I always loved the movies where the sexy detective has a bad day because the man who murdered his wife six years ago is killing again, so he goes home to his overly large industrial loft, takes his shirt off, pours a scotch and starts punching a punching bag. Then he takes a cold shower and has a serious think in a leather armchair.
This is not what I do when I have a bad day. When I have a bad day I watch Bridezillas, eat something called “Oreo whip” (a birthday party staple for the ten-and-under crowd concocted at my local grocer), and lay on the couch in my underwear and a t shirt inexplicably covered in peanut butter.
At least that’s what happens with some of my bad days. Other times, my negative emotions turn into exactly what I want them to: diligent sexy productivity.
I’ve always loved this idea of my day going completely to shit and being like, “I just need to exercise, drink responsibly, then brood like a badass adult.”
Luckily, I have implemented a system of retraining not my emotions but my reactions to them so I can be more the sexy detective than the slovenly child. I want to share this system to those of you who also struggle with controlling the actions of your naughty personas.
Continue reading “What Becomes of Your Emotions?”
I’ve never been wild about the idea of romance. When I was young, I always had a crush on the Disney villain, felt nothing for Prince William, and thought that Romeo and Juliet were so unstable that had they not killed themselves over a relationship that lasted a whopping four days, they had little chance of overcoming inevitable “baby mama drama,” “just can’t even’s, and “who is she, huh huh”s.
I have been with my husband since I was 19. I am in love with him. He comes home from work, we have a drink, cook a meal, make love, go for a stroll. It’s smooth sailing. On Valentines Day there are gifts, trips to New Orleans, bubble baths. “I love you’s are exchanged dozens of times a day along with a slew of adorable pet names that would turn the strongest of stomachs. My favorite is “dragon baby” or maybe “little cat wolf.” Sickening.
While I do appreciate and expect a certain level of romancing and spontaneity out of my husband, I think that it is not only necessary but preferable that the main provider of romance and intrigue in my life be me.
As a society, we have started to come around to this idea. We call it “self-care.” And while I am a wild about it, there is this maternal, almost wound-licking tone to it that makes me questions its lasting effectiveness.
Self-romancing is a lifestyle. It’s not something you pull out when you’ve gone overboard with your commitments, become too entrenched with family drama, or realized your children may just eat you alive if you let them.
Continue reading “The Importance of Romancing Yourself”
I am a very physically affectionate person. If it were socially acceptable I would introduce myself to new people by biting at their stomachs and nuzzling their neck.
Almost every week I swap full-body massages with my girlfriends. I kiss people goodbye and hello and my poor husband has bald patches all over his otherwise hairy body from being love-nuzzled.
I think one of the saddest lessons life teaches us is to not let ourselves be touched. Men learn not to “be gay” and women learn, often through experiences with sexual assault, to be afraid.
With introversion finally getting its time in the limelight (calm down introverts, you can have the limelight on you and still hide under the stairs in the dark) and every talk show host/therapist/blogger talking about setting your boundaries, it is easier than ever to not let yourself be touched.
To touch is to trust
Yes, I think you should challenge yourself to let someone touch you. To touch is to trust. I think it is something worth working on. And I know no one else will tell you this because you are scary with your thick outer shell of scales and that look on your face like you’ve seen some shit. But I’m gonna because mama loves you and knows what’s best.
In all seriousness, I get it. Once you’ve been violated, not touching and letting yourself be touched is not only the instinctual thing to do, but it is easy to tell yourself that those feelings should not be questioned, ever.
So let’s prod at that sensitive area. Today I want to talk about how to touch and be touched when that’s the last thing you want to do.
Continue reading “A Touchy Subject: How to Work on Being Touched”
“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
– Charles R. Swindoll
Charles is treading dangerously close to republican waters, which is actually a frozen lake where if you fall in, you are fucked. But Damn, Girl is going there.
The fact of the matter is it’s hard not to let the shit that happens to you and the shit that has happened to you affect your decisions for the worse.
There, there. Mama understands. Life is hard. We’re all getting beaten with shovels and felt up in cars and miss the semi annual sale at Victoria’s Secret. Life is just traumatizing AF. But this blog is about activating and harnessing your power, and to do that, there’s some shit you are going to have to let go.
Here are five things it’s time to get over: Continue reading “Damn, Girl, Get Over It”
I thought growing old would take longer.
-Old guy’s shirt at the grocery store
As many of you know, I teach ballroom dancing. I spend a lot of my day with people in their 50s-80s, recently retired, looking to fill their work-free days or reconnect with their spouses.
I love spending time with the older demographic. They come in for their lessons, doze off to sleep, wake up, knit a scarf, make a stew, find a quarter behind my ear…and off they go.
No, actually. That doesn’t happen at all.
The Metzgers grab at each others asses and play Candy Crush in the waiting room. The Sanchezes bring me in beers they brew at home and share photos on their iPhone of the trips they took to China or Mexico. The Watsons…well yeah, I mean, Mrs Watson does in fact bring in her knitting, but she has been knitting since she was like fifteen. And yeah, her chicken and dumplings are really good. And Mr. Watson has found almost four dollars in quarters behind my ears. Maybe I shouldn’t have used the Watsons as an example. My point is…
They are all totally unique individuals and when I talk to them about their pasts I find something truly astonishing:
They aren’t anything like us, they are exactly like themselves.
Continue reading “Dehumanizing Your Future Self”