realizations

I’d like to say a few words about…double stick tape.

I went through a period in the mid nineties of dressing, well, like a tramp. All thigh-high slits and escaping tits.

Hence, double stick tape became my indispensable wingman.

You see, the pendulum had swung ALLLLLL the way to the other extreme.

It had followed my monk phase. The five years or so where I denied my ample bosom. Previous to that I was somehow blissfully oblivious.

During this phase my boobs, seeming as big as my head, felt too large for my frame, getting in the way of my arms, hiding my feet, changing the channel on the remote if I sneezed — so I basically bound them.

Figures, right?

Everyone wants tits except the ones who have them. Let me just say right here, they are a huge responsibility and most people don’t realize the implications.

Mine were “real and they were spectacular” to quote the famous Seinfeld episode. Unlike me, my breasts actually received a thank you note in the mail for their spectacularness. No kidding.

But they were wasted on me. Until I learned to embrace my bussomy-ness. Hey listen, when your boobs get mail it makes you pay attention.

So this could either be a “the grass is always greener” story or “appreciate the gifts you’re given” tome.

Instead it’s an homage to double stick tape. The disasters it keeps from happening and the secrets it keeps hidden.

But what exactly IS the deal with double stick tape?
The application is tricky at best and an amateur hour shit-fest at worst.

Kind of like false eyelashes, which I have also mastered.

Here’s the thing: it’s all an illusion.
Kind of like Spanx.

Double stick tape;
false eyelashes;
and Spanx.

Ladies and Gentleman, it’s astounding! It’s confounding! Watch and see if you can figure out just how she does it!

My waaaay-too-short skirt and cleavage down-to-there are masterfully taped so as to only imply indecency; they keep all my bits in place yet they tease and taunt you into thinking you just may see…something…

The eyelashes; if you take the time to learn how to apply them (it took me weeks — everyday) look like you have a lifetime supply of Latisse and you spend an hour and a half in a magnifying mirror getting your fifteen coats of mascara just right. Who’s got that kind of time?

VPL? Visible pantie lines? Not his girl.
No thigh jiggle, no belly wiggle, and no deep breaths. Oxygen deprived. For a decade. Ahhhhh…how I hate you — fucking Spanx.

It looks from the outside like it’s all a walking work of perfection. And there’s the story.

Nothing ever is. Perfect that is.

If the tape lifts, the lashes peel or the Spanx fail — the jig is up.

Just know that the next time you observe “perfection”. It’s a labor intensive magic trick.

Post Script: The other day I used the last of my double stick tape to anchor the corner of a rug. My how times have changed.

Carry on,
xox

Dearest, Darling Failure,

Do you mind if I call you by that name?

I realize it’s much more politically correct to refer to you as re-direction, contrast, un-met goals, course correction,
blah, blah,blah.

I admit, you do possess ALL of those more soul soothing attributes; but let’s be honest here, let’s call a spade, a spade.

You are greatly under-appreciated but let me be clear — No One wants you around!

When shit hits the fan, when careers crash and burn, when marriages end, when we get fired, sued, or otherwise fucked over, when things in our lives fracture and give way under stress, it’s YOUR face we all see at the scene of the crime.

In any case; I’ve come to know you well over the past few years and – well – I’ve fallen for you….
Hard.

I don’t mean to sugar coat things, but you came into my life with the face of my foe; and you have become my friend.

You shook things up for me BIG TIME.
You took my tiny Etch A Sketch of a life, with all of it’s perfectly drawn straight lines, and you hurled it into an F-five tornado.

But I love you for that, ya big lug.

Just uttering your name, failure, can definitely set a negative tone and cause anxiety; please don’t take it personally, we just don’t want you in our lives and when you do show up – we’re afraid you’ll never leave.

But truth be told, you are just as fleeting as success, THAT you’ve taught me.

When you are standing next to me knee-deep in the rubble of my life, you know what I do the next day?
I get up and put one foot in front of the other, each step moving me forward.

You know what I do the days success holds my hand?
I get up, put one foot in front of the other and move forward with my life.

Success has its value don’t get me wrong, but you, failure, your lessons have marked me deeply and profoundly, and I love you for that.

Success never caused me to grow, gave me depth or made me an internally richer person. 

But by God, you have failure.

Success made me lazy, afraid to try new things and take chances.

You gave me a glimpse of my true nature. You have delivered to me some of my most agonizing moments, but they have transformed me.
You made me better. Better in business, better in life. A better friend, sister and wife.

Damn it, I love you man.

We all go to extraordinary lengths to avoid you, I know I did, but I realize now that was a mistake.
It’s like trying to avoid aging, which is a similar double-edged sword, and just as futile.
There are as many benefits to be gained from failure as there are from growing old, and BOTH are a privilege.

I truly love you failure
If you had not come into my life when you did, I would not be the person I am today.

Big hug and a sloppy kiss,

We’ve all failed at something, What have you learned from your failure?
Do you agree that it’s made you a better person? All the action happens in the comments below, don’t be shy, your feedback could help someone.

Xox