If the jeans don’t fit….

I work in a field that is very psychologically taxing and draining and sometimes it’s important to take mental health days. The other morning I woke up and was just not feeling it. My bed felt like a velvet burrito had consumed me, it was pouring rain outside and I just felt tired..not just physically but mentally. So mental health day here I came.

After sleeping in and having my coffee in bed I decided to clean out my closet because it’s been a task that’s been looming over me for months now, I have such a hard time picking our clothes to wear because my closet is more jam packed than Walmart on Black Friday and I also felt that if I cleared my physical space it would help my mental space as well.

As I was cleaning out my closet I came across my favorite jeans. You know the ones that make your ass look like JLo, your legs like Cameron Diaz, and they rest just at the right height that your hips and stomach don’t roll over them and they give you that lean Jessica Alba V-cut look. They are the perfect jeans for channeling your sassy, confident, independent inner Carrie Bradshaw. So what did I do? I put them on. How far up did they go? Barely passed my not-so JLo ass. Evidently I’ve packed on a few pounds since the last time I wore them.

So instead of forcing my exploded can of Pillsbury cinnamon-bun ‘love handles’ into the jeans and potentially ripping my favorite pair of pants ever, I took them off folded them up and put them to the side. One day I might fit into them again if I clean up my diet, cut out the beer and start running again. But for now they aren’t working for me so they can live in the corner.

As I folded them up I thought of around this time last year when I used to wear these jeans almost everyday. I was freshly single and was totally feeling myself. I just started dating/hooking up/sleeping with- whatever you want to call it, my current situation who for the sake of this article we will call John*. Our relationship was/is far from perfect but at the time it was perfect for me, it fit..like my jeans. But after some poor diet decisions, too many beers and a lack of exercises- our bodies changed and the pants didn’t fit anymore. Well, not quite. But you get the point, we grew apart.

So now my question is, why am I still trying to force my ass into these jeans when they just don’t fit anymore? Or rather why am I trying to force a relationship that is clearly over? I was able to put the jeans I LOVE to the side and recognize it’s not working but why can’t we do that with people? Why are we so infatuated with forcing relationships? When we force the jeans on, all that happens is we risk ripping them, we look ridiculous and we feel uncomfortable and stuffed like a sausage. Nothing good comes out of forcing.

Why is it that we can’t just simple fold them, put them in the corner and if they fit again one day great and if they don’t we will find another pair of jeans that will. As Buddha once said, “the root of all suffering is attachment” and when we hold onto these ideas or things…whether it’s the jeans or our relationships all we are doing is making ourselves feel gross, uncomfortable and potentially damaging.

Although I’m not quite there yet, I’m slowly starting to slip the jeans off and considering maybe retiring them. Not forever but at least putting them to the side. If they want to fit one day they can but I’m not forcing them anymore.

Did you get your flu shot?

To me, one of the most dreaded questions is….”Did you get your flu shot?”

I don’t like needles, I don’t like vaccines (and no, I am not ignorant enough to believe that vaccinations cause autism), I’m a little stubborn and think because I am young and take care of myself I’m exempt from the flu…

Anyway, any time someone asks me that question I always say ‘yes’ or ‘I’m getting it for free at work next week.’ Or some other bullshit answer because when you say no to the flu shot you are automatically judged so hard….

So my question is, why? Why do we care what people think if I get the flu shot or not? It’s my life, it’s my choice, it’s no ones business. If someone doesn’t want to be part of my life because they don’t agree with my decision about the flu shot then fuck them.

Ok, so maybe asking if I got the flu shot isn’t the worst question but it’s representative of all the questions that people ask us and we feel the need to make our answers better than the truth even though the truth is our truth and our decision. Do you want kids? Do you want to get married? How many times a week do you drink?

I say we do not owe anyone answers and we especially do not owe anyone explanations. For the longest time I didn’t want kids (not even sure if I really do). When I was dating my ex, people would ask, “how many kids do you think you will have?” And then when I responded with “I don’t think I want kids” you would’ve thought that I just revealed my secret identity of Lord Voldemort. But why does it matter?

Having kids are great. Not have kids are great. It’s my fucking life and my god damn choice. No one else. So then I became self conscious and would lie and say, well it depends on what mine and my husbands financial capabilities are and timing and blah blah blah a bunch of other bullshit excuses to skirt around answering the question with the truth. My truth. Me not wanting to have kids is not going to impact your ability to have kids unless you are my husband and want kids….future hubby will be the only one I’ll care about explaining myself to.

With that, last year I decided that 2017 was going to be my year of challenges. Doing all the things that I feared (that will be another blog conversation). But, this year I decided is my year of honesty. “Do you want to come out to the bar on Tuesday night?” “No.” “Why?” “Because I’m tired and don’t want to.”

Do you want kids?

Did you get your flu shot?

And all the other annoyingly prying questions that people ask that are none of their god damn business.

And who knows maybe I’ll even grow enough courage to tell people how I feel about things before they even ask.

But for now, one flu shot at a time.


Is craving attention truly a ‘bad’ thing?

Remember when you were in high school and amongst your friends you were just ‘cool’ enough? Ok so let me define cool on the freshman year level…. You’re not overly popular, may not be the prettiest or have a boyfriend but you get invited to parties, you wear the right clothes, you blend in just enough to not be labeled ‘weird.’

Then one day, BAM…the heart-throb senior who is captain of the football team and is every girl (and guys) crush acknowledges you. Whether it’s a head nod, a smile, a ‘sup’ or maybe you end up blowing him behind the bleachers. Whatever it is, you have a moment with this person who at this point in your life is THE coolest person ever (even though he ultimately becomes a washed up, bald, fat, cop who cheats on his wife and never leaves the town he grew up in). I digress….

Fast forward to 10 years later. You are working in your career and let’s face it, the rank system is that very similar to high school.

So, one of the senior managers may not be the hot heart-throb from the football team but there’s something about his presence that you feel the need to impress. You feel the need to get the ‘head nod’ or the smile. Why? We are all adults and this isn’t a popularity contest. We aren’t waiting for that ‘super cool’ party invite anymore.

Ok, so let’s suppose we seek this acknowledgment because we want to make a good impression. We eventually want a promotion or to move up in the company so we want to be seen in a good light and recognized for the work we put in.

But let’s face it, that’s not the type of acknowledgement I’m talking about. I don’t know about you but I love the attention. I love when one of my supervisors I do not work directly with gives me a smile and says “Hi Luna”. It brings me back to that immediate freshman year feeling of ‘OMG he knows my name!’

I’m average at best. I have days that I love myself, physically and emotionally and I have days I hate myself. But overall, my life is pretty decent. I have a roof over my head, eat 3 meals a day, not fat (but you can tell I enjoy wine and pizza), I have friends that I spend my weekends with, and have a decent position at work. So why is it that I crave this sort of attention? What is it that we are actually looking for? Trust me, I’m not sexually attracted to my senior manager nor do I fantasize about blowing him behind the bleachers but it gives me that same feeling as freshman year me.

It’s easy to speculate and say it’s because of the society we live in. We are surrounded my narcissistic social media-ites who thrive off of ‘likes’ and followers. It could be because I just got out of what felt like a 100 year relationship. It could be because of some deep-rooted fucked up Freud concept that I want an older man.

However, the question is..is craving attention really a bad thing? Can we put ourselves out there for acknowledgment in a healthy way or will it always stem back to narcissism?

At the end of the day, the only person who can control your happiness and validation is YOU. So I say, fuck the haters- literally if you choose…or not. Because it’s your life, not mine. So seek attention how you please.


Hello, it’s me…

I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet….

Ok, so I’m not Adele but secretly still do love that song and perform a mini concert in my car every time it comes on the radio.

My name, for the purpose of this blog, is Luna. I am here to write about everyday shit. I am the 2018, female Odysseus. For those of you who never read the Odyssey or Iliad, all that means is I am your everyday, average, ‘everyman.’ My Great War is the war amongst myself and the average struggles every late 20’s early 30’s working class, hopeless romantic faces.

If you have ever been a passenger in a car on a rainy day with your head rested against the window and as you looked out you imagined your life was the opening scene to a movie and you picked out the perfect song in your head that would accompany this exact moment, then this blog is for you. And if you haven’t, then what the fuck is wrong with you?…everyone’s done that before.

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