Fashion-Able: How We Can Push The Fashion Industry to a More Accessible Future.

I have loved fashion for as long as I can remember. I loved how the feathers looked up against the plastic glitter of my “Princess Jasmine” slippers. I wanted an “Old Hollywood” party when I was eight so I could wear a velvet dress and bright red feather boa. I always knew I wanted to pursue a career in fashion. I have loved it for all my life- but it has seldom loved me back.

It’s hard to realize how inaccessible fashion and clothing is until you experience it firsthand. When I was young, we spent hours in shoe stores trying to find sneakers that would fit my leg braces, but didn’t look like you’d find them walking around a retirement home. I remember crying when the only sandals I would wear were bright blue Birkenstocks with a sunflower print (which jokes on me, because I am SURE they’re sold at Urban Outfitters now).

When I had my biggest surgery in 2007 and wore an external fixator for nine months, one of the largest challenges was getting dressed. Imagine being in pain, struggling to move, and spending energy being concerned with finding underwear, or having to wear a skirt in the dead of winter, because you couldn’t find pants to accommodate your device. My mom and I went to great lengths to create our own version of accessibility.

I couldn’t pull underwear up over my fixator. My mom bought pairs and pairs of cotton underwear, cut them all at the side seam and fastened with a safety pin. For 9 months, I had that hard metal pin digging into my skin, poking me every time I had to unfasten them to use the bathroom. We bought men’s 4XL pants and cut them up the side, I wore skirts with 2 pairs of leg warmers in the winter. I had to buy two different pairs of shoes, because my left foot was so swollen, it was three full sizes bigger than my right (Nordstrom was the only store that eventually started selling me single pairs of shoes, I will never forget that). During the first few months, I just wore a blanket over my leg at school, because as someone who had always loved getting dressed, I was embarrassed by my attire. How you present yourself to the world isn’t about clothes. It’s armor, it’s story-telling, it’s a courageous sign of self.

When I started to get more mobile with my external fixator, I started to regain a bit of my fashion identity-which at 16, felt like my entire identity. I found big voluminous skirts, swing coats with big circle hems, stretchy maxi dresses. It wasn’t easy, and this was before the time of mainstream online shopping – buying my Prom dress off the internet was a HUGE DEAL. (IT’S OFFICIAL. THAT SENTENCE MAKES ME OLD!) It should have been easier. It has to be easier.

In the past few years, accessibility in fashion has come a long way. More startups are dedicated to apparel that accommodates a range of differently abled people. Zappos Adaptive has been at the forefront of shaping the industry, working with designers to create accessible pieces as part of their production plans. Shirts with magnetic or velcro closures instead of buttons, the single-shoe program, and yes! Underwear that fastens at the side. The models featured have a variety of disabilities, which has also been nice to see an uptick in for retailers like Nordstrom, even Gucci. But it shouldn’t be novelty. It shouldn’t signify if a company is “good.” It should be the standard of retail.

TH Magnetic Closure Trench

Slick Chicks Side Fastening Underwear

Nike FlyEase

Port-Accessible Top

The accessibility market in fashion is about function- and rightfully so. Getting dressed while disabled has to be about pieces that make life easier, more manageable. But as I experienced as a child, this usually means functionality over fashion, and many items are left looking bland, not lending a hand to expressing personal style. Stylized pieces, even luxury items often cater only to able bodies. There is virtually no vintage market for people with disabilities. For many, including myself, it can be a real hunt to find clothing that meets a standard of accessibility, all while being able to possess a personal style.

It comes as no surprise that I feel a real pull to shift my career from traditional fashion to accessibility and diversity in the industry. While I plan for the future, what can we do right now to push fashion forward?

• The most simple is to take note when you are in a physical retail store. It is an ADA requirement that stores be fully accessible to wheelchairs and other handicap devices. However, I can’t tell you how many stores I have entered in a wheelchair, only to not be able to make it past the first set of racks. If you go out to shop, be aware. Could a wheelchair easily maneuver through there? Would it be hard for a person with a walker to get by? Is there available seating for someone with a cane? Could a blind person walk through here with a walking aid? If not, write to the company, call the manager (insert a “Karen” joke here). We all can help make shopping a more accessible and enjoyable experience for everyone.

• Support businesses that offer accessible options, even if you’re not someone who needs them. I love shopping on Zappos not only because they have an accessible department, but because that department is integrated into their regular retail site. It’s not an extra, not another web address I have to go. It’s an inclusive shopping experience. Target now features accessible options, and brands like Tommy Hilfiger and Nike have accessible lines of product. Etsy also has a great community of accessibility-focused small shops.

• Personally, I will be reaching out to my favorite online retailers to offer “accessible” filters on their site. For instance, The Real Real could curate an accessible section of the app, easily found by filtering for it. This could be as simple as curating items without buttons, stretch clothing, magnetic closure tops, seated and sensory friendly clothing. Especially in resale/vintage, there is next to no accessibility. An entire group of people should not be excluded from a sustainable way of shopping because it’s harder to curate. The work should fall the companies, not on the consumers.

• Large brands can adjust existing items to make them more accessible. A longer back on a shirt is ideal for people in wheelchairs, underwear can be offered with a side fastening, jackets with Velcro for those with mobility or sensory issues, shoes that are pre-laced. Zappos Adaptive is the perfect example of a retailer working with its existing brands to create accessible offerings. More brands should follow suit, not because it’s great marketing, but because it’s right, and it’s long overdue.

Accessibility in fashion has come a long way since I was growing up. But it has so much further to go. It doesn’t matter if I’m not in a wheelchair right now, or if I don’t need accessible options at this time- I know the pain of being excluded from something you love. This industry cannot just revolve around the notion of being fashionable. It has to be about being fashion-able, and it has to be now.  

My Disability Story

I have sat down to write this piece countless times in the last year. It’s hard to write a story that has been playing out since I was born, a story that’s still being written. I keep having trouble figuring out how to start this, when really, I know exactly how it needs to begin.

I am disabled.

I don’t know why that’s a sentence that in my adulthood, I struggle with. I’m not ashamed or sad, not embarrassed or trying to hide it. It’s not a dirty word. I think sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to say it. I spent years trying to disprove it. I tried out for teams for sports I knew I couldn’t play. I’ve walked further than my known limit and spent the next day bedridden, only because I didn’t want to speak up. I hesitate using my handicap sticker most days. When you’re growing up, you just want to fit in. But everything about my physical being was designed to stand out.

I was born with severe clubbed feet. It’s a condition in which feet are twisted out of shape or position. For me, rather than facing forward, my feet were positioned inward. Clubbed feet can be extremely debilitating and affect how your whole body moves, especially a growing body. I had serial casting as a baby to try to correct it, but it didn’t take. I spent years in physical therapy, having my feet painfully manipulated. I had a few procedures, I was never without a leg brace, ankle brace or foot inserts, all fitted to my bulky orthopedic shoes. I wanted jelly sandals more than anyone should ever want jelly sandals.

In fourth grade, I underwent two tendon transfers, one on each foot. By moving the tendons, doctors hoped my feet would have more flexibility and a full range of motion. I spent most of that year in a wheelchair, recovering from each procedure. It was incredibly painful, both physically and emotionally. I could barely do anything on my own. Two of my classmates, Laura and Clarence helped me day-to-day. They pushed me in at my desk, back-and-forth to different classes, and out to the sidewalk at recess. I mention this because I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the responsibility put on two other children to help me, and it brings tears to my eyes.

After getting the cast off from my second transfer on my right foot, I was elated to gain some of my freedom back. I was excited to walk around the halls, and learn to move with my new feet. About two weeks later, I asked my teacher if I could use the bathroom. Walking back to class, I tripped over my new bulky sneakers. I tried, but couldn’t get back up. I crawled back to my classroom. My mom took me back to the doctor the next morning, I had snapped the very tendon they just fixed. I had an emergency surgery the following morning, and was back at school in my wheelchair within a week.

Fourth grade was the beginning of a youth filled with surgeries, doctor’s appointment, pain. The clubbed feet had been mostly corrected, but I had a plethora of other orthopedic issues. I developed Osteopenia from all the time off my feet and in hospitals. My bones were weak, my feet and legs usually in pain, making walking still difficult. In middle school, I would fracture my ankle, get stress fractures in my feet. I had more procedures, more physical therapy, still no jelly sandals.  My mom, sister and I trucked along and all of this became our normal.

By the time I was a freshman in high school, I had started dislocating my knees. If you have ever dislocated a knee, you know the pain is incomprehensible. It’s excruciating and bizarre to feel your kneecap in your thigh. The second time it ever happened, my friends and I were throwing a summer party in my friend Leah’s backyard. We sent out handmade invites, had food and planned games. We were playing capture the flag when I stepped to turn around and felt it immediately. I started to fall to the ground, and my boyfriend at the time caught my head from hitting the pavement. I was screaming for someone to call an ambulance, and heard my friend Sara panicking to call one. When one arrived, they started an IV right in the driveway, in front of all my friends. I was mortified and in unbearable amounts of pain. By Monday, I was at school in a wheelchair again with a stiff full leg brace. Both my mom and I knew I couldn’t live like this.

Sophomore year of high school, my mom and I traveled all around trying to find a doctor to diagnose my pain, to figure out why my knee kept slipping out. We went to clinics in Grand Rapids, drove to Shriner’s Hospital in Chicago, flew to New York for the day to see a specialist. We went back to my old doctor who had done my original tendon transfers, who looked me in the eye and told me my best option would be to amputate my feet as this point. I was sixteen. I cried, and I’m sure my mom did too.

Now a Junior, we were referred to a doctor at Providence Hospital in Michigan, Dr. Michael Mendelow.  We were exhausted from trying to figure out this painful mystery. My mom came with a big shopping bag of medical records, X-rays, doctor’s notes. He examined me and said to leave him with the overflowing bag. About three weeks later, he called us to come back in. After studying my X-rays, he found that the bones in my leg were turned in at an angle of about 25-30 degrees, a normal leg is less than 15. The angle of my leg, now fighting the position of my feet, were constantly fighting one another, causing my knees to dislocate. My legs and feet were working against one another.

He said I needed a tibial and femoral osteotomy- cutting the bones in my leg, repositioning them, and setting them with an external fixator so that they grew back at the proper angle. When I look back on it, I didn’t ask a ton of questions (My mom did, I probably just played Snake on my flip phone). I don’t even think I knew what an external fixator was. I just chalked it up to another surgery. We scheduled the surgery for my left leg (my more troubled leg) for right before Christmas.

I barely remember being in the hospital after the operation. The only thing I recall, is asking my mom to move the blanket so I could look at my leg. She hesitated. She pulled it back, and I could not comprehend what I was seeing. My left leg had a Sci-Fi looking device coming out of it. Not on top of it or covering it, but protruding out from my skin. I had eight metal rods going through my bones, sticking out through my skin, set with big black bars. It started at my ankle and went up to the top of my thigh. I also had a cast on my foot, as another surgery was done to correct the tendon by my big toe. I couldn’t move. They sent me home on Christmas morning — I had to be taken home by ambulance. When we got home, I couldn’t stand up, let alone go up the stairs. I slept on the couch in the living room, my mom frantically ordered a hospital bed for our living room, and Frank, my mom’s partner, set up a wheelchair ramp on the front porch. I was in an excruciating amount of pain, clouded by multiple medications. But I can’t imagine what my mom must have been feeling. To see your child in such agony, incapacitated and crying, she had to have been hurting, exhausted, and in pain herself. But still, I think I only heard her cry once, when my friend Sara came over and held her in an embrace in the kitchen.

Once the hospital bed came a few days later, our living room became my room. My mom removed the couch, and taped Jonas Brothers posters on the wall among get well soon cards from friends and classmates. I ate all my meals in that bed, and quickly embraced humility as my only way to use the bathroom was with a bed pan. A physical therapist came to the house every other day to get me to stand up. I couldn’t return to school, so a teacher came over to deliver all my assignments. My friend Brittany came over to tutor me in math. I cleaned my incisions every morning and night, wanting to throw up every time I looked down at those gaping holes in my leg, each filled with a metal pin. I lost too much weight, unable to keep most food down from the pain medications.  My sister would make me milkshakes made with ice cream, “Boost” and girl scout cookies. Just when I thought I had met my pain threshold, I got kidney stones from the lack of movement and was rushed back to the hospital. I got bed sores, had sponge baths and missed my friends. Come February, I was moving more. I could get up with the help of a walker and get to the bathroom. My mom would make me get up and try to dance while we watched “America’s Best Dance Crew.” Friends were coming to visit, my boyfriend came over for Sadie Hawkins and we ate take out in my living room. By March, I wanted to go back to school. I was assigned a school aid who would take me from class to class (Brenda, if you’re reading this, I love you). For the first few weeks, my mom would have to leave work to come help me use the bathroom (one of the only perks was being allowed to use the staff bathroom, which I was amazed had lots of lotions and cool stuff in there). A handicap accessible bus would take me to and from school every day, my mom or Frank unloading me back into bed when I got home. By the time summer came, I started walking again, and I was doing great in physical therapy. I bought big voluminous skirts to cover my pins, wheeled around the mall, went to a Jonas Brothers concert, and even went to student government camp (I don’t think my mom breathed the entire 5 days I was gone). While my external fixator was only supposed to stay in for a few months, my bones weren’t growing back together as quickly as they’d like, and four months turned into nine. This was our new normal, and we got really good at managing it. I went back to school for my Senior year and got my pins out in September, right in time for Homecoming. Getting the external fixator out was relatively painless. I used a cane for another 6 months and told my mom I couldn’t imagine getting the right leg done any time soon (more than 10 years later, I still haven’t).

Maybe you’ve noticed that sprinkled throughout this long story, I’ve mentioned people who have helped me. The handful or so that I’ve mentioned doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the kindness I have received throughout my life. Kids were rarely mean to me. There was the occasional inquisitive, rude remark, but nothing scarring. Classmates would offer to push me in the halls, and help me get my lunch. Sara would come over almost every day after school with a bag of junk food and catch me up on all the gossip. Brittany would come over to watch “Gossip Girl” and help me with math (I am still horrible at math- Brittany could only do so much). My friend Mike took me to Winter Ball, where he and my friend Gerald danced around my wheelchair (Gerald now dances in Lady Gaga videos) all night. When I went to ACT practice, two boys from my class carried me into the tutor’s home because she didn’t have a ramp. My mom and my cousins would rent a wheelchair van for the day so we could go to the movies. My sister’s boyfriend would come over to help wash my hair. Her friends would prank call me pretending to be Christina Aguilera or Britney Spears wishing me well. There are endless examples. What I’ve gone through was no doubt hard as hell. There were some days I didn’t know how I could keep going, but looking back, I rarely measure it in pain. I measure it in unassuming, pure kindness.

I haven’t had a surgery since 2007. I’ve been managing my disability for over 10 years. I’ve been battling severe arthritis and chronic pain in both feet that can be debilitating some days. I can’t walk long distances, and I usually can’t stand for longer than 15 minutes (which is why I use a wheelchair when we travel or go places that require a lot of walking). I can’t run, or do any activities that could risk my right kneecap popping out (which it did, four months before I got married). I’m often limping around and some days I physically cannot get out of bed without holding onto walls. My husband has become my best advocate, encouraging me to always speak up about my limits and my pain. Reflexology has helped me immensely.

I spent most of my youth trying to fight the different orthopedic limits that made me different. But as an adult, I’m accepting that those things, while painful, are a part of me. My disability isn’t an add-on or something that happened to me, it’s something that is me. I am proud of how far I’ve come, knowing how low I’ve been. I am proud of my family, who tirelessly supported me and never made me feel like burden. I’m proud to have friends who are always aware that when we go out I may need to sit down, or they’ll map out if a walk will be too long for me. I’m proud of my husband, who has pushed me in a wheelchair around the world and has held my feet while I cried. But what I am most proud of, is that I am finally accepting who I am. I am disabled, I am fighting, I am happy, I am okay, I’m just beginning.

How to Demand Justice for Breonna Taylor

On March 13th, 2020, Breonna Taylor was murdered while asleep next to her boyfriend, by a group of rouge, white, Louisville police officers. They broke the door down, started shooting and within seconds, they shot Breonna at least eight times. They were at the wrong apartment. In the wrong complex. Looking for a man who had knowingly already been arrested earlier that day. The officers have claimed it was in “self-defense”, and a “clerical error”. But we know that it was the cruel killing of an innocent black woman, at the hands of three inhumane officers. We won’t stand for it.

All three officers still walk free, there have been no arrests, they are still being paid. Her life matters. She deserves justice, we must hold these three men accountable for manslaughter and negligence.

Tomorrow would have been Breonna’s 27th birthday. In honor of her life, let’s raise our voices and demand that justice is served.

How To Help.

Thank you to Ariel Sinha (illustration), Cate Young, xoNecole & Bust Magazine for sharing this information.

1.) Contact The Following to Demand Action:

Mayor Greg Fischer: (502) 574- 2003 | greg.fischer@louisvilleky.gov

Attorney Thomas Wine: tbwine@louisvilleprosecutor.com

Governor Andy Beshear: (502) 564-2611

Attorney General Daniel Cameron: (502) 696-5300 | attorney.general@ag.ky.gov

LMPD Chief Steve Conrad: (502) 574-7660

I’ve written an outline for what you can say/write below, feel to to copy and paste into an email. It’s that easy:

Dear ______,

I am writing/calling to demand justice for Breonna Taylor, justice that is long overdue. Her life was inhumanely taken from her almost two months ago, and no action has been taken to hold those who killed her, accountable for her cruel death.

John Mattingly, Detective Brett Hankison and Detective Myles Cosgrove must be fired immediately and charged with manslaughter, for storming her home with a no-knock warrant and shooting her at least eight times. Not only were they in the wrong apartment, but the man they were looking for had already been arrested earlier that day. There was no reason to enter her apartment, and her death cannot be labeled as a “clerical error” or “self-defense”, per the police department’s reasoning. It was murder of an innocent civilian, and we will not have it.

We will not rest until this rogue group of officers and detectives are held accountable for their cruelty. They are a danger to society and must be taken off the streets immediately. We are watching. We are listening. We will not be silent. We demand justice for Breonna Taylor.

Sincerely,

2) Sign these Petitions:

Color Of Change

Stand With Bre

Change.Org

3. Donate if you Can:

Gofundme for Breonna’s family

Louisville Community Bail Fund

4. Send a birthday card to the Kentucky Attorney General in honor of Breonna, and demand that he press charges against the police officers who killed her. You can send a card via Postable, and can fill in the template from above, or write your own message.

Address the card to:

Office of The Attorney General

700 Capital Avenue, Suite 118

Frankfort, Kentucky 40601-3449

Breonna should be alive to celebrate her birthday tomorrow. She should be here to celebrate years and years of birthdays. Honor her memory and life by taking the above actions, and say her name. #BreonnaTaylor

Michigan Residents: How to Help Get SB 945 Passed

SB 945 was introduced by Senator Jeff Irwin, to reduce excessive force by police officers, and strengthen community-police relations.

How? Under this legislation, incoming police officers would have mandatory training on:

- Implicit bias

- Violence de-escalation

- Mental health screening

Many Michigan police forces have this training, but not before cops can put on a badge. This bill would add these elements to certification requirements from MCOLES-the state commission that certifies cops.

SB 945 has now been referred to the Judiciary and Public Safety Committee. It needs to be passed with a favorable recommendation to reach senate. We need four Senators to vote favorably THIS THURSDAY, 6/3, for the bill to then go to the Senate.

The first step is to write/call their offices and express support for this bill. An outline of what you can say is below:

Dear Senator _____,

I know that tomorrow you will be voting on SB 945. I am writing to express my support for the bill as a Michigan resident, hoping that you echo that same support, and will help in getting this important legislation passed.

What’s happening in our country and state is a matter of human rights. It isn’t a political talking point, it is a conversation that is rooted in humanity and equality.

Ensuring that the training of implicit bias, violence de-escalation & mental health are a part of the MCOLES certification is a crucial step to keep our communities safe, especially those that are predominantly black.

With similar training in place, The Dallas Police Department reported an 18% decrease in the use of force just one year after the first training. The Las Vegas Police Department saw a 50% decrease in police-involved shootings in four years. This training works, and Michigan residents deserve more security in their safety.

Will you be supporting this bill? I look forward to your response.

Members of the Judiciary and Public Safety Committee

Peter Lucido (R-Chair) senplucido@senate.michigan.gov | 855.347.8008

Curt Vanderwall (R) sencvanderwall@senate.michigan.gov | 517.373.1725

Tom Barrett (R) sentbarrett@senate.michigan.gov | 517.373.3447

Ruth Johnson senrjohnson@senate.michigan.gov | 517.373.1636

Jim Runestad (R) senjrunestad@senate.michigan.gov | 517.373.1758

Stephanie Chang (D) senschang@senate.michigan.gov | 517.373.7346

Jeff Irwin (D)- Introduced the Bill

You’re likely going to get a voicemail- leave a message- for every single one. Or send an email- whatever you do, be heard. Be the change. Be better.

My Favorite Things from Trader Joe's

I used to be a real Jonas Brother’s groupie. But in my mature, older age, I have moved on to a different Joe: Trader Joe’s. I find extreme joy in slowly strolling each aisle, checking out what’s new and grabbing my favorite pantry staples. Now that grocery shopping has become more of an expedition than a leisurely venture, I made a list of all my Trader Joe’s must haves, so that I can be in-and out and sanitizing up to my neck. Hopefully someday soon, it can just be Joe and I, enjoying a Sunday morning together….both Joes apply here.

Click on each photo for product details!

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10 Minute Farro

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Powerberries

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Everything But The Bagel Nut Duo

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Everything but the Bagel Salmon

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Gluten Free Granola

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Cauliflower Pizza Crust

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Everything but the Elote Seasoning

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Everything but the Bagel Seasoning

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Gluten Free Crispbread

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Island Soyaki

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Fig & Olive Crisps

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Ube Mochi Pancake Mix

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Chili Onion Crunch

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Cilanto and Jalepeno Hummus

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Refresh Citrus Body Wash

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$3.99 Candles

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Greeting Cards

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Dried Eucalyptus

A Day in The Life: (Almost) 24 Hours with Me!

Most all of us have read a version of “A Day With… ” or “24 Hours in The Life of …” in a magazine. They’re a personal favorite of mine, I eat up every word. I am well aware that each one is typically filled with unrealistic expectations of every day life, like “6:00am: I drink a pitcher of hot water with lemon for one hour, until my trainer shows up and my chef cooks me an omelet”. They’re usually a fascinating look into the lives of the rich and famous, but often leave me wondering “why doesn’t my life look like that? What am I doing wrong?” My brain completely omits the part where I don’t have a chef, I don’t even have a lemon.

I thought I would share a true look into a day in my life (let’s assume this is a day off/weekend). It’s part parody, but 100% reality at the same time. Does this mean my life is a joke? If so, I can think of no better time for a laugh. Enjoy one at MY EXPENSE!

6:15am: My alarm starts to go off, I set it early so I could get up and workout. In an attempt to stop the ringing, I accidentally knock my phone to the ground, deem I need a break due to this inconvenience, and go back to sleep.

7:30am: I finally wake up, make a mental note that I’ll work out tomorrow (lol). Michael just fed Maple, who now is running up the stairs to do his morning routine of jumping up on the bed, sitting on my chest, and burping in my face. I truly did not know dogs could burp. What a gift. I’ll spend a few minutes talking to Maple like an absolute idiot, then get up and get going.

7:45am: I throw my retainer in some denture cleaner, rinse my face with water and spray it with fresh rose water. Just kidding, it’s Mario Badescu that I picked up while waiting in line at Nordstrom Rack. Also the nozzle broke and it sprays everywhere so I have to apply it like I’m having a seizure.

8:00am: I put some coffee on, and I drink a full glass of water before having my first cup of coffee. It’s not for health reasons. It’s something to distract me so I don’t drink it all right out of the pot. I have two cups while I answer emails, leaving myself feeling nice and jittery. I think shaking is another word for it, but tomato to-mato.

9:00am: By now I’m showered, dressed and begging Michael to make some eggs so I don’t faint from all the caffeine. He says he will, but then we discover we only have one egg. I eat four “cuties” instead and complain that this wouldn’t be an issue if he let me build the chicken coop I’ve always wanted.

10:00am: Michael is in the shower. I say I’m going downstairs to read a book. I actually spend 25 minutes trying to teach myself how to “throw it back” from instructional videos on TikTok. I pull a muscle in my back. I tell no-one.

10:30am: I call my mom and we talk for thirty minutes about absolutely nothing. Michael asks me what we talked about after, and I truly couldn’t name a thing.  But it was nice and necessary to the schedule of speaking to my mom a minimum of 5 times a day.

11:00am: We take Maple for a walk through our neighborhood, where another dog violently barks at him from behind a fence, and I call it a “demon ass B”. Turns out the owner was right there, I don’t know if he heard me, but just to be safe, we will never walk that way AGAIN!

12:00pm: I come to the realization that if I don’t eat a proper meal, I will die. So we make grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. Michael mentions that we don’t have any dairy-free cheese so I can’t have one. I tell him to mind his business and I slap two more pieces of bread in the pan.

12:06pm: I rush upstairs for a mysterious reason. It is unrelated to the grilled cheese.

12:30pm: I throw some laundry in, clean up the bedroom, bathroom, and the mess I made yesterday when I tried to make a pampas grass arrangement I saw on Pinterest. In retrospect, I should have done it outside. Or just not at all.

2:00pm: I lay down on the couch to catch up on this week’s “Grey’s Anatomy”, because I’m trash. There’s a guest appearance in this episode that I KNOW I’ve seen in another movie recently. I come to realize it’s Beanie Feldstein, so I spend the next three hours watching “Neighbors 2”, again, because I’m trash.

6:00pm: Oh, the movie ended but I fell asleep on the couch, a deep mouth-breathing sleep. Time well spent.­

7:00pm: We eat dinner, pour some wine and decide on a movie to watch. I spend the next 2.5 hours of “Ford vs. Ferarri” refreshing Twitter/Instagram/Facebook/TikTok/The Real Real. Basically, I do anything but watch the movie. I read an article on it once, I feel like I know everything I need to know.

9:30pm: We get ready for bed and I chug a glass of water. I realize I never put my retainer back in the whole rest of the day, and have no choice but to lie to my dentist next week when he asks if I’ve been wearing it.

9:32pm: Michael has fallen asleep. I lie awake until about 11:00pm, when he violently rolls over and accidentally punches me in the neck.

1:14am: I wake up to go to the bathroom. Most people would know it was the water. I do not correlate the two, so I fall back asleep making a mental note that I should call a doctor about my bladder. All in a day’s work!!!

Confessions of a Recovering Girlboss

I’m all for female entrepreneurship. I support women in businesses big and small, I’m all about “leaning in” and “taking up room”. This is an exciting time to be a woman! We’re owning more businesses, gaining more seats in government, and fighting for the rights to our bodies (which is insane that we even have to do so in 2020). But lately there’s something that has quietly taken up a resistance in my brain. It was something that when it started, I couldn’t get enough. I read books about it, put stickers on my computer, I might have even had it in my Instagram bio for a week.

But now I’ve had enough: I don’t want to be called a “girlboss.”

The term girlboss caught like wildfire when it first left the lips of millennial women. I was one of them! The notion that women were rising up, taking charge, being bosses of our own lives and in the work place. How could that ever be a bad thing? Maybe I’m being sensitive, but to me, the phrase has taken new meaning. It feels as though it’s been weaponized to make women feel inadequate, that we aren’t doing or achieving enough (we already get this from seeing 22-year-olds on Instagram making six-figures from selling tea. WE GET IT!).

The term “girlboss” has been transformed into a cover to convince women that we need to do more. How dare we have free time! Pick up a side hustle and get RICH! If your hobby doesn’t make you money, what’s the point? It’s become a suppression of true feeling. I don’t know one woman who hasn’t felt like she isn’t far enough in her career, or feels behind in life, bills, dating, etc. We’re in a rush, and now we have lists like the “Forbes 30 Under 30” to remind us to hurry up (Because as we all know, after 30, you die). Does “girlboss” act as a blanket to conceal the behind-the-scenes struggle that comes with success, to make it seem like we have it all together? When did a “brunch in bed” photo or “pretty girl eating a giant burger” become inspirational? Who are we trying to fool?

No man is going around calling himself a “boyboss”. If they did, we would never take them seriously. It also sounds like the title of a bad 90’s Disney Channel Original Movie (which I would watch anyway, because I never miss a D.C.O.M). They don’t need to label their power, because no one questions or fears it. It doesn’t need to be dimmed or softened to make it more digestible. Boss. No gender. My friends are bosses- literally and figuratively. They manage departments, teach classes, volunteer. They are moms, single women, married. They are honest about how they feel and don’t try to mask it for the sake of a title made by a woman, for women, to ultimately sell us notebooks and necklaces with the phrase. On second thought, maybe keep the necklaces. I would pay good money to see one of my old bosses wear a “boyboss” pendant.

If being a “girlboss” inspires you, I don’t want to diminish or take that away from you. But I hope we can become comfortable enough in our own power to not have to justify or label it. Women are powerful, period. We can be motivated by the sole fact that we all have a purpose, and will get there when we’re supposed to. Lizzo is 31, Nancy Pelosi is almost 80. It’s not a race, success does not look the same to everyone. Our power as women is reaching new heights, it has no limit. And if we have no bounds as to what that power will achieve, it can’t be labeled. And it definitely can’t fit on a sticker.

ASK ALEX: "I'm Dating all Duds"

“How did you and Michael meet? I’ve been on so many dates and they’re all duds. I’d be curious to know how you met ‘the one’.”

I quite frequently get messages about Michael, my husband. People want to know where we met, how we started dating, or if he’s left me yet for constantly hiding behind things, attempting to scare him (Nope! Still here!). We have been together for seven years, married for two of them. It’s truly a marvel how we found each other but I think the most important thing to know is that if we had met even a week earlier, we may not be together today.

Going into college, I had just been dumped-via Gchat one night when I was studying. I was heart-broken and vowed I would spend the next four years focusing on my myself and my future. I did some ~light~ dating in college. Meeting guys at parties, going on dates (and getting stood up on them! Three times- TWICE THE SAME GUY). I did end up dating someone in my Junior year that I truly cared about and had feelings for. But something was off, it didn’t fit. I felt so fed up by dating and meeting guys that just weren’t right. I started to notice a pattern that any guy I had ever dated, I sacrificed a personal belief or personal need to be with them, and the lack of those things always caused our demise. It could be something as simple as believing in empathy, or as big as our spiritual and beliefs. I truly set myself, and the man, up for failure every time (don’t get me wrong, sometimes they were just jerks. Like the guy who told me he didn’t want a girlfriend, and the next night at a party…I met, HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND).

After breaking off a relationship and realizing my pattern, I sat down on my bed and wrote down five things that were my non-negotiables. The five things I needed in a partner to feel that this could be for the long-run. And these weren’t shallow, or surface necessities. I didn’t need him to drive a nice car or have Ryan Gosling’s abs. When I met Michael, I was driving a Saturn station wagon and my most major food-group was the Subway $5 footlong. It’s unfair to judge anyone by looks or what they have at the time. It’s human-nature to get caught up in what the outer world world sees, and those things are truly the most unimportant factors.

These five things were deeply personal. They were things that I needed a partner to have inherently. I couldn’t date another guy with no empathy or understanding, or someone who was more interested in playing games than being with me. These five things changed my perspective of what I needed in a partner, and the kind of partner I wanted to be. I wrote down my little list, tucked it away and then said I was “done with men and dating” for a while. The literal next day, I met Michael.

Will show our kids these pictures from 2012 and let them know it was the year of love, and the year of Four Loko. The two are not related (probably).

One of my closest and oldest friends, Jenny, had come over for drinks before going to Central Michigan’s most ESTEEMED social activity, “Pint Night” at The Wayside. She noticed a piece of mail stuck to our fridge, belonging to the name “Michael Ayaub”. She asked why we had it, and I explained that it had been was mis-delivered, and we were all too lazy to walk it down to the proper address. She said that she actually knew him from class, and that I should bring his mail to the bar (a great idea definitely motivated by Smirnoff RASPBERRY) and talk to him. I threw on my pleather DSW boots and stuck his mail in my Coach wristlet and off we went.

When we got to the bar, Jenny introduced us, and I handed over his mail. It had actually been a paycheck he had to report missing, so we were off to a great, romantic start. We talked for a bit, and to this day, I swear that as soon as we met, I felt a little “ping” in my stomach, almost as if it were telling me to pay attention. It also could have been that we were drinking $2 Coors Lights, but the romantic in me will say it was a sign. The more we spoke, the more I liked him. I accidentally dipped my hair in a beer, and he made me feel better by saying he was sweating. College romance is really a beautiful thing.

Michael offered to drive me home (he hadn’t been drinking, he is still always the most sensible person in the room). He dropped me off at my door...and didn’t ask for my number. I was devastated. I thought we had a great time, me with my hair soaking in beer, him with the sweat. The next day, Jenny and I devised a plan for me to see him again. The following weekend, a group of us went to a baseball game, Michael included. I bought a last minute ticket, grabbed my “Lauren Conrad for Kohl’s” leather jacket (I’m really trying to establish a visual time-period) and was ready to make a move. At the game, Michael finally asked for my number, “in case we got lost in the stadium”, and asked me out to dinner the next day.

We started dating quickly, and after a few months, we knew this was the real deal. It just felt like a given that we were supposed to be together. That doesn’t mean our relationship didn’t come without hardship. We had disagreements and arguments, usually stemming around our needs, and how we can adjust to one another’s. I really feel that people are too quick to end relationships. They see one fault, and walk away. No one, and no relationship is perfect. You aren’t looking for the perfect partner. You’re looking for someone who is willing to work on themselves and the relationship because they love and value you. I had to change a lot of habits, as did Michael. The things I needed to work on to fulfill Michael’s emotional needs, made me a better person, and vice versa.  It was about growing together, not letting our imperfections tear us a part. Of course if you’re dating someone truly horrible, you can’t change inherently who a person is. The whole “I can change him!” approach is one that will always set you up for failure. It’s not your responsibility to change your partner- they have to want to grow with you. When someone shows you who you are, you have to believe them. Who knows you better than you?

About three years into our relationship, I was in a dark place. I had no real direction, felt stuck and depressed at my job, I felt simply lost. I questioned everything, and I told Michael I didn’t know if I could be in a relationship. I asked for two weeks without talking or seeing each other so that I could think. After two weeks, we could assess our relationship. Michael respected my space, but towards the end of the 14 days, he made a small gesture solidifying that no matter what, he was the thing in my life, maybe the only thing, that I was sure of.

One night, Michael sent me a picture of myself. Unbeknownst to me, he had taken a picture of me at another baseball game. It had been raining, I was wearing a giant plastic rain poncho and my hair was matted down to my face. I was face deep in a jumbo hot dog, ketchup on me like makeup, mouth wide open and ready for Ballpark Frank bliss. It was followed by the simple message “I will love you no matter what”.  I laughed so hard I cried, then I just cried. I knew then that what I was going through, would pass. But Michael was a constant.

I don’t have the hot dog photo (Michael has all rights to it) to share with you, but here we are in the ponchos, enjoying a rainy, disgusting time!!

It’s been 7 years filled with happiness and love and laughter, but also hardships, compromise and learning. I’m just going to say it: marriage, and serious relationships, aren’t natural. Someone can be your absolute soulmate, and it’s still hard as hell to mesh to another person’s needs and every aspect of their personality. All relationships are a continual give and take, saying “I’m sorry” (which I am the WORST at), and learning how you both can be better. These moments of frustration and disagreement are going to be a given. What makes the difference is if you feel the person you’re going through it with is worth the internal work for change, and if they’re willing to do the same.

Make your list. Know what you need, and be a champion of it. Be open to listening what your partner needs- it might just make you a better person, and your relationship something of dreams. Like the kind that has you crying over a picture of yourself deep-throating a hot dog at 2am. Who said fairytales aren’t real?

ASK ALEX: "I'm in a Job Rut".

“Does this filter make me look wise??”

It’s been tough for me to write lately. I feel like every time I put pen to paper, something angry comes out. With the state of our nation, it’s been difficult to care about much else these days than the atrocities that are taking place at the hand of our own government. It feels like everything I have to say comes back to the fear and heartbreak I feel for our country.

Last month, I asked you guys on Instagram what kind of advice you were in need of. I got a multitude of answers, ranging from how to find the best sunglasses for your face shape, to help with getting rid of toxic people from your life. I’ve sat down a few times to start writing my answers, but every time I got sidetracked and ended up on more of a tangent than a talk. But last week- something shifted. After the El Paso & Dayton shootings, and the round-up of undocumented immigrants in Mississippi which left a dozen children without their parents, I felt a burning helplessness to do something. And I realized the quickest way to do something was to start spreading kindness, compassion and empathy. And I know I can do so with my words. I also bought a stranger a cookie last week- only to find out they “don’t EAT COOKIES”!! So, here I am, back on my computer!!

So, without further ado, here’s my first article with “Ask Alex” or “Advice from Alex” or “Talking Out of Her Ass, it’s Alex!”- whatever we want to call it- I’m answering your questions!

“I’m in a job rut. I’ve been with my current employer for a few years, and I really hate my job and want to look elsewhere. How did you end up finding a job you like?”

If you would have asked me a few years ago (hell, even a few months ago) to dish out job advice, I would have laughed and then gotten in my 2001 Saturn Station and popped in a Jonas Brothers CD. SIMPLER TIMES! But I didn’t start out very strong in the job-scene (does anyone?). My first job, I diverted away from fashion, which I had gone to college for. I took a job that paid well-enough and gave me experience and I was grateful- but I was miserable. It wasn’t for me. And I remember in that time, everything felt so final. I felt like I had chosen my course and I let my job dictate my moods and my life. I never shut the job off, I came home every night riled up and angry.

Eventually, I left that job and got back into fashion, working for Linda Dresner. Out of college, I had pretty much stalked Linda, emailing and calling her store until she agreed to meet with me. At that time, she didn’t have any work for me. But I offered to come in and help with sales and whatever else she needed, and we formed a relationship. Three years later- she called me and I left my job to work with her. I worked with Linda for almost three years- and it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. Linda brought life back into my goals.

When we moved to Las Vegas, I was convinced I would never find a job in fashion here. I was applying for anything and everything, sitting in coffee shops almost everyday firing off my resume. After about 5 months of nothing, I took a seasonal job working in the Zappos Call Center. I had really wanted to work for Zappos, and I felt this could be a good foot in the door. The hours weren’t ideal, I sat 8 hours a day in a call center, fielding customer service calls. I surprisingly enjoyed it- but I think more-or-less I was just happy to be working again and talking to actual people, not just yelling wrong answers at Alex Trebeck.

Three weeks into the 8-week program, I got an email from Chloe Gosselin. I had actually applied for a job to work for her husband, when she came across my resume. She was also looking to hire someone for her business, and we met for coffee. I left the call center and starting working with Chloe two weeks later.

Here’s the thing- sometimes luck just has something to do with it. But it wasn’t without hard work. For five months, 4-5 days a week, I was actively applying for anything that sounded remotely interesting to me. I reached out to companies that didn’t even have job postings. This leads me to my best job-hunting practice:

You do not have to wait for a company to have an opening. Think of what you want to do. Is it marketing? Advertising? Tech? Research a company that you admire or are interested in and find someone who works in the related department-or, if it’s a super small company, reach out to the owner. Many times, I would just send a cold-email, ask if I could come in and meet with that person over coffee because I admired their company or wanted to learn more about it. You would be shocked with how generous people can be with their time. Don’t get me wrong- 8 times out of 10 I got no response. But the other two times, I made valuable connections and was on their radar if an opening did arise- that’s how I got the seasonal work with Zappos. I emailed a recruiter asking to have coffee and learn more about Zappos- a few weeks later, she emailed me about the Customer Service role. I immediately went to Whole Foods and bought a lunch box, I was back in business, baby!!

Never think that a job or task is beneath you. I can’t tell you how many women I’ve talked to, fresh out of college, who thinks they should be able to skip “entry-level”. It’s not what you see on Instagram. You have to work and be willing to do it all. Sometimes you take a new job and feel like you’re taking a small step back. But one step back, to ultimately take five forward? I was terrible at math in high school but sounds good to me!!

If you are currently in a job that sucks the soul out of you, you have to do everything you can to not bring it home with you. Leave work at work. I used to sit in my car for 15-minutes after a certain job I had, just to decompress and shake it off. I was letting the misery of the job take the joy out of the rest of my day, and I didn’t want to give it that power.

If you work with people who are intent on making you miserable, remember that flowers still grow among weeds. Or in simpler terms, don’t internalize the bullshit happening around you that stunts your growth. That was the hardest lesson for me to learn, and the hardest habit to kick.

In terms of applying for jobs- making my resume was truly the bane of my existence. I thought I had a killer resume- until I sent it to a few friends who kindly roasted it into oblivion. My experience was strong! But my resume might as well have been written in Comic Sans. It had a lot on there, but it said nothing. The best tip I ever received was that every sentence should have a result. So instead of:

“Responsible for all e-mail marketing initiatives”

It should be:

“Responsible for all e-mail marketing initiatives, leading to a 33% increase in active subscribers”.

And while we’re at it- delete your objective sentence. Delete it like your racist Uncle from Facebook. It takes up valuable property on your resume, and it tells the employer what they already know- that you want that job, CLEARLY!!!

It also helped me to buy a resume template off Etsy- it took the hard work out of designing my resume so I could focus on the content of it.

I think we’ve been fed a myth about the “Dream Job”- and we pressure ourselves to find it as fast as we can. We tell ourselves we’ll be happy when we have it. In those five months that I wasn’t working, I realized that I had associated my happiness with work, and the jobs I had. If my job sucked- I was miserable, even when I wasn’t there. I had gotten completely dependent on my job to dictate the other parts of life. I struggled to find things that could fill me with joy and purpose the way I had told myself a job should make me feel. In those five months, I had to learn that my happiness came from other outside factors. I had to focus on how to create a “Dream Life”, instead the illusive “Dream Job”. And it wasn’t this poetic, romanticized journey people sell- sorry but that’s only for people who don’t need MONEY!!! It was challenging and stressful as hell.

I’m not a job expert, I’m really fortunate to be in a position now where I enjoy going into work and feel respected and happy. What I want the takeaway to be is that while your job environment is extremely important to your well-being, it can’t be the sole factor of it. If you’re ready to be onto the next thing, start putting yourself out there, be willing to get a little uncomfortable. The amount of cringe-y emails I sent (I actually put “Hello, Is it Me You’re Looking For? as the subject of an application email. GOOD TIMES!) and unanswered calls discouraged me at times, but all it takes is one. Again- you might be in weeds, but you are a flower (one of those cool, Instagrammy ones) and growth requires action.

In Repair

After a rough stretch of days, I officially declared myself in a “funk”. You know the feeling- you don’t quite feel like yourself, every emotion and feeling seems to be heightened. My first memory of this feeling was when Marissa Cooper died in The O.C….BUT THAT WAS DIFFERENT! A “faux funk”, if you will. A real, adult funk is hard to shake, surrounded by feelings of self-doubt, uncertainty and unworthiness.

I have very little reason to be anything less than ecstatic these days. We just closed on a house, we have a cute new puppy to love (and to chase around the house when he steals my underwear from the laundry and puts it on his head. MY GIFTED SON!), we just got back from a vacation, I’m healthy, and I actually like going to my job.

But for the past few days, I just haven’t been feeling it. I have felt removed from myself, my routines, my usual character. I’m not going to be too hard on myself here- these periods happen no matter what your life looks like in that moment. But I knew I had to take back my humanity. I’m not a runner, I don’t “find myself” with yoga, I can’t “sweat it out!!” with boxing. Over the last year or so, I’ve had to find activities and practices to put in my arsenal that bring me back to myself. My personal practices include:

-Going to the library and finding a new book (cookbooks are therapeutic to me, even if I never make anything from them.)

-Sipping my coffee in the morning at home, not from a to-go cup in my car (great news for my cup holders, which are usually espresso stained)

-Reading outside

- Going to Trader Joe’s and perusing every aisle, grabbing all the snacks that look good (and usually opening a box of something in the car to eat on the way home…maybe I should be taking better care of my car)

-Baking something (this week it was a cherry tart, which I overcooked but Michael said it’s the best tart he’s ever had. 1000 POINTS TO MICHAEL!)

-Buying flowers that I will most likely kill within 3 days but that first day…they are healing!

Even writing this right now, outside with a glass of wine (blame any errors on the Pinot), is a therapeutic action in repairing myself. I take these mundane, somewhat daily things and I put them on priority. Some may call it “self-care”, but it’s more than that. It’s the practice of reminding myself that I am worth caring for.

We all require healing. Maybe it’s once a month, or once a week. Maybe it’s massive work (I firmly believe therapy is the greatest gift you can give yourself), or just a tune-up. To heal is to be human.

In my favorite book, Heart Talk , Cleo Wade says “It does no good to think about running a marathon when you still have a broken foot”. Take the time you need, put priority on your practices, your “self-activators”. Find your way back and remember, you can never be truly lost if you know who you are.

dust

Don’t worry- I’m not going to start this post with an “I’m back after a little hiatus!” bit. I’ve played it and it’s gotten old. The truth is, I just stopped writing. Not because I didn’t enjoy it or have anything to say, but simply because life got busy. Right after I published my last post in November, I finally got a job in Nevada. A job I love, and I decided early on I would give it my all. I put all my focus not just into my job, but also my marriage, which was finally back on the ground after a difficult move, and immersing myself in our new community. The last few months have flown by, and it’s almost a year-to-date that we found out we were leaving Detroit. And guess what? I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and it completely snuck up on me.

In all my contentment, I still I felt an itch to put pen to paper again (I write all my posts in a notebook before typing. Eat your heart out, Shakespeare!!!) Every day when I would walk into my closet, I would pass a framed copy of “The Nines” logo that my friendly so sweetly made me for my birthday one year. I would walk by it, think “I should write soon”, and then just go in my closet and get distracted by a sweater. But yesterday as I walked past it, I noticed all the dust that had accumulated around the frame, and it hit me. I was letting the dust collect around something I loved. I gave up on something that was supposed to be growing. And in true “Carrie Bradshaw” style (even though she is THE WORST, don’t get me started) , I had to wonder “When being content stunts your growth-is it really such a good thing?”.

No-one made me stop writing. It was actually the opposite. My husband would ask if there was anything new to read, my boss said she really enjoyed my writing. I feel supported by the people around me. But I used all the things going on in my life as a crutch to avoid doing something that was enjoyable, but required a lot of effort. I was so busy with life and happy with just-the-way-things-were that I forgot that growth requires doing. That in order to have a voice, you have to speak. I neglected the piece of me that loves to talk about women’s rights and skincare and how not needing a bra until 8th grade ruined my self esteem- we’ll get to that later, OH WILL WE EVER!

This post isn’t about “being back, guys!”. It’s meant to serve as a reminder that if you have let dust collect around something you love, something that makes you who you are-you can always clean it off and pick it back up. You can also hire a cleaning company. That has no double meaning- the dust was so alarming that we literally hired a cleaning company. Talk soon. xx

One Year.

When were engaged, Michael and I heard from so many couples: “the first year of marriage is the best of your life!”. But what we rarely heard, was the honesty of all the changes that come with being a newly married couple. Instagram photos and tributes to our spouses can be deceiving, so today, on our first wedding anniversary, I wanted to write my version of a love letter to my husband.

One year ago, Michael and I got married. It truly was the happiest day of our lives. I didn’t think I could love him any more than in the moments we exchanged our personal vows. We went on our honeymoon in Hawaii, embraced in marital and tropical bliss. Our first Christmas together was magical, and I loved ringing in 2018 with a bottle of champagne from the comfort of our own couch. The marital rumors were true- I was happier than I had ever been.

In the Spring, Michael and I started to get restless. We had been living in our rented condo for almost two years at this point, and were looking ahead to the future in terms of our careers. We knew it was time to start making moves. We imagined staying in the area, buying a house, getting a dog, or FIVE! Or maybe we would move to a big city and live the life for a few years. It was on my lunch hour one day in March that Michael called me and said he was put up for a great new position in Las Vegas. Through the decision to take the job and move, our marital bliss slowly faded away. When faced with a big, life-changing decision- that’s when our marriage got real. By April, we packed up the condo and moved our things across the country. I moved in with my parents, and Michael commuted back and fourth between Detroit and Las Vegas. Tensions were high, the situation was less than ideal. Michael loved his new job, but I was weary of a new home and career uncertainty.

We finally made the full move in July, and while things have been exciting and new, some days have been a struggle. It isn’t this cinematic picture of marriage, romantically eating pizza on the floor surrounded by moving boxes. The image I had in my head of what marriage should look like wasn’t matching our reality. It made me wonder if we were failing in our first year.

Looking back on the past year, I now can see with full clarity, that my marriage is perfectly real. In the times that we struggled, that was when we decided how we will be as husband and wife. After every serious talk or disagreement, my husband showed me beautiful comfort and unconditional understanding. I gave him compassion and unwavering faith. I truly feel that we both emptied ourselves for one another in this year, in the most wonderful way possible. Here today, in a coffee shop on the other side of the country, I can honestly say that I love Michael more today than I did on our wedding day. There is no Instagram tribute or Facebook post that could explain how closely I will hold this year to my heart. I will look back on the days I came home crying (didn’t have to look back very far, as it was probably last week), losing faith in myself and my career, only to be laughing an hour later, feeling completely renewed by viewing myself through my husbands’ eyes. 

There is no perfect marriage. You’re going to argue, disagree, maybe even slam a door (I’m an Italian Aries, sorry!!!). Life is great when it’s moving smoothly and seamlessly. House, dog, steady job. But if you’re lucky, it’s in the moments of change, the moments of complete uncertainty and risk, that you really realize how wonderful love and marriage can be.  It was in the struggle that I truly saw how beautiful our life will be together. Not because we’re perfectly married. But because for the first time, I feel that we both gave each other absolutely everything we had. And in return? We made a life, together. When they say “the honeymoon is over!”, good. That’s when the good part really begins.

In our vows, I told Michael that he is my greatest gift. It’s never been truer than it is today. Happy first anniversary, Michael.

Viva Las Vegas!

That's right- the Ayaubs are moving from Detroit to the desert! We are living the dream of being closer to Celine Dion...OK, OK, Michael got a really great job, too. This summer, Mike and I will be moving to Henderson, Nevada to pursue the next stage in our careers. 

When Mike initially got a call about a job in Las Vegas, I stubbornly declared that I could never, ever move to Las Vegas. I had images of someone handing me naked-lady cards on my way to get coffee, or running into one of those giant "Elmo" characters on a morning walk. And although this new job sounded like this would be a great opportunity for him, what about my job? We are both two very career-driven people, and I got overwhelmed with the thought of not finding an opportunity for myself out there, too. 

When we flew into Las Vegas for his interview, we drove about 25 minutes from The Strip to Henderson. I was ready to hate it. I told you guys- I'm horribly stubborn. We toured around the town and even looked at a few apartments. My ego was displeased to find that I didn't hate it at all- I actually loved it. It was nothing like the flashing lights and endless buffets that The Strip boasts. It was very comparable to our life here in Birmingham, just with more palm trees and a bigger "Whole Foods" (put that near the top of our "pro" list). We saw an apartment we loved, and now we had a decision to make.

When we got back to the hotel that night, I completely shut down. We cancelled our dinner reservation. We got room service and I cried. The overwhelming sadness of leaving all our friends and family behind hit me like a true Vegas hangover. I couldn't imagine not being able to call up my parents and meet them for breakfast on a Sunday. I couldn't fathom not being able to drive 10 minutes to my best friend's house, or meet my sister for a pedicure, or visit my in-laws for dinner. And what about my job? What was I going to do? 

I realized I was using the word "I" in my thoughts far too much. I wasn't in this alone, I had my husband, who had this really exciting opportunity, and I cried all over it. I will say, I haven't quite mastered some parts of marriage yet. This isn't to say we aren't happy. Being married to Mike has been my favorite 6-months ever. But anyone that says this is easy, is probably lying. It's not just about you anymore, there's two people that need to be considered in every single situation. You have to compromise, work together, and always keep in mind that it is the two of you fighting against the problem. Not fighting against each other. You work on these things everyday, and sometimes you fall short.

When we got back to Michigan, I felt calmer, more excited about this next step in our lives. I knew moving was the right thing to do, and so did Mike. We applied for the apartment and started calling moving companies.  We came to terms with the fact that our parents won't be a drive away for dinner, and we will go a while without seeing our siblings and friends. But we thought of how fun it will be when they visit, or we road-trip to California to meet up with them for vacation. This is going to be a huge change for us, and not every day will be butterflies and swimming pools (ok, we will have a bomb a$$ swimming pool though). But change is just a part of life, and we can choose to panic or embrace it. 

I am going to miss the hell out of Detroit. I tear up just as I type that, because I have grown to love this place after complaining about it my whole adolescent-life . I'm going to miss our neighborhood in Birmingham, and walking to get our favorite coffee. I'll miss driving downtown to a cool new restaurant, or store, and experiencing the thriving, beautiful culture of Detroit. I'll miss movie night with our friends, brunch with my girlfriends, Mediterranean food-binges with my sister, seeing our parents almost every week. I'll miss the people and places that made our life here so hard to leave. 

But I am excited- WE are excited! I can't wait to find a new pizza place together, decorate a new apartment, not experience winter (sorry guys), see Celine Dion more often (sorry, Mike), walk outside and sit by the pool with a book in January, experience all the ups and downs of change with my husband. I'm excited to see what's next for my career, while watching Mike's take incredible steps forward, too. 

We don't know how long we'll be in Nevada. Or if we'll move to California next, or London, or Idaho, or back to Detroit. We are taking this all as it comes, and I can't wait to see how it all turns out. 

To the desert! 

Lately.

The start of a new year- typically filled with optimism, new beginnings and a whole lot of green vegetables. But so far in 2018, I’ve felt a bit anxious, un-easy and filled with more cookies than kale. So this year hasn’t been off to the best start for me emotionally, and I feel the only way for me to face that, is to address it and move on like a the lead singer of a boy band on the brink of extinction.

I’ll start off by saying I am happy. I am fresh into marriage and truly loving it, happy with my job and other endeavors. But what keeps me up at night other than binge watching “Game of Thrones” are the thoughts “Where am I going?”, “Am I good enough?”, and “What SHOULD I be doing?”.  A consistent theme in my life has been comparing myself to others and their doings, and feeling inadequate when mine don’t seem to be up to par with “theirs”. Lately, I’ve found myself on a lot more Instagram benders, watching other people’s lives while mine slowly passes me by. Time I could spend bettering my future is spent admiring the lives of people I don’t even know. And I’m anxious while I’m doing it, because I know it’s not time well spent, and that leaves me beating myself up and feeling badly about my laziness. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

I saw an article on Facebook the other day (yes, another social media bender!!), from a 26-year-old Australian woman named Holly, who was dying of cancer. It was all over my newsfeed, so I clicked on it while I was eating breakfast. There was one part in there that hit me like a truck:

“Life isn’t mean to be lived through a screen nor is it about getting the perfect photo…enjoy the bloody moment, people! Stop trying to capture it for everyone else.”

Stop trying to capture it for everyone else.

I know that social media is a business for a lot of people, and I think that’s a really cool thing about the world we live in today. But I have come to the realization that I am not one of those people. I don’t think I want to be a professional blogger, or "influencer" (it’s hard work and I give those people who have made a legitimate success out of it their props). And not because I think those are dirty words- there’s a lot of bloggers I look up to and keep up with regularly. I struggle with this a lot every day- in that I don’t know exactly what I want to be yet. And if I don’t know, how can I convey a specific “image” online if I don’t even know what that is yet? I just want to be me- un-photoshopped, un-calculated. 

Here’s what I do know:

I want to write. I want to impact someone’s life. I want to do something someday that will change the lives of women and other underrepresented groups. I want to give back all the kindness and support that has been given to me. I want to chase a dream and a goal and not a an Instagram-able life. I want to be more present in moments-big or small. I want to not be so hard on myself when I do find myself binging on social media- but I want it to be for positivity and motivation and knowledge. Not to make me feel inadequate and bad about myself. I want to enjoy and capture moments for myself- without needing the validation of the world and their likes.

This isn’t a vendetta against social media. I am very grateful to it, because I have met some truly amazing people- some of which have become my greatest friends that I talk to every single day. I love communicating with people everyday- I always got my seat moved in class for "excessive talking" so this makes a lot of sense. But in this year, I am actively going to try to enjoy the moment instead of capturing it for someone else. Yes, I will still share by beauty routines, my matcha-lattes, an outfit I feel bomb in, something funny that happened to me in the meat department at Kroger, or a new lipstick I’m excited about. I enjoy sharing those things, and getting to interact with people. But I am no longer going to force it. This may mean less ~content~, but that means that maybe I’m out enjoying the moment for myself a little more.

I don’t want to wait until something catastrophic happens in my life to realize these things, and I think that’s why I wanted to write this all down. I needed to hear it, and maybe someone out there needed to as well. This is my reminder and your reminder that we are not deemed inadequate or less because our lives don’t look like someone else’s. Life has different stages and plans for everyone, and I intend to seek mine out, starting now (okay...gonna finish this coffee first).

CAKE, CARS AND CARDI B! All Our Wedding Details.

Okay- so now that we have the sappiness out of the way, let’s get down to the planning portion of our wedding. I spent the last year planning the day, and while it was fun, it could be challenging. It was hard finding the right vendors to understand our vision, execute it properly, and for a fair price. Every second of research, phone calls and emails were worth it, not because our flowers were beautiful or the DJ played all the right songs. But because it was ours, it was exactly what we wanted and more, and we were surrounded by so much love and support. Also, I could eat pizza again. ADIOS, WEDDING DIET!

Our wedding day truly was the greatest day of my life thus far, and I know Michael feels the same way. We put a lot of thought into every element, but never taking it too seriously. We wanted a big party with all our friends and family, and that’s what we had. I wanted to share today all of our vendors (and a few tips!) for any other brides out there, or maybe someone who’s just looking ahead (I don’t judge!). I had a few hiccups, but ended up loving every single vendor I used- some even becoming my friend…not by choice. I told you, I made them.

THE VENUE: The Townsend Hotel

Since stepping foot in to the Townsend Hotel almost 20 years ago, I knew I would want to get married there someday. Or at least throw a Harry Potter Pajama Party or something (I was 7 sooo..). So when it was time to pick our venue, it was the first and only spot that we looked. We met with the events coordinator, Lizz, and hit it off right away. She understood our vision, and knew we wanted an elegant, classic affair, but with pizza and trap music. Over the next year, Lizz was my basically my best friend. She was on top of this wedding like Pitbull on a remix. She was organized, meticulous and made planning incredibly easy. The Townsend Hotel is very great-Gatsby-esque, and possesses a standard of elegance that was beyond anything we could have imagined for our wedding. We were treated like royalty, even at 2AM after the reception, when they delivered an extra pizza and two plates of mashed potatoes up to our room. Choosing the Townsend Hotel for our wedding was the best decision we made, besides getting married and committing to a lifetime together and stuff.

*The Townsend also catered the dinner and their bakery made the cake, both of which I still dream about on a weekly basis.

THE DRESS: Mira Couture, Chicago

I searched all over for a dress in Metro-Detroit, and was so disappointed when I couldn’t find a single thing I loved. Entrepreneurs listen up! There’s a major market here in Detroit for non-traditional wedding dresses. I didn’t want anything super sparkly or pouf-y, it’s just not my style. I wanted something bridal, but non-traditional. After striking out in Detroit, My mom, step-dad, sister and I spent a weekend in Chicago looking for the right one. We booked a 3 day trip, when in reality, all we needed was 3 hours. My first appointment was at Mira Couture, where I was greeted with immense kindness from Addie, my consultant. The dress that ultimately ended up being mine (designer was Daalarna), was the very first dress I tried on. I want to be very clear about this, I think the whole “Say Yes to The Dress, bawl your eyes out, find the meaning of life moment” is a little dramatic and unrealistic. When I showed my family the dress, they undoubtedly told me that this was my dress. It was me to-a-tee. And I LOVED it. But I didn’t cry, like I’ve been conditioned to believe that sobbing over a dress is the indicator- so we spend the next 48 hours going from shop-to-shop, trying on dress after dress, finding plenty of good, but realizing that no dress made me feel like that first one. We ordered the dress and veil as soon as we got back to Michigan, and over the next year, through emails and fittings, and more fittings, Mira delivered me a dress beyond anything I could have imagined. They treated me with respect, honesty and true kindness. They really cared about my happiness on our wedding day. Their selection was incredible, with instead of racks and racks filled with similar looking dresses, their selection was carefully curated and beautifully chosen, at all different price points.

*The guys tuxedos were from The Tux Shop in Birmingham. They were wonderful to work with and each guy had the perfect fit. Except our friend Paul- he split his pants getting too low to “Rake it Up”, so that was probably his own fault.

THE FLORIST: Jeffrey Floral Architecture

The flowers were really the only area of our wedding in which I really struggled. I know nothing about flowers, other than I can get carnations for $2.99 at Trader Joe’s. I knew what I liked, but needed someone to tell me how to do it. We actually booked one florist, which after our trial, left me drinking straight from a bottle of wine when we got home. It was clear we didn’t share the same vision, and that there would be no effort from their side to deliver something we loved. That’s when I found Jeffrey. I was at our venue for a meeting one day, when I looked around and noticed how beautiful and unique their flowers were around the lobby. They gave me Jeffrey’s info, and now I am his #1 fan/borderline stalker. We met and I knew I was in good hands. I showed him photos of what I liked, and within minutes, he told me he had this and just leave it up to him. I trusted him like an old Italian grandmother. He’s not a florist- he’s an artist. He creates the most unbelievable arrangements, full of creativity, originality and beauty. He created a perfect ambiance for the evening, and made me semi-obsessed with him in the process.

THE CANDLES: Detroit Rose

I’ve talked about Detroit Rose candles before- they’re my absolute favorite and I am a big fan of the creator, Dierdre. So when I had the idea of doing a custom candle to display on our tables, I knew exactly where to go. Deirdre and I emailed back and fourth, talking about the mood we wanted for the room, and how we could convey that through scent. She sent me a bunch of samples, and together we found the perfect mix: rose, amber, vetiver and cardamom. She even designed a beautiful custom label for us to bring it all together. Our custom candle filled the room with the sweet scent of rose and pure romance (as romantic as Cardi B & The Ying Yang twins blaring through the speakers allow for). It is one of my favorite things we did for the wedding, because now every time I light one in our home, I am reminded of the love and happiness of that day (and have the urge to belt out get low in my living room).

THE BEAUTY: Hair-Kevin Styles @ Luigi Bruni, Makeup- Katrina Malota @ Luigi Bruni

I have been seeing Kevin for my hair color for a few years now, and I knew it was love at first foil from the day we met. Kevin is truly an artist, and was one of the first people that truly made me feel beautiful- and that goes beyond hair. He is kind, funny, and unbelievably talented. My hair was the least stressful thing about our wedding, because I knew I could leave it in Kevin’s hands and he would create something beautiful- and he did! I truly think there is no one better in town not just with hair, but to have by your side as you get ready for your wedding. He brings a beautiful energy, and sees each woman as a beautiful individual-and he celebrates that through his work.

I usually hate having my makeup done. In the past, it’s usually just been a lot of bronzer and eyeliner so dark and thick I still look like I listen to Hawthorne Heights (NEVER FORGET!). So I was nervous when I knew I would need to get my makeup done for the big day. I had known Katrina through coming to the salon and working with her on a project for work, and we always just seemed to click. When I went to my makeup trial with her, I explained everything I never liked about having my makeup done, and when she told me that black eyeliner wouldn’t even get near my face, I knew I was in the right hands. Katrina, like Kevin, is an artist. She’s an icon, and she has the ability to take your features, and celebrate them through her mastery. She made each of my bridesmaids, my mother, and myself, feel so beautiful- while keeping each girl true to herself. She doesn’t use makeup as a disguise, but to an enhancer to what she already sees in you. Her glowing energy is contagious, and I will forever be grateful for how she made me feel on our wedding day. 

THE QUARTET: Rondo String Quartet

I knew that when I walked down the aisle to Michael, I wanted doves to be released and Andrea Bocelli to come down from the ceiling just belting one out. Then I got a hold of a budget and decided a string quartet would be just as beautiful. I searched high and low, but it was the Quartet’s director, Lisa, that really sold me. She was incredibly organized, responsive and kind, especially in the last few weeks when I became a bit scattered. The quartet even learned “A Sky Full of Stars”, our favorite song, to walk down the aisle to. It’s also worth mentioning that Rondo played at my mom and Paul’s wedding, a few weeks after, and played the MSU and UofM fight song as the processional. Almost makes me wish I would have stuck with violin in middle school. ALMOST (I was last chair I had no choice, really).

THE DJ: Max Schuler

I love music and knew exactly what I wanted to dance to at our reception, so hiring a friend with DJ equipment seemed like a no-brainer for me. I’ve known Max since elementary school, when we used to wait at the bus stop together. He is sincerely one of the kindest people I’ve ever met- when some kid made fun of me on the bus (something about a Hollister denim skirt and my bird legs), I remember Max standing up for me and not joining in- so it was really special to have him provide the music and mood for our wedding. We met a few times and got the general vibe. We didn’t want anything cheesy or over the top (if I heard "Cupid Shuffle" there would be hell to pay), just romantic and fun. BOY did he deliver. . From Bodak Yellow to Celine Dion to Roll-Out (special request by my mom- seriously), Max kept the party going all night, and I am so thankful for his thoughtfulness in playing certain songs and keeping the vibe right. UNFORTUNATELY, I was Max’s last gig, so you can’t have him. I wanted to give him credit where credit it due, and make a point for picking your own playlist!

THE PHOTOGRAPHER: Sandra Floering, For The Love of It

I searched high and low for a wedding photographer, often discouraged when I stumbled upon cheesy-azz photos in their portfolio. I found Sandra & For The Love Of It on pure luck. I saw some wedding photos on Facebook, found the photographer and got in touch with him-only to find out he wasn’t available. But he recommended "For The Love of It" to me, and I will forever be grateful. One look at Sandra’s portfolio (free of any prom-esque portraits) and my search was over. We skyped a couple of times, but didn’t actually meet in person until the morning of the wedding. I can’t put into words the energy and talent that encompasses Sandra and her husband, Grant. It felt like we were hanging out with friends all day long-really talented, hard-working friends. Sandra & Grant made us feel comfortable, at ease, and most of the time we didn’t even notice they were snapping away.  They somehow perfectly captured the happiness and love that surrounded us, and gave us a gift that we will cherish for the rest of our lives. Sandra then did my mom’s wedding a few weeks later, and then one of my best friend’s a few weeks after that. By now, I consider Sandra and her husband like family, and I will think of her every time I get misty-eyed looking at a photo of my husband and I (or the one of me stuffing my face with donuts. THEY’RE ALL GREAT).

THE VIDEOGRAPHER: Bo Parker, Afterglow Film & Photo

We weren’t going to get a videographer. I researched and just found them too expensive for what you got. I didn’t just want a 5 minute trailer to remember the day, but more comprehensive footage because I knew most of the day would fly by me, and I wanted to be able to go back and remember. I enlisted the help of my Facebook friends ( which I did for a lot of things and you guys came THROUGH). Shout-out to Sara McNeill who lived in my dorm in college, for she mentioned a videographer who was also Central Michigan Alum! After chatting with Bo, the founder, we decided to go for it. His pricing was fair, his energy electric, and not only did he give us a trailer, but an hour-long feature that included quiet moments of the day I didn’t even know he was filming. When I watched our trailer for the first time with tears streaming down my face, I knew that hiring not just a videographer, but Bo specifically, was some of the best money I ever spent. Other than the time I paid for a wand at Olivander's at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter and then got chosen BY Olivander to practice spells. But it's a close second.

THE DAY OF COORDINATOR: Andrea Solomon

I was happy to plan our wedding- wedding planners are expensive and basically, I wanted to be the J-LO of this thing. But after hearing from multiple brides that a Day-Of-Coordinator was key to a smooth and seamless wedding day, I went on the hunt, finding Andrea Solomon. If I was J-LO, she was the beautifully pushy Italian father that got sh!t done (if you haven’t seen The Wedding Planner, you have some homework to do). We really wanted to be like guests at our wedding, and enjoy the day. We didn’t want to worry about if the tables would be set up correctly, or if the bus was going to be late, or if we left for pictures on time. Andrea handled every single thing on the day of our wedding. She got everyone to pictures on time, oversaw that the room was set up correctly, put out placecards, held my veil as I walked, even took all of the gifts and cards up to the room, along with a pizza for later. She allowed the both of us to just enjoy the day, and not worry about a thing other than trying all three flavors of the cake.

THE GETAWAY: Detroit Classic Car Rental

I knew from day one I wanted to ride away from the church in a classic car. I have a photo of my aunt and uncle, who have been married for over 50 years, on their wedding day, in the back of a classic car right after they said their “I do’s”. I looked on craigslist, but found some really sketchy offers (a 1986 Toyota is NOT classic guys). I eventually stumbled on Detroit Classic Car Rentals. We were able to go out and look at the car, a 1959 gold Bentley, and I was in love. It was the perfect  addition to our day, and I was so happy that Mike and I had a few quiet moments to ourselves after the ceremony to soak in the magnitude of the moment. Mike (not my Mike, a second Mike!), the owner, couldn’t have been any sweeter or easier to work with. He decorated the outside of the car with flowers and ribbon, making us feel like royalty. Do you think they would be willing to pick me up from work a few days a week? I DESERVE IT (I do not deserve it)!!

THE LITTLE THINGS:

Mike and I were trying to ball on a budget, which is very tough when you’re planning a wedding. Add the word “Wedding” to anything (Wedding place cards, wedding napkins, wedding socks) and I swear there is a 75% up-charge. I tried to find the craftiest way to do things, and then realized I am awful at crafts. This is where Etsy came in. On Etsy we found vendors to do our place cards, cocktail napkins, donut bags, itineraries, all of our signage, table numbers, even vintage maps of where we met and where we were getting married. I LOVED working with small businesses, they took such pride in their work and everything had so much thought and hard work put into it. Every detail felt so personal because we got to work on it with someone directly. Also it all saved me a lot of time, glue, and my sanity.

*A few of you asked where I did all my embroidery (my denim jackets, pajamas for bridesmaids, handkerchiefs, etc.) I did everything at StitchWorks Embroidery in Berkley.

A few things I learned along the way:

1)      If you don’t like something, speak up. I was about to use a floral vendor I ended up not liking, and having flowers that were less than great, all because I was too scared to speak up and tell them I didn’t like it. It wasn’t until my mom said something that I was willing to speak up and be honest. It's your day and your money- spend it wisely!

2)      Most things are completely negotiable. I was able to negotiate costs for just about everything, by making minor adjustments. Again, don’t be afraid to ask for a little wiggle room.

3)      Think about what you like in everyday life, and how you can interpret that into the day. For instance, we LOVE the cider mill (okay, I love the cider mill), so instead of a cocktail hour we did a cider and donut truck (Petey’s Donuts, the ULTIMATE!! They even gave us a few bags filled with donuts for our room later). It wasn’t traditional, but it was fun and very us, and our guests loved the sweet treat too.

4)      Don’t get caught up in the small stuff. I ordered a bunch of my favorite beauty things to have in the bathroom at the reception for people to enjoy. I spent hours ordering things and getting it all together. Well, a hotel guest came in and stole it ALL before the reception even started. It would have been nice to have, but I don’t think anyone being able to spray their face with Caudalie Grape Spray was a make-or-break it for the day.

5)      At first, I really kept Mike out of the planning (best wife ever!!!!). I thought there was no way he would want to be involved with flowers and quartet music. But when I asked him his thoughts, I realized he had quite a few, and wanted some specific things. Having his input made our wedding really feel like it was the things WE loved, not just me.

6)      It’s about the marriage, not the wedding. Never lose sight of that.

And there you have it! I really mean it when I say I loved and appreciated everyone of our vendors. It’s important to have people that love what they do, because that energy will pass on to you, making your day that much sweeter. It’s time consuming to do the research, but it’s worth it in the end. I would try to dedicate an hour or two every night to wedding things, and after that we would set it aside. It was important to not be totally consumed with it, so that we enjoyed the process. I won’t say I never got frustrated or discouraged- weddings can come with a lot of tension. But every time I started to get worked up, I reminded myself that if all of this were to go away, Michael would still be my husband at the end of the day. And I’m sure we could have found cake to eat, too.

September 30th, 2017.

Hello, world! It’s me...Alexandra Ayaub! Yes, I am now a married lady, cozied up in my post-nuptial life. The last year was a whirlwind, and I truly enjoyed planning our big day, which made the wedding itself all the sweeter. Today, I not only wanted to share with you my favorite wedding photos, but my personal experience with planning a wedding without losing my mind, my hair, and my fiancé!

*I’ll be doing another post on all of our vendors in a few days. I loved everyone we used and am currently trying to get them all to be friends with me post-wedding. TBD.

From the day we started planning, I tried to never take any of it too seriously.  I went in to this knowing that the flowers, the centerpieces and the linens were the icing on the cake- the cake being that I get to marry Michael, truly the man of my dreams (he watches me open boxes from my online shopping and tells me what he thinks for God’s sake) no matter what the table numbers looked like. We wanted to have fun, and that was the “theme” of our wedding. And pizza, donuts and love, OF COURSE. Everything was chosen and decided upon based off the simple idea of “What do we like? Let’s do that”. We just wanted to be surrounded in love by our family and friends and have a great time. We were both very lucky to have supportive parents on both sides, who wanted the same thing.

September 30th, 2017 was truly the greatest day of my life. I didn’t know my heart could feel so happy and full as it did that day. From the warm, intimate rehearsal dinner at my parent’s house, to the very last song at the reception (in which everyone at the wedding surrounded us on the dance floor while Michael and I danced in the center, and I belted Celine Dion’s “Power of Love”. A DREAM!!) I was bursting with happiness and love. We had the most fun we’ve ever had, dancing to all our favorite songs (turns out my mom DOES know Cardi B!!) with our friends and family, scarfing down pizza at midnight, getting ready with our incredible friends at the hotel, and laughing and smiling the entire time. Not a single thing went wrong or didn’t work in our favor that day- it was perfect beyond anything we could have imagined.

I don’t know if anyone will remember the centerpieces, or the flowers that lined each table, or what the cake looked like. But I do think that everyone will remember what a wonderful time they had, and how each part of our wedding had a little piece of us in it. So Mom, grab your tissues, here is a collection of my favorite photos from the day we became man and wife:

Click to enlarge the photos and scroll (mom,again).

All photos by Sandra & Grant Floering of For The Love of It. 

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Take Your Time.

I'm officially back from a little writing hiatus, and to say I've been busy is an understatement. I'm planning my wedding, my mom's wedding, I'm the maid of honor in my best friend's wedding, AND I started binge watching "House of Cards"! How does she do it?! 

When life gets busy, I tend to feel like someones pressed fast forward (and not that weak 2x sh!%, but the lightning speed you use when you're with your parents and people start getting naked), and I'm just catching little moment here and there. I know I'm not alone- I know a lot of people get this way. Between work, friends, family, trying to be healthy, and keeping your house from looking like an episode of "Hoarders", how are you supposed to find time to slow down and appreciate the little things? 

We usually don't. Until we have to. 

A few weeks ago, I went to the dermatologist for some laser treatment for a few scars on my back. I had noticed lately that my underarms had gotten extremely dark, and I casually mentioned it to my doctor. I was sure it was some sort of allergic reaction to a new deodorant or just my Italian genes catching up with me. He took one look at it and said I needed to go see my Endocrinologist right away- that it was something internal causing this sudden darkness. It's like I got the Voldemort of armpits. I still thought nothing of it-until I did the worst thing you can do- I got on WebMD. Cancer! Tumor! Divvy up your things and say "Goodbye"!! I wouldn't admit it, but I was scared. But- I had been down this road before, thinking the worst and all it ended up being was a bad hot dog. I wouldn't worry until I had something to actually worry about. 

I got into the Endocrinologist the very next morning. She gave my underarms the once, twice, three-times over. She asked me a plethora of questions, got on her computer and got very quiet for what felt like hours. She admitted she was completely stumped- I didn't have any symptoms other than my dark underarms. I didn't match the criteria for someone that usually has this (BTW, it was diagnosed Acanthosis Nigricans . No need to bore you with words I can't pronounce). She took my hands and looked me square in the eyes: " I don't want to scare you, but I want to seek out if this is symptom of a tumor". And now I had something to worry about. 

I couldn't breathe. 48-hours-ago all I cared about was what I was going to wear to my bridal shower, if my room needed a new rug, and if Mike would be mad at me because I watched-ahead on Netflix. This can't be true. The doctor is just being careful. I feel absolutely fine. What if I'm not? I didn't sleep that night, and was exhausted when I showed up at my Internist the next morning. For the third day in a row, I was looked over, my eyes meeting those of a confused doctor. I took a blood test. To my relief, it came back 100% normal. I thought I was in the clear. If something really was wrong, it would have showed up on a blood test. Nope- now I was sent to my gastroenterologist, to get an upper scope, and look around for some scary, WebMD predicted tumor. That feeling of relief was over quicker than my "Crazy Bonez" addiction when I was eight.

My Internist, one of the smartest, most kick-ass women I know, assured me that the chances of an actual tumor in my gastrointestinal tract just doesn't feel likely. It just wouldn't add up, but let's do this test to be safe. She put my mind at ease, taking away some of that crippling fear when you have to think: "but I haven't done anything yet". 

Last week, I had my upper scope- and it came back 100% clear. I burst into tears as soon as my doctor told me. Also I was not fully off anesthesia yet and I was having a dream I met Nick Jonas so things may have gotten mixed around. 

It's no secret that life moves fast, and it can change in the blink of an eye. After my appointment with the Endocrinologist,  I laid in bed that night with Mike, crying, thinking I hadn't appreciated enough our dinners together. Or morning walks. Or doing the dishes together.  I hadn't taken the time in the little moments to realize they are the big ones. That life is good even when it's Monday, even when I'm not on vacation, even when I'm up to my eyeballs in work. If we do not take the time now to appreciate the people in our lives and the moments they create, what are we living for anyway? It's not the clothes, the new beauty products (can't deny they bring me overwhelming joy, but THAT'S NOT THE POINT!) or the Instagram moments. It's the everyday, mundane things with people you love that will fill your life. There's a real argument to be had for the in-between. 

So what's the takeaway here? IF YOUR ARMPITS SUDDENLY BECOME DARK DON'T JUST RUB LEMON ON THEM BECAUSE MARTHA STEWART SAID TO. GET THEM CHECKED OUT. Okay, no. It's something more important. I know it's impossible to be grateful and appreciate everything every minute of every day. Some days are really really tough. But this is your reminder, your sign, if you got off track like I did, to not sweat the small stuff, and to use that extra time to enjoy your boring, beautiful life. Don't wait until it's Instagram levels of excitement to enjoy it. Speak kindly and with purpose. Realize that true love is not just reserved for a significant other, but for your family and friends as well. And let them know.

I feel so unbelievably blessed that my results came back clean, because I know there are so many people that aren't granted that same relief. This entire ordeal has forced me to slow down a little bit and realize that the things that keep me from enjoying life, aren't important enough to give them that power. So wedding flowers, take a back seat. I'll be enjoying this boring-ass episode of Jeopardy curled up my couch while I yell out the wrong answers- and loving every minute of it. 

*Photo by Ava Ranger Photography 

Equilibrium Pilates Challenge: It's Only Just The Beginning.

360 Pilates classes- that’s what I’ve been up to for the past three months. Well, I’m on the other side now, and am doing a little "Mulan" style ~reflecting~ on how my life, body, and mind have changed in the last 90 days with Equilibrium Pilates Studio.

I’ve said it a thousand times, I am not athletic. You’re looking at the Assistant Manager of every single basketball, softball, and volleyball team from Middle School to High School (yes, I tried out for each one- CAN’T STOP ME). It mostly has to do with my orthopedic disability from birth defects.  I also am just extremely uncoordinated, and in a game of H.O.R.S.E, I’m usually out faster than you can say Kobe. Or is it Lebron now? SPORTS.

So when I entered this path to Pilates, I was understandably nervous. I equated Pilates to tall, perfectly slender dancers, moving through each exercise with more grace than “Swan Lake”. It was much to my surprise, that most people in my classes at Equilibrium were just like me, and the teachers, although slender and graceful (but also with bad ass muscles that could crush a man), didn’t make me feel for one second that I wasn’t just like them. I never felt out of my league, or like I didn’t belong. The teachers were kind, helpful, instructive and supportive. They helped me move through each class with the same grace I reserved for dancers and people who can walk with books on their head. It makes me tear up to think about one teacher, Rachel, who literally held onto my waist, supporting me, and moved me through a standing position on the Reformer, as I was physically incapable of completing the move myself. The kindness, patience and understanding that was shown to me at Equilibrium was not just good for Pilates, but I found it resonating in my life in so many other ways.

Did I wake up every morning, leaping out of bed like a kid on Christmas, ready to roll to Pilates? Hell naw. In the first few weeks, my mind still equated Pilates to a “workout” which translated to “burden”. But by the end of the challenge, I was itching to get to Pilates every day, and missing it when I couldn’t attend. I found that my mind needed it as much as my body did. Walking into the studio and knowing I had an hour to work on me, free from work or other obligation was an absolute game changer. Some people do their best thinking in the shower- I would now like to think I do mine on the Reformer. The low-impact (but high results) of Pilates make this workout anything from a burden. I actually found myself choosing Pilates over Happy Hour- and if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know then I don’t know what to tell you. It’s some of the best work I do all day.

Now for the physical results. Let’s be totally open here: I went into this challenge at 98 pounds- which is far too low for me. I was weak, no muscle tone, frail and scared that if I fell, I would be the youngest person that ever screamed “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!!!”. In just three months, I have more muscle than I’ve ever had- 7 pounds more of it to be exact. Moves I couldn't do in the first week, I was doing with ease on the last. I feel strong, capable, and safer on my own two feet. Again, for the sake of being honest- this wasn’t an easy adjustment. I felt AMAZING. But seeing weight get put on your body, even when it’s good weight, can be tough. Society equates being thin to being fit. And even I, fell victim to this archaic notion. I had, wrongly, associated my slenderness with having a “good body”, even though one big gust of wind and I was out of here. When I started to get more muscle and put on weight (which was the necessary thing for me to do), it took adjusting. I had to really come around to appreciate this new, stronger, healthier body. Like most women, I am hard on myself. Every lump and bump and dark spot I am critical of, to the point of stressing myself out over the smallest of things. Through Pilates, I’m learning to appreciate my body not because of its size or weight, but because it is mine, and for the first time in a long time, it’s healthy. It’s an ongoing effort, and I truly encourage you all to do the same. Equilibrium has jump-started the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had with my body, and that in itself is priceless.

Maybe you’re thinking you want to try Pilates, but like me, you’re a little unsure. Do you have stretch pants? A pair of socks? Well then honey, you’re in! To ease the “first class jitters” of starting a new form of exercise, the wonderfully kind people of Equilibrium are offering a FREE Pilates barre class with me! Here’s the info:

SATURDAY, JUNE 3RD

8:30am

Equilibrium Pilates Studio, Birmingham

189 Townsend Street #100 (just go down the stairs and you're there!)

Email JessicaP@Equilibriumstudio.com to sign up! 

If you even have a HINT of “I want to try this”, please join me for this class. I don’t promote anything I don’t fully support, and I can promise you this could be the start of something really, really great for you. It’s a low impact class, so don’t be nervous! You’re going to get through it thinking you’re basically the Calvin Johnson of Pilates (Again, SPORTS??). And then 24 hours later, you’ll be wondering while you’re so sore. Those are your muscles, and they’re back, baby.

I would sincerely like to thank Equilibrium for the gift of this partnership. The kindness of the studio and its staff has made this a life-and-body-altering experience, and I am forever grateful. I plan to continue practicing Pilates for a long time to come, until I’m frail when I’m actually supposed to be.

Pilates or Bust (literally)! My Partnership with Equilibrium Pilates.

I’m not totally lost when it comes to working out. Yes, some days my idea of a crunch is the one I get from a Lay’s potato chip. But I’m no stranger to fitness- I’ve been doing physical therapy pretty much since birth. Here’s the story: I was born with severely clubbed feet, which led to a whole plethora of orthopedic issues, and here I am, 10 surgeries later with a better walk!! but the osteoporosis and severe arthritis in my feet and ankles that come with the territory of being laid up, and in and out of wheelchairs during my youth.

During my last surgery in high school, I was pretty immobile, and I became extremely frail- even getting down to 75 pounds at one point. During my recovery, I was able to put weight back on, and I was actually feeling pretty healthy, stable and good on my feet- then I went to college. Four years of no physical therapy, minimal exercise, maximum servings at the cafeteria, an introduction to beer, an even bigger introduction to late-night Jimmy John’s. I left college with a degree, 20 extra pounds and feet that couldn’t take me more than 3 blocks.

When I got my first job out of college, I was definitely feeling the effects of my poor health. I was tired all the time, none of my clothes fit, I was feeling sick quite often. It was New Year’s Day of 2015 when I joined the popular fitness program, “Tone It Up”. I went HARD. I ate according the to the recipes, did the daily workouts (which really are great), and in 8 months, I lost 20 pounds, toned up (they really do live up to their name), and completely changed my eating habits. I felt incredible. I was walking easier, getting out of bed with less effort, not limping so often. Then, SURPRISE!! I got colitis.

For a solid 6 months I was sick every day. I’m not going into the gross details because they are well, gross. But I was having trouble eating just about anything without getting violently ill. I had a JOYOUS Colonoscopy (I really do hate getting my picture taken), where I was diagnosed with Colitis. I was asked to cut out dairy which was basically my worst nightmare because, cheese. However, I learned to substitute with alternatives and have been able to manage it pretty well. But I stopped working out, was eating less and started losing more weight quickly. My bone mass was rapidly declining and I could feel it. I could hardly get out of bed in the morning, limping my way around the house, at work, etc. I felt like an 80-year-old woman- which had nothing to do with my Jeopardy obsession and in-bed by 9pm habit. I could feel myself deteriorating to my osteoporosis and arthritis- and I just couldn’t motivate myself to do anything about it.

Then I got engaged! And let me tell you- having someone want to spend the rest of their life with you really puts things into perspective. I started thinking about our future, all the things I want to be able to do, and now it wasn’t just about me. It was about Michael and our future family and our lives together. THAT and I tried on a wedding dress and was horrified by the frail thing staring back at me. My family made me promise to take care of myself and my bones, and here we are.

I didn’t really know where to start. My exercise abilities are limited due to my orthopedic disability.  I basically knew I needed to lift things and gain muscle. I tried remembering when I felt my strongest, and realized it was before my last surgery, when I was doing Pilates to gain some strength for the recovery process. I started asking around about different studios in my area, and stumbled upon Equilibrium Pilates in Birmingham. I reached out to the owner, Nancy, who was like a lifeboat in a sea of bad choices and bad bones. Nancy expressed they were looking for a studio challenger- essentially someone who would come to classes, and document their progress over three months. I was thrilled when she asked me to be the Challenger- and relieved. I felt like this was the first step to getting my bones back in business. So what is my commitment? I will attend classes 4 times a week, varying form Pilates reformer, to barre and mat classes. I will check in on my social media whenever I’m at the studio- which is not to annoy people with look at me!!! I’m working out-bro photos. It’s to hold myself accountable, and to keep you guys in the loop on my progress. I will also be meeting with a personal trainer once a week to lift said heavy things.

I’ve been taking classes at Equilibrium for about two weeks now and I can’t believe I’m saying this- but I notice a difference. I’m standing up straighter, I’m not as achy in the morning, I can get up from the couch or a chair a little easier, without having to pause for as long to get my feet moving. Listen- I know I’ll never be 100%. I’ll still have to use a wheelchair at theme parks, take a cab for anything over a mile, and my “run” will always look like a horse that was rejected by 11-year-olds at Equestrian camp. I have good days and bad days and everyone has their own struggles. But could I get out of bed easier? Walk to get ice cream with Michael? Fall down without worrying about breaking a bone? Yes- and I do believe Equilibrium will help me get there. I’m doing this for me, for the future, and yes, for a wedding dress. Also because I don’t think they give Life Alert to 26-year-olds.

2016 Recap

A lot of horrible things happened in 2016. Every day it seemed like I was praying for another country, mourning the death of an innocent person, or a police officer. Crying over the uncertain future of our country. But in the midst of all the pain, a lot of incredible things happened, too. I got engaged to an amazing, kind man, moved in together, went to Ireland, got promoted at work, went on my first buying trip to New York, gained a whole new group of friends (hi, Slack Pack!), and had some great personal opportunities. These are the things I'll remember about 2016, because they are the things I found light and solace in in the times of uncertainty.  

As we enter a new year, I couldn't help but reflect on how my blog has grown since I launched it just one year ago. I have gotten to work with some wonderful people and write about a lot of things I care about. I started this site with the intent to post about my personal style, as most fashion bloggers do. But the more I did so, I felt uneasy about it.

A few months in, I realized I hated blogging. 

At first, I tried to play by the rules of "typical" fashion blogging. Pictures of me, reflecting my personal style. In the beginning, it was fun. But then I grew tired of the pressure of producing perfect-pictures of myself, carving out time with Michael before or after work to take pictures- I much preferred the in-the-moment style photos I feature on my Instagram. I really grew to despise the thing that was intended to be my escape, my creative outlet. I struggled to get posts out in a timely manner. 

I started to think about what I wanted my blog to be, and what I enjoyed the most about it. I found that for me, the biggest joy of having this site is the writing aspect. Whether it's about fashion, politics, or new products- it seemed the words most easily flowed from my fingertips when I was writing about something I cared about. Even though I had found a new vision for my blog, I was self-conscious of the new direction of this site, because it didn't fit the mold of what I was trying to identify with- a fashion blogger. This is not an attempt to sound holier-than-thou. I am sure that on some deep, therapy induced psychological level, I am jealous that they get free clothes and make twice what I do just by posting a picture of an iced Matcha, and I am slaving away to afford a $35 lipstick. But in my opinion, fashion blogs have hit a low point. They have gone to shit. Who is honestly inspired by a picture of waffles and a Celine bag with the caption "Brunncchhh". I have seen the same ombre hair so many times that I see it in my sleep. I'm so exhausted of feeling inadequate by a picture of avocado toast and an emoji caption. I love blogs like Man Repeller, that make me feel like being imperfect is the new black, and Bryan Boy, who's transparency and humility make the spectacular fashion seem like a great bonus. Some people can make an entire career out of being a human hanger, an ad, and that's great. I am all for women (and men!) taking control of their career.

But for me, I need to have more of a voice. I need my words to say something, to matter. Maybe that's naïve, or conceited. But it's how I feel and it's who I am. It's time I started making my own rules (No, this does not include eating pasta for breakfast. I had to pull in the reigns on that one).

So what's the point of this post? It's mostly to let you guys know that The Nines will be taking a slightly different direction in 2017. Fashion still is my utmost passion, but so is writing, and I want to do more of it. When I'm inspired by a certain look, I'll take photos of it. When a new product comes out, I'll review it. When I want to talk about paid maternity leave, I will. The best part about this, is that I can let this site be whatever I want it to be. And if the happiness it brings me is an idicator of its success, well then it's a damn hit. 

*Photo by Ava Ranger.