken blood, she never once paused in embarrassment that she, I dunno, got soaked in chicken's blood.

It occurred to me that we all do desperate things when something's really important to us. And although I haven't followed Tori through this particular rabbit hole, I have jumped down my own versions. I've read countless books, I've even done the self-hypnosis manifestation cds. I've analyzed, assessed, online dated, prayed, joined meetup groups, and Tinder (which I thought was just an innocent dating app). I even have gone to palm readers and tarot readers, eating up every word they had to say, even when it was plainly generic and playing on my insecurities.

The one thing I haven't done enough is just throw my hands up and say, "fuck it." Perhaps "fekkit," if you're Irish or "duck it" if you're Autocorrect. Well after going to Salem, MA and having my cards read with my friends, I am at the "duck it" stage. I didn't even ask about my love life and yet she proceeded to tell me that there was a dark shadow hindering my love life. What the duck?! In the moment, I ate it up but the longer I thought about it I felt like I might as well have been standing in voodoo chicken blood.

Here's the truth- I spend way too much time seeking. When I actually really feel something for a guy it's always unexpected; it has never been when I was looking. It's always with someone that would never have met my advanced search criteria on any dating site. He might be younger, older, an ethnicity I never heard of, slight, stout, even Southern. However it's also always someone that connects with me, gets my quirky personality, and opens my mind to a new way of being. If he happens to have a handlebar moustache, beard, or chops, so be it. He could open my mind through music, philosophy, travel, politics, sports- anything.

You know something, that's not someone I ever find when I'm searching. I will still date, I have a date this week, but I think I will take a vacation from seeking. God always one-ups my wishes anyway so I'll leave it to Him to surprise me. I just want to have a "duck it" moment where I can just live and enjoy my life instead of always searching to improve it. I remain open just spending more time enjoying what I DO have in Life instead of mourning over what I don't have
.

Vacation Jilly Style

I have been on a two-week vacation- La! I decided to fulfill a couple of bucket-list items and travel New England during the Autumn. A friend of mine commented on this and said how brave I was for doing this. Brave?? Hmm, not really how I would define it but she said if she ever tried that her friends and family would immediately question her and make her feel awkward about doing a two-week vacation alone.


It occurred to me that I have other friends who feel the same way. A couple I know just spent a week touring the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. He commented on how all that driving alone must have been hard and how nice it was to share his vacation with his wife. Does everything have to be a shared event?

Frankly, I'm glad I did this with just me and my dog. Michelle demands very little except the wind blowing on her and an occasional potty break. She's traveled with me on my many moves so a road trip was no harrowing experience. Let me highlight the benefits of a solo and customized sojourn:

My trip was MY TRIP. I didn't have to alter, add, or delete any elements. It allowed me to be spontaneous or completely planned, as per my whim. When my first venture to see a cranberry bog ended in a sign threatening my life, I could add another trip to see a different bog. When I left Vermont a day early, I just did it; I didn't have to ask.

I didn't have to limit or extend my time in any one place. I went to this little town in Connecticut- I fell in love. If anyone would have been with me I would have been able to spend a half hour, hour tops there. Instead, I walked the quiet streets with my dog, meandering for a couple of hours. I then sat under a chestnut tree writing, listening to the trees, being pelted with chestnuts... it was wonderful. In fact I sat there until the rapidly dropping temperatures and darkness forced me away. However, this remains the best part of a truly fantastic trip and I will never forget the peace I felt there.

I had great one-on-one time with friends. I visited several friends while I was traveling. Being on my own we could just catch up and have a good time, not worrying about planning events that will make a group happy. When I went to Salem, MA my friends, Kevin and Lindsey went with me. When I went to Cambridge, MA I got to catch up with my friend, Joan Lin. When I went to Saratoga Springs, NY I had individual time with both Tatiana and Theodore- and I'm sure I'll never be able to repay him listening to my incessant talking (this is the curse of people like him who are excellent listeners and it encourages people like me to purge ourselves of every thought and complaint- ugh, embarassing).

Finally, I had loads of time to clear my head of the chatter and really identify how I feel. This causes a lot of self-awareness which is both painful and liberating. I learned a lot about myself and where I stand. Perhaps another month of sorting through these awakenings and I'll have a clearer direction of where I'm going in Life. Point being, I doubt I would have had such an awareness practice had I not a lot of alone time. I think next time, I'll go back to Iona, Scotland for a couple of weeks pilgrimage. Maybe next year...

Debauchery-ville

I have a twisted sense of humor. Now I have a neighbour that joins that tribe and this just can't be good for society. However, we laugh a lot and that always makes for a great life.

One of the things we are currently into is Fairy gardens. There are Pinterest pages full of these adorable little villages with acorn hats, thimble chairs, mossy, glens, and quirky little gnomes. This is all too innocent for my neighbour and I. Instead, we are looking to create our own gnomish version of a Debauchery-ville. 

This all started when my counterparts at the State gave me a going away present of fairy garden supplies and a mason jar of moonshine. I love my life. I also love the vision of drinking out of said mason jar and talking to fairies. Oh what a fantastic (though surprisingly accurate) picture that would give to my new neighbors! 

The moonshine has been brought out as a communal offering (tempered with ginger ale) and distributed to any neighbors coming and going to sit down and bemoan their hard work week. After crawling back to our respective establishments, we formed a somewhat tighter bond and thus paved the way for Debauchery-ville. 

Debauchery-ville is my neighbor's and my view of what our fairy village would be like. Mine started out with a pub. Since the rest of the world has not caught on to our fabulous idea, I cannot for the life of me find a drunken fairy or gnome. I will have to settle for sleeping fairies and hope it translates. My neighbour has opted for the gypsy camp and decided to hide a bunch of witches behind an innocent welcoming sign. 

Next up on her list is to add a few more caravans and a chicken coop. Next on my list is to add a distillery, brothel, and possibly opium den. My sister, though shaking her head and mentally rolling her eyes heavenward, is on the lookout for all fairies and gnomes that might be up to no good. Is it wrong that I am so into this??? 

Apparently, the idea is catching on because one of our Home Owner's Assoc. boards decided to include us on their garden tours. It looks like there are a lot more sick puppies out there than you thought.

The Right Makeup

I am going to go on the mass assumption that autocorrect won't get me an umpteenth time. I will assume wrong, of course. But building on the last post I want to talk about makeup and the VAST change it makes when you have the right palette. Finding makeup (or clothes for that matter!) based on your hair color is just downright silly. I know this now.

Getting draped was awesome and if I only took out of it the effect that color has on my eyes, it would be all worth it. You see, when you have the wrong color against your skin, your cheekbones lose definition, your face looks sallow, there is an orange tinge around your lips, and your eyes lose lustre. Most importantly, I learned to look at the effect of color on my eyes. When you wear the right colors, your eyes go from being a muted greyish non-descript color to a dozen colors all at once. I found that there are mosses, indigos, cayenne streaks, a little whiskey (always good), and turquoise blues in mine. When I'm wearing the right colors, you see all this depth in my eyes and they sparkle. This isn't limited to any eye color. My sister has almost onyx black eyes. When she wears certain colors her skin becomes more luminous and youthful and her eyes sparkle with onyx, amber, and pewter. So cool. 

I showed my sister a before and after of makeup and the effects on me. She at first protested because it was different light so I went back and put the same dress on, the same light, the same doorway, and showed the before and after of makeup. Voila! You can see in my before picture that I just look a little more rundown. All the makeup goes together but it's not the right palette for me. I look dull, all my fine lines are visible, and I look as though I've been plowing a field or two... hundred. Even my eyes are a dull, nondescript greyish-green. It's not as awful as having all your makeup clash but it isn't my best either. In the after shot you can see that I'm exercising the same principles of basic makeup: eyeliner and neutral eyeshadow, blush, and red lip. But what a marked difference! In the second picture my skin looks more luminous, my cheekbones more refined, and everything is just brighter. The fine lines aren't as marked and my eyes have a complexity of hues.

To really highlight this, here is a close up of my eye. This is what you should look for: clothes and makeup that give a true white to your outer eye, as well as the bright and complex color range that your eyes have. See what I'm saying? If you notice that a lipstick or blush individually brings out these complexities in your eyes, I think that's a good place to start. Then match the rest of your makeup. I am nowhere near an expert on this but there are blogs about 12 Blueprint analysis with lists of makeup for each of the 12 seasons and what goes with what. It's a start though, and what a lovely way to celebrate you!

Stranger in a Strange Land

Being in a new area is always a mixed bag. I'm happy to leave the South but I'm not as far north as I'd like. I'm excited to meet new people but I'm shy and it takes every ounce of energy for me to be social. I like the new job but I feel that constant fear that I'm somehow off track. Meh, I've come to expect these peaks and valleys when it comes to settling into a new place. Now my grey hair has added and additional kink- meeting people.

I am so happy to be in a place where there are a lot of people of my faith; I have a choice of churches to go to, I can meet a lot of other people with the same values, and there are actually young adult clubs for meeting new people. This would have been an ideal scenario 5 years ago- I would clearly belong in the 18-40 age group, I was much more of a joiner, and I had red hair. Okay, I STILL did not blend in with the Greeks but I did much more then than I do with silver hair. My theme music should be Iron Maiden (as it often is). See below:

Everyone dyes their hair in my faith- EVERYONE. The men, the women, the children. Eighty-somethings still sport jet-black hair and I never saw so many faux blonds in my life. I'm a bit more than an anomaly for not following this route, I'm an "xeni," or stranger. This is not exactly how I want to feel when I walk into a church and precisely why I went to a Young Adult League (YAL) mixer. I had met one girl that I knew was going but unfortunately she didn't get there until the speakers started. Sigh, I will have to be sociable.

I felt very different than I normally do. In my everyday life I don't think about my appearance. I feel polished as I'm wearing suits and colors that look good, I now always have the right red lipstick, my hair is as coiffed as I can manage, and all the DC walking is trimming me down. But when I walked into that mixer where even the Priest had a mere few silvers, I felt old. I talked to some girls who were my age, happily married and wanting to get out and make new friends. We would talk about the impact of religion on our lives and how nice it was that a group like this existed. Inevitably, they would get something to eat or drink in anticipation for a long series of lectures.

That is when I was left at a table with four young bo-- men. Scratch that- guys. The guy next to me was part of this gang of bo-- guys but looked over at me and introduced himself. Very polite and I'm sure his yia yia would be very proud of how well he was raised. He had just moved here so I asked if he was here for school. I assumed he was starting out at College yet this question slightly offended him. He proceeded to tell me he was doing graduate work. Okay, 15 or 25 what's the difference? He's perhaps slightly more than half my age rather than slightly less. He further clarified that he was working on his PhD.

Sigh. Apparently I am really bad about treating young people as well, young. I just figured he was being nice (he was the only person at the table that went out of his way to introduce himself) so I was nice back. At least I thought so. As the females returned to the table and as my young-ish acquaintance got something to drink another girl in her 30s sat down in his place. The lectures began followed by everyone in the room introducing themselves with icebreaker factoids about themselves, and one girl leaned over, "See? They met here at a mixer and they got married. You could be next!" "??!! Huh ??!!" was my shocked-into-silence response. Is that why people go to these things? Am I giving off a wrong vibe? Or is it more that they look at me and think I must be thinking that? I stewed over that for awhile, hopeful that no one witnessed this odd exchange.

At the end of the lectures I introduced myself to a few more people. I ran into my young-ish acquaintance and we talked for a bit about our mutual love of Tolkein. Finally I had someone who would listen to my theories on linguistics and what nation the Elves represent. He took one for the team. Yes, I took full advantage of his kindness and well-mannered polity. But let's face it, he wasn't even born when I was fighting my way at concerts to catch a guitar pick or touch Bruce Dickinson's sweaty hair, the spike leather cuffs, the spandex... Whoops! I'm back. Where was I?? See if you don't get Iron Maiden... can you really be my friend?

I kid (sort of) but the day was a new awareness for me. I went for one reason- to make a network of friends; to start the foundations of friendship so that whenever I went to a church I would have people to talk to. I found that I don't easily fall into a category anymore. I'm not young and I'm not old. I'm somewhat more of an xeni than before. It was somewhat awkward and I don't know if I'll go again. But the few people I talked to I hope to run into at some point and maybe a few friendships can arise after all.

Graduated!! Class of 2014

Today is my two-year anniversary of when I stopped coloring my hair. Yesterday I went in and just asked that the remaining dye be cut off. That left me with a shorter bob than I would have liked but who cares?? I'm dye-free!!!

Two YEARS??!!, you may be asking yourself but that was what it toook me to get through my journey. Each woman (or man)transitioning has their own way to do it. I never recommend someone stop  coloring their hair (although it's harder to bite my tongue when they clearly have a dangerous allergic reaction or thinning hair), but there are so many ways to do this: buzz cut, skunk stripe, highlights/lowlights, layers, curls, etc. 

My transition was inadvertant highlights. I had my color stripped to reduce the damarcation line and it redeposited color on my virgin hair. So it took longer but only a hair stylist could see the line. I knew it was there though and it bugged me. 

But even though I crave long hair again, I happily traded that for dye-free hair. I did not have a great stylist and did not get a great cut but right now I'm celebrating the graduation. I love my hair color and texture now. I love the crazy waves and curls it does. I may tame them into submission (for those days that I don't want the world to think a squirrel is nesting in my hair), and I may fight frizz in the DC humidity. But so what? I accept my hair with all the flaws it has. 

I think that has been the best thing about this transition- I simply accept myself and others- flaws and all. I feel sorry for those people that are hell-bent on perfection. You'll never find it. And if you did, how boring! I look at my dog, a seeming princess with delicate ways. But no, she barks at everything: the hated squirrel nation, a blade of grass, or simply because I'm on a conference call reporting out across the nation (seriously, EVERY time). But I love her as she is. 

As for myself? I have a tendancy to over-analyze, to have too many fleeting directions, and I tend to say exactly what I think regardless of whether the timing or situation is appropriate (it seldom is). But yet I love myself too and accept that I am a very flawed human being. Not everyone is going to like me and not everyone is going to like my hair. That's okay, they don't need to. If you can get to a point of self-acceptance and acceptance of others, you have won considerably. 

Many ladies as well as myself really got there by embracing ourselves for exactly as God made us. This includes the grey. But instead of being ho hum we decided that there is beauty in it and we celebrate the sparkles and muted dove tones of our grey. We also envy others' arctic white while still loving our own unique blend. Your natural hair blueprint is as individual as your fingerprints and this should be a celebration-- of you. Here is my 24-month transition in all its glory and shortcomings:

It's been a long time coming but I am so happy to close this chapter and start a new one. Now it's all about growing my hair out and getting the right cut.