don't mean a thang

the boyfriend and i are going on a cruise next week, and we'll be gone for 8 days.

no, that does not mean you can break into my house.

yes, that does mean i'll be completely without internet access and will therefore not be blog posting.

will i survive the temporary break from the internet world?  no texting, no phone calls, no email or blog?

we.shall.see.  somehow i feel the ample sun, sex, sand and beverages will get me by...

but the above isn't the point of this post.  what matters is what i have noticed as i have been preparing for a week of bikini-driven body-exposure.  i've been criticizing my body more than usual.  in an effort to be "bikini-body-ready" while strutting my stuff half-naked on board, i have been making the days (weeks) leading up to the cruise less enjoyable.

doesn't this almost negate the positive rewards of vacation?  the pre-vacation body hate?

yes.  i, like many other females, struggle with body image issues.

i look in the mirror and see something which i'd bet is quite different from what you see when i'm standing in front of you.  and i'm willing to bet that what you notice in the mirror isn't exactly what the rest of the world sees when we check out your hot bod.


when i think of this skewed sense of self-perception, i think of the point at which i was most blind. 5 years ago.

in the photo to the left, i felt as if i looked like the girl to the right. fit, healthy, awesome.

except i was the moron on the left.

i weighed about 85 pounds in this picture.  this is Not Hot.  ever.

clearly, there was a major self-perception issue here.

and i don't think i'm alone.

we are our own greatest critics.  and we need a reality check.

never fear:  i no longer look like the photo above.  but i fully realize that my perception is still skewed in an unfavorable direction with regard to myself.

i look in the mirror and focus on my flaws.  i see extra volume where i wish it weren't.  i undervalue the curves that most humans view to be attractive - and healthy.

i hear beautiful friends tell me, all the time, what they don't like about their own bodies.  the parts of their bodies that make them human, the beautiful "flaws" that no one else really notices.

honestly...unless they love you enough to care about how you feel, no one else really even cares.

you tell me your ass is fat.  i think your tush looks great in those jeans.

you tell me your hair is a mess.  i'm jealous that you're so naturally beautiful.

you tell me i look great.  i think about all my flaws you don't see.

seriously, why do we even try to vent about body qualms with loved ones?  when we vent our feelings to friends, family, lovers, etc., we don't take their responses seriously.  in one ear, out the other, "they have to say that" or "they're only trying to make me feel better"

why is it that the opinion of people outside our innermost circle means more to us than from our loved ones when it comes to the way we look?


my mom tells me, "you look great in that dress."  eh, thanks mom.  1/2 point goes toward self-image.
random stranger at the gas station tells me i'm lookin' nice today.  10 points.
my boyfriend tells me, "i think you are beautiful."  thanks, babe...1 point.
old dude bagging my groceries calls me "pretty lady"...6 points.

what the fuck do i care what randos think of me?  why does it do more for my self-image?

don't pretend as if you're not in the same boat as me.  what skewed us up in the first place?



standing in front of the bathroom mirror last weekend, my boyfriend caught me criticizing my physique in front of the mirror.  he told me to relax, i look great.  he was rewarded with a grimace.

standing behind me, he did something which no one has ever done.  he covered my eyes with his hands, and he made me visualize my body the way that he sees it.

"you know what i see, amy?  i see strong shoulders.  i see a beautiful neckline.  i see toned arms and a sexy body."

i tried to take his hands off of my eyes.  to no avail.

"i want you to see yourself the way that i see you.  you are beautiful."


we stood there, both silently contemplating the distance between reality and my self-perception.  i know he is right.  i know i am overly critical of myself.  and i am determined to lay off and love myself regardless of ugly visions enhanced by a looming vacation.

i wish all girls could have that same sort of moment.  a moment in which your own eyes are closed, and you are forced to see yourself the way others see you.  it's beautiful, and it's real.

chauvinism. jerks.

being a woman rocks.  particularly one which is generally accepted to be attractive.

i'm not saying i'm a knock-out here.  but i don't have any wild facial deformities or physical abnormalities, and in general two legs and two boobs will get you somewhere.

especially if you're in sales.

is it fair?  probably not.  i do pity the men who run around town in suit and tie, begging for business with critical reception.  a skirt and some sexy heels can go a long way in getting the proverbial foot in the door.


that is, of course, until you meet with someone whose sense of reality is calloused with estrogen-hate.

perhaps hate is too strong a word.  perhaps it's just an under-appreciation of females in general.

good 'ole male chauvinism.  fuck you.

i was having a very successful time as i dropped into potential new clients with my male colleague.  my foot got us in the door, his expertise sealed the deal.  overall, we generally received a warm welcome and were both appreciated as an enjoyable, professional pair.

i even got a few hugs - solid gold!

that is, until we stopped in butt-hole county to meet with mr. misogyny.

he looked a little (actually, a lot) like the picture below...i'm not even kidding.  even my male colleague agreed.



his hair was voluminous, protecting his large head from the incoming hurricane, perhaps?  his nails were in dire need of trimming, and his belly comfortably rested on his lap.  he thought he was "the man", and clearly only wanted to deal with others whom he considered to be equally in the "man" club.

i began the conversation.  his eye contact?  entirely on my male colleague.

after some man-to-man banter, i decide to chime in.  thanks for ignoring me.

i ask a question.  he makes eye contact.  thank the Lord!  my reward?  a condescending response and attention immediately redirected...to whom?  my male colleague.

to my colleague's credit, he noticed.  he even tried to conjure up some excuse on our walk out of the facility...some sort of reasoning that did not involve a potential undervaluation of my professionalism relating to my vagina.

"perhaps he was overwhelmed by your looks and didn't feel comfortable making eye contact...or talking to you...?"

yeah, right.  how about, he was a dick.

perhaps i was due for it.  my unfair success based on feminine wiles needed to find equilibrium with a strong knock to the professional ego.

but i was livid.  pissed.  and pitying the wife symbolized by the wedding band on his chubby ring finger.

am i judging him?  absolutely.  and i'm o.k. with that.

i hope he loses his position to a woman.  and soon.

sandy toes.

one of the major perks of my job: in-state travel.

that's right.  i effing love north carolina.

there are so many places inside the state that i have yet to see, or have yet to really have the opportunity to enjoy.

some of these places are SO remote that they seem to be a different country.  with a different, almost indecipherable language.  and different ethnic foods...like fatback.  and pickled pigs feet.

for others, the remote in-state location lends only to an incredible sensation of being in paradise.

current example: the outer banks.

i had the great pleasure of waking up in nags head yesterday morning, and took the photo at left while walking on the beach.

sandy toes.  crazy hair.  salt everywhere.

i love this perk of my job.

it gave me the sense of hitting the "reset" button on my life concerns, and it brought me back to easy, happy times.

i fell in love with the outer banks.

and i fell in love in the outer banks.  over two years ago, in fact.

it may sound silly, but i swear i fell completely and officially in love with my current boyfriend on our third official date, which happened to be in the outer banks.

i had previously always believed love to be one of those things that grew on ya, that took a while to develop until you finally realized you were with someone who might be THE one.

not this time.

i knew, right from the beginning, that this was my man.  the windswept hair certainly didn't hurt.

you may think i'm crazy.  i certainly did at the time.  but looking back, i couldn't be happier with the way things began.

according to this study, it's even to be expected.  love doesn't take that long to catch ya.

sure - it would have been easier if MY windswept hair had made the same quick impact on his heart...but i won him over eventually, and will always be able to associate an incredible location with an incredible moment in my life.

shake your tush

so, i'm sitting on the toilet at work, literally minding my own business, when suddenly my tush starts to rumble.  no, it wasn't coming from a digestive system in turmoil.  it was coming from the ground.

an earthquake hits, and i'm caught in the bathroom.

which lead me to imagine what could have happened had the quake been of a greater magnitude...


it was tiny, so don't start to fret.  but seriously.

apparently, cnn didn't care to mention that nc felt it, too...here's a related article.

oh shit

i spent part of the (hot as balls) afternoon yesterday at the neighborhood pool.  surrounded by unfamiliar neighbors and shrieking children, my boyfriend and i were able to block out the noise and relax in the water with slow conversation and our current books of choice.

we read, we swam, we chatted, we drank, and we went home feeling refreshed.

little did we know that we had actually been in quite the shitty predicament.

we received this urgent notice from the neighborhood this morning:

apparently, we weren't floating alone.  someone effing SHAT in the pool.

and so this leaves me to wonder.  was it the drunken 20-somethings who let one slip?  did the beer shits get the best of them?

or was it one of the middle-aged mamas, fearful of leaving their little ones in the pool if even to do their business in the public poo repository?  thinking of this possibility brings new imagery to "dropping the kids at the pool."

could it have been the shrieking children, bored with their pool toys, creating their own "floaters" for entertainment?

i'm tempted to request the size of the float nuggets, in an effort to better deduce who laid the deuce.  but i'm not sure i have the courage.

my only struggle now is to attempt to remember...did i open my mouth under water?

the other lady Q

this one goes out to my sister, and to all of you who have siblings.

you know the folks i'm talking about.  those punk-ass kids you wanted to suffocate in a closet.  the ones your parents forced you to be friends with.  the ones who laughed when you got in trouble.  them.

wildly enough, those same folks are the ones who know you through and through.  they remember what you were like as a kid, and they were there to witness all of your growing pains.  they could be your best ally, your perfect playmate, and your solid rock when needed.

don't get me wrong here.  i have a little brother, and i love him just as much.  but this one goes out to my sister.

i love you chels.


i was the oldest, typical type-A thought-she-knew-everything smartass.  totally shy, and aside from my wicked mouth at home, i was a pretty straight arrow.  and a definite late bloomer.

i didn't realize i was competing in the growing pains department until my sister beat me to official womanhood.  my little sister met aunt flow before i did.  i decided something must be wrong with me, and my ovaries were broken.

two years later (no kidding) i appreciated my delayed start.

chels beat me in other areas, as well.  first to ride a bike, first to kiss a boy, first to get the ever-so-important boyfriend, and first to find out exactly how pissed our parents could get if you pushed 'em.

my sister tested the limits, she knew no boundaries, and she challenged my safe little bubble of a world.

i've never liked vodka.

i'll never forget the days she'd "dare" me to take shots with her in the living room while my parents were conveniently around the corner.  where she inherited her cajones, i'll never know, but she gradually shared them with me.

like when i first got utterly schwasted.

sitting upstairs in the bonus room of our parents house, taking shots of vodka from a bottle she'd sneakily stolen from our parents.  i hate you, absolut.

it looked just like water.  it tasted something fierce.  i had no idea how much it took to "feel" it, so our small group of misfits proceeded to take about 10 each.  let's go directly to the end of the story...puking initiates, toilets overflow, blackouts happen and i am discovered hiding in the closet.  by my furious mother.

yes, we got grounded.  but i'm glad it was with my sister.

i'll also never forget the times she royally saved my goody-two-shoes butt.

the squeaky clean high-schooler, i had a few forays into the world of bad-boy-crushes.  one of whom was the high-school pothead.  after an evening during which i was supposed to be at "work", i had been craftily picked up and transported to a house party.  a house party in which i spent the majority of the evening drinking wine coolers (i was so awesome) and being hot-boxed for the first time in this bad-boy's van.

did i smoke?  no way.  was i high out of my mind?  you betcha.

dropped off at home just in time to still use my work excuse, my sister was the first to greet me at the door.  smelling like trouble and giggling like a fiend, i was essentially carried upstairs by my "been-there, been grounded for that already" sister.  she threw me in the shower, washed off the herbal evidence, and hid me from my parents for the rest of the night.

i still really appreciate that.

there are times when i take her for granted.  if you have siblings, you know what i mean.  you live in your own world and forget about the people who best understand the foundations of your life.  friends, boyfriends, work, and playtime take priority.

i think this is natural.  breaking out onto your own road of life, figuring out who you are and loosing the grip of a family which may have had other plans for you.

it's also an incredible feeling to remember the joy, the shit, and the adventures you've shared.  the ones who have absolutely known you the longest.  the siblings who will love you even if you're a selfish, distant smart-ass.

she's still kicking my butt getting to life milestones.  she got married before i'm even engaged, and i'm sure will start a family before i'm married.  she's clearly the trend-setter of our relationship.  i learn from her successes, i learn from her mistakes, and i'm totally o.k. with that.

i love my sister.

love it when you spill it

and by it, i mean the beans, to me.




i'm serious.  few things give me greater joy than when a friend shares something of themselves with me.  specifically those things that they don't make the effort to share with the world, or don't feel comfortable making public.  i love to be shared with, i love to be a confidant, and i love to share in whatever my friends are feeling.

that feeling might be disgust.  for example, perhaps their poo was neon green (it happens, trust me).  i'm o.k. with that.  thank you for sharing, i feel closer to you now.


that feeling might be regret.  a glass of wine too many and you woke up with your panties over some stranger's doorknob.  confide in me.  i'll help you take yourself and situation less seriously.

it might even be pure joy.  you're engaged.  you're pregnant.  you're taking the next step in something incredibly wonderful.  i want to feel joy with and for you.

i love it when you share with me.  because i love you.

...and it makes me feel special.

to those friends who have, do and will share with me: thank you.

keep me posted :)

tipsy giggles

last night i had the great pleasure of contributing to the surprise party of a fabulous forever friend of mine.  she was surprised.  we were thrilled.  everyone drank.  i chose ipa.

you'd think at this point in my life i'd have gained more of a tolerance for alcohol than i seem to have...but no.  one and a half pints of ipa later, any inhibition i had to begin with (if any) is out the window.

 i am a zero tolerance, alcohol appreciating, tipsy talking, hopefully not driving young lady.

i'm pretty sure that, on my way out, i attempted to steal the microphone from some strange man making announcements.  don't quite remember.  doesn't matter.

let's pretend i made it home in a sober hovercraft.  kids, don't follow my example.

i make it home, relieve my pup, and hop into bed ready to fall asleep to cnn banter.

my theory: if you listen to current events while you sleep, they somehow diffuse and lodge themselves into your brain so that you awake a better informed individual.  you can disagree with me.  you're wrong.

so, laying in bed, turn out the light, ready to go to sleep when i notice the raised voices coming from my television.  wtf?  someone just walked off the set of the piers morgan show.  fiesty.  interesting.

piers exits, enter my tv crush: anderson cooper.

yes, i know he is gay.  yes, i realize he may be albino.  yes, i would have his babies and walk his dog.  the end.

so, my ever-so-serious anderson pulls up the ridiculist and the unforeseen happens - he effing cracks up.  which makes me crack up.  just tipsy enough, and spiritually connected to the coop, i cannot help but giggle like a little girl, all by myself, in the dark, in bed.  we're not talking an adult chuckle, we're talking a "tee hee" embarassing giggle fest.  not necessarily because of what anderson was saying, but because he was having such a hard time saying it without also giggling like a little girl.

i like a good potty joke, but i never anticipated it would destroy the usual perfect composure of my beloved albino.

apparently the script he was reading from the teleprompter was full of pee (and one poo) related puns as he described the public airline potty incident of Gerard Depardieu.  the dude literally peed in the passageway of an airplane.  

check it out below:


...you can admit it.  it made you giggle, too.

gettin' laid

this is a special post for the guys out there - those interested, particularly, in getting laid.

i don't care if you're already in a loving relationship.  i don't care if you're into girls who wear scrunchies and wish they could still fit into the Limited Too.

if you have any self-respect, you will follow the following advice closely.  if you have a sex drive, you ought to follow it to a "t"...

don't you dare wear white tennis shoes

no, they don't make you look athletic.  unless you are actually jogging or on a tennis court, they make you look like the stereotypical american the rest of the world looks down on.  i don't care if they're comfortable.  they're fugly.  and they're not helping your cause.





dad jeans give you "mom" butt.  
keep 'em off yours

do you find middle-aged saggy asses to be a turn-on?  neither do women.  find a pair that fit your rear and oh, i don't know, get to know your tailor.

don't cinch them into your waist with your belt.

...and for crying out loud, don't tuck your shirt into them. it doesn't enhance your figure, and you're not at the office.

beware the hair gel helmet

it's not sexy.  and you're not performing in a rendition of grease.

we like to run our fingers through your hair, too.  don't make your 'do a viable weapon or protective shield.





cargo = "no-no"

unless you're going on a safari or entering into combat, stick with the original two-pocket pantalones.

think of this as the man-version of too many ruffles.  less is more.

boobs and dresses are for girls

you have no excuse to wear a shirt that's too tight.  you like boobs, we don't like to see yours through your shirt.  leave the tiny t's for little boys.

shirt too big?  don't you dare.  this other extreme also leads us to associate you with a little boy.  we're not pedophiles, and we're not your mother.  if you want to get laid, let us know you're a man who can dress himself.  the shoulder hem belongs on your shoulders, not at your elbows.

shortfalls of the too-short-tie

we may not be pros at tying 'em, but we know how they're supposed to look.

we are not blind, we are judgemental, and we will make the association of, ahem, length.

try to make 'em hit your belt, boys.








with all of these "no-no" situations, what's a man to wear?  how about some flat-front khakis with a polo shirt?  tailored jeans with a t-shirt that fits?  even better...nothing at all.

you'll thank me later.  and we'll thank you in the bedroom.

just do it

so, i found another one.  i know, i know, will she ever stop trying to self-assess and to get others to do the same?

answer = no.  

play along.  you know you want to.  

i was at a business lunch yesterday and happened upon the topic of personality tests.  clearly, my ears perked up and i immediately returned to my office with a fire under my ass to find a DISC-type personality test.

while i didn't find a perfect example which could be taken for free, i did find one which is different from previously provided assessments.  

take it here.

DO IT.  and i'm not kidding.  you had better comment and/or email me your results.  i want to figure your shit out.

my results (with my comments in pink)

Dazzling Diplomat

Amy, as the "Dazzling Diplomat" (i've been called "sparkly" before...never dazzling), people are often impressed by your charisma, warm, empathetic nature, and loyalty (i hope so!). Being both sensitive and analytical (i don't know about analytical...), you like to gather information before making decisions and have high standards for yourself and perhaps others (yes, i have high expectations...and can be impatient). You show casual poise in social situations and are perceived as patient and a good listener. You are also an adept social navigator(i like to think so...). Where often others will sit by, you will engage new people or invite others in to make them feel at home. There is an essence about you that puts others at ease (a goal of mine, hope i'm successful), allowing them to open up to you and even look to you for guidance. You especially thrive in personal, low-pressure situations where you can feel truly connected to and acknowledged by those around you. You are neighborly, open-minded and able to see the 'best' in others. Once you form a bond with another person, you have no problem talking about personal subjects (sometimes to the dismay of others...)and extending trust, proving yourself to be a solid friend to many. At work, you are most content when utilizing your interpersonal skills, creativity, and optimism in a supportive context (and when able to blog about embarassing experiences). Your enthusiasm can motivate others, bringing life to a project. Using your positive people skills, you can bring unity to groups and between individuals. You may find yourself in the role of counselor or peacemaker. You tend to be tactful and diplomatic in dealing with confrontation, and have the ability to function as an assertive leader if your parameters are clearly defined. Under such a scenario, you can make sound decisions yet be sensitive to the emotions, responses, and attitudes of others (i try, sometimes fail). Seen as steadfast, trustworthy, and relationship-oriented, people are drawn to your energetic optimism and enthusiasm. You can be a very positive and encouraging force in others' lives, with the ability to focus on the bright side rather than the obstacles in the way (is this test trying to butter-me-up?) Food for Thought You desire approval from others and can be swayed by their opinions at times. You may find that you will adapt yourself to be accepted (yes, i am an acceptance pu$$y) You are a very trusting person, wanting to see the good in others and for them to see the same in you. As a result, you may extend yourself generously, sometimes opening yourself up to be taken advantage of (it's generally worth it). Because of your desire to be around people, you'll probably spend your time on relationships as opposed to tasks. Challenges may arise for you in time-management and with detailed tasks that involve a long commitment of time or repetitive activity (i have a short attention-span for tasks...working on it). You likely show love through physical affection (i am a hug slut), time spent, verbalization, and kind acts. You probably want to be shown love in the same way (please, hug me). You may feel frustrated or rejected around less emotionally motivated and expressive personalities, as they may show and receive love through tasks and concrete gestures. Your communication style in general, especially in times of pressure or conflict, can be overly tolerant. Your need to maintain positive relationships, may lead you to undervalue your own needs, time, and personal goals. This can create additional stress in your life (i get overwhelmed). You likely fear and avoid conflict (yes), which may prevent you from setting appropriate boundaries and expressing your own needs and wants. If you don't express your own needs, you may feel resentment. At times, you may need to make a concerted effort to stand your ground.

so...do you think it pegged me?  did it peg you?  comment, dammit.  i'll love it :)