1. Tell manspreader his fly is open.
2. Spread ones’ own legs and make awkward skin contact until manspreader retreats. Stay strong.
3. Tap manspreader’s leg and say “Sit like a lady” in best grandma-voice. (Channel your best impersonation of Betty White or Bette Midler, both will work.)
4. Stare at manspreader’s spread man legs. Intently. No blinking. Think death glare straight to his man parts.
5. Take out your phone and watch the most recent news clip about this infuriating pandemic on high volume for all transit passengers to hear.
Personally, I think we have more things in this world to worry about rather than some stranger manspreading for 2 extra inches on BART… But that might just be me.
Teach your son’s to be gentleman. Show them how to offer their seats to women, children, the elderly, and handicapped. That’s more important than making the news or coining a new urban dictionary term. Just saying.
In the present world of bloggers and blogging and sponsored posts, paid agents, and events… Some people are just far better at being in the public eye than the other.
I don’t have time for that.
I’m just gonna write. Hardly edit. (Sorry grammar nazis, if I cared about my punctuation mistakes I would be paralyzed into keeping my posts in drafts forever. Nope.)
I’m just gonna write. I’m gonna stay honest. Raw and open. And more importantly with more purpose and positivity than just trying to prove how I’m so much cooler than the rest of them. I’m too old for the Mean Girls popularity contest going on around me right now. Isn’t it exhausting? To constantly compare yourself to others?
And here’s a #truthbomb: In words from the 1920’s poem Desiderata, a favorite of mine growing up, “For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”
What I think is most important is to just be yourself and to make sure that if you do make an impression, and have the opportunity to make even the smallest mark on someone’s life, it’s a good one.
Which is honestly the core of what I hope to be able to do with my work.
If you do have serious complaints about my grammar and punctuation, you can e-mail my editor Gustav at Gustav@sfbeautybohemian.com and he’ll be happy to file you under the F… for all the fucks I don’t give. Gustav is my dog. I love him. He’s also very understanding and a great listener.
I’m not dieting, I’m changing my lifestyle.
Here’s my “I’m hungry” plan for 2015:
Locavore: The egg came first… in my fridge.
Our experience with O’o Farms in Maui was really a game-changer. I always liked the idea of farming/gardening, locally sourced food, and fresh ingredients. I can tell the difference between one salad leaf from the other (Love arugula and frisée, hate radicchio and escarole) and what’s in season at the farmers market, all thanks to an obsession with food, the food network, and a 2 year writing position at an Eco website back in the day. So going Locavore/localvore should be a fairly simple thing for me. Though I’m probably not going to completely immerse myself 100%, I do plan on having a diet jam-packed with at least 70% of local produce and to blog about where and what I find to help raise awareness of the Locavore movement. My plan is to have at least one dedicated blogpost or Instagram post using only Locavore centered produce and products. It could be a recipe, my lunch, or local farmers just making a difference. All of which I am 100% already super stoked and excited about. Yiii! For more information on what the Locavore movement is click here.
Sorta vegetarian: I was a vegetarian for two years. I tell this to people a lot because 1. It was a challenge that I’m very proud to have done 2. It was probably the best I’ve ever had food relationship-wise in my life so far. It felt clean, and light, and great.
I really like fish and bacon though, which if I said “nope” to right now, I’d be setting myself up for failure because we all know, the next time I go to Amici’s I’m going to want anchovies on that Cesar salad. Or if I go to NOPA, I can’t NOT have bacon on their incredible, mouth-watering legendary burger. Also, my local butcher always gives me a ridiculous (RIDICULOUS) discount on filet mignon cuts… I need to take advantage of that. So I’m saying “Sorta” – maybe meat and fish once or twice a week. Veg otherwise. If I decide to forego any and all animals altogether, then good. But I’m not making any promises. Just because I know how hard that shit is.
Healthy portions: That 3rd piece of pork belly over rice. Probs don’t need that. Everything deserves a try. Not everything deserves to be consumed and stuck onto me forever. If I don’t think I can burn it off during yoga, I probably shouldn’t eat it.
This will be the year I finally have a healthy relationship with food.
I’ve never had a healthy relationship with food. My relationship with food is like that of a bipolar schizophrenic where all of the multiple personalities/voices are constant bickering meme clouds between “treat yo’ self” and “I wanna look good naked.” I’m passionately in love with each plate put in front of me only for the feeling to be counteracted with an obsessive force of self-disgust due to not being able to exercise any sort of self control. (Like, did I really have to eat all three of the pork belly appetizers to enjoy it? Probably not.)
I also just watched a documentary on Netflix about King Henry VIII and how he started out as a stunning, athletic 18 year old king that was a glistening 6’2″ marvel to lay eyes upon, only to grow into a 400 pound, disgusting 50 year old because he ate the same garbage as a teen but without the exercise… And that is when I said to myself, “I don’t want to be King Henry the VIII.” Fat and gross and pitiful all because bad food habits won’t die. (Photo: Left: Henry as a fit, sexy young king. Right: Henry at 40ish and 400 lbs later.)
Stay tuned for my next post tomorrow on what my “I’m hungry” Plan of Action in 2015 will be. I have the main stuff already down, just need to add some deets to it… Or, just stare at all the delicious food photography below… Which are all food I have happily instagrammed and eaten back in 2014. Healthy? Probably not. Delicious? YAS.
I’m going to be 30.
And according to the magazine that I just read, I need to “aggressively” start a Skincare regimen that includes a serum and strong sunblock for day and an exfoliating, retinol rich, plumping moisturizer at night. Oh yah, and maybe start some non-invasive injections to avoid the fine lines from getting any deeper and “really settling in.”
THESE LOOKS ARE FADING, PEOPLE! But lotions. Yes, lotions and needles, will be the weapons to help me fight for eternal youth.
I would love to say that I’m a bigger person than that. That I could give a fuck about wrinkles and gravity and oldness. And that I’m really that secure and confident and awesome.
But I’m not.
I’m terrified. TERRIFIED. And not just about growing older but yes, looking older.
Tonight, I’m facing the fact that 30 is heading my way like a double decker, 6 AM Caltrain on a Monday morning. Too fast, too early, too loud, and I don’t feel like getting on it but I’m going to have to, whether I want to or not. Because I’ve gotten this far and because I’m a motherfucking grown up.
And I would love to say that I’ve aged gracefully, am very accomplished, and currently live life quite abundantly. But, three decades later, I have simply just aged and I am still trying my best to work towards getting my sweet piece of pie in the sky.
I’ve worked in the beauty industry for the last 7 years and I can’t even guarantee that slathering all that shit on your face that the magazines say will actually help you fight aging and gravity and anything that might steal all of your preconceived youth and hotness.
All I know is that time flies.
That there is always something to smile about.
Laugh, love, and shake off the icky stuff and keep going.
This is your life.
This will be your aging face.
No lotion in the world will prepare you for all the good, bad, and crazy things that you are about to experience.
But like a double decker train zooming down the railroad tracks too fast, too loud, and too soon, you’re going to have to get on it.
You’ve gotten this far.
And it’s too late to back out now.
Everything will be just fine.
Sometimes negative things have to be avoided or else the repercussions of those words, actions, and thoughts will eat you up until you start believing in them. Don’t. Those lame, made-up, projected lies aren’t real. They’re dumb. Consider the source because you don’t really have to listen to anyone else’s crazy crap if you don’t want to. That’s a choice you make.
It’s okay to choose joy. It’s okay to choose only what makes you happy.
It’s okay to rip off the band-aid and to let go of people, places, and things that no longer serve a purpose in your life.
You have to do it for you. No one else will.