Bikinis weren’t just a functionally attractive item you could slap on and go to the beach in, you had to be bikini ready for them. Essentially, this meant you had to look like a swimsuit model, all flat stomach and no body hair, but do you know how hard that is for an average thin-curvy-sometimes-chubbyish person like me? Do you know how many women and people in general fluctuate on the body spectrum and consistently look far from “perfect?” Do you know how hard it is to feel good about yourself when so many people tell you how far you are from that perfection? Do you know how hard it is for a normal human being, such as myself, to look fine in a bathing suit? I’m not talking like “whoa, she fine,” I’m talking “completely passable in a retro tankini.” I’ll tell you: it’s hard. I have cellulite. I have that little bit of fat that bulges out between my breasts and my armpits. There are things on my body that you can’t just photoshop out. It’s not even like I am sitting on the couch like a giant slug, refusing to move until somebody pours salt on me (although momma told me there would be days like this). I MOVE. I RUN. I am a living, breathing person who puts vegetables into herself, and guess what? She likes going to the beach. So what does she wear? A bathing suit. Fuck it. I might look my best in dark lips, a day old top knot, and a sexy gigantic t-shirt, but I gotta feed my calling to the sea.

And not because I’ve been called a manatee, once, in middle school.

The real question I should have asked is..don’t you ever just want to go to the beach? Cuz I know I do.

Working on my 2nd book and getting totally real in the dieting chapter. This first draft is really coming together, guys!
50 Shades of Bestseller

-rich tortured dude mean to lady in college, a blossoming lady if you will. About to be snipped by a hottie of almost all of her life energy.
-really rude but also buckets of money, which balances out his meanness to a rich sort of mean. Maybe he has a mean mother? Women can be mean too lol
-gruff but also reaches hand out like “don’t leave!”
-but his eyes are so blue, so it’s okay
-you don’t understand, like an ocean blue you get lost in, also devours you and basically is a regular blue. Or maybe grey, I don’t know, you’ve seen many different eyes perhaps you can imagine
-lady is brunette but somehow different in many ways
-different like “holds books” and “drops the books”
-“I don’t know what’s come over me, I keep dropping these books” *bites lip*
-“I will kill you if you stay” lol okay definitely staying
-“nothing much to see here, folks” the whole town says about this guy hovering over a young blossoming woman
-“I wore this new dress for you, it’s silky” “I love you so much now”
-only person who hates sexy rich gruff man is some other man
-“as a man, I know what’s best for you, stay away from him!” “SORRY, I only listen to one man. One man limit here.”
-gruff man takes women out for dinner, so the woman can nibble and find she doesn’t have a taste for wine
-nibble, nibble, can we have sex now?
-I dunno, I have this problem.
-what problem?
-too much money, mean to people. On a side note, what do you think about liberated women or what have maybe you heard about other women
-I dunno, I am surrounded by a lot of older men so cool, let’s do it
-sex is kinda like sex in a real “this is definitely sex” kinda way
-when I was a kid, I thought sex was just grunting in sheets, and that’s what this is
-some problem happens, rich man carries brunette around. Guess he’s okay
-she stays forever, mean guy wins! Men!
-but he’s super nice you don’t even know him
-bites lip

Any recommendations for a natural looking mascara? I like Maybelline's Full 'n Soft, but it smudges like crazy on me.


Meet your best friend: CoverGirl Clump Crusher by LashBlast.  It’s 7.99 or so at most drugstores and is the only mascara I’ve ever used that is actually buildable and natural. Try it in waterproof if you’re used to smudging. Or stop touching your face! Kidding. I’m doing it right now.

One coat of this flubber-colored tube makes you look like you have naturally thick lashes. 3 coats make you look like you’re wearing a coat of mascara. 5 coats and you’re lush and lovely (lush and lovely??? well isn’t this just a BEAUTY BLOG)! It’s my go-to mascara to take with me when I go on weekend trips, because you can really control the type of application you get from it. It’s also the only mascara I’ve had that doesn’t truly clump up when you add more mascara later. You know when you decide to “touch up your makeup” just for the fuck of it, even though you look fine? That always gets me spider clump lashes, but not with this little babe.

You won’t get BA BAM sex mascara eyes from this (but if you use it as a base coat, you can add one coat of another mascara to go from day to night eyes). It’s the Katie Holmes of mascara. Pretty. Next door. Batman saves it.

But holy shit do not get the brush in your eye cuz OMG the most hellfire.

However, if you’re looking for other natural mascaras, try Clinique Naturally Glossy or pretty much any kind from Neutrogena…and if you want super natural lashes, stay away from very black and try a black-brown.

Okay, last reminder that I have a new makeup blog. But the double-hustle gotta start somewhere!

Yoooooooooo…I started a makeup blog, guys! It’s called themakeupcoven because, obviously.

I’ve wanted to start a supplement makeup blog for a long time, simply for the purposes of talking more about makeup without oversaturating The Frenemy with one paragraph reviews about stuff I like or hate. Now that I’m a work-from-home-lemming again, I figured now is the time!

I’ll still be doing sparse makeup posts on here, but head on over to the coven to get more in depth posts and reviews and hopefully, once my second book frenzy dies down, profesh videos.

OH! And I need you guys to help me get this shit off the ground:

Hit my ask box with any makeup related questions you might have or topics you want to see.

Let’s do this! I’m very excited for this project. Let’s all light up some sage and cleanse the new blog or whateva.

Go The Calculated Crazy

Do you feel antsy yet? Can you feel yourself getting older? Are you where you thought you would be?

I know the change real well and it starts to happen around 24. People go “quarter-life” and you feel almost nothing but “yeah, yeah, whatever” and “well, at least it’s not the word millenial” and then you start feeling different. Different meaning smarter, more stable, and deeply, deeply, philosophically panicked. I’m talking the real sweat. I’m talking the whole “I’ve finally realized I’m alive” and the whole “I’ve finally realized I die” and then, the desire to make use of that time in the best way you can.

When I was 21, all I wanted to do was grip onto the cliff and hold on for dear life. All I wanted was the basics: food, air, some solid ground. I’d take any hand that reached out for me. Shitty job, small apartment, tiny paycheck, toes in the water, feeling it all out. Your basic survival story. My Boy Scout badge grew with each small accomplishment: Cool it, mom! I can pay my bills now! I pay em every month! I remember to buy shampoo! I’m just your standard Errand Runner, looking to get home in time to make dinner.

At [21, 22, 23] I was learning how to be a real and functioning human being. I was learning how to balance a fucking checkbook, to stretch out a dollar, to keep my electric and gas running. I was learning how to budget and what to do with brussels sprouts and finding out how I wanted to love and how I wanted to have sex and laundry settings. I was finally throwing out old mascara but still wearing my college clothing. I worked hard to stay alive, to keep my head above the water, to buy a cold beer and feel full in a ratty t-shirt. I was searching to balance fear and contentment with just a little splash of secure.

Honestly, I didn’t ask for much. Nobody expects you to go forth confidently to your dreams at 22, no matter what they say at graduation.

Then, at 25, I found myself no longer at the edge. This surprised me, because I had been doing it for so long, but I guess I had used my body weight to hoist myself up onto steady ground. I’m alive.

It’s not perfect: I’m not rich, I’m still struggling to pay bills, and I could fall back to the edge at any moment, but I’ve relaxed a bit— fell into the rhythm of a frantic heartbeat and the uknown. I know that if I lose my apartment, I can find another one. I know to save money in case if I lose my job. I budget. I even treat myself, sometimes.

But all that relative, minute sense of safety does is make me hungry for more. I stay up late at night, wondering if I am doing my life right. Am I going to regret this? What am I missing out on? And of course, that elusive asshole of a question:

Now what?

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