Distressed

Everything in my house has the distressed look,

especially me.

It's the beginning of summer, which is always distressing when you have kids.  But, that's not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about my husband making new friends.  And getting an invitation to go over to the new friend's house for the first time.  As a socially anxious introvert, meeting new people stresses me out.  Especially, when it's a large party filled with people I don't know.  And the hosts don't have a dog that I can hide in the corner with.  Of course, I didn't know that last part until I went to the party.  Which left me even more distressed.

We pull up to the house and there are tons of cars parked out front on the street.  Dammit, this is an even bigger get together than I thought.  Luckily, the house is huge so it can accommodate such a gathering.  And then we step inside.  

The thing about being a socially anxious is, you tend to notice everything around you.  All the small details there are so many of that it becomes overwhelming for me to process everything.  And I get so lost in the minuscule that I miss social cues.  Plus, small talk is like speaking a foreign language to me anyway.

The house is immaculate and sparse like a museum.  There's no clutter to be seen anywhere.  The furniture is elegant and there's not one piece from Ikea.  The white walls are filled with art. (And again, it's not Ikea art.) The baseboards are dusted.  The windows in the living room are 20 feet tall and free of streaks, bird poop and cob webs. The kitchen is no less perfect with granite counter tops and cupboards that are upgraded from your standard oak without any signs of wear and tear.  I've walked around enough to scope out the joint and pretend to be social without actually talking to anyone.  But, walking around and smiling at strangers still counts as social in my humble antisocial opinion.  So, I check out the catered food and get a drink and find a place to sit.  I don't see any coasters anywhere, so I decide it's best not to set my drink down on anything because everything is simply too nice and I have a penchant for ruining things.  

This is when I start comparing their house to my house.  My house where everything in it has the distressed look.  And I didn't buy it with that look.  We earned it the old fashioned way with 4 kids, 2 dogs and a laid back lifestyle.  Sure, I have a nice house if you see it in a photo.  But, if you come over to my house, you'll see it's extremely lived in.  There are dog fur tumbleweeds floating through the hallway.  There are dings and nicks on everything.  And I mean EVERYTHING.  If it's not dinged, scratched, marred or maimed, it's broken.  Like the ice maker in the freezer.  It stopped working a few months after we got it.  No, I didn't bother to get it fixed.  And I don't have coasters in my house either, but just because you can't ruin anything in my house, because everything's already ruined.  

This is when I decide I can't be friends with my husband's new friends.  I mean, sure, they seem nice and all that.  But, I'd be way too embarrassed to have them over to my house.  Or I'd have to hire a cleaning crew to do a deep clean, buy all new furniture, kennel the dogs and rob an art gallery to decorate the walls (which are really going to need a fresh coat of paint too while I'm thinking about it).  And I'm way the hell to lazy to do all that, which is why I live the way I do.  It's enough for me to try to keep these kids and dogs alive.   And I think the dust and germs in my house actually help to strengthen our immune systems.  Or so I tell myself anyway.

I've resigned myself that 

being distressed isn't just a look, it's a lifestyle.  

In a Snap

I have a complicated relationship with my face. I'm in hate with my huge forehead.  I wish it was smaller and smoother without the hereditary wrinkles my dad passed down to me. But, not enough to get Botox and rob my asymmetrical face of expressions.  I'm not a fan of the dark circles under my eyes or my blotchy skin.  Then there's my long face devoid of bone structure.  While I like my nose (it's the only thing besides my curls that I got from my mom), I think it's too wide for the rest of my face.  And what's with the off center mole on my pointy chin?  Not a fan.  

What I look like in real life without filters.

But, I'm even less of a fan of having my face altered by an app, not because I don't think my face looks better that way, but precisely because I think it does.  And what's the point really?  Seeing a better version of me is just going to make me more critical about how I look in real life.  Especially as I get older and my face gets more hollowed, droopy and wrinkled while I make the transition into a Bloodhound because I refuse to get work done. But, before I fully commit to growing old gracefully and swearing off apps that digitally alter my face, let me see what I'm missing out on. 

So, I signed up for Snapchat because I heard that they automatically modify photos of your face to make you appear more attractive, even without the extra added weird filters.  Which I don't understand why anyone would want to look like a dog or puke a rainbow anyhow.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  And then the pictures disappear within a few seconds?  I just don't get it at all.  Anyhow, with my teenagers unavailable for consultation, it took me far longer to download the app, sign up and navigate the site than I care to admit.  The truth is, I have a terrible sense of direction, so I didn't "navigate" anything so much as I figured out how to take a selfie and then screenshotted it because I didn't know how or where to find the photo if I saved it.  Because I'm an old fashioned, untech savvy kinda girl.  In other words, I'm old.   

Me with a Snapchat filter.

In a snap my skin was perfectly pale and near flawless.  And my forehead, nose and chin were narrower just like I'd always wanted them to be.  I have to admit, I prefer the Snapchat version of me to the real me, just like I knew I would.  Which just really pisses me off!  Why would I want an app that validates that I'm flawed and need to be fixed?  That's my job!  And I'm really good at it too. What's wrong with us as a society that the real us isn't good enough?  So, I deleted my Snapchat account.  Which took me far longer than it did to create the damn thing in the first place.  You either get the real me or you don't get me at all.  

Cheap Sunglasses

If there's one thing you're going to need lots of this summer, besides sunscreen, it's sunglasses.  You'd think you only need one pair, but that's not the case.  Oh, you'll have a favorite pair of sunglasses that you'll wear all the time.  But, you know that'll end in disaster because they get so much use it's highly likely you're going to scratch the lenses, lose them or just straight up break them.  So, you'll need back up.  This is why you get cheap sunglasses.  And let's face it, everyone looks better in sunglasses.    They are the original filters for your face.  So it's important to choose the right pair.  

Aviators are probably my favorite type of sunglasses.  They're universally flattering on pretty much anyone's face.  Plus, they're casual and sporty but they still have an intimidating CHIPS vibe at the same time.  But, not the mirrored ones, they just make you look like a douchebag.  I don't know why, I don't make the rules, they just do.  But, the thing about aviators are those the little pads that rest on your nose.  Not only do they fall off, but when I push my glasses up to sit them on top of my head, they get tangled in my hair.  And do you know what looks really uncool?  Having both hands above your head desperately trying to untangle your hair from your sunglasses, which takes at least 5 minutes and usually another set of hands (and eyes) to do.  That's why I never actually wear aviators in real life.  But, I keep them as back up just in case I lose my six other pairs of sunglasses.

If you see me wearing sunglasses, chances are they are wayfarers.  They're both classic in design and plastic, which is important when you're accident prone like I am, but you still want to look Johnny Cash kinda cool.  Bonus, I can push these up on top of my head pulling my hair back away from my face because they double a headband.  This comes in handy if it's windy and you have hair blowing in your face and sticking to the chapstick on your lips.  Or if you have a dramatic moment that needs to be accentuated by looking someone in the eye, like you just solved a murder.  The problem with these sunglasses are if you get a pair that's too tight on your head.  And of course you won't know you've bought a pair that are too tight until you're wearing them and get a headache.  I bought two pair recently that did exactly that until I finally found this pair (see above photo).  And I'm positive I'm going to break these soon because they're absolutely perfect.
 

I hate to admit this, but the most perfect kind of sunglasses are the ones that make you look like a total bitch, they way Victoria Beckham does.  I know, I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's the truth.  First off, they kind of wrap around your eye, so no light gets in through the side.  It's almost like an eye patch, really, but one you can see through.  But, the best part is...you don't have to maintain your eyebrows.  You could have overgrown Drake eyebrows going on under there or maybe you had an over plucking mishap and now they're uneven.  No one will ever know!  And no one even wants to know because you look like such a raving bitch in those glasses that no one even wants to get to know you. Now, you could say that that's the downside to these glasses.  Unless you're an antisocial introvert.  In which case, these are best glasses ever because they provide built in people repellent.

Whichever sunglasses you chose, just know that people are judging you in direct proportion to how much you're judging them in theirs.  So, choose wisely.  

Now Showing

I'm going to say something shocking here: I'm not really into seeing movies. I only go to the theater to see one semi-annually.  Trust me, I know it's weird.  The thing is... movies permeate so much of our culture.  Which makes me an outsider.  You know that time during a party when it turns into movie references and quotes?  I'm completely lost.  Also, if you ask me if an actor is hot chances are I'll have no idea who you're talking about.  Unless it's Channing Tatum.  I don't know how I know who he is because I've never seen a movie with him in it.  But, I do know I don't find him the least bit attractive.

Anyhow, it was Friday and I saw an interview with Amy Shumer talking about her new movie, I Feel Pretty and decided to go see it.  Bonus, everyone else is going to see the new Avengers movie, so  won't even be crowded at the one I'm going to. But, first I'd have to cancel my usual Friday night plans with my couch.  Then make sure that all my kids have rides so that my plans to go out don't ruin their social lives.  (Which would be another reason I don't go out very often.)   To my shock, the stars aligned and I put on my leather jacket (that's how much of an occasion going to the movies is for me) and headed out to the theater.

Now, I haven't been to any other theater besides the small independently owned one that's downtown and extremely small and outdated (but just so happens to serve wine) in years.  So, when we got to the ticket booth I was shocked that we had to choose a seat there at the box office.  Since when is there assigned seating at a movie theater?  What if I choose a seat next to a loud eater or a slurpper?  Or even worse...people who talk through the movie.  And now I'm committed to a seat.  A seat, I found out when I walked into the theater, that reclines. The recliner is nicer than anything in my house.  And cleaner because there's no dog fur covering it.

So now, I'm waiting to see if anyone is going to take the seat next to me while I eat all the popcorn and Milk Duds before the movie even starts.  Then, he arrives with his girlfriend, who brought a blanket.  They're professional movie goers.  Note to self: bring a blanket next time.  On second thought, I'd definitely fall asleep in a reclining chair snuggled with a blanket.  Bad idea.

After a half an hour of previews for prequels, sequels and remakes of movies, the movie I came to see finally starts and I'm enjoying it.  Amy Shumer is really good in it.  But, who gives a crap about her?  Because who is the hot guy in this movie?  I wait to read the credits at the end of the movie to find out his name and I google him when I get home.

Tom Hopper.  

(I posted a photo as a public service for the other 2 people in the world who don't know who he is.)

Apparently he's been in a bunch of movies and Game of Thrones.  

I might have to watch them.  

Who am I kidding? 

 I won't.
Because I'm pretty lame.