The Mystery is Over…

This morning has been humbiling and humilating all at once.

Let me begin by sharing our wonderful weekend. It consisted of vegging on the couch all day Saturday and getting all nice and shiney for a date and celebrating our anniversary on Sunday. Matthew picked a nice restaurant and we went out and had fun. I love just sitting with him and talking. We are both talkers. Loud talkers. And loud laughers. Seriously, we are a loud couple, the kind that everyone turns around to stare at a quiet restaurant only to realize that what sounded like a party of ten is really just two. That’s us.

It was nice and sweet and we exchanged super sweet homemade gifts (that I have yet to take pictures of…). This first year of marriage has been fun, challenging (in a positive way) and exciting. We both have learned a lot about each other and continue to learn. We have maintained a certain level of mystery. The bathroom is still off limits to the other person if the other is occupying it. And flatulance is still blamed on our evil cat Paprika and our gassy cat Chapu. But today, this morning of all mornings, a line in the mystery line was drawn and I am still cringing.

There I am watching scrolling through facebook on my phone while listening to Good Morning America in the back ground. My nose begins to itch in an awful painful way. And it’s deep inside my nose. The kind of itch that rubbing your nose with your hand can’t fix. Without thinking of the consequences and only thinking of relieving the pain- there it went, my pinky finger up my nose. Then I looked up and made eye contact with Matthew. And I wanted to die- fast.

Matthew: Yup, I saw you pick your nose.
Me: What? It was itching really bad.
Matthew: It’s okay I pick mine in the shower.
Me: You shouldn’t be standing there naked people can see you.

Then we began to discuss God only knows what because I can not remember. I was trying to control my face from turning red and focusing on playing it cool. It was horrifying!!!

Every moment that I yelled at Matthew for farting in bed or burping right before kissing completely invalidated by this act. And I know better than this! Sooooo many questions have been running through my mind since I dropped him off at work. Is he going to think I’m less attractive, less adorable (and I’m freaking adorable). Is he going to question my hygiene?

Does this make him think that he now has carte blanche to do similar things?

Will he still love me tomorrow?

And you person that just turned their nose up at this post- do not act like you have done anything like this before!

Keep it real (er, not too real though).

Not at the dinner table.

I have grown (not physically sideways) so much since my last post: I ended a bad relationship (with my cell phone provider), became a hip phone user, learned how to use cute emoticons on said phone, opened up my curiosity of colon cleansing-more on that later and fall in love with my husband for like the fiftieth time this week.

I’ve had this crappy samsung galaxy phone for like a decade (two years- okay Matthew, I’m dramatic) and its suck level has increased more and more each month that it has been in my possession.  About a month ago the battery kept dying till I realized that my phone could no longer function without being plugged in.  Yes- so not only did I have a crick in my neck for the last month but I lived in fear that my ear might catch fire. 

But this weekend I said, ‘Basta!’ Enough is Enough! No mas! I refused to spend another day tethered to a wall. Matthew has often made comments about me becoming an iphone user.  He definitely thinks I’m much cooler than I am- because eight grade braces wearing, chubby, Denise still exists inside much older not so self conscience, still chubby thirty three version of myself.  I have not felt cool enough or committed enough to own an iphone. Secretly, I have been dying to conform and hold that cute piece of madness in my hands. So I broke down and purchased a one- the newest one (go big or go home). And I manually entered all my contacts into the phone. Most people save all their numbers to their sim card- I don’t.  Saving to the sim card is exclusively for people that I know will be in my life for good- not just for anyone. 

I will add here that at the time of purchase I ended my relationship with my super awful cell phone company.  Suck it!

Monday, I sent a text to my friend letting her know that I needed to cancel our dinner plans.  She sends me the cutest emoticon- a smiling poop.  Thank you, Chrissy. We continue texting and she sends another cute image.  WTF!  How is this happening?  So I ask her.  Long story short- she walked me through the process and now I can send cute emoticons whenever. Holler!  Bummer- Matthew’s phone is old and can not see ANY of my adorable messages. Ugh!

A week ago, I proposed to Matthew that we no longer look at our phones during lunch.  I might have mentioned before that Matthew and I have lunch almost every day together- even if it’s for twenty minutes.  I noticed that we were spending too much of our lunchtime responding to work texts and emails.  The result- conversations that I never expected to have.  Today we discussed colon cleansing- loud, graphic colon cleansing.  I am sure the restaurant patrons around us did not appreciate this conversation but I could not stop laughing.  I suggested a couple’s colon cleansing- apparently, that’s where we draw the line. Describing bowel movements is okay- have a procedure- not okay.  Geez…

As I drove back to work filled with endorphins- I fell in love with my husband all over again.  Yes, it was a ridiculous conversation, a disgustingly gross conversation but we were talking and laughing and enjoying each others company and our phone’s and the people around us did not exist.  I’ve seen lots of romantic comedies in my time- this is by far the best.

Tapping the will power reserves

Sunday.

Yesterday, in the car, driving home from the gym, Matthew and I, had an endorphin fueled conversation about out workout. Mid-January we made it our goal to make it to the gym at least four times a week.  We exceeded our goal by one day! Holler!!!

Feel badass and riding the waves of awesomeness, we decided to tackle an even bigger challenge: Lent. Dun dun dun.

Matthew says very matter of factly- “you and I have not really tapped our will power reserve.” Challenge accepted.

Traffic lights by traffic light, we began to make a list of things we were determined to live without for the upcoming forty days. Matthew’s list- alcohol, sodas, and one other item that escapes my mind. My list: soda, fried foods and bread.  Oh and we also agreed to make it to church every Sunday during Lent.  Then came the list of threats. Wait…let me take us back to fee days ago.

Matthew attended a training for work in which he learned about SWOT analysis and using threats to achieve desired results. So we have been using this threat system to accomplish things. For example: making it to the gym five times this week was a direct result of us agreeing that if we didn’t, Matthew would not be able to play Halo 4 for a week and I would have zero Greg’s anatomy reruns.

This morning.

At the wee hours of 5:30 a.m as we prepared for our morning trek to the gym, as if we had both been struck by psychic abilities- we remembered the threats.

1. Consuming the crap we decided to give up. For this epic failure of the wills- The Threat: we will be forced to workout at the gym without our ipods.  Yes- we went there. Yes, shit just got real.  For nothing sucks more than not having music to tune out the heavy, sweaty breathers all around you.  Not to mention it makes an hour workout seem like two.

2. Skipping out on Church.  We are by no means holy rollers. In fact, I think we last stepped in to the house of God in November.  I have been feeling like I need more Jesus in my life and I figure if I’m working on my fitness-might as well hit the spiritual fitness as well. What happens if we sleep in and miss mass? Our threat: No Walking Dead for that week.  Yeah…I know, wtf are we thinking but threats are supposed to help us achieve our goals.  I hope this is true.

3.  A few blogs ago, in January, I wrote about trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have decided I want to be a writer.  However, I lack discipline…sometimes. My commitment is to write everyday for the next forty days.   Sounds easy enough right? Lord, I hope so.  My threat: Deactivate Facebook for a week. Yes, we just went from sane straight into cray cray land.

As I write this, on the eve of Lent…er Fat Tuesday, I can not help but feel excited and terrified out of my mind all at once.  Yes, perhaps we are using this time of year to fuel are weight loss goals but the truth is there has to be something therapeutic, cathartic and cleansing in the process.  So invite you reader to follow along, hold me accountable (if you want-no pressure here, I am all about holding yourself responsible to you) and laugh.  Yes, laugh at my expense, I don’t mind.  It builds character.

Let’s do this.

Those girls…the long and winding two weeks…there and back

A couple of years ago while working for a non-profit,  I was responsible for interviewing talented and skilled people to teach the students in our programs.  I interviewed all sorts of people but none made quite the impact as we will call her Lucy Lopan.

This woman walks in, mid-twenties, wearing the kind of perfume that engulfs a space and lingers long after she has left the room.  Her long hair was perfectly flowing in large waves of black that matched her outfit.  She had the kind of makeup on that covers every single pore and enough layers of eye shadow, blush and lipstick that an hour long power wash would not scrape the surface.  She was pretty…the kind of girl that you see working up and down the aisles of Sephora.

The interview was conducted by me and I had a —-oh wait— how could I forget the most important part.  She had fake lashes- the kind that look like they could be natural but are long enough to be noticeably unnatural.  Okay- so my coworker and I interview this woman.  Lucy Lopan leaves her card with her perfect photoshopped pic and walks out.  For the next ten minutes my coworker goes on and on about her.  And I let a thought slip out of my mouth- the kind of thought that you know should only be shared with your closest, bestest girl friends-not with your coworker man-child.   “I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls…”

The moment it came out of my mouth I cringed.  Loud obnoxious laughter followed.  Embarrassing, loud obnoxious laughter.  Challenge accepted.

For the next two weeks, I pulled out the big guns.  I’ve always had a love for makeup and have spent way to much money at Laura Mercier counter at Saks…and the Nars counters…and Kiehl’s because what’s the point of all that color is your skin is grody.   I digress.

Now I’ve always worn a full face of makeup but never to the max…not like those girls.  So I pulled it all out: bronzers, highlighters, tight-line, eyeliners.  I must have added like ten new products to my already expanse make up routine.  And then I topped it all off with a nice pair of eyelashes.  Yes, for two weeks this became my ritual.  Oh and I invested in this amazing volumizer.  I had the face and the hair…I became one of those girls.

How did I feel?  I loved the look but the work was too much and let’s face it- I worked for a non-proft working with inner city youth-the look was a bit much.  And the lashes everyday?  The truth is I have pretty nice lashes as it is.  I did struggle every morning to put them on, however, the last day I wore them, I put them on like a boss.

Every thing was going great till casual Friday.   I can not remember what I wore, but I remember feel great about the way I turned out.  A group of us went out for lunch to a local cafe, mind you two weeks have gone by and I am basking (not just cause of the bronzer) in my new look.  The coworker from the interview puts his hand to my face as I am about to take a bite of my sandwich, “Are you still wearing the fake lashes?”  All eyes on me.

I sit there in silence for what felt like thirty minutes, even though it was probably only a few seconds, “Yeah, and?”  I was horrified and a bit surprised that everyone seemed to have grown accustomed the new me.  Then everyone started asking questions about the lashes- “Do they hurt?” “How long does it take?” Blah, blah, blah.

That was the topic for the rest of lunch.  And that was the end of that.

I still have an unopened pack of lashes in my makeup drawer and stare at it fondly from time to time. I dream of taking them out on the town, maybe shopping for toiletries at Target or dinner at Whole Foods.  Sometimes I imagine that we are running through a waterfall and run out drenched they intact.  But it must remain a dream, at least for now.  Maybe I’ll bust them out on our wedding anniversary.  Or maybe they make an appearance at Sunday brunch. All I know is that I must not let that girl die- she had fun shellac face and all.

Yogi bear…yoga hair

One of the most difficult things for me to do is try a new physical activity in public.  i hate feeling silly and i swear that everyone has stopped what they are doing to stare at me.  I remember the first time my trainer had me try a burpee I said to her- oh it must be humbling experience day.

The truth is no matter how embarrassed or difficult the physical activity, I usually end up happy and excited about defeating it.  As self conscious as I am about my chubby body- endorphins kick in and I’m okay.

Today I was able to experience one of these challenging, uncomfortable moments.  And to add a little bit of flare, I was surrounded by mirrors.

Matthew has back issues, chronic back pain. His doctor suggested yoga or Pilates as a form of exercise.  Our gym offers yoga classes three times a week. We decided on Saturday but ran late and opted hiking instead.

This afternoon we walked into the studio.  The instructor noticed right away that we were new. I’m not sure what gave it away. It could have been the soft tummies we are both carrying or the whatthefuckarewedoing looks in our eyes.  She was nice and polite.

And so we began. She had us stretching, finding our core, our place, listening to our breathe and taking off our socks. Seriously, I really have to stare at my I un-pedicured toes. Not far. I’m here to relax.

Mirrors surrounded us and I kept focusing on the instructor. I felt like I was actually completing the poses, that is till I glanced up at the mirror. How could something that felt so right look oh so wrong?

We survived class and will definitely be back. I in the meantime will be looking for a tent or a snuggy that I can wear to class.  Or I could just wait six months before looking in the mirror (in class).

New Year’s Resolution No. 2568490320- Learn to be more proactive; instead of reactive.

During lunch…

Matthew: You and I are reactive people. Not proactive people.

Me: Why do you say that?

Matthew: We don’t work out to stay in shape. We work out because we got fat.

The events of yesterday evening were the kind that make people question what they are doing with their lives.  They make people ask themselves, why did I marry this person.  They make people weak, angry and defensive and blamers. Yes, blamers.

As we pulled into the drive way, we notice the lights were all off in the house. I confirmed with Matthew that we did indeed leave them on this morning.  Then we walked inside.  I flipped a light switch. Nothing.   I turned to Matthew, “They turned the lights off.”

I quickly searched the cabinets  for candles because if you know me, I am terrified of the dark.  Seriously. I will hall ass down the hallway to the nearest light switch if I wake up in the middle of the night.

Matthew called the energy company. We had not received a bill in a over a month or a disconnection notice. WTF?!?! How could they just do that?

Billing was closed. And nothing could be done till the morning. We light candles eat dinner and I hear Matthew upset. I kept telling him everything would be fine. What’s a few hours without electricity?  I was not trying to comfort him, I was really okay with it.

This made me think about my previous marriage.  If this incident had occurred back then, all hell would have broken loose. I would have blamed my ex-husband, screamed that I wanted a divorce for the 100th time that week.  And I would have packed my bags and stayed with my parents.

Not this time. The truth is we slacked off. We have not made time to look at bills the last month.  We have both been so busy with other things that we did not make this a priority. Forward to today at noon when we had the conversation at the beginning of this blog. We agreed, we make too much money for this to happen. And we need to be proactive about bills and not assume that the other person took care of it. Sometimes, I think we are too busy being in love that we forget to be responsible grown-ups.

As a side note- earlier yesterday I had been super grumpy and moody.  I was crying at lunch about not knowing what to do with my life. Matthew was sure it was his fault I was unhappy. Ugh so much drama! By 9:00 pm, I had perspective.  Silly woman, you married your bff. Calm down.

All wonderful, relationship growth aside- it was interesting living in third world conditions for ten hours.  Things got real, real fast. First of all, I had no idea we owned that many candles. Second of all, i spent most of the evening terrified we were going to burn the house down. I stayed awake as long as I could just so that I would not forget to turn off the lights. I can not explain how terrifying it was to have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night without lights.  I wore my big girl panties well, walked quickly through the hallway, walked quickly into the bathroom making sure not to look at the mirror at all while washing my hands.  At one point one the cats scared me. I could have sworn she was a giant rat. God, I hope it wasn’t a rat.

As I write this, Matthew plays Halo 4.

So in an attempt to turn things around, we decided to go to the gym early this morning.  Seeing as I would not be able to blow dry my hair at home, we decided to shower and change at the gym.  In an effort to lose all this happily in love marriage weight, I started this 12 week fitness challenge from The Sweaty Betties http://thesweatybetties.com/
. I am on week 1 Day #2 and I love it.  It is definitely a great workout.  Fifteen minutes later, I was drenched in sweat. Matthew decided to try it out. He did well, except for his criticism of my squats.

This week has been intense. I would like to think that I have grown as a person and as spouse.  This weekend will be filled with board games and budgeting.

Friday, I welcome with you open arms.  For real, hold me closer tiny dance.

 

 

Not my first time at the rodeo…errr marriage…

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to cook more for my husband, Matthew. We carpool to work each morning and without fail he makes sure that we stop at Starbucks so I can get my fix. He knows exactly how I life my coffee and if that morning, the bold of the day sucks- he knows my back up choice.  This means that every morning we spend an extra 10-15 minutes of our morning-on me.

Today as I was dropping Matthew off after lunch I thought of our Starbucks runs.  Matthew loves Sonic-but it would not be healthy to stop every morning for a large cranberry slush.  How can I show Matthew the same loving gestures that he shares with me every morning.  I can feed him home cooked meals.

That is what I will do. Starting today.  In a previous life, I rarely cooked.  Rarely.  I was always too busy…but now I know that I can make time. Every day-week I can set time out to plan our meals.  Matthew has been complaining about his weight lately.  We both have gained some weight since we married.  He has started calling himself “fatisito,” which sounds completely adorable and makes me giggle every time.

First home cooked meal of 2013- Chicken and Rice soup.  This will probably be dinner and lunch for the next few days.  My next goal- learn how to cook for two people.

Matthew describing how he feels and coining the term fatisito.

(for the record, i do cook—just not as often as i should).