When I was in highschool, I didn't really have a curfew. Mostly, my parents just trusted me not to do anything too stupid.
...And they knew that if I did, I would end up telling them anyway. My mom and I were pretty tight.
So yup, no curfew. But I told my friends I had one. It was my excuse to get out of things, because this:
Just isn't as socially acceptable as this:
I was pretty shy, but I managed to find an awesome group of outgoing friend to hang out with.
And when that awesome group of friends had crazy plans? I would run it by my mom before I went.
"Hey mom? My friends are going skinny dipping this weekend at the cabin. Just girls, and Jessica's mom will be there. It's kind of her idea. What do you think?"
"Go for it."
That weekend 6 of us stood staring at Lake Michigan in the moonlight.
"Ok girls, start stripping."
Jessica's mom was really young when she had her, and she was more like an older sister.
"But, what about that bar?"
The beach was right next to a bar and grill, and we were worried that someone would come outside and see us.
"It's ok. I'll watch your clothes."
So we shrugged our shoulders, and shucked off our clothing. I remember running to the water, screaming "Don't look at me!" at the top of my lungs.
Skinny dipping was awesome. And cold. Mostly cold. But when you are 15, you're willing to overlook the small things (like hypothermia) for the sake of the adventure.
A few minutes later Kelly asked "Hey wait, where did Jess's mom go?"
We all turned towards the beach. The empty beach.
"Oh shit!"
We struggled to the shore, cursing under our breath. When we got there, we found a single towel, and a note.
And that is how I ended up wrapped in a towel with 6 other girls, butt naked, sneaking past a bar in the middle of the night.
It was terrifying.
We couldn't stop giggling.
And Jessica's mom? She was laughing so hard, she couldn't drive home.
I could walk...but you guys know me better than that. I always hitch a ride.
A few weeks ago, a bunch of The Wives went to a late night movie. Since it was so late, I assumed everybody would dress comfortably, and I wore my pajamas.
....Yeah. Either their PJ's are a whole lot trendier than mine, or I somehow missed the "dress up as cute as possible" memo.
There's something you should know about me. If you have some kind of crazy scheme, and you need a partner in crime? I'm the one to come to.
So when everybody piled into 2 cars for the ride back, and we started racing, and Amber shouted "Moon them Helena!" you know what I did.
I'm not proud of it.
No, I didn't pull my pants down. But I did stick my butt out the window and dance around a little.
"Oh my gosh!" "Niiiice" "Is that Helena?" I heard from the other car.
"Quick! Roll up the window! Roll up the window!" I cried, diving onto the floor. "I don't want them to know it was me!"
The other girls in my car were dying of laughter.
"Hurry!!!"
"But Helena, you're the only one wearing pajama pants!"
...Oh yeah. Huh.
"Tami! Lets switch pants!"
She didn't go for it.
And I? Now have a reputation that I am kind of proud ashamed of, and I think I gave the new girls the wrong impression of me.
Or, rather, the right impression, which I was hoping to reveal gradually, and only after they are familiar with my good points.
It's like college all over again.
I just hope they respect me in the morning.
(If you are curious about my college promiscuity, you can read this post. And for an extremely awkward story about my Dad walking in on me and a guy in bed, you can go here.)
It was our junior year of college, and we had just moved from a really ghetto apartment to a pretty ghetto apartment. It was a step up, if you didn't count the shower (which was more like cement a hole in the wall with a drain than an actual "shower").
Kendar took one look at this place, and announced that she loved us, but not that much, and she was moving into a condo.
Nessa was taking the Fall semester off, to spend with her family back in Texas.
The rest of us all piled into the small 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, 6 girl apartment.
It was crowded.
The three random girls who moved in with us were really nice, but kind of proper and disapproving of our ways. And by "ways" I guess I mean our general craziness.
-----
I had a lot of underwear. I kind of collected it. Partly because I had worked at Victoria's Secret two summers before, and ever since then I couldn't pass by a panty table without seeing a pair I just had to have.
....and partly because I hated doing my laundry, and it was easier to just buy new stuff.
One day, The Pirate decided to steal some of that underwear, and stuff it in the oven.
(I still have no idea why)
She only took about half of it, and I didn't even notice.
A few days later, one of our more proper roommates decided to bake some banana bread, and pre-heated the oven.
Without looking inside first.
Even though she had lived with us for months by now, and she really should have known better.
"It was awful! I couldn't even tell what was in there. It was just this melted blob."
That's right, The Pirate melted my underwear in the oven. For no reason!
...well, ok. Maybe she did have reasons.
But this?? This was going too far.
It was so on.
-----
Here is my favorite comment:
For no reason?! Seriously? Are you KIDDING me right now? Have you forgotten that a couple days before this little incident, you stole all of my clothes and my towel from the bathroom while I was showering and I was scared to shower for a week? Or how about the time that you pantsed me while I was dancing in the front of window of our apartment WITH BOYS AROUND? Or when my arch nemesis Gold's Gym called me obsessively because "I" had entered my name in their contest box thing 5 times in one week?! Where are the cutesy little paint drawings of THOSE things, I ASK YOU?!! Yeah you're right, my actions were completely unprovoked.
-Mysterious
(whoever this person is, she is creeping me out. How did she know all of those things??)
Let me introduce you to some of my favorite people: My college roommates.
(an eye patch has been added to protect the not quote innocent)
------
Kirky was my very first roommate, back in the dorms. Our organizational styles didn't really mesh (she had them, I did not), and living in such close quarters was not good for our friendship. Once we moved on to bigger and better apartments, however, we became friends for life. She loves tennis, nail polish, running, and her stuffed gorilla named Gonads (she has since married and had a daughter, and I assume she loves them both to pieces. But we are focusing on the good old days).
I met Nessa on my first day of Freshman Orientation. We hit it off right away. She is incredibly sweet, funny, and short, and she does not do well in awkward situations (for example: when guys sit too close to her, and stroke her hair). Nessa is from Houston, and she loves Korean Soap Operas.
Kendar is the youngest of the group (by almost 2 months). She is stylish, and sporty, and incredibly well traveled. When she isn't running races, or interning in DC, you may find her playing Cello for a world class orchestra, or breaking bones out on the hockey rink. What can I say? She is a girl of many talents.
And then there is Wesha The Pirate. This mysterious person is from the Midwest, and she has a heart of gold.....Surrounded by a layer of crazy, impulsive fun. You cannot be around this girl for more than a few minutes before you are either laughing hysterically, staring uncertainly, or off on a crazy adventure (Probably all three). She loves ABBA more than anything. Except Micro Biology. And Gonorrhea.
Tune in tomorrow for one of the most important lessons I learned in college: Why You Should Never Leave Your Underwear In The Oven.
Put a bra on. One with little or no padding works best. This makes it MUCH easier to find the fullest point of your chest, which we will need for step 2.
Step 1. Determining Your Band Size
Tightly measure your ribs, right under your boobs. Your arms should be down. If this measurement is an odd number, round up to the nearest even number. Make a note of the inches. For me, it's 31", so I round up to 32.
That's your band size. I wear a 32 (but a 34 fits on the tightest notch).
A note about notches: The problem with starting on the tightest notch is that as you wear it, the material will stretch. If you're starting on the loosest notch, you can gradually tighten it.
If your band size is an even number, you may want to go up 2 inches. If I was a 34, a 36 might fit better. It depends on the stretch of the material.
Do not add 5 inches! That is an outdated method, which dates back to 1930. Back then bra design was new, and that system does not work with the stretchier materials used today.
Step 2. Determining Your Cup Size
Measure around the fullest part of your chest. Do this loosely. You should be able to fit 2-3 fingers between your chest and the tape measure/string. Make a note of those inches. For me, it's 38".
Now, what's the difference between the cup size measurement and the band size measurement?
Here is the equation, with my numbers: 38-31 = 7.
For each inch of difference, you have a letter.
1 inch = A
2 inches = B
3 inches = C
4 inches = D
5 inches = DD
6 inches = E
7 inches = F
And so on.
So yes, I am a 32 F. Try finding that size in a store.
Which brings me to my next point. What if you are in a store, and you fall in love with a bra, but they don't have it in your size?
If you are normally a 34C, you can try a on 36B. The cups will fit, because the cups on a 34C and a 36B are the same size. The band will be a little loose, but you can try it on it's tightest notch, or work some safety-pin magic (ghetto, but semi-effective).
Where most women go wrong.
Because the cup size is directly related to the band size, if you are fairly slim, you may need a large cup size even though your boobs don't look any bigger than average.
The pros of wearing the correct size:
Your boobs will get better support. Which means they will sag less.
(this is incredibly useful. I learned things, and I'm an expert.)
You're Welcome.
Disclaimer: Using this method will tell you what size to try on first. Bra size can be effected by distribution of body fat, back proportions, or a difference in the manufacturers sizing, among other things. There are many factors that interact with your bra size, and I can't predict them all.
(all uncredited images used in this post have been purchased)
I love to dance. If you're ever in Pittsburgh and you feel like shaking your booty, I will totally go with you.
(but I'll probably wear more clothes)
Dancing is my kind of exercise. I grew up on the basics- ballet, tap, jazz, hip hop.
When I got to college, I started learning more exciting kinds of dance. I joined the break dance club, and learned to pop like you wouldn't believe. Mostly because I didn't have the upper-body strength to do more than freezes.
(This was during my rebellious phase, when I insisted on baring my shoulders)
Then I auditioned for the Folk Dance teams. I'll post about that another time. For now, I'll just say that I studied a whole lot of dance styles. My favorites were Irish, Indian (both classical and bhangra), Israeli, Spanish (flamenco), and clogging.
(these are Hungarian costumes. I'm in the front row, on the right.)
But my real love? Swing dance. I love swing dance.
(can you tell these pictures are 2 years old?)
My brother and I began country swinging when I was in highschool. That's fun an everything, but my favorite styles are West Coast, Lindy, and Blues. In that order.
(this is what you wear when you know how to swing dance)
But the absolute best is when the guy knows all three and dances a west coast/lindy/blues cross over. That's what heaven feels like.
(My favorite part of this picture? The cleavage. Obviously.)
My last year at BYU I gave in and joined the swing team. And dang it was fun. See?
(Yes, I realize I look ridiculously excited. Also, that guy on the left? He's dropping her on her face, not grabbing her boob.)
I recently discovered the intricate swing scene here in Pittsburgh, and I am loving life right now. I just wish I knew more people.
(I'm in the back, dancing with Ransom. Who is 2 feet taller than me)
Kurt doesn't know how to swing, and he's much too busy to learn. Which is ok. I just go by myself, and dance with random strangers all night.
So if you are in Pittsburgh and you swing dance, lets be friends. And if you don't, what are you waiting for?
Remember that time when I wrote the post about my Top Two Baby Names? And then my sisters stopped talking to me, and my husband started thinking I was baby-hungry, but everybody else seemed to like it so it was kind of worth it?
I was participating in Top Two Tuesday over at The Undomestic Mama. Each Tuesday she chooses a new topic.
Today's topic is:
TOP TWO FAVORITE BOOKS.
I read a lot. And not just blogs. I started reading when I was really little** and I am kind of a book addict.
I read Gone with the Wind when I was 11. In Two Days.
Then when I was 13, I discovered Star Trek books (Yes. I was a Trekkie. But I never watched the shows, and I think that that is an important distinction). This usually shocks people. Maybe because I seem more like a Star Wars kind of a girl?
Don't worry guys, I read those books too.
I went through this awesome phase when I was 14, where I would only read Romance Novels. If it didn't have a bodice-ripping cover, I just was not interested.
My mom was really excited about finding those books all over my room.
Basically, I have never read age appropriate books. Which probably explains my current favorite genre: Young Adult Fiction.
Artemis Fowl
This series is definitely one of my favorites. And as an added benefit, someday my 11 year old son will love them too!
Yeah, these books are written for young boys. But they are so clever and interesting, I have read them over and over again.
The Tiffany Aching Series
There are three books in this series by Terry Pratchett. And you can share these ones with your 13 year old daughter.
I snorted with laughter 4,065 times while reading them.
Yes, I counted.
I have so many other books I could recommend.
But I am only supposed to list 2, and anything more is cheating.
What are your top two favorite books?
(You can tell me in a comment, or write it in a post and link up to the party.)
**I started reading when I was 3. When I was 4, we moved, and I had to switch schools.
On the first day my teacher asked me if I could read. I said no (I was probably hoping for a lighter homework load). And so they started teaching me the alphabet.
A few weeks later, one of the teachers caught me reading a book by myself. She watched me mouthing the words as I went along. The jig was up.
When my mom told me this story, she started laughing when she remembered the look on the teachers face that afternoon.
"You mean, she is already reading chapter books??"
I had just started Les Miserable.
(Just kidding, I didn't read that one until I was 12).
I woke up on Saturday, and my first thought was "I wonder what I should wear to my pole dancing class?"
I know what you're thinking. "What kind of crazy dreams were you having?" Or maybe "Um, duh. Lingerie."
I went with Yoga pants. But next time I'm wearing shorts. And heels.
When I told Kurt I wanted to take pole dancing lessons, he wasn't really surprised. But when I told him who's idea it was, he was shocked.
My friend Nicole, from Keepin' the Castle is the brains behind this operation.
Nicole is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. She sews and cooks (just thinking about her marble brownies is making me drool), and is an awesome mommy. She teaches piano and loves her sunbeam class, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't use face cards. Also, she might never speak to me again after she reads this.
I think all of us used her as an excuse. "Yes, I said pole dancing. But it's ok, because Nicole is going, too." And suddenly it seemed respectable.
So that morning I was super excited. I even got up at 10:45 on a Saturday to get ready. Which is kind of a record.
The class didn't start until 12:30. Probably because the students all work late? I think a few of them paid in $1 bills.....
...Just kidding. If anyone was a professional, they can't be making much. We all looked awkward and ridiculous. Which was really nice, because there was a lot of laughter and no pressure to try and look seductive.
I mean, we all tried, but we also failed.
It was awesome.
Here is what I learned: Pole dancing is not sexy. It's hard and painful and a lot of fun if you go with friends who will laugh at you when you are trying to do a booty bump.
Also, if you do wear shorts, please put spandex on underneath. No one wants to see your lady parts. (someone needs to say this to our teacher. I call not it.)
Today I have bruises and sore muscles but it was totally worth it. Because I can do a fairy.
(This girl calls it the Cheerleader, but in Pittsburgh it's the Fairy. Also, our teacher was much less annoying than this girl.)
The moral of this story: Pole dancing is painful, but really fun.
Plus, it's always good to have a skill you can fall back on. You know, For those hard times when your husband is limiting your spending money, and Michaels is having a sale...
If you're guessing brown, you're a little bit right. I mean, that's what it's supposed to be.
(This is the first color I ever dyed my hair. Aww, memories!)
When I turned 16, my Mom told me I could dye my hair (but nothing extreme). I was SO excited. My hair was brown, so of course I went and dyed it...Brown. Again. Not sure what I was thinking with that one.
But back to the question. What other color could it be?
You're probably thinking red, huh? Nope.
I've done it before, though. Once I dated a guy for 3 months before he realized I wasn't a red head. Which was really weird- I mean, I have black eyebrows. What red head has black eyebrows?
(This is the kit I used back in the day. And it turned out really pretty)
You might be thinking purple. I probably seem like the type who would rock that look. Turns out I am. Not rocking that look- but able to rock it.
The summer I graduated high school, I had light purple highlights. It was really pretty um, hardcore. My mother was understandably horrified. It was my first major rebellion.
(This stuff fades really fast. Just sayin')
But a few months later I went off to BYU, and my hair was dyed back to brown. Turns out purple is not an acceptable color for a BYU student.
So what about now?
Why blond, of course!
I know, some of you probably guessed that right off. Go you.
But most of you are shocked, huh?
I went in to my friend's salon, and told her to do whatever she wanted. She knew I was going on a cruise next week, and so she gave me a lighter, flirtier color to go with my soon-to-be-tan skin. Or, more realistically, my soon-to-be-burned-and-blistery skin.
I wasn't sure at first. I never am when I change the color. But Kurt loves it. I was blond when we first started dating, and only dyed it back to brown for the wedding because I felt like those pictures shouldn't be full of lies.
See?
Dating (he married me for my teeth):
Married:
NOW:
(INSERT PHOTO HERE)
Yeah, I don't have a picture yet. How obnoxious is that?
Kurt is too busy with his finals to snap any. I've been planning this post for a few days, but I was waiting until I had this last picture to post it.
And then I gave up and decided to post it anyway.
So which color/style is your favorite?
I know, I know. You're hoping I'll go purple again. I think I'm gonna wait until my daughters are in highschool before I revive that look.
What's the point in rebelling if no one is horrified?
