More IGIGI? Yes, please

UPFRONT DISCLOSURE: The dress in this entry was provided to me for review purposes by IGIGI. The content of this entry was not dictated by IGIGI but I did get to keep the dress for my personal use. Links to the IGIGI site in this entry are affiliate links for Weetacon.

Way back when, Wendy Bix discovered this little boutique called IGIGI in San Francisco that catered to plus sized women. She introduced a bunch of us to their website and we all immediately got hooked. A couple years after that, she managed to create a partnership between IGIGI and Weetacon that involved us getting to review garments as part of the events. Because no matter how many reviews you might see online or how great something looks on a model, hearing the truth from a real life person is always better.

So this year, I received the Vera Dress to review.

Isn't it pretty?

Isn’t it pretty?

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And then there were five

For the past three years I have been bothering Kevin about getting a second dog. I have been stalking the websites of local shelters, sending pictures to friends and whining about how unfair it was that I couldn’t bring the dogs home.

But Kevin could not be swayed. Until the end of last year, when he finally gave in and said okay. We just had to wait until after our vacation in March. Man, January and February were rough on me. All that anticipation almost made me pee my pants.

But March came and went and finally, at long last, we went to the local Humane Society shelter and we met a tiny little dog who seemed like we had wished her into existence since she met pretty much all of our requirements.
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All that and more

I am sitting on my porch with the Wee Adorable Dog, listening to the day wind down as people come home from work and kids get a few last screaming runarounds in before being called in for dinner. I have wine (my favorite Sauv Blanc from last summer) and cheese (dill Havarti), which is cut into shareable pieces and piled into one of the little blue and white bowls I bought in a Japanese thrift shop in Kamakura last fall.

In other words, I am having a Perfect Moment. It’s my first post-workday patio cocktail, which is a sure sign that spring is well and truly here. (Well DUH, say allergy plagued sinuses.) And I do love me some springtime action…gentle but warm sunshine during the day, cool enough temps at night for my favorite hoodie to still be a necessity.

I have so many things I should be doing right now, things that are chores but will make me feel so much better tomorrow. But I think I will ignore them tonight (again, as always) in favor of more wine and more dog time and maybe some knitting, because right now in the dusk on my patio, chores have ceased to be significant.

And there will definitely be more cheese.

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(Because Sophie does love her some cheese.)

Sometime around midnight

Have I mentioned that I am a generally anxious person? Because I am. I mean, I have officially been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder on no less than three occasions during my  (almost) 38 years on this lovely planet. I kind of dumped a lot of that anxiety on people this week, include a person I have “known” online for many years, a lovely and amusing woman who accepted my friend request on Facebook even after witnessing my minor freakout over ANOTHER friend’s husband maybe accidentally (but maybe purposefully) full on Facebook cockblocking me. As the lovely new friend said “Oh, the Facebook.”

Facebook is basically the worst thing ever for people with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I’m just sayin’.

Anyway.

It’s 11:50PM, my husband has been asleep for an hour and a half and I’m about to pour myself another glass of this fine Gewurztraminer (from a winery manned by a FORMER BACHELOR) (I HATE MYSELF RIGHT NOW) (but it was on sale at BevMo so what the fuck ever). Because I am super awake all of a sudden. Three hours ago, I was ready to pass out. Now, I am worried about…well, nothing. For the moment.

(Okay honestly I am kind of worried about the fact that I am watching Revolution. On purpose.) (Fuck you, it’s because Giancarlo Esposito is rocking the fuck out of his role. Yo.)

Tomorrow we are going to a concert, to see The Airborne Toxic Event, whose music I can get lost in forever if given half the chance. Kevin is coming with me, because he is the best husband ever so he is setting aside his general dislike of Modern Music and coming with me. I hope when he sees them live he realizes why they are awesome. I hope he realizes why they calm me down and why the words of songs like “Timeless” and “Wishing Well” speak to my damaged little self.

Oh, Self.

Somewhere over California

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I am returning from an incredibly fast trip to the Bay Area to see one of my brilliant friends read her brilliant book. It was lovely and too short and I wore stupid shoes and was, quite frankly, slightly assholeish through the evening. (Luckily, I was amongst friends who are highly aware that I am a slight asshole and they love me anyway.)

It’s strange, flying on an airplane. Row after row of strangers crammed together,  sharing oxygen and germs and in the case of the people in the row ahead of me right now, sharing each other’s life stories and becoming BFFs. I suppose the proximity and the free flowing ginger ale encourage instant friendships between certain people.

I am not one of those people. Hell, I barely even speak to Kevin when we fly together. I prefer to put on my headphones and play with my electronics and pretend I am in my own little hamster ball of privacy when I fly. (I forgot my headphones on this trip. Woe.)

But I am seated next to a little dude wearing a baseball cap with his headphones in while he plays with his iPad. He is basically the best stranger for me to sit next to today.

I respect your airplane hamster ball of privacy, little dude. If only the jibber jabs in front of us did.

You only get one

I saw a sign or an ad for hippie iced tea or maybe a poster in my doctor’s office that said “You only get one body. Take care of it.” At the time I was probably 23 and dumb and scoffed at it because I was young! I felt great! Whatever, hippie iced tea/doctor’s office poster/stupid sign. I *am* taking care of my body.

Except I wasn’t.

I was too busy ignoring my body to be able to take care of it. I wasn’t setting out to purposely ruining my health or anything, I was just being….willfully ignorant of what I was doing to myself. I ate what I wanted, I exercised when the urge hit me every once in a blue moon, I drank and did some drugs and made unfortunate decisions with boys. And my body kept trucking along. People thought I was so self-confident and body positive and blah blah blah. I was a sham, because really, I was body neutral. I didn’t look in the mirror and hate what I saw. I looked in the mirror, made sure my makeup looked good and my clothes matched and ignored any feelings at all I might actually have for my body. I loved my face, babied it and pampered it and spent gobs of money on only the best for my precious skin. “Look at my face” I would think, “because that’s all there is.” And it worked. People thought I was pretty and pretty can distract people from just about anything. It even distracted me from all of the various parts below my neck. Read the rest of this entry »

Heartsick

I do not use the word heartsick lightly. If I say something makes me feel that way, it means that I am walking around feeling like someone punched me directly in my heart, pushing their hand straight through my rib cage and driving their knuckles into it. It means that something is making it hard to breathe when I think about it, and I need some quality puppy time to comfort myself.

This morning’s news about the Connecticut shooting made me heartsick.

The news earlier this week about the shootings at an Oregon mall made me heartsick.

The news earlier this year about the shootings in a movie theater in Colorado made me heartsick.

The news about not one but two shootings in Wisconsin, where some of the people I love most live, made me heartsick. Read the rest of this entry »

Don’t judge me

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Today has been a hell of a day so I am not even trying to write an actual entry. So here is a picture of Kevin’s Cat (aka Vivi) looking less derpy than usual. And also, our Christmas tree grove and a stuffed fat reindeer.

I feel better. How about you?

Butter makes everything better

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Tonight was the first night of my annual week long bakefest. I have it down to a science now. Pick eight kinds of cookies. Prep four batches of dough on Monday, another four on Tuesday. Bake Monday’s dough on Wednesday, Tuesday’s dough on Thursday, then distribute cookies on Friday and Saturday.

I started with 15 pounds of flour, 8 pounds of butter, 3 kinds of sugar, a couples dozen eggs, 2 giant bags of pecans from Costco, and every kind of chocolate chip I could possibly need. It’s a lot easier now that I have the giant KitchenAid mixer and the food processor; the hardest part anymore is managing to measure out flour without spilling it everywhere.

It’s A Thing at my workplace now, this cookie extravaganza I put on. And I’ll be honest, I was kind of dreading it this year because there is just SO MUCH going on. But when I mentioned even the mere possibility of me not doing Cookie Day this year, there were se pretty seriously sad faces in my office. So tonight I turned on the Christmas channel on Pandora and got to mixing. And somewhere along the way I remembered that I actually love this; I love making my mom’s dependable recipes from my childhood, I love trying out new recipes I think my friends will like, I love making the pain in the ass cookies that Kevin absolutely loves but I only make once a year.

And I really love sending all that butter out onto the world, because butter makes everything better. True fact.

Fun committee

The holiday season is well and truly upon us. I know this because I had my annual Holiday Freakout on Saturday morning, and tonight I looked at our bank account and kind of cried a little (because it is feeling the ramifications of last month’s Feline Fever of Unknown Origin amongst other things). Oh and also, the weekend involved social functioning like whoa. Read the rest of this entry »

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