Farewell December, and Fair-Fucking-Well to 2016. What an armpit of a year.
Farewell December, and Fair-Fucking-Well to 2016. What an armpit of a year.
From Modcloth, which is offering 30% off sale prices with the code “GOODBYE2016″, I’ve chosen:
Proper Presentation Pants in Lake, which are already on sale for $20.99–THEN you get 30% off at checkout! If they are already gone, keep shopping…there’s a lot to choose from.
Exam Day Elegance Oxford Heel in Sunflower, a charming shoe for just about any occasion, on sale for $37.99 plus 30% off!
Genuine Joy Floral Dress–Modcloth has great range in sizes and this one is just lovely. Marked down to $71.99, plus—yes! 30% off!
From ColourPop, the only lipstick that truly doesn’t move once applied (I am enchanted with their matte lippies)–all special holiday products are discounted 30% until they run out.
Embellish Ultra Matte Lip is a blackened brown matte lip marked down from $6 to $4.80.
Not on sale, but gorgeous and only $5 Leather Pencil Lippie Pencil–a color for now that will also carry you into Spring.
Bijou Ultra Satin Lip–try it and let me know, I’ve only tried the matte…..also on sale for $4.80.
Finally TrendyLegs, home of the greatest tights in the world.
Live Fast dark gray tights on sale for $18.
Seahorse printed tights on sale for $19. The Acolyte is screaming if she is looking at these…..
Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, so get these Love Me Tender tights now while they’re only $19.
What are you waiting for? Go shopping!
My husband walks around the house in his man panties in the morning. Shirt, panties, slippers. The man child goes about in a robe with just panties and lots of leg showing, crotch flashes from uncrossed legs, etc. I said to the man child the other day, “Man child, if I walked around the house as naked as you and Dad, you’d flip your shit.” He agreed. But why is that? Two reasons: One, the deeply instilled belief that women are to be modest. Two, if you aren’t modest, you need to be sexy. There is zero sexiness about a middle aged guy in his underwear reading the news on his computer. But he is just being relaxed in his element–he doesn’t care how it looks.
Let me say that again: He doesn’t care how it looks.
I have no such social freedom. Go about all varicose veined, ill-fitting underwear in the morning? I would receive one of two reactions, “Gross” and/or “Hey Baby.” Why does my underwear say something different than theirs? I don’t know. But I do know that comfortable clashes directly with “cares about how one looks.” I put a lot of time and energy into making sure my body doesn’t offend. I don’t show the bare thighs, drooping knees, saggy butt. I don’t go about with last night’s makeup smeared on my face. I try to take up very little space, and what space I occupy needs to look good. This is pure social conditioning. It’s a trap.
Obviously, I care a lot about how I look. I also adhere to artificial standards and constructs about beauty. I do not feel like I have the same amount of space to simply exist. It’s something I’d like to work on during the coming year. But don’t worry—no wandering about in panties for this girl. I’d be too busy hating my body to enjoy it. Plus, I have a very nice bathrobe and I get cold easily.
I ADORE this tie dye wrap top. I got it secondhand in Mesilla at the San Pasqual market and you will see it a lot next year. It’s glorious, comfortable and exciting.
Skirt: A new basic black knit skirt that I got secondhand at My Rich Sister’s Closet and I can’t read the tag because I happen to be wearing it right now.
Miz Mooz booties.
Today I am boring.
Tunic I bought second hand that is clearly hand made, tagless, but comfortable for a day in the studio.
Leggings from Satan. They itch.
Born boots. YOU GUYS, I have had these boots for over 7 years, and they have developed a squeak. I am going to have to decide if I should invest in resoling them. Sad face.
God this is short. Too short to bend over in, but I wore it anyway.
Not-really-a-dress: A Fuli, from Satan. I totally gambled on this and it is very high quality but fits me weird, so I have since altered it and the next time you see it I’ll have relegated it to Tunic status.
FLY London Boots
Uprooted was the reward I got for suffering through Elantris. Within these pages is a fully realized, beautifully symbolic, endlessly interesting world that uses the medium of fantasy like a highly skilled painter. Characters are complex and deep, wrestling with moral ambiguity and knowledge and desire even as their world shifts around them.
Our heroine, Agnieszka, is not a pretty little princess girl who will end up with the fairytale wedding; nothing so boring and trite as that. Instead, she’s smart, clumsy, consistently tangled and filthy and missing a button, a lacing and with a torn hem. She is stubborn and clever, and physically strong. The point of the story is not to change her general disheveled appearance, or to prove to her or us that she is pretty, but that she is good and right as she is, and needn’t be constrained by her world’s view of women. Is there love? Yes, but it is not romantic, it is fraught and complicated. Are there battles? Yes, but this woman is key to it. A brilliant, shining novel with a fascinating, strong female character who shows us there is more than one way to be amazing, and it can happen even if your hair is tangled and there are leaves and burrs stuck to your cloak. 4 stars.
A few weeks ago I visited my PCP about trying that new IBS-D drug Viberzi. He gave me samples and called in a prescription. But the RX would cost me $100 a month, and the drug warnings included that it is not for people who drink.
I also prefer my pancreas to be healthy, so I decided to forgo the new drug. Instead, I thought I hit on a genius solution. One Immodium at night. Initially, it seemed perfect; slowing my system enough that I felt like I had control over my wayward innards and wasn’t spending a fortune or risking other organs to do it.
Ah, but–the bitter pill (seriously, it tastes like shit if you don’t swallow it fast enough) was that it slowed things down too much. I got heartburn like the Devil. If I ate a normal sized meal, it sat and sat and sat until I offered a name placard and formal office space. I stepped down to half of a tablet at night. But, then, it was Christmas Eve. For us, Christmas Eve means posole and tamales and all that. I LOVE posole. This year, however, posole did not love me. In fact, posole caused me to feel like the Hindenberg but without opportunity to explode. Every time the puppy stepped on my gut I thought I might literally burst. I kind of hoped to burst.
Up and down all night, I (surprisingly wisely) forwent the Immodium that night. So things got a little better, but I still spent Christmas Day with nausea and heartburn. I fucking ate posole for lunch anyway, dammit, because I’m not ready for my old age and plain oatmeal for every meal.
That kind of thing is just normal stuff for me. No one but me knows I am suffering at all, and I was pleased that at least I didn’t get a migraine like I did last year on Christmas Day. I had my usual back pain, wrist pain, and thumb pain (puppy-wrangling takes its toll as she gets bigger). I spent a lot of time on the floor fetching presents and redirecting Choux-Choux and playing with my granddaughters who are 6 and 2.
Once everyone left, I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing, but I stepped on a rawhide on the kitchen floor and being the tremendously graceful creature that I am, I fell down, smacking my knees then hands to the tile floor. In front of my husband who was….wait for it…..looking at his phone so he didn’t see it happen. I have some lovely bruising starting on my knees as fond mementos. So, that’s the other side of photos of great clothes, style, hair and makeup. If he had taken a picture, we would have had a great “I Hate Sundays” post but no, he lacks dedication. -eye roll-
We were on our way to the local art house movie theater, this day.
Top: Monoreno, bought from Lulu on clearance years ago
Leggings: Simply Aster, el cheapo fabric, from Satan
Boots: Papucei that I bought in Santa Fe last January.
It’s Christmas Eve, so if you are shopping, you aren’t home surfing the net. Instead of Shopping Saturday, then, let me give you the top ten books I read (of 75–actually 76, as I also read Wolf Hall this month) this year. Many were not published this year, but much as I’d like, there’s no way to read everything.
Some of them have not been reviewed here yet, but you can rest assured knowing they made the cut.
Far From The Tree, by Andrew Solomon. First time a nonfiction book has ever made my top ten. If you read nothing else….
The Tsar of Love and Techno, Anthony Marra
Uprooted, Naomi Novik
A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara
Mr Splitfoot, Samantha Hunt
How to Build a Girl, Caitlin Moran
Hild, Nicola Griffith
The Wonder, Emma Donoghue
The Vegetarian, Han King (not because it is pleasant! Not because it was enjoyable! Because I still think about it.)
Tell the Wolves I’m Home, Carol Brunt Rifka