Fashion Friday: Spring Closet Cleaning

So after that incredibly extended winter that felt as if it would never end and we'd still be wearing tights, boots and wool coats in July ... spring has finally sprung in DC. And really, it fast-forwarded to summer sorta quickly, before settling back into spring temps. It means this post is a little late. Nonetheless, still an important reminder.

I'm off to San Diego today, so I spent last weekend changing my closets over for spring and summer. In my new apartment, I have two wide closets, but with a single door on each. So it means that I can hang almost everything I need to, but that the stuff on the fringes isn't easily accessible. I cycled the cold weather stuff to the outer edges and moved the spring and summer clothes front and center. Same with everything folded on the shelves -- sweaters to the edges, short-sleeve and sleeveless to the middle. And I still have such a ridiculous amount of dresses that I had a bin in my storage unit, so I pulled those out and will trade out the heavy sweater and wool dresses for everything sleeveless, chiffon-y and summer cotton-y.

As for shoes, the boots are stored again for winter. I still have most of my ballet flats front and center, but the bright yellows, pinks and oranges are more easily accessible than my black lace flats, for example. And the closer we get to summer, the more I default to anything peep-toe, strappy or espadrille, so I pulled all of those out of the back of the closet.

I really should have done all of this about a week sooner, because I think it's an important step before you get too far into a new season.

First off, I was able to use the closet switch-a-roo to make a pile of winter clothes I never really wore this season, either because they're too big now or they just aren't my favorites anymore. I'll be taking those to Goodwill next week.

Second, I felt like I was being reunited with a bunch of old friends! It's fun for me to pull out all those sandals from the back of the closet and daydream about sunny days and tan legs and Sunday Fundays to come down on the water. Or to pull my favorite summer dresses out of storage and get excited about wearing them again. (Not gonna pretend I didn't say, "Hey guys, welcome back! Sorry you had to hibernate for so long this time.")

Finally, it's important for me to remember what all I have in the ole wardrobe and take stock of what I need. There's no better way to do this than to pull everything out and take a look at it all. I try to make a list at the start of each season for the staples I know I need to replace or add -- like a new spring trench -- and remember that I already own three grass-green spring dresses ... before I buy myself another.

How do you get your closet ready at the start of a new season?

Happy Friday!

For Whatever Reason

I always think that I have terrible long term memory. It's doesn't feel like I remember lots of things, the things I feel like I should remember, from my youth. But maybe that's how it is for everyone.

Certain memories stick out like the one childhood scar I have over my knee. I have some very young memories that I know I could never forget. The first that always pops to mind is standing in the backyard with my father, on a typical sunny Southern California day, the grass always just a little dry and prickly under my shoes. My brother and I were there together. I don't remember exactly what we were wearing, but we were dressed up. And it wasn't a Sunday, I assume. I don't remember the exact words, which is funny, because what I do remember is that my dad took us out there to tell us that Great-Grandpa had died. And that we were headed to his funeral.

I really don't remember any specifics other than that, but typing that out sends hot tears streaming down my cheeks. That's how it is with me with early memories. They seem few and far between, but are always poignant.

I don't know if it's a matter of getting older or of having a new niece and watching her grow up through texted pictures and short Skype calls, wondering if her early good nature means that she is destined to a peaceful happiness that I never quite seemed to achieve ... but I find myself wondering a lot, was I always like this?

I've realized that I have a strong fear of abandonment. I have no idea where that comes from. I know that I was never so much as forgotten in a grocery store, or some form of other believable childhood trauma that could have set that in my psyche. My parents are high school sweethearts and still together. I had a perfect childhood, from all conventional standards.

I also have a terrible time letting things go. From sentimental keepsakes to relationships with people who once made my heart glow, I feel like I take the loss harder than most people do. I don't bounce back as easily or as quickly. I take a much longer time than others in dragging it out, before finally giving in and giving up.

A close friend recently told me that he sees this in how I interact with those I'm close with. He knows that I'm afraid of people leaving me, for whatever reason, and so I sometimes hold on too tight to those few I do trust and keep close. At the risk of smothering those friendships, almost.

I hated hearing that, but I don't think he's entirely wrong. I feel if I just understood the "for whatever reason" part, I'd be able to correct that about myself.

While I've been thinking about these things lately, I've had the inclination on more than one occassion to quiz my mother. Ask her if I always seemed to struggle with those issues, even as a young child. I haven't actually asked her, probably because I realize the absurdity of those questions or of her reasonable ability to give me answers that would satisfy me.

I guess it's my way of seeking peace. If I can point at my past, give concrete examples and say, "see, I've always been this way" maybe I'll feel less damaged. Maybe I'll feel like that makes it ok. If this is just my nature, the way I was born, I'll feel better about what the future holds. It's certain to all work out for the best, if this is the way God intended.

The alternative, wondering whether it's somehow my fault and questioning whether my life would be in a different place as a result ... I don't know. I suppose we all have our "for whatever reasons" that we might never totally understand.

Also, I'm pretty sure I think about things like this way too much.

Things I Learned Celebrating My Birthday

I turned 34 two weeks ago today. Trust me, there's a whole backlog of blog posts about me pondering life and what's next as I officially crossed into my mid-thirties (34-36, in my opinion). But until then, I'll just say that I had a lot of fun. And maybe learned a couple things.

Somehow in the last year or so, I became a runner. Like, not someone who runs really fast (or fast or moderately fast) or will likely ever sign up for a marathon absent a gun held to my head, but someone who generally enjoys lacing up and getting out there. I hate working out indoors, whether that's running or cycling or whatever, unless some sort of organized class is involved. So basically, that means just outdoor running for me. And I've run in crazy heat and humidity, snow and rain in the last year. That alone is an accomplishment for me. But every time, it makes me feel stronger, more in control of my life. It's as if, for me, I finally found the secret to make it enjoyable.

Anyway. Earlier in the year, I hit a milestone in weight loss for me (50 pounds, you guys!) from work over the last two years or so. The night before my 34th birthday, I tweeted how great it felt to pull on new running pants another size smaller and head out for a run.

I think that all went to my head. To make a long story longer, since my birthday fell in the middle of the week and was preceded by two months of wallowing about getting older before I was finally really excited to celebrate ... I celebrated both the weekend before and the weekend after. And maybe the weekend after that, too. (I blame my mom, it was her idea.)

I drank a lot. And ate a lot. And made lots of after-work plans to meet lots of friends which meant I didn't run a lot. Like maybe twice a week at most for the last several weeks.

I gained 5 pounds back.

But really, the lesson I think I learned is that the weight came from the alcohol, as opposed to what I ate. Except maybe the cake. I'm not a big dessert person. Whenever my good friend is over for wine night, she eventually goes in search of something sweet and comes up empty every time. So, extra alcohol and extra sugar is tough to fight off at age 34. Lesson One.

Lesson Two came from some of those morning-after conversations from the nights where I drank all those calories. You know how you just remember the highlights of drunken conversations? So, recounting those to a friend the day after, I found myself saying, "I have no idea how it came up, but I remember saying ..."

Yeah. I know now what happens in those moments I can't remember. I tell everyone my life story. And then conveniently forget it by the next morning.

"What do you mean when you say, 'You told us all about your insecurities last night?' OMG, please say I didn't say that." And then everyone chuckles. Except me. Because I'm mortified.

But whatever. I made new friends who all think that I think they're my best friend because I trusted them enough to tell them MY WHOLE LIFE STORY. No big deal.

Lesson Three. Life really does seem to keep getting better with each year that goes by. It sure does catch me by surprise though, every time.

Three lessons. That's enough learning.

Weather Blues

Punxsutawney Phil is on my shit list.

If you didn't know, the fabled groundhog predicted an early spring this year. It's March 21 and I wore a scarf, gloves and wool coat today and I was still cursing myself for not bringing earmuffs or a hat, because the wind is bitter cold. ON MARCH 21.

I've never doubted people who claimed they have SAD, or Seasonal Affective Disorder, which is basically mild depression brought on by the winter months. But this year has made me a truer believer. I don't know what it has been about this winter, but everyone I talk to just feels like they've been in a funk. We didn't have a particularly harsh winter in D.C. -- hardly any snow -- but the cold temperatures have just felt like they've dragged on and on ... and on.

I gave up on looking at the extended forecast. The last time I did, and saw snow in our forecast once we'd officially be in spring, I commented, "I bet suicides are gonna go up if this continues." And then, ya know, I decided maybe that wasn't such a healthy way of thinking, so I stopped checking.

BUT SERIOUSLY COULD WE GET SOME SUNSHINE AND WARM TEMPERATURES??

I want to wear my new spring trench and carry my new yellow bag! I want to wear ankle pants with ballet flats in, say, APRIL and not worry that my ankles will get frostbit! I want to look forward to my runs after work, because I get to dress in running capris and tshirts instead of bundling up with gloves and a jacket! I WANT TO FEEL THE SUN ON MY FACE AND GET A LITTLE COLOR IN MY CHEEKS.

I'm losing my mind, for reals. I've become obsessed. I can't talk about anything else. EVERY conversation I have devolves into, "WHEN is spring coming?!?" I would say that it makes me feel crazy, but everyone I know feels the same way. We're all frustrated. We're all impatient. We're all tired of sitting around in our sweatpants and long sleeves, looking out the window at grey skies, waiting for spring to come calling.

It's more frustrating than waiting on a man to call, times at least one hundred. I mean, you can't even send a passive-aggressive text message to spring, asking if it just got so tied up surfing the internet that it forgot you existed.

Or I guess you can, maybe that's what Twitter is for.

But seriously, if anyone knows of a more reliable source than Punxsutawney Phil, I'd love to hear from them. Because I can't handle much more of this.

Fashion Friday: How NOT to Give a Faux Compliment

There are many areas of my life in which I use the phrase: It's best not to reward bad behavior. I think this is especially important in fashion and beauty. But as women, I also think we struggle with it, handing out faux compliments left and right.

We're used to men not noticing our new shoes or slightly different haircut. You know that's true. If you've been in a relationship long enough, you've had at least one moment of exasperation when you wonder if he's ever going to notice your suuuuuper cute new flats! Or even at work, there's always that one man after you've had a drastic new haircut who just looks at you and says, "there's something different, you just look different today ..." Yeah dude, my hair is five inches shorter. Way to put your finger on it.

As women, we're trained to notice these things. We instantly know when a coworker has dyed her hair or tried styling her bangs just a little bit different. And I'll notice your cute new flats before I'll remember whether it's Tuesday or Wednesday, trust me.

So here's why I think we're inclined to give faux compliments when men can just keep their mouths shut. Because we're women, we do notice each new thing ... and we know that woman knows we noticed and expects us to say something, to acknowledge it at the very least.

That's why, especially at work, we walk around lying to each other every day. "You cut your hair? It looks so good!" ... "New shoes, I love them!" ... "Your top is so cute!"

Stop it.

It's not easy though. It's just what we're inclined to do, as women. I struggle with it all the time. A woman in the office came in with a drastic new haircut recently and it was TERRIBLE. It was doing her no favors whatsoever. I found myself struggling not to say something, to at least let her know that I noticed, but I didn't want to tell her it looked good. Because it didn't.

So it got me thinking -- how do we avoid giving a faux compliment that might just reinforce bad behavior? 

1. Say "Oh, you got your haircut this weekend?" and don't immediately follow-up with, "it looks so great!" Let the person tell their story and just listen. You can acknowledge the change, be polite, listen and not give a fake compliment.

2. Say, "Hey, new shoes! I need to do some shopping myself!" Easy little female camaraderie without pretending that you think her shoes are cute when she clearly got them from the "comfortable shoes" section.

3. Don't say anything at all. But this one is hardest for me.

A little Sassy tip: While I'm sometimes a faux compliment offender, if I really like what you're wearing, I'll usually emphasize the compliment a second time. Ten minutes later ... "I really do love that skirt, where'd you get it anyway?"

Happy Friday!

Breaking Up Isn't Like the Movies

Breakups are the worst. Yes, there are starving children across the globe, disabled war veterans readjusting to a life they never imagined, countless homeless citizens who are about to face a snowstorm outdoors while the rest of us just worry about whether or not we'll have a day off work ... Whenever I'm feeling low, I try to remember that any hurt I'm feeling is a fraction of that which people struggle with, and survive, on a daily basis. There is always always always someone who has it worse than whatever you are going through that might feel insurmountable at the time.

All the same, your pain is your pain, whether it's dwarfed by someone else's or not. And breakups are a universal pain that we all seem to understand. They suck.

I'm not talking about just the end of a three-date adventure that you thought had legs. Or the end of a fling with that guy you would just make out with in his car once a week. You know the kind of breakup I mean. The end of something that seemed real, lasting, that thing you might have been looking for all this time.

Am I the only one that can watch a movie or tv breakup, see the girl curled up on her couch in three layers of blankets with an ocean of used tissues beside her, indulging in takeout Chinese and Ben & Jerry's with a Lifetime Movie Marathon ... and somehow romanticize that? I know that sounds nuts. But whenever I imagine having to get through a breakup, I kinda think, "oh, it's ok, I'll just be that girl and self-indulge for a few days and it will feel soooo good in the long run":

Because she looks like she is having so much fun.

The real truth is that breakups are messy and nothing like that romanticized vision in my head. I'm a smart girl, I should know this. And really, I do know this. There is no magical moment of awakening, where the thirty-seventh listen of Sara Evans' "A Little Bit Stronger" suddenly heals your heart and you spend the next twenty-two hours cleaning and organizing your apartment from top to bottom, lose fifteen pounds, and open your closet to find a brand-new wardrobe.

In the reality of my life, breakups mean constant, nonstop, painstaking questioning and over-analysis. If you think you've ever beaten a dead horse, I promise that I can take you.

And I know it doesn't help that I usually remain friends with my exes. Sometimes it's my idea, other times, like this time, the guy pushes for it and I rarely turn it down.

Other times still, there are (bitter) third parties involved who make the healing process unnecessarily messy. I've tried to be the bigger person in this breakup and to not share or voice hurtful things about someone else, despite the equivalent being done to me ... but sometimes it's tough. My patience wears thin.

And yet, just like everything else in life, it seems that when I finally realize that the romanticized view is just that -- not real, not likely, not worth putting your life on hold for -- that's when I can finally get with it and move on.

But I still listen to "A Little Bit Stronger" most days. Usually also Taylor Swift's "Begin Again." I guess that means there's at least a spark of hope left in my heart. And I listen to them while running most nights, because let's be real, Ben & Jerry's just makes your ass bigger, nothing else.

Happy Valentine's Day, Lovers.

I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love Valentine's Day. Truly, madly, deeply.

It starts when the aisles of Target and CVS fill up with everything red, pink and heart-shaped. I seriously can't resist heart-shaped votive candles, I don't know about you guys.

And I try to make myself wait until February 1 to do this to my front door and apartment:

I do get a little annoyed with all the engagement ring commercials. And live engagements on tv. And announcements on my Facebook timeline.

But then I start using my pink mugs for coffee on the weekends and before I know it, I'm sitting down on a Sunday night with hot cocoa to make homemade valentines.

Sure, people hate on Valentine's Day. It's silly in a lot of ways, we all know that. But what's wrong with designating a day to be extra sure that we show how much we care for the ones we love? Single or attached, it's a good day to remember everything you do have in your life. Even if you should also do that every other day of the year.

Last night I had a little date. This morning I woke up way too early to meet a friend for a swim date and feel amazing as a result. I have lunch plans with a friend I desperately need to catch up with. And I have plans tonight with another friend that really are about becoming better friends ... but happen to also promise a little eye candy for me with sweaty men fighting each other.

I've been moping lately, for sure. But today I just feel lucky for the people I do have in my life. Friends I'm close enough with to say that I love them. Family, including a new niece, that is healthy and happy. Reasons to get up and smile in the morning.

And I just texted my parents to wish them a Happy Anniversary. They're in Vegas for the week, high school sweethearts still totally in love. I told them to have a wonderful day and that I hope to someday have what they have.

I love love. I just do. I love it all.

Hope you all enjoy this day as much as I do. And if you don't ... well, it'll be over in a few short hours. Hang in there. :)

Happy Valentine's Day!