I'm BaAaAaAAACK

Here I am! It's been way, way, way too long since I have blogged. Writing music took over my life for the past year and now, I have journals upon journals filled with poetry/lyrics/thoughts- some that have found themselves melodies, others that are better left unsung.

A few of my friends have asked me "Why don't you post your lyrics?". I don't have a good answer. Lyrics are so personal. Poetry=personal. But I've become more comfortable with the idea of being an "open book" *pun intended* as I become more and more comfortable with being a singer/song writer.

And so, I shall bring this blog back to life by beginning to post my lyrics/poetry/thoughts.

Afterall, being BOLD is beYOUtiful.

"Temporary While" Written by Megan Rose April 2011

i'm never gonna see another man

as clearly as i saw you

cause you left with me a blurry way

of seeing love.

no, i'll never love another man

the way i loved you

oh, i couldn't

cause it'd kill me

this i am sure of.

regret is not a feeling that i ever felt while reeling

from the emptiness that weighed me down for so long

though i've known that you are dealing

quite well

and you've been feeling like the whole thing all along was all wrong

but i never hated you for that

no, i never hated you.

quite the opposite, in fact

i love you

and all the tears i cried?

they have subsided into smiles

knowing that i knew love.

i knew love and thats enough

even if it was for a temporary while

and, so, i kissed somebody else

and while he fell in love with me

i fell asleep to dreams

that i was kissing you

and i told him that i loved him

but i lied and he could see

that when i said it

i pretended he was you.

but he wasn't and he'll never be able to live up to everything you lived up to

though i know

he'd never let me down

the way you let me down.

and i don't speak of you to anyone

because nobody wants to hear it

but i speak to you each night and i hope somehow you feel it.

but you'll never love somebody the way you love yourself

and thats ok, because i knew that and i loved you anyway.

and no, you'll never find another me that will love you for yourself

and it's sad because you found me once and you let me go.

but that's ok.

yeah, it's ok

because when you're crying

you know that i'd be the first one to kiss your salty face

and someday, you'll be smiling

when you think of love and think of me

and know that we knew love...

even if it was just for a temporary while

MUSIC IS MY BOYFRIEND

Me and music go way back.

It all started one snow-white Christmas- I believe it was the Christmas of '88. At 3 years old, I was given a kid-sized dinky baby grand. A great gift? Or torture for my parents? Depends on who you ask. My Dad, having been a die-hard home video-er, has my first magical musical moment caught on film. There I am, in all my glory (and possibly a dirty diaper?), banging away on the keys (that sound like they are made of tin) singing Do-a-Deer (or the closest possible version of it that I could muster...or yell, if you will). It shocks me that no one caught onto my passion for music until ten years later when I performed in the Jr High School play. But hey, juggling four kids can't be easy and if you saw this home video of Do-a-Dear, you'd probably doubt I had any musical talent what so ever.

Throughout my childhood, I had an insatiable need to sing. But the problem was that I refused to sing in front of anyone- including my family. So by the time that I was old enough to stay home alone when Mom ran to the store for milk, I'd sing my little butt off for those splendid 10-15 minutes. I could sing "Memories" from Cats like it was nobody's business. But I couldn't find the courage to sing for anyone, so my dream of being a singer would remain to be my little secret.

It wasn't only singing that captivated me- it was music in general. From the Sunday night DooWopShop on CBS FM to Z100's interactive 9 at 9, there was something about music that could hold my attention like nothing else.

I made a point of it to take a photograph in my mind of something very specific when I heard a song for the first time. Strange? Yeah, I'd say so. But to this day, the red Bell Tower on Sunrise highway in Massapequa reminds me of "This is the rhythm of the night....".

I hadn't studied music theory- there was no analysis of chords or rhythm that drew me in- and of course, like every girl, I did love to dance- but it wasn't the excitement of the music that attracted me either.

It was the words!

If you know me well, you know that I pretty much know the words to every song ever. Ok, that may be a gross exaggeration, but not really- If I hear a song once, I know the lyrics by heart. And as a kid, I LOVED to act- what better way than to act through a song? Every song had different emotion and attitude. Every song I heard, I could find a way to relate to and I could become a different character!

One fateful Friday evening when I was 12 years old, 20/20 was airing a show about a young girl who auditioned for Annie on Broadway- got the lead role and then never got to perform. Ok, that's a sad story for her, but it wasn't for me. I began singing "Tomorrow" and dreamed of the day that I would be little orphan Annie. Turns out, the Jr High School drama club was putting on a production of Annie and auditions were only a few weeks away.

So, I auditioned. And I got a call back. And then I auditioned again. And I got the part! My family was pretty stunned, considering they had never heard me sing before. And I kid you not, I made a point of it for them to not hear a peep of Annie until the night of the performance.

After that performance, my parents realized how serious I was about singing and I began studying with a local teacher. I wanted to be a Broadway star! But puberty came along and kicked my ass straight on into classical rep. Opera became my newfound passion, and I went on to study it intensely throughout college and well into my masters degree.

I always felt that I was destined to be a singer/song writer, and that somehow I took a detour and found myself playing pubescent young men on the big stage. Of course, I love opera- but there's something about a simple song that can really make my heart skip a beat.

As I grow older and hopefully wiser (that remains to be seen), I realize how deeply affected I am by music and how the music I listen to is a direct reflection of what I'm feeling, thinking and doing at the time. The ancient Greeks believed that music had certain affects on different types of the body and could possibly shape the personality of a child if they were exposed to it often enough. Think about it- if you heard music that seemed to be angry day after day after day, wouldn't you find yourself pissed off at some point?
As an angsty teen when I felt misunderstood and out of place, Fionna Apple, Tori Amos and the likes were the soundtrack of my tormented teen aged years. If I felt strong, I'd listen to some kick-ass Kelly Clarkson. If I felt happy, I'd listen to some Temptations or Billy Joel or Michael Buble. For every mood I've ever been in or find myself in now, I know exactly what kind of music to listen to- and to avoid.

Miss Fionna will always have a special place in my heart, because her music is so gut wrenching and her lyrics are clever and candid- but if I'm feeling low, I know to avoid her- or John Mayer for that matter- because their music will only allow me to indulge in my misery. When I'm missing College, I listen to the Beatles or Boston and let myself reminisce. When I'm feeling happiest (usually when summer is approaching/here), I tend to gravitate towards Kenny Chesney or Taylor Swift. Every song I've ever heard, be it old or new, I have a strong memory attached to and am easily taken back to the time that I heard it and what I was feeling.

Isn't that why we like the music that we like? Many people will say, "No, I just like it because it's good". Well, yeah, you can't argue with that. I mean, who wants to listen to something that they think sucks? But if you really think about it, you've emotionally attached yourself to certain songs, bands, or genres because you find them relatable and they conjur up different feelings or memories.

Maybe some people are more affected by music than others, maybe some people are more interested in music than others. But I believe that inside everybody is a little musician dying to be released. Some of us have been blessed with the gift of music, others have been blessed with other things. But one thing that no one can ever argue is that music is a huge and very important part of our lives. Be an active listener. Don't just hear the song- hear the words. Don't just sing along, but sing like you mean it! Let the memories come on a-rolling in. Let music take you back, let it take you forward, let it bring you into the present. How awesome does it feel when you wake up in the morning and you just happen to turn the radio on at the exact moment that your favorite song is playing? And how awesome is it that for those blissful 3 minutes, you could be a rock star? We've all got a song inside of us. Some of us can sing it, others should stick to singing it in the shower. But when we find a song that makes us feel alive, regardless of the emotions it triggers, isn't that awesome?

Music and I go way back, and I know we'll be together forever. Through every trial and tribulation and triumph, music has been there for me. Music lets me cry when I need a good cry, let's me celebrate when I need to celebrate. Music helps me remember, reminisce, release, express, dance, sleep, relax, and recharge. And whether your acutely aware or completely blind to this fact, music does the same for you. So turn up the volume and sing along and for just a moment, let yourself be nothing but beYOUtiful!

JUDGEY
WUDGEY
WAS
A
BEAR

Judgement: The act or instance of judging. Judge: (verb) the act of passing judgement; To infer, think, or hold as an opinion; conclude about or assess.

No matter how much you may want to deny it, you judge. I judge. We all judge. We judge ourselves and we judge other people. Why deny it? Why does it have such a negative connotation attached to it?

Our whole lives we have been told "Don't judge a book by it's cover". But why not? There are certainly things in this world that can be judged directly by how they appear and this includes people, my friends. Now I am not saying to form a narrow minded opinion on someone based on the color of their skin, what they are wearing, their tattoos, etc. But when I'm driving down the street and I see a man who clearly hasn't showered in quite some time with a big piss stain on his pant leg falling over and then unable to get back on his feet, I think "Drunk" or "Crackhead". Anyone who has ever lived in NYC or any city, for that matter, sees this type of thing on a daily basis. Am I wrong for this?

I'm not thinking he's a BAD person, but I'm calling it like it is. But it's not nice to think someone's a drunk or a crackhead, is it? So am I better off not thinking anything of it at all? Does our ability to assess a situation and then form an opinion- usually one that will serve us well- usually one that protects us in some form or another- make us bad people, or does it make us smart? Why does Judgement have such a bad rap?

When I was 13 years old, my mother and I were waiting at the train station for an early morning ride into New York City. It was freezing cold outside and the waiting area surprisingly didn't smell of urine, so we waited in it. A few minutes passed by and a man- I would say late 20's, 31 at most- walked in. He wasn't wearing a jacket, although it was freezing. His hands were greasy and dirty looking, like he had just finished working on a car. He was wearing a hunter green long sleeved tee shirt and khaki pants and work boots. His eyes were green, his hair was blond and despite his unkempt appearance, I would say he was an attractive guy. To this day, I would recognize him if I saw him.

The minute he walked into the waiting area, which was about 18 feet by 6 feet, I had a horrible feeling about him. And when he turned around and had his penis sticking out of his pants, I KNEW I JUDGED HIM CORRECTLY.

But wait- Was it my intuition? Intuition is the ability to form an opinion or assess a situation based on feeling without any reasoning. Was it my gut that told me this guy was bad news? OR- Was it the fact that a grown man found it necessary to come and stand 4 feet away from my mother and I when there was plenty of other room? Just because I remember exactly what he looked like doesn't mean it was his physical appearance that made me JUDGE him. Am I a bad person for having assumed that there was something off about this guy?

Now, these are pretty extreme cases of judging. But every day, there are teeny tiny judgements being formulated in our over stimulated minds.

You see someone driving a Bentley- you automatically think they have a lot of money.

You see a 400lb man eating a donut- you automatically think he's unlhealthy and probably eats a lot of donuts.

A landscaping truck passes by and is screaming and whistling at every woman in sight- you automatically think they are disgusting men, and probably Mexican. Yep, I said it. What I didn't say was that Mexican men were disgusting so don't go twisting my words! This judgement is based on the fact that since early childhood, I have observed that most of the landscapers in my area are of Mexican decent and most of them hoot and holler at every woman in sight. Am I so bad for having the brain power to formulate and opinion based on observation? When I say it like that, it sounds acceptable, doesn't it? But when I say that is my JUDGEMENT, it sounds horrible!

As a woman, judging and being judged is a huge part of every day life. Next time you are in a busy neighborhood doing some people watching, observe how many women check out other women. Are they checking them out in a sexual way because they are gay? Well, that remains to be seen. Most of the time though, women are assesing other women- comparing their bodies to their own, checking out each other's outfits, etc. Yep Ladies, we judge ourselves by judging others. Isn't that terrible? I myself automatically check out every girls boobs that I see- not in a sexual way- But because I am so self conscious about my own boob size, I check out everyone elses! I'm not ashamed. And I'm not ashamed to say that if I see a woman walking down the street with a tissue sized dress on and her boobs popping out, I judge her. Just like I judge a man walking down the street in skin tight pants and a hot pink floral top. Yep, I judge him, too. When we say we judge, though, it sounds so harsh. Just because you JUDGE someone or something doesn't mean you decide their ultimate fate- like we have been told good old God will. Read the definition of judgement and judge at the top of this page. There doesn't seem to be anything negative about it. So why does society want us to think we suck for judging?

As you read this, you are judging, judging, judging. You see typos and poor grammar- you judge my writing. You read and decide whether or not you can relate to my examples or candid honesty, and you judge my personality for it and therefore assess how well we could personally relate to each other. Isn't it true?

The important thing to know about judgement and judging is that there is a very fine line between forming an opinion and projecting your own personal opinion on others.

So I'd never leave the house in a tissue sized dress with my boobs (or lack-there-of) popping out. Does this mean someone who would is any better or any worse than I am? Nope. It just means we have a different idea of what is acceptable and what isn't FOR OURSELVES.

Being able to judge has gotten me out of some pretty scary situations. And it's gotten me into some pretty awesome ones. Being able to judge leads us to make every single decision that we make. Let us judge and be judged and let's be honest about it and own it. Trust your intuition. Make observations. Judge how you see fit and be your own person. Have an opinion! And just beYOUtiful.

I didn't have what would be considered the typical College experience.


There was no greek life and therefore, no "Frat Boys"- there were no foot ball games, basketball games, baseball games- no college town bars and for four years, I never once saw a Keg on campus. But what I did have was late night rehearsals, drag queen extravaganzas and a class of 15.


I consider myself lucky.



When you go to College, you never know what to expect. You hear stories from older friends and siblings and see what college life is like on TV (90210, athankyou) but no amount of sibling advisement or syndicated television could have prepared me for the journey that I was to embark on in August of 03- the journey that I call College.



It
was
FRIGHTENING.



All Artists. All competing. All trying to bond.



I remember sitting at the first class meeting and looking around at the 15 strangers faces and wondering "How the hell are we all supposed to get along?". Little did I know that the 15 of us would grow to know each other like only family can. Spending hours upon hours a day in classes together, not to mention rehearsals that went on forever and then returning to the same dorm hallway day after day, night after night & then spending the weekends together- whether hanging out or performing- will have that affect on you. We were all so different, but we learned how to co exist in a complimentary and productive manner (for the most part. I mean, come on, people! There was DRAMA... we are OPERA singers after all! How much more dramatic can it get!?).



And so came and went our freshmen year.... And our sophomore year.... And our junior year.... And our Senior year.



And here we are, 3 years after Graduation- 7 years after we all had just met- and we are still the best of friends.



I consider myself lucky. Very lucky.



For the rest of my life, I will have a group of friends who know me and understand me. Who accept me for who I am, what I am not, what I do and what I don't. Friends who understand my passions. Friends who laugh with me and who keep me laughing. Friends who know the same struggles and triumphs. Friends who support each other. Friends who celebrate the victories and encourage through the not-so-victorious moments. Friends who are always there, even when I can't see them.



Days, weeks, months and in some cases, years (!) pass us by without being able to all be together. But we find a way to make it happen and when it does, it is magical. Every mini reunion we have is like we never skipped a beat. We talk and we laugh and we love. What more could anyone want?



Nope, I didn't have your typical college experience but because of the people I shared it with, I'd say it was way above average. I have learned so much about life from my friends. I have seen so many things that not many people will ever get to see. I've opened my mind and my heart and I have grown tremendously. And still, years later, I am lucky enough to have the same bond with the same amazing people.



I consider US very lucky.


Thank you, Seniors 07. You have each made my life that much more beYOUtiful.

PRIVATE!

Dear Diary...

I began keeping a diary in 1991. Apparently, I had tons of secrets for a six year old. I got my first diary for Christmas- It was shiny white soft plastic with hearts on the front and an industrial strength snap button that served as a lock. I remember sitting on the landing of the living room steps and writing my first entry. It went something like this...

"Dear Diary,
It is Chrissmis.
Mikel sed that Santa isint reel!
Mommy sed that Mikel is a LYER!
I like Santa. Frum, Megan"

I didn't become an avid diary keeper until the sixth grade, when I began writing almost every night. This habit continued up until recently- I find no shame in admitting that every now and again, I snuggle up under my favorite blue blanket and write before bed. Sometimes, I simply write detailed to do lists. Other times, I write everything I am thinking and feeling and update my diary on what's been happening in my life.

I have to admit, the whole idea of a diary is pretty odd to me. Does my journal really care that two months ago, my family and I went bowling for my older sisters Birthday? I highly doubt my diary has been losing sleep over it.

So why write?
Well, when you have a lot on your mind, sometimes the most helpful thing to do is to write it all down- get it all out- clear your head of the white noise so that you can, for the moment, put your mind to rest and get a good night's sleep. Other times, it's motivational- to write down your goals makes them more realistic, more final and therefore, more attainable. And sometimes, it's safer to write down what you're really thinking as opposed to babbling it out to your friends and family. Let's be real here- if everyone knew what we were really thinking or how we really felt at all times, this world would be an even scarier place.

A Diary is like your own personal history book. I have a whole tupperwear full of them! It's fun to read entries from when you were a kid or a teenager. It helps you remember things you otherwise would have forgotten, and it helps you to see how you've grown as an individual- how much you've gone through, how much you've achieved, and how much you've changed over the years.

Now, since I haven't read others diaries (aside from my sisters, who used to pick reallllly obvious places to hide them), I am going to speak for myself when I say, "WTF is up with only writing when you're feeling
sad/pissed/frustrated/psychotic?"

Something I'm becoming more and more aware of in human nature, and women in particular, is the habit of only sharing when something is WRONG. Something bad happens? We tell our family, our friends, and some of us quite frankly tell everyone and anyone. Got into a fight with your boyfriend? Call your girlfriends. Got into a fight with your parents? Tell your siblings. Got into a fight with your teacher? Tell your mother. ALL OVER THE WORLD, as I type this, women are making phone calls to share the goory details of the shitty situation that they just found themselves in! Think about it- How many times do you get phone calls because the person on the other end is freaking out?

But what about the GOOD TIMES?
Your boyfriend brings you flowers- are you on the phone a second later updating your friends and family on how wonderful he is? Nope, not usually. Why are we so quick to share the bad and so hesitant to bask in the good?

This habit undeniably translates into the art of the Diary. When we are going through something difficult, our minds seem to be restless and it's easier to vocalize (or literate) what we are feeling and writing is definitely a helpful coping mechanism. But when we are happy, our minds are more peaceful and it seems less necessary to go on a painfully long tangent of how good you feel and how all is right with the world (even if it is temporary), because that would be borderline bragging and really, who wants to do that?

THIS, my friends, is a DANGEROUS HABIT.

Your friends think your parents are nuts or your boyfriend sucks or your professor is a psychopath and you can't for the life of you figure out what made them form this opinion! And then you begin to think that they are judge mental and narrow minded...and it's ALL YOUR FAULT.

If you are a diary keeper like me, look back at your old entries. I look back at mine and think, wow, I was one sad fifteen year old. But then I notice that there are missing days, weeks and even months in between those "woe is me, my life sucks (cue the violins)" entries that were happy, sunshiney, "my life rocks!" type days.

As humans, are we more inclined to LISTEN when someone is upset? Do we on some level find it less important to be attentive when someone is happy? Are we more apt to sympathize for the bad than to celebrate the good?

It is UNDENIABLE that on some level, it is easier to relate to someone when discussing difficult situations- because as humans, we are ultimately and unavoidably faced with trials and tribulations. Sadly, though, not everyone experiences JOY in the same way and therefore, it is more challenging to relate to someone when discussing happiness.

Let's Break This Habit!
Personally, I've made a conscious effort to share the good times with my friends and family and to stop and think and ask myself "Do I really want to share this? What affect will it ultimately have on their perception of the people involved?" when it comes to tough times. And I've made a conscious effort to shape my own personal history by changing my diary habits.

I try to write a few times a week at the same time- right before bed. Not at any other time- not after a fight or argument, not after a rejection letter, not after a long day at work with a pain in the ass co worker. Now I'm not saying that it's a good idea to keep your feelings bottled up inside- but for me, it's more helpful to let the boiling pot of emotion simmer down a bit before I write about it.

The first thing I do when I write now is write down five things that I am grateful for- whether it be the coffee shop next to my work (it's the little things in life, kids) or my Mom's unconditional love.Then, I go ahead and write freely.

You might be laughing and thinking, "well, that's awfully cheesy".

But I ask you...
When you're older and you come across your diaries, do you want to look back and remember all the bad times?
Or do you want to look back at your life and remember just how beYOUtiful it really was?

Dear

OLD

AUNT

FLOW




*For every girl who lies in bed with a heating pad on their back and stomach and with their feet up in the air supported by pillows and a bottle of Aleve on their bed table, asking God WHY, this is for you*


Every girl's got an Aunt Flow and many of us spend 3 weeks out of the month dreading her weekly visit. I first became acquainted with my Aunt Flow back in the 8th grade. I was scared. What was happening to me? Was this normal? IS Every one's AUNT FLOW AS HORRIBLE AS MINE?

Nope, not every one'sAunt Flow reeks havoc in their lives. Some VERY LUCKY girls don't even realize when she's planning a trip! They go about their daily routines without the slightest complaint, carrying on like they have not a care in the world! I envy these women and think that they should be grateful every single day.

Unfortunately for me and for a majority of other women, Flow aint such a walk in the park:
Mind numbing cramps.
Over sensitivity.
Insatiable appetite.
Break outs.
Fatigue.
Bloating.

And in some severe cases:
Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, migraines, clotting, the urge to pee every five seconds, the inability to stand up-right because of the mind numbing cramps, the inability to sleep through the night because of the mind numbing cramps, not to mention the utter hatred for the world and life itself that kicks in for a week beforehand.

I spent years of my life suffering and feeling like every month on the same day, God was seriously testing my will to live (or my willpower to not murder everyone that crossed my path).
NO amount of Aleve (and trust me, I've taken quite a few more than the recommended dose) could lessen the pain, and no amount of mental-preparation could prepare me for what my body was going to endure. No amount of laying down with pillows piled under my feet helped. Pamprin & Midol? Pfffffff.

My older sister suffered just as much as I did, and according to my mother, she did as well until she gave birth (apparently, after you give birth, your period pain is lessened. This is what doctors say. I don't believe it. What I do believe is that after you give birth, nothing can compare pain-wise and therefore your period doesn't even phase you anymore).

At 16, my doctor recommended that I begin to use birth control as a way to deal with my horrible Aunt Flow. The only thing it did was guarantee that my bloating would be permanent and that my period would come precisely on the 11th (not the day before or after). But, I stayed on it. I decided to give it a good college-try. Until college....

At 18, I began getting my period for what seemed like weeks at a time (or more specifically, for 9-14 days with a two week break in between). IT. WAS. HORRIBLE. It seemed, to me, that the bitch control (ooops, I mean, BIRTH control), was messing my body up in ways that I never thought possible. And talk about the mental aspect of it- on birth control, I felt depressed and angry, cried over everything and really began to dislike my family, friends, and myself.

Against my doctor's wishes, I went off birth control. But the damage (that was never rectified in the first place and seemed to be worsened) was already done. When I turned 19, Aunt Flow visited more frequently and over-stayed her welcome. I was in a constant state of PMS, DMS and PostMS.
By the time I turned 20, I couldn't take it anymore. My doctor recommended that I undergo lapriscopic surgery to see if I had ENDOMETRIOSIS*link to info on endo at bottom of blog* and said that if I did indeed have this 6 syllable word for HELL ON EARTH, they would do their best to remove it during surgery.

And so into the operating room I went. What was estimated to be an hour long surgery turned into a four hour long ordeal with my parents sitting in the waiting room wondering what the hell was happening to their daughter.
Turns out, I do have endometriosis and it's pretty severe.
The doctor's did the best that they could, but there are no guarantees and no way to remove 100% of the endo. Post surgery I was put on all different sorts of hormones- a TON of them- for six months- that were supposed to trick my body into thinking I was going into menopause so that the frequency of my period would decrease. Yeah, that didn't happen. Instead, I had every adverse affect possible. I had my period for over 5 months straight (it would magically disappear when I lyed down, as if gravity were to blame). Because of the hormones, I gained weight, was irrationally angry and over sensitive, became depressed and began to lose faith in modern medicine.

It's hard to say what causes endometriosis. It was first discovered by doctor's in the 1930's, but docs haven't really been aware of it long enough to make any final conclusions/or solutions regarding it. Some doctor's say it's hereditary, other's say it's random. Some say that birth control can actually cause it (along with many other reproductive problems), others say that birth control can heal it. Some argue that all of the hormones that we put into our crops and milk are to blame, others say that bombarding your body with hormones will ultimately cure it.

Whatever the case, 5 months into my hormone induced hatred for the world, I was FED UP. I remember the day like it was yesterday- April 5th, 2006 (the day before I performed as Cherubino in Le Nozze di Figaro at college). I was in CVS buying what seemed to be my 29348947th box of tampons when I decided to take matters into my own hands- and stopped all hormone treatment that night.

The next day, Aunt Flow packed her bags and went on her merry way.
I began to get my period regularly (7-9 days with approximately 23 days in between). But the pain was still as severe as ever.

HOW WOULD I SURVIVE THE NEXT 25 YEARS OF MY LIFE?
Diet and Exercise.
Yep.
It's true.
Maybe it seems cliche, but as soon as I began to eat healthily and excercise regularly, my period pain became more manageable.
I now make a conscious effort to cut down on my sugar intake a week prior to my period. I try my very best (although it is hard to work a day job without that jolt of AM java) to decrease or eliminate my intake of caffeine a week before my period. Now that my period is regular, I begin to take 2 aleves a day for the 3 days leading up to my period.
And then,
although the pain is quite excruciating for the first day,
I brace myself and use my mind power to make it through---
I force myself to NOT lay in bed all day- to get up, go out, and get things don
Knowing that in just 24 hours the pain will subside,
and that in just a week (give or take a day or two), I will be back to feeling like my old self again.

As we mature, we get wiser, we get smarter and we get braver. No man will ever know the pain of Aunt Flow and that's because only us women are strong enough to endure it. As we mature, we learn what works and what doesn't work for us- mentally and physically. Our bodies really are our temples. Our body protects us, heals us, endures pain for us. It's important to keep in mind that when our PMS is at an all time high and our cramps are so bad we are tempted to cut our legs off, this is NOT our bodies way of retaliating against us. Our bodies are enduring for us, with us. Take care of it, and it becomes stronger and can endure even more. No one knows our own body better than ourselves. Of course it is important to trust our doctors, but it's also important to trust ourselves. If your body is trying to tell you something, learn to listen- your mind and body will be grateful that you did. It seems complicated, but it really is simple. When we listen to our bodies, we respect our bodies. And then, even when Aunt Flow pops in for a visit, life really seems to be a bit more beYOUtiful.

*http://www.aolhealth.com/conditions/endometriosis-major-1?flv=1

*disclaimer- I am not an expert on health or any health condition and am not advocating or condemning endometriosis, birth control, surgery, diet or exercise. Every body's body is different!*

LEGGINGS-
FRIEND...
OR FOE?


ACCORDING TO MY RESEARCH, THE LEGGINGS TREND CAME ABOUT IN 1983....JUST ABOUT THE SAME TIME THAT THE RUBICS CUBE WAS, ALLEGEDLY, ENTERTAINING PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD AND PRECISELY TWO YEARS BEFORE MY PARENTS GOT NOT ONE, BUT TWO SURPRISES. (*MY MOM DIDN'T EXACTLY PLAN ON HAVING MY SISTER, KATIE... AND 7 MONTHS INTO THE PREGNANCY, THE DOCTOR FOUND ANOTHER SURPRISE- A BONUS BABY- MOI!- HIDING BEHIND MY MOTHER'S RIB CAGE. I HAD GONE UNDETECTED BECAUSE OUR HEARTS WERE BEATING IN UNISON... CUTE STORY, HUH? UNFORTUNATELY IT HAS NO RELEVANCE TO THIS BLOG ENTRY TOPIC*)

2 YEARS AFTER LEGGINGS MADE THEIR DEBUT, THE TREND HAD CAUGHT ON AND SEEMED TO BE A PERMANENT FIXTURE IN MID EIGHTIES STYLE. BACK WHEN I WAS SPORTIN' A DIAPER, WOMEN OF ALL AGES WERE ROCKIN' OUT IN THEIR LEGGINGS. A MIXTURE OF LYCRA, COTTON AND SPANDEX THAT WAS FORM FITTING WITH JUST THE PERFECT AMOUNT OF GIVE YET STRONG ENOUGH TO SUPPORT AND SUCK IN ALL THE RIGHT (OR WRONG?) PLACES REPLACED THE BLUE JEAN AND BECAME THE NUMBER ONE GO-TO ACCESSORY TO COMPLETE THE 80'S ROCKER CHICK LOOK *THINK MADONNA, LIKE A VIRGIN- BLACK LEGGINGS UNDERNEATH A PINK FROO FROO TOO-TOO AND FISH NET BLACK GLOVES*

TWO DECADES LATER, THE LEGGINGS TREND MADE IT'S WAY BACK INTO OUR LIVES- AND WITH AVENGANCE. WOMEN EVERYWHERE ARE OPTING OUT OF BELL BOTTOMS, BOOT CUTS AND STRAIGHT LEGS AND INSTEAD CHOOSING LEGGINGS TO COMPLETE THEIR OUTFITS- LONG TEE SHIRTS, SHORT DRESSES AND SKIRTS, IN THE WINTER WITH UGGS, IN THE SUMMER WITH FLIP FLOPS, LACE LEGGINGS FOR A NIGHT ON THE TOWN, COTTON LEGGINGS FOR A WINDOW SHOPPING AFTERNOON- ANY SEASON- ANY EVENT- LEGGINGS ARE NOW LESS A TREND AND MORE A WAY OF LIFE.

BUT ALONG WITH ANY TREND THAT HOLDS STAYING POWER, THERE COMES RULES- DO'S AND DON'T's THAT WE MUST ABIDE BY SO THAT WE CAN BE A FAHIONISTA AND NOT A FASHION VICTIM.

"IS MY SHIRT TOO SHORT?"
Whether you're a size 2 or a size 22, leggings look great with long tees, tanks and sweaters- that is, if these tops COVER YOUR ASS (and then some). Know a quick trick for deciding whether or not your top is appropriate to sport with a pair of leggings? Stand up straight and place your arms to your sides- if your top reaches the ends of your finger tips or extends up to 2 inches past your finger tips, you are good to go! *This trick also works when deciding whether or not your dress/skirt is too short. If your hem line falls at or above the end of your fingertips, you are treading some dangerous water and granny panties are a strong recommendation in case of any Lindsay/Britney/Paris moments*

"IS MY DRESS TOO LONG?"
Yes, leggings go with just about everything- but leggings should not be ABUSED. If you are wearing a knee length or longer dress, what is the point in hiding your shins with leggings? Unless it's January in the middle of a blizzard and you are wearing leggings for warmth. Then and only then is this justifiable.

"PLAIN OR PATTERNED WITH PLAINS OR PATTERNS?"
Solid colored leggings are the most common and easiest to pair with tops, dresses, skirts, boots, pumps, flip flops, etc. Black, Navy, Brown, Off white- you name it, they make it! And you can easily pair it with a plain top or a patterned top- ruffly, lacy, layered, or just simple tops make for a cute look and comfortable outfit. The newest trend is patterned leggings. Florals, plaids, animal print, polka dots, lace- you name it, they make it. When paired with a plain top, these patterned leggings look cute and super trendy and help bring a little oomph to an otherwise simple pairing. *Beware of wearing a patterned shirt with patterned leggings- you will 9 times out of 10 look like an optical illusion*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leggings are all the rage these days, and after you've worn them a few times, it's hard to get back in the routine of squeezing yourself into jeans every morning. Because of their comfort, versatility, and staying power (afterall, they survived the 80's and are now stronger than ever!) leggings are a girls new BEST FRIEND (and the denim industries biggest enemy!)

Leggings can range from 7 bucks to 30 bucks in most department stores. Marshalls, TJ Maxx and stores like Forever 21 sell leggings for dirt cheap- they are comfortable and last just as long as the expensive leggings (like the ones found at American Apparel) and consist of the same exact combination of synthetics. Nowadays, everybody's trying to save money! Not only does it cut down the need to purchase jeans, but it helps you feel- and your wallet feel- a bit more comfortable. And when we can feel comfortable in our own skin (even if it's covered by polysynthetics) well.... that's just beYOUtiful.