The Sleeveless Question

I don’t do sleeveless.

For me, it’s about picking my battles.  I can deal with a certain number of snarky comments about my body per day.  Short shorts and sleeveless tops always take it over the line.  I’ve heard too many heartless words about the appearance of upper arm fat to tempt that sort of ire.

I nitpick clothing to ensure it has the proper amount of coverage, that it won’t betray my arm’s dimples and wiggles.  I treat sleeve length with the same scrutiny I give the fall of a top’s waist line–heat of summer be damned, I try to placate the social norm that fat girls should keep their body’s many lumps and jiggles under wraps.  I know well that the more you notice me, the more you scrutinize me, your head repeating the same ego-tearing mantras that have been fed to me.  You’re thinking that cellulite is the devil, why doesn’t she choose more “flattering” clothes, body rolls are shameful and why doesn’t she just exercise more or show more self-control.

I could lose 100 pounds and still, someone would think my arms were too fat for sleeveless.  In fact, if I did lose 100 pounds right now, the skin would sag and hang from my bones, flapping in the breeze.  I probably couldn’t even wear t-shirts in public without getting some kind of heartless comment about the way my flesh piled up when faced with gravity.

That’s the thing that stings most.  Even if I somehow brought my body to an acceptable weight, I’d still be somebody’s horror story, somebody’s “I hope I never look like that.”  I would still have bad teeth, a fat tummy, red-spotted legs and a too-long chin.  I would still feel the nerve-shattering paranoia that anything I wear will offend you, will make you say those words that are in your head.

Sometimes, I see pretty dresses and think how nice it would be to get dressed up and go out for dinner for once.  But then I panic.  That dress doesn’t have sleeves, and because it doesn’t have sleeves, it will make you wonder why I’m even at this restaurant  shouldn’t I be on a treadmill?  I see cute tops and I can almost feel the breeze on my shoulders when I’m driving down the road with my windows down, but I don’t want to hear your cat-calls and rude words when I pull up to the red light.  I see swimsuits and I long to be a summertime mermaid, but I hear over and over in my head–”whale”.

I wish it were all in my head.  But I promise you, if I showed up in a sleeveless shirt, you’d shudder at my “armpit fat” and flour sack arms.  You’d swallow back a measure of bile and itch to talk about it to someone–anyone.  You’d find your head repeating for you the words that stunt you, the words that keep you from living exactly as you’d like to live, the words that you wrongly believe are making you happy.  And next time you’d go to put on a sleeveless shirt, you’d pause.

Ipsy Bag Review: May 2013

The Bag/Theme: VERY cute, loved that it was blues and orange.  I’m not a fan of pink.  The theme was “Spring Fling”, which I feel is a little late for the season and a very UGH phrase, anyway.  This is the FIRST bag where they’ve confirmed that they chose products based on our website profiles.

Under the cut, because I know some of you don’t care.

The Kickstarter Debate

I believe that the democracy of Kickstarter is very real.  People get to determine if a project is worth funding, and they get to decide what the project is worth to them.

Like democracy, some people will always have a leg up.  People who are already wealthy and influential will find it easier to spread the word about their Kickstarter projects.  It will be easier for them to get funded.

But that doesn’t mean their projects will always be funded.  Bjork may not be the world’s biggest celebrity, but she has the channels to reach a lot of people.  Still, her project failed.  Why?  It was vague, expensive and poorly promoted.  Compare that to Amanda Palmer’s Kickstarter, which was fairly detailed, offered a lot of incentives, was originally a low funding goal and was promoted constantly.  Bjork is a major-label and ultimately wealthier celebrity, but Palmer won by sheer brute force.

A lot of controversy has arisen over the Veronica Mars movie Kickstarter and the Zach Braff film project.  The Veronica Mars project ultimately channels money to a studio that abandoned the series and it’s been argue that Braff could’ve funded the thing out of pocket and wouldn’t have felt even the slightest of dings in his wallet.

The big argument is–should rich people be allowed to crowdsource?

I say yes.  If people are willing to give an already incredibly wealthy person their money, then that’s democracy at work. If we’re going to argue what’s “right” here, we’re having the wrong discussion.  The point of crowdsourcing is that it’s up to the people holding the cash.  It may be foolish to channel that money into wealthy pockets, but ultimately, it’s not your decision.  It’s the backers’ decision.  Everyone has a right to access the platform.

Trying to discern, as a rule, who can ask for funding or what the project has to be like for it to be acceptable is a muddy area.  Would it be wrong for the Gates Foundation to start a Kickstarter?  Kim Kardashian?  A famous blogger?  That kid you know from art class?  All of them might have the capital on hand to pay for the project out of pocket.  What is an artist’s financial obligation to their work?

I think the best way to combat celebrity overuse of crowdfunding is to spread the word about worthwhile projects.  For every mega-budget celebrity crowdfund project, there are thousands of smaller projects, hoping for attention.  Give it to them.  Even if you can’t contribute, your reTweet or blog post could make a huge difference.

And I’m not saying “shut up about those celebrity Kickstarters”.  If you have strong distaste for a Kickstarter project, tweet at its founder and discourage friends from laying down cash.  But I’d argue that celebrity Kickstarters have helped make Kickstarter a part of our lexicon and added legitimacy to what seemed like a fishy enterprise on the outset, so I don’t think they’re necessarily “wrong”.

Ordering Glasses on the Internet

The Mister and I just completed orders for prescription glasses on the internet, so I thought I’d share our experience.  For anyone who’s in doubt about making the leap, the tl;dr of my verdict: if you have a single vision prescription, DO IT NOW–otherwise, maybe.

I have vision insurance, he does not.  My first pair of glasses from the optometrist ended up costing me +/- $60 out of pocket, my second pair was more like $90 (even though the frames were cheaper–say what!)  I’ll continue to make use of my vision insurance (the eye exam is free and I get $120 toward the glasses, so why not?)  But ordering glasses online gives me access to a wider selection of frames.  I’m really picky about what I put on my face–anything that comes in on my cheeks creates the illusion that they’re about a million miles wide.  My Mister, on the other hand, has a face that can wear anything (the wee bastard.)  But without vision insurance, there’s no way he was going to plunk down cash at the optometrist.

He first cabbaged in on Coastal.com‘s alleyway drug dealer offer of “the first one’s free“.  He got these guys in “rootbeer”–the total on the order came out to $17 shipping.  Not too shabby. The shipping seemed fast–not more than a week, if I recall.  When they arrived, the frames were definitely MUCH darker than the picture shows, even on the models.  Still, they’re really handsome on him and the lenses seem to be of really nice quality.  They came with a repair kit, a nice case and a cleaning cloth.  Would we buy them at full price?  Eh.  Not so much.  But if you don’t have vision insurance, you know $99 for a pair of glasses isn’t exactly highway robbery.

We placed an order together on Zenni Optical (link).  We got four pairs of glasses for $50–no coupon codes.  I got these, he got these and we each ordered a cheap pair of frames as prescription sunglasses.  The shipping process seemed to take forever (they hung on the status “manufactured” for several days.)  The quality of the lenses is definitely less than Coastal’s–they have a bit of lens glare at night and they feel more plasticy.  The sunglasses I’m torn on.  First of all, you can get sunglass tinting for $5 from these guys, which is cheaper than anywhere else I’ve seen.  However, they recommend you get 80% tint.  With the grey tint, it’s incredibly dark and appears totally black to anyone looking at me–and everything gets a blue tinge.  With the brown tint, everything gets a green tinge but it’s a bit more transparent.  Still, it’s an awesome bargain and I’m pleased with what I got.  Having learned those facts, my next order will be perfecto (and I’ll probably shill out the extra $5 for anti-glare coating.)  These came with pretty terrible cases (not that I’ve ever used glasses cases in my life) and cleaning cloths.

That’s the single-vision review, which is totally a DO IT NOW.

For anyone with bifocals/progressives, compact lenses or any other need?  Maybe.  Adding on that expense can take the cost up a fair bit.  For bifocals/progressives on Zenni, it’s around $30 and for Coastal, I’ve read that it’s +/- $100.  Coastal does include some premium coatings with the price and they often run sales, so you might come out ahead on that cost.  I think it makes sense to just sit down and build a pair of glasses on one of these sites and figure out the total cost, then compare that to what you’d get at the optometrist–bearing in mind that these sites don’t accept any form of insurance, it’s probably a tossup.

Better

“Dootsie,” she sighed. “I’m 26.”

I shrugged. I’d come to terms with my quarter-life crisis already. I knew where her mental spiral was headed.

She looked flustered. She wondered aloud if she was doing it right, if she was successful enough, if she was doing okay. She reasoned that she was doing far “better” than most of her family and certainly worlds better than anyone ever expected of her.

I’d already decided a long time ago that success is completely relative. Was I where my mother hoped I’d be by now? No, but I realized that I probably wouldn’t get there by fifty, so who cares? Was I doing better than I imagined as a kid? Even in my wildest dreams as a child, my life mysteriously blinked out of existence at 21—so yeah, I’d say so. Was I doing better than my peers? Some yes, some no.

What the does “better” even entail?

It’s one of those things that you know it when you see it, but asked to define it, you’re stumped. I couldn’t put my finger on better, but I know when I feel it. Ask me to find better in a mall and I probably could, but ask me to find it in my life and I might flounder.

I feel like a jerk when I compare my life apples-to-apples with someone else’s. I do it sometimes and I remind myself of how little I need and how little I am in need. I immediately feel guilty for positioning the state of my life above someone else’s, though. Sometimes, I compare my life to someone else’s and end up feeling hollow, jealous, bitter or frustrated. I feel like I no longer understand my values and doubt my own contentment.

Better For Me is a concept I’ve had to invent for myself. Ultimately, the life I live should make me as happy as possible, should be in agreement with my values and should be 100%, authentically my own. I shouldn’t work to suit anyone else’s notion of better: I should make choices that are Better For Me, my needs and my goals.

I can’t hold anyone else to the Better For Me standard because it’s my own, specific to my own circumstances and priorities—theirs are different, and they can keep ‘em. When someone tries to hold me to their standard, I can shake it off with confidence because I’ve made the conscious choice to exclude their values from my consideration. (Which I realize may sound harsh, but usually when someone wants to bug me about my life, it’s because they’re valuing Appearances, Possessions, Career or Tradition much differently than me.)

Better For Me isn’t necessarily about avoiding doing “worse”, either. If my life veers away from the ideal, I’m not doing life wrong. I’m allowed to have difficulties because life is difficult. So long as I am certain that I am doing the best I can at making Better For Me choices, I am not failing. While this doesn’t (and couldn’t!) free me from worry, it does free me from second-guessing myself.

My roommate shifted her weight to one foot and her eyes flicked away from nothing to land squarely on mine. I recognized the conflict in her eyes. With a little uncertainty in her voice, she asked, “Are we doing okay?”

I laughed. “Better than okay.”

Dear Google Chrome Team,

I work on a Mac at work.  This is not my choice–it’s the computer my boss purchased for me.  I really kinda hate it, but here we are.

I work in publishing.  The company that prints our magazine uses a highly technical system that’s continually updated to the latest specs and is Java based.

Do you know where I’m going with this already?

I love Chrome.  I’ve been a Chrome devotee since I first heard whisperings that Google would be developing a web browser.  I jumped on board because I knew you would break the mold.  I knew you would insist on something sleek, something user-friendly, something secure and something that would always surf just ahead of the curve.  And I wasn’t disappointed!  I got that exact experience for many years, and it led me to sing your praises much and often.  (I even created a shortcut that looked like an IE icon that opened up Chrome so my parents would be tricked into using you, instead.)

But now I’m stuck in a very difficult position.  See, I need to update Java.  I have to in order to be able to use the software that my magazine publisher uses.  And it’s smart for me to update Java, since there are security breeches in the 32-bit Java 6.

And it looks like you’re willing to let me leave you behind.  That makes me really sad, Chrome.

The onus is on you to make Chrome a 64-bit browser.  And it looks like you’re not going to do it, at least not anytime soon.  Your help pages tell me to keep Java 6 if I want to stay with you, but there’s not even a hint that you’re interested in fixing the issue (if you’re planning a fix someday, PLEASE let me know!)   I can’t be mad at Java; they’re (for once) on the right side of this issue.  The fact is, 64-bit is an inevitability, a future I always imagined you’d be at the forefront of.  I’m a little confused how some of your employees aren’t having this problem, never mind a fairly sizable chunk of your users.

I resisted moving to Java 7 for months now, Chrome, on the hope that you’d come along with me for the ride.  But you’ve chosen to stay behind.  So I have to move on.

I’m really going to miss you, Chrome.  I hope we can hang out again really soon.

About That Episode of Glee…

First let me say that I haven’t really been watching this season of Glee.  I caught up on a few episodes on the DVR, and it felt very strongly like a show holding on to the shark it just jumped.

So they did a school shooting episode.  Before I watched it, all I’d heard was that it felt to blog readers like a stunt.  Having finally seen it, I really agree.

The terror is very real for the students while they wait for the “all clear” and the aftermath feels true.  I give the show this much credit; they’ve tapped into the experience on some level.

But it wasn’t a real shooting.  That’s what doesn’t match up to reality.

Closer to reality would have been to have one of the Glee kids walk into the bathroom and be face-to-face with a student holding a gun, contemplating their next move (happened to a former coworker of mine.)  Closer to reality would have been to have the kid in the texting relationship show up and be shot by a foe or jealous ex.  Closer to reality would have been a random drive-by shooting.  Closer to reality would have been a shooter blindly firing on students and faculty alike.  Closer to reality would have been a student bringing a gun to school and never removing it from their backpack, so no one ever knows the gun is so close.  Closer to reality would have been watching this happen to another school on TV, helpless and afraid.

Becky, a senior with Down Syndrome who is afraid to graduate and be on her own, brings a gun into the school and shows it to Coach Sue.  She accidentally fires it once while handling it (believable–it happens), then drops it, causing an accidental discharge (not believable–most recently-produced handguns prevent this from happening.  Some older models may be subject to this, but that’s an issue for the props department.)

Becky’s motivation for bringing the gun into the school just didn’t add up for me; she was afraid of the real world after high school.  McKinley is her home, her safe place.  It’s what’s out there that she needs the gun for.  While most gun-related incidents aren’t exactly well thought-out, I just didn’t buy it.  Why show it to Sue?  Becky shares everything with Sue, they speak freely together–there was no reason for her fears to reach a crisis point.

If this episode had happened before Newtown, it would feel like an acceptable launching board for in-home discussion about guns and school shootings.  But the proximity does, in fact, make it feel like a stunt (compounded by the fact that this episode was written, then filmed possibly months ago.)  There will be no lasting implications or hanging heartache.  That’s not reality.  Glee isn’t exactly known for its believability, but if you try your hand at something very serious, you need to commit.  And this episode didn’t.

Do I think the right answer would’ve been to have an actual shooting where a character (or many) is forever, definitely gone?  No.  But I don’t think this was the right way, either.

Ipsy Bag Review: April 2013

The Bag: This bag is a white textured material with a pink zipper, and a pink striped silk lining.  I don’t think white bags and makeup mix well, so I probably won’t use this.  Cute, though!

Two Cosmetics Duo Eyeshadow in Heartache: I think pink eyeshadow is underused.  These were two colours that didn’t seem to go well together in the pan.  One looks slightly on the orange side of pink and the other is a pearly cool pink.  They both were different when swatched… under the cut we go!

Yours, Mine and Whose: What my breakup taught me about taking

First, there was That Damn Buffet.  We knew it belonged solely to me, but I spent nearly an hour staring at it in its spot, dreading the lift onto the moving truck.  It was a family heirloom that I treasured, yet I felt like begging him to keep it.  It had been passed around my family, pawned off on whoever happened to have the space to keep it.  It would take most of a U-Haul trip on its own.  I took it anyway.

Then, there was the TV.  He got a giant flat-screen delivered weeks ago, so there was no reason I shouldn’t take it.  I needed a TV.  I didn’t want to buy one.  But I felt bad.  It was his—he’d had it for years.  The damn thing was covered in dust, but I still couldn’t convince myself that I should take it.  I did anyway.

There were the dishes and the cookware.  Some were mine, some were his, some I’d bought for “us”, some he’d bought for “us”.  I needed them all—rather, I wanted them all, would use them all, would never buy them for myself. It took careful thought to divvy them, to determine which house would keep which pot, which cookie sheet, which serving spoon.  I mourned each piece I decided was his, but I split them anyway.

There was the bedroom.  The bed and dresser were his.  I’d bought the delicious down bedspread, the curtains, the table.  What would I do with these things in an apartment that didn’t need them?  I wanted to take them.  I left them anyway.

There was the guest bedroom.  I wanted to take an entire room with me!  Everything belonged to me, of course, but I could barely believe that I was taking it all.  I knew in my heart that the room would never find a proper purpose in my absence.  I wasn’t going to leave it, anyway.

There was everything.  When I felt quite certain that I’d packed up everything I could, I thought about the house itself and the relationship.  I’d never felt like the house had been a thing that belonged to me.  In some way, maybe the relationship had never quite been mine, either.  I’d fallen in love as a girl and now I felt so far from that person that I couldn’t hold on.  The house echoed with promises of marriage, of babies, of the life I was planning.  I knew if I begged hard enough, I could call the whole thing off and stay; things would fall back into normalcy.  But I’d already packed my love up a long time ago.  I’d taken too much for too long and there was nothing I could do to make that right again.  So I left anyway.

Ipsy March 2013: Anchors Aweigh!

The Bag - Very cute nautical print, but it felt a little flimsy.  Not sure how much I’d use this in my purse.  I prefer slightly more durable bags because I’m pretty rough on my stuff!

The Shipping - The tracking reports that they shipped the piece on the 6th, but I didn’t get the code until the 9th.  It was handled by DHL this time, and the piece seemed to move pretty slow.  It arrived at the airport early in the morning on the 8th, but didn’t leave until the 9th and I didn’t receive it until the 11th.  Meh for this month.

Glam Rx Mini Freestyle Palette - I didn’t know that THIS is what I’ve been looking for in an interchangeable palette until I had it in my hands.  It’s a little bigger than a credit card and fairly slim.  It’s perfect for dropping in a few pans and actually taking with you!  I think this was actually created especially for Ipsy subscribers, and I think it’s exactly the sort of thing brands should be doing.  It’s a great taste of what your brand can do and something they’ll actually use–keeping your logo in their bag.  The magnet seems to be plenty strong and the mirror is great.

yaby Eyeshadow Refill - Perfect coordinating on Ipsy’s part.  Yes, DO give us eyeshadow pans when you give us an interchangeable palette.  I got a tealy-green and a pretty muted goldenrod.  These are still confusingly similar to the Coastal Scents shades I got–I’m curious about how Ipsy chooses the sample shades now.  These have great colour payoff even without primer.  They’re a bit small, but it’s a nice sample size.

Juice Beauty Hydrating Mist - I could smell this as soon as I opened my bag.  None had leaked, but it was a nice surprise.  It’s sort of herby and cirtusy on me.  I wouldn’t spray this on my face–sneeze much?–but it would be okay in my hair.  This had pretty decent staying power.  I don’t know about the “hydrating” part of the equation–I didn’t see or feel much difference.  I probably wouldn’t buy this, but it’s a nice freebie.

LA Fresh travel-lite Makeup Remover Wipes - These are okay face wipes.  They did a pretty good job of removing the green eyeshadow, which I think is a pretty solid measure of a wipe’s cleaning ability!  I noticed a powder fresh scent when I opened them, but no smell really seemed to come with the wipe or stay behind.  No stickiness afterward, which I’ve noticed with some wipes.

The Overall: I really liked this bag for the eyeshadow and palette.  I feel like ipsy needs to communicate how beneficial it is for a brand to represent themselves creatively.  Obviously, generating BRAND NEW products for the ipsy bags isn’t always feasible, but it definitely excites me as a potential customer more than something I could get anywhere.  Show me why your brand is unique!