It has been a month. My heart hurts in ways I never thought it could. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

So, unfortunately, my feet suck.

Tis the season for the awesome sandals I seem to to not be bashful about owning (even if they crawl halfway up my thigh muahaha) and hot open toe-heels and I'm suddenly paralyzed to wear them because my feet *seem* to look like something out of a horror film. I just bought these beautiful sandals and due to the nature of my hooves I pause in displaying them to the world.



After 25 years of shoving them into shoes that were way too narrow for me, my toes have finally rebelled and given me the finger. My mother pointed out to me that my baby toe is now...CONE SHAPED. I repeat. I have a CONE SHAPED TOE. My feet are apparently so wide that they have been smooshed mercilessly into shoes not made for people with 67" wide feet and I am now paying the price with a deformed toe.

I have always thought that shoes were supposed to hurt but apparently I was wrong. My Flintstonesque feet have revolted and finally brought to light my need for orthotics or perhaps specially handcrafted blocks of wood that will satiate the width of my hooves.

Just so I make this post positive: I have a really great smile.

the devil's advocate

I'll randomly flip through channels on the television and sometimes will find like dating shows or shows aiming to help people with happiness.

The first thing these shows recommend to do EVERY TIME is to lose weight. Sometimes they'll say it nicely like "get outside and take your dog for a walk!!!" or other times they'll blatantly start visually assaulting the screen with aerobic moves.

Like what?

Since when can't fat people be happy and in good relationships? And why does "fat" connotate such negative feelings and images that we have shows devoted to making sure you unfat yourself? Sure, we're promoting good health and all that jazz. News flash: my fat uncle has lived 15 years longer than my exercise-loving grandpa... surprise!

With that said, the people on these shows are generally not fat either! And if they were? Why not find them another fat person to hang with instead of immediately urging them to go to the gym?

Why should any of us change ourselves to date and *improve happiness*? Losing the pounds won't instantly score you a hot chick and it certainly won't make you so zen that you'll smile at your Starbucks barista when they fuck up your cappuccino...so what gives?

Here's the problem with the "lose weight for happiness" concept. Most of us on le chunky side will buy into it. We'll get thin from denying ourselves our hobbies and carbs in place of Jogging and Vegetables. Yes, we'll lose some weight. We might even find a significant other! This significant other will probably love Jogging and Vegetables also because we either met them at The Jogging and Vegetables Club (since we've focused on nothing else) or online where we have advertised ourself as Someone Who Loves Jogging and Vegetables. We'll become happy in our relationship and slowly start doing things we really love again (but didn't have time for before because we were too busy losing weight and finding a bf/gf) and Jogging and Vegetables will take a backseat. Suddenly we're fluffy again and find we have nothing in common with our beau or we're too fat for them. Whatever the case may be - it was all a lie anyway.

Lose weight if you feel like it. Don't do it because you feel at the end of it all you're owed something or there's a prize waiting for you.

I'm sure some people find nirvana and happy mediums and positive energy in the scale. Mazel tov to you - I'm going to go find my boyfriend at the supermarket... probably in the bakery section.

today was a fairytale (you got a smile that takes me to another planet)

A male acquaintance asked me the other day if I'd been writing. He didn't necessarily mean my blog but also my surely terrible Great American Novel that I've been working on for five years or random freelance articles. When I replied "no" he looked at me perplexed and said "So you aren't inspired?"

...........

Why yes, I've been inspired to jump off local bridges or even eat an entire tub of Tollhouse Cookie Dough. And oh yes! I have been writing! My brother's goddamn eulogy!

I really am not mad that those questions were asked - it just got me thinking about how no one can ever know your life experience. Some people really really really get to live happy, pain-free and oblivious lives forever and always. They know nothing above worrying if they'll be able to go on vacation this year. And they look at your pain and experience it from as far away as possible because they've never had to look at any of those things up close and would rather not. And they're able to walk away from it never ever thinking that it could happen to them.

Life turns so quickly and everyone thinks they are immune to it. We always hear songs and see movies about it but think it's a myth. Why don't we believe that slogan but can believe all the ones about prince charming sweeping us off our feet?

What about the happy couple whose child is born with autism? What about the rich teenager who wraps his brand new car around a pole and winds up paralyzed? What about the dead college kid with alcohol poisoning? What about the father who dies in Iraq or the mother who goes to tuck her kid into bed and he's missing?

Tragedy is not always a disease and knows no bounds. It does not just target the poor, sad, overweight, or unattractive.

You know the news channel you refuse to watch anymore because 'it's too depressing'? Well guess what? It's all real. Those things are really happening to someone somewhere.

I do not wish bad things for anyone ever. I hope you are never directly involved in your own personal hell.

All I wish is for understanding that life is not about the surface bullshit many seem to think it is. That maybe instead of spending 3 hours shopping for the perfect spring handbag - spend it helping a friend who may be down on their luck. Perhaps tell the people in your life that you love them a little more. If you are one of the lucky ones who haven't been touched by bad luck - get this - you won't catch it!

It isn't herpes. Just sayin'.

cowgirls don't cry

Sometimes bloggers plan out what they are going to write first and then edit and reedit and then think of more witty, profound things to say once they've slept on it. I'm not one of those bloggers so I apologize.

My little brother passed away last week of cancer. The sadness is deeper than any surface pain or heartbreak. It's the kind of sadness that rattles your bones and lives in your eyes. I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror right now. Maybe it's because I haven't put much makeup on in weeks but I know that's not the case.

My parents sheer devastation and confusion is tangible. From their tears down to the sweatpants I haven't seen on my father since '89. It is almost as if I have lost my brother and my parents all at once.

I am the strong one. For whatever reason I never thought I'd be the one to be able to hold back tears or put on a happy face. I mean, I'm the girl who cries at Armageddon every. single. time. But somehow I am able to hold it together and fall apart on my own. I much prefer it that way. Vulnerability never really suited me.

The outpouring of support and love my brother, myself and my family have received is monumental. You forget good things and good people exist when a disease eats away at your family.

I'm sure I'll be talking about this for a long time to come but hopefully it will be filled with undercurrents of positivity. The show must go on.