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Brown IS Beautiful

May 18, 2015

I was watching a documentary by Chris Rock called ‘Good Hair’ and honestly, if you haven’t had the opportunity you should give it a watch. It stuck with me that his tiny daughter was so concerned about her hair and that if it wasn’t straight she didn’t fit in. It was upsetting to me that we live in a world that even small children feel the need to change who they are, the color of their skin, or the nature of their hair to belong in this world. That’s just a bummer.

As a white person my mental image of what it means to be beautiful is well represented. Of course I do not meet the definition of beautiful set forth by media or publication. To me it’s not a big deal. When I see a model in print I do not think I have to look like her or even attain an approximation. The models are real people and real people DO look like that, but for most of us, we’re just average humans, and print and media sell fantasy. Hopefully it’s discernible to most people with a functional brain that looking like Charlize Theron isn’t necessary to attain happiness in life.

I am well represented. I cannot possibly fathom what people of color must deal with at a very early age with minimal to no representation. To not have the color of your skin, the fluffiness of your hair or the shape of your eyes represented in movies, tv, or print must really suck. The fact that nearly every heroine is white, or that to be a princess you have to be fair skinned. The fact that even when there IS representation in media it feels the need to call attention to itself by saying, LOOK EVERYONE! THE FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN PRINCESS! You know what would make that better? If it didn’t matter. If you could just tell the story like it’s a story. Of course there is an black princess, why wouldn’t there be? History is FULL of them. There are incredibly rich stories all throughout the world. Creation stories, folklore, tall tales, fairy tales- SO MANY stories from all cultures. Hans Christian Anderson isn’t the only source for fairy tales.

I went further down the rabbit hole of beauty and came back with some disturbing evidence. Loads of plastic surgery to fix monolids, shape noses, shave jaw lines, correct bone structure, ridiculous chemical creams to bleach skin, hair products that fry your scalp, makeup to correct for just about everything. I just saw so many brown women and girls trying to fit this weird idea of beauty- western anglo beauty. Some women try and change so they don’t look like they do manual labor, others to completely change their faces to suit a doll like appearance.

Wouldn’t it be cool if we could just live on a planet that glorified diversity? How rich we could all be in both our heritage and dress? So I started painting brown is beautiful. It’s partly an ode to the beauty of brown skin, and part to look at another culture through the lens of decoration and what THEY think is beautiful. As the series progresses I find myself more angry about the homogenization of humanity. We lose so much in integration of culture. Though I think it’s inevitable. The last bastion of these tribes and cultures will be their art, their music, and their representation through dance. Like Native Americans in the US, these tribes of our world will eventually own an iphone and watch reruns of The Bachelor on Monday nights. Their only ties to their rich cultural heritage will be in the form of “cultural days” at their community center.

As I try and represent cultures I was not born to, I will get things wrong. I will mess things up. I will incorrectly label or laughably screw up key features or have outdated information. I was not born into these cultures. I see them through western eyes with only the internet as my guide. The internet isn’t always right. What I do hope for though, is that good or bad, people look at these cultures from these tiny paintings and care enough to try and help with human rights violations, environmental destruction and sex trafficking of these humans.

Snow Whaaaaat!?

January 14, 2015

*Movie trailer voice* In a world, where Princess’ just can’t take it anymore…

But really though, I’d like to imagine some badass princess throwing down somewhere. They all have some straight up voodoo powers since every princess seems to have a crew of creatures to do her bidding. Making dresses, taking her to balls, leading her through the woods, stealing plans, you know, stuff. I mean if you can command that kind of animal power why you scared of spooky trees? Why you gotta rely on a group of seven questionably named men for protection?

Such raw forest power. I’d grab my machine gun blue jays and army of disgruntled forest friends, march into congress and terrify them into enacting reasonable environmental policies. Like a boss-ette.

 Art: I thought it would be fun to match the background style of the Disney animated Snow White. I think the pastel and watercolor look of that movie is so pretty.


I wish my cat’s would do my laundry for me.

Another Shirt Bites the Dust

January 9, 2015



Ok okay. I have a site called “The Chubby Mermaid” I like drawing them, they’re cute, they’re portly, they rock their cold water extra layers. I, however, am neither mermaid nor chubby. In fact I am quite into fitness and nutrition!

Before you dismiss anything I have to say about body image, here is some back story on me.

I GET you, really.

I used to have a lot body image issues. My boobs weren’t big enough, my legs weren’t long enough, my teeth weren’t straight enough, I had a little pouch on my belly no matter how hard I tried to get rid of it, why is my belly button so high, I don’t have hips, I look like a boy, is that back fat?! I’m hideous, boy’s won’t think I am pretty… I don’t think I’m pretty. There are so many things that women beat themselves up about, both verbally and by a constant stream of dialogue in their heads. The sad part about this is that it’s mostly self inflicted through other women. People love to blame the media saying fashion and film set unrealistic expectations on what women should look like. That really isn’t the whole truth. When I was a young and impressionable teen my body image issues didn’t come from media, they came from the girls I hung out with. My family never really put much stock into what you looked like. They valued how smart you were, how resilient, how level headed you acted under pressure, what you knew about your surroundings and how kind polite you were to others. It was about WHO you were in my house, not what you looked like. So when my friend constantly complained about the size of their butts, the lack of a perfectly flat belly or how they had arm jiggle I started to see imperfections in myself. Despite that my body was strong, healthy, lean and perfectly normal- the head that sits atop my body started postulating other ideas about how I should look. Looking at pictures of myself as a teen I was adorable (I can say that as a grown-ass woman that’s come a long way). It’s like a different tiny version of me that was so fit and healthy and bright. It’s so sad to think that instead of enjoying what I had, I felt bad about myself. There is a great quote by George Bernard Shaw that says “Youth is wasted on the young.” That is some serious truth.

Growing up and finding new levels of body related unhappiness

As almost all women do, I went to college and gained the freshmen 15. Long nights, crazy schedules, stress, a boyfriend, no money and therefore poor nutrition contributed to the small weight gain. Even so… at 5’5″ with the added 15lbs I was still MAX 128-130 after graduation. That’s not overweight. That’s a perfectly healthy weight according to BMI. After graduating college and entering the work force that number gradually crept up. I had a new relationship in which we got fatter together because what does a young adult do when they have money and want to have fun? Eat. That’s what. So that number crept up a little more.

I tried diets, I made very paltry attempts at exercise and continued to gain weight. I was tired all the time, had poor digestion, my body constantly was bloated and uncomfortable, I had NO muscle tone due to not even walking. This whole time I learned to hate myself even more. I stopped buying cute clothes, I stopped buying lingerie, I stopped feeling comfortable in my own skin. I was more insecure than I had ever been, but just didn’t know where to start to lose weight or how to do it. It felt like every attempt I made to get fit or lose weight ended in frustration, terrible food that felt like pure suffering to eat. So I just ended up feeling bad about myself, not eating for a day, binging, and then feeling even worse for not having the fortitude to not eat. A few times, I would eat to excess, feel physically and mentally horrible, and then throw up. KNOWING that is not a healthy situation it didn’t last long and I could never really call myself a sufferer of bulimia. Believe me, scouting “Pro-ana” sites in a desperate attempt to get skinny and like yourself again is not going to get you anywhere good. My best friend at the time tried crazy diets like the 5 bite diet (where you only have 5 bites of food a day) and also saw not results… how could you? None of that is sustainable! So I gave into my fate to be fat… after all, my mom is overweight, and so are a lot of other people, It must be our western diet, or genetics, or my thyroid. It’s not me. I looked for something, or someone else to blame.

I can tell you in complete honesty that I did nothing. I didn’t stick to anything, I didn’t really eat well, I absolutely wouldn’t exercise. I let it happen. I floundered, waffled, cheated and lied to myself about how I ate and what I ate. I counted calories and wasn’t honest about the portion size. Knowing full well that it was more like FOUR portions, but telling myself and others “See! I just can’t lose weight! I follow all the rules and I am gaining weight still.”

Almost dying

When I was 24 I was about 140 lbs. Which by societies standards or even medical ones- isn’t overweight, but on my body it definitely was. One night I was taking a shower and I found a lump in my breast. I have small breasts, that lump was NOT there the previous night. It was like a pea stuck under my skin and it was pretty painful to the touch. I couldn’t sleep on my stomach and was in a surprising amount of discomfort. I panicked and went to a breast cancer doctor. He did a fine needle aspiration and the results came back inconclusive for cancer cells. He said it’s probably nothing to worry about since I was so young and breast cancer isn’t painful, but since it hurt he’d be happy to take it out. So I had a small surgery and he removed the lump. He said it was a benign lobular hemangioma, in layman’s terms it’s kind of like a strawberry mark inside your body. He said it was likely to come back, but not to worry about it. He said “If It gets uncomfortable again we can do another removal, otherwise just have a mammogram when you’re 35.” So it came back less than a month later. It was a little painful, but I figured “why have another surgery? It’s not really a big deal.” So I ignored it for a year.

I was feeling kind of strange. I was tired all the time. People get tired, this was bordering on narcolepsy. My bloating and discomfort were worse and I just felt “off”. I went and had about a million tests done trying to find the cause of my fatigue and inability to lose weight. I was normal in every test. Finally the lump in my chest got scary, it suddenly got MUCH larger. The skin covering it turned sort of blue, like when you see your veins through your wrist. My nipple inverted, this was very bad. So I went to a new doctor and after one look at my breast she said “I am pushing you through for a biopsy TODAY, you have a very unhappy breast”. I wasn’t prepared for that. So I had a biopsy that day with assurances that the results would be in the next day and to call if I didn’t hear from someone. It took a while for the results to come in. I called every day for about a week to conversations like this: “We don’t know what we’re seeing, We’re not sure what it is. We’re sending it to Mayo. We’re sending it to Johns Hopkins. We know it’s a neoplasm, but don’t know what kind.” Finally late one evening I got a call from my dr. asking if I was sitting down and had someone there with  me. She told me that I had an extremely rare cancer called Angiosarcoma. It’s not breast cancer and that unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to treat me and referred me to a specialist. So I had cancer at 26. A very aggressive, very rare, little known cancer that has a survival rate lower than congressional approval rates. It was IN my breast, but wasn’t breast cancer.

So this body that I was constantly berating for all of it’s imperfections had cancer. The SUPER bad kind. Nothing can prepare you for that kind of diagnosis, especially when there appears to be no hope. The statistics for angiosarcoma are incredibly grim. The treatment plan was chemotherapy, mastectomy, radiation and more chemotherapy. Hopefully that plan would kill the cancer and hope that there were no metastasis that weren’t showing up on my scans.

If there were body issues before, there is nothing that can prepare you for having one of your breasts chopped off as a 26 year old. I could imagine a future with cancer… but not until I was old, probably a grandmother. I’d have fed my kids, lived a cool life and breasts probably wouldn’t much at that point. At 26 though? That’s the prime of life. When you should be young and pretty and have great boobs and not have to worry about your hair falling out, mouth sores, bone pain, and DYING. I hadn’t even lived. I’d never been to well, anywhere! I will never have kids. The aggressiveness of this cancer is such that if my oncologist could have started me on chemotherapy the day that I met him he would have. There was no time for fertility treatments or freezing eggs. I was surprised to learn as much as breast cancer sucks, it’s relatively slow growing cancer for the most part. Angiosarcoma however, is not.

The thing that people don’t tell you about cancer, and it’s subsequent treatment is that unless the cancer is fairly advanced you don’t waste away and get thinner. You get FAT. You’re on a constant stream of steroids to prevent reactions in your chemotherapy, even LESS activity because you feel like reheated dog crap, and the only thing you can keep down are bland fattening foods like potatoes, pastas and bread. So on top of the emotional horror of being afraid of dying in pain, disfigurement and being bald you’re also gaining a lot of weight. It’s just insult to injury.

I weighed nearly 160 post treatment. That is clinically overweight for my height. I was miserable in more ways than the average imagination could process.

After a year of recovery with clean scans I was able to have a new breast made. It’s actually pretty cool, they take the skin and fat from your belly and do micro surgery to reconnect all that to a blood supply on your chest. Unfortunately the procedure also took a chunk of stomach muscles with the blood supply. The recovery from that 12 hour surgery was terrible. I had to use a walker for about a month. I have a giant hip to hip scar across my abdomen- very visible in a bikini. I also have this new breast made from my belly. The scarring associated with this is kinda funny, since it’s made of my belly the skin is much lighter than the skin of my surrounding chest. the new tissue looks like Texas. Most bathing suits can’t hide it. It also doesn’t have a nipple. I call it my “foob” or “Kyle XY boob”.

HELLO fitness!

Having a crazy health scare that young will mess you up. All the scars, odd lumps of fat, and steroid moon face will do wonders for your body image, believe me. Nothing would ever be the same, so I had to make a decision about who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be unhealthy and I really felt that all of the negative body talk, the poor diet, the lack of movement, were all contributing factors that allowed cancer to grow in my body.

I started the road to changing myself inside and out. I was still destructive, but less so than before, especially in my eating habits. I was so unsure about how and what to eat I didn’t know how to cook so I mostly ate low fat pre-packaged things. I ate a lot of Lean Cuisine and was constantly hungry. I also did SPX Pilates for a year. While I did get a lot better at Pilates I didn’t really see any physical changes. I was still fat, though I was definitely stronger. I would lose a few pounds, but would gain it back almost immediately. I fell of the wagon for a little bit. A year actually. I still weighed almost 160.

One day while looking in the mirror I looked myself in the eyes and said “I hate you.” It wasn’t my body that I was talking to. It was my failures, it was my lack of dedication, it was who I’d been. I hated that person and I didn’t want to be her or put up with her anymore.

Here enters CrossFit Merge. My friend Mike had lost a lot of weight. He looked amazing and I was sort of inspired by him. He told me about CrossFit and it sounded horrible. Insane in fact. It was full of weight lifting and running. That’s for guys obviously, I don’t want to get bulky and I HATE running. After all, one of my exercise attempts was Couch to 5k and that lasted for one day! It was too hard.

So I did a little bit of research, I looked at the women athletes and fretted about bulky arms and giant legs. Finally I just went to an intro class and tried it. I had a one on one with the owner Bryce for an hour. We talked about goals, what I wanted to get out of my fitness, how my nutrition was, and why I was there. After that I learned how to do a few simple movements. The Burpee, air squats, and the box jump. During the warm up I did lunges, air squats and pushups. My legs and arms were totally uncooperative at the end of the warm up. I was sure I couldn’t do more. My legs felt like lead and I was having a hard time standing. The actual work out was only 7 minutes. It was a small circuit of 7 burpees, 7 jumps to a 12″ box, and 7 air squats. Once you complete this series, you start again until the 7 minutes are up, how many rounds you do is your score. I made it to two rounds. In 7 minutes I could only do 14 of each movement. I threw up on the way home. That is a body that can’t move itself. That is a body that has suffered neglect, sickness and isn’t ready to support what I want to do in life. It was so incredibly sad.

So I went back to CrossFit when I could walk again, and I kept going back. I went back each day. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever physically done. I was tired, every muscle protested, I couldn’t run around the block without stopping for MONTHS. I had shin splints, I threw up, I was weak. I went back even though I still weighed a lot and I felt embarrassed working out with all these fit amazing people. People lapped me on every workout, it was humbling. I learned about food, and nutrition and how and what to eat. I learned that if you eat a diet that is rich in fat and protein you don’t feel like you’re starving to death all day. Removing processed foods and most carbs from your diet means you not only feel better, but you drop weight like CRAZY. This is an absolute contradiction from everything I’ve heard my entire life about food. If you don’t want to be fat eat fat free. Ohhhhh my god… so totally and completely wrong. Those fat free items just replace the fat with sugars or other chemicals to make them not taste like sadness. The people in this community were there for me in ways they will never know. We’re always stronger when we have people around us that provide support and encouragement.

The effort became fun and the struggle became a challenge to overcome. I started to enjoy working out! I enjoyed how it made me feel and what I could do spontaneously do without preparing “Oh there is a 10k obstacle race tomorrow? cool lets do it.” In 8 months I lost 32 lbs. obliterating the goal I set for my weight loss. I’ve been consistent and have maintained the new weight for nearly 3 years. It’s pretty awesome and a lot of fun. I am one of THOSE people that ruins plans for people on Friday night because they “have to go to the gym first.” I am happier with my body than I have ever been because it’s STRONG. It can do all of these amazing things even though it’s scared, missing bits and has been through a lot. I absolutely love my body now. I am not ashamed of it because when my body is healthy, strong and powerful so is my mind. We’re one thing.

Was it easy? No. Did it take a long time to reach my goal. Yes. There were discouragements along the way and places where not seeing changes made me want to quit. The community at the CrossFit gym helped me push past where I would have normally quit.

I’ll Never look back.

Tough Lovin’

You might not like what I have to say here because I am not in support of HAES, nor being thin for thin’s sake. It’s about being average.

I have been overweight. I have never been obese or morbidly obese. I have been thin. I have never been underweight or anorexic. That being the case if you on the far end of either of those things, your work will take longer. You know what is in the middle of those two extremes though? Average. Plain old average. In the average you find that your body gets you where you need go and does what it’s supposed to. The average body doesn’t require crazy diets to look like a mannequin or societal labels to make you feel accepted. It just is, and you feel generally okay about it. It doesn’t have to look like a professional athlete. It just has to work well. Being averagely fit is only taking care of yourself like you would a car or your pet. The right foods so it gets the fuel it needs, and move it around a lot because that’s what it was designed to do! If you do these two seemingly small things, your life, your mind and attitude will shift. You can stop feeling bad about the things you don’t have and you focus on how good you feel and how your body perfectly accomplishes everything you want it to. Life is more fun.

It’s human nature to want to compare ourselves to others. It is also a human trait to dehumanize others when we disapprove of how they live their lives. No one knows what life has been for you except you. You know how you arrived at the place you are right now. If you can say with honesty “yes, I am truly happy with myself” then fine! The world needs all sorts. If you are unhappy, if you are angry, if you’re lying to yourself and don’t see what you want, it’s so very very simple to change a body. It starts with the mind and that is truly the difficult part, the body just requires the time. We cannot all choose the bodies we have, some suffer diseases or genetic problems, and others are changed in accidents. The luxury of health is not always given and when it is gone believe me, you will regret the decisions you have made. So work on being average. Average is pretty great.

About the actual drawing…

Being that I am pretty fit now (which I absolutely love and take pride in) it does come with some rather annoying drawbacks. For instance yesterday I “Hulk smashed” another damned shirt. My arms and shoulders are pretty muscled, which makes them categorically a “medium” fit size, while my waist and torso are a size small or extra small because I have low body fat. The end result is what I will refer to as “shmedium”. The same problem arises in pants. I have some pretty defined butt and thighs, but normal waist and calves. All jeans are skinny jeans for me. :/ In order to not look like I am wearing a printed trash bag I wear size small in shirts and dresses, but sadly the arms are usually pretty tight. My arms tore apart my shirt today like tissue paper. :( I really liked that shirt too. #fitpeopleproblems


Being an average weight is good. Also here is my life history plus cancer.


Little Fashion Sketchy

January 6, 2015

I was cleaning out the guest room/cat room/ art room/knitting room (new years resolution) and I found a bunch of stuff I’ve had since art center. One of which was a bottle of reddish calligraphy ink. I keep wanting to do caligraphy- I buy TONS of supplies every year only to just abandon it almost immediately. Perhaps taking a class and watching a tutorial or twelve on youtube would help in my efforts. Alas, I run out of ink in the actual pen and then it dries out in the nib and the cycle repeats. One year though I evidently got ink in bottles presumably for a dip pen I can only begin to guess where I put it. INK… woohoo! So I painted/sketched with it. There is more to this little painting but since I mostly Instagram my stuff it got cut off. They had cute shoes with bows on them… you just have to trust me.

I like the sketch! It’s fun. Full of indication and washy goodness. I just love basic value paintings. I never really quite appreciated as a high schooler just how difficult it is to be an artist. What I thought was art was really just copying photos. While this might help your technical skills for rendering, it doesn’t really help you be creative or even translate what you’re learning about value to art that comes out of your head. I don’t know ANYONE that can actually paint to the level of depth and creativity of what is in our heads. Most of us are limited by our ability. Kind of a bummer yeah? I wish there were drugs that made you super awesome at your craft instead of just years and years and years of repetition.

I have a love hate relationship with brush pens. I like them for their easy mess-free accessibility in my purse. You can whip one out anytime and draw. They’re a squirrly though and I can’t get a ton of control with them- especially around things like fingers if I am drawing small. I love the line weight variability, but I think what I am responding to most is that a brush, (opposed to a brush pen) has a really long bouncy stalk of bristles. Long brush bristles make me happy. The actual shape of the brush pen is the bothersome thing for me, the tip is super fine, but the base or stalk is kind of fat… so while you can get great line weight variability, it’s a real bitch to get a fine line if you happen to apply too much pressure. I don’t think of myself as heavy handed, I must just need more practice with a brush pen. There are people that are seriously masters of that medium, I am not one of them.

I did a baby infographic about the two types of brushes and used samples of artists that I admire to showcase the differences. Basically brush pen is more alla prima and messy and can make your work very sketchy and dynamic. A lining brush is a little more fussy, you have greater control and your line work and weight becomes a feature of the piece. It’s “in the moment” vs. clean and orderly.


brush_pen line_brush

Jurassic World

November 25, 2014

One of my favorite and influential movies during my kidhood was Jurassic Park. Well, Jurassic Park and Back to the Future. Part of that was because both of these movies came with specials on how the movie was made. Both films made me want to go into entertainment, specifically making movies. Since we all know how that turned out it’s clear that perhaps the movie thing didn’t work out, but the entertainment part did. Just sittin’ over here… being part of the magic…

Now enters Jurassic World. It might be dumb; I mean why did they need to invent a new dinosaur? I may never know but despite odd story plots I am still excited. Who doesn’t love dinosaurs!? Here’s the trailer so you can decide for yourself.

In this drawing I combined my themepark expertise and know-how with genetic engineering of a new dinosaur. It’s a happy t-rex with a propensity for giving hugs and rides around the neighborhood. Don’t act like you wouldn’t line up for a t-rex ride. Look at her. She’s so happy about life.




Timing Is Everything

November 13, 2014

I love video games. A lot. If it’s a puzzle adventure game I am on it like a cat with a laser pointer. That’s right, I likes me some games.

Back when I was a wee child I had an NES that I played in between scraping my knees and stealing neighborhood bird feeders (it was a strange phase). I love The Legend of Zelda and their ilk, like Little Nemo, Contra, Mario etc. Basically most of the games on that system were side scrollers and were dependent on puzzles and timing. So my love for spike floors and boss fights run deep.

Onto the art! It’s a watercolor in my sketchbook. I ended up finishing it up in photoshop this morning. I had a little sketch of a girl running and just thought she looked like a badass adventurer. Also it’s a universal fact that boomerangs and grappling hooks are the BEST tools.

I rather like it an I hope you do too!



You’re Parked in the Red

November 12, 2014

I had this sketchbook page with these two girls hailing a cab. I had started it with brush pen and then went in with watercolor washes. It really looked terrible and you could tell I lost interest in working on it pretty quick. Since I wasn’t insanely busy today as I have been, I thought I’d play around with the drawing and flesh it out. It ended up being so totally different than what I started with that the only thing that stayed the same was the taxi!

I’m not a great painter. A lot of the time paintings just get away from me and turn into muddy messes. This one did too, but not nearly as disastrous as it could have been. The light is all over the place, as is the composition and color. It’s alright though as it’s still an improvement from earlier this year. I think the trick is to just keep things simple. Start with your light and shadow composition and then work from there. I didn’t do that and tried to add in light later. Don’t do that. Have a plan for where you want your artwork to go.

Frenchies though. They’re so cute right!?!



A Girl And Her Cat

November 11, 2014

Sometimes I wonder what is going on underneath. ;)

I haven’t shown how I start a drawing on my blog yet and I really should! As with anything in life, you start with the basics. I usually start a drawing with a super simple skeletal shape- a stick figure if you will. I don’t actually draw a skeleton, but a circle for the head, a line for the spine indicates the bodies motion, and if you want to get leg positions right it’s probably a good idea to figure out where the femur attaches to the hips. The same process starts with drawing a building. You start with perspective lines and basic shapes and then start adding details. When you start adding details right away sometimes there is not enough structure for them to stick to, and you end up with a really bad drawing. It’s the best advice I can give any artist just starting out, think big shapes and structure, and then get to the fun details.  Your drawing might look ugly for a little while, but part of a good drawing is a strong foundation! Lets face it, foundations aren’t pretty!

I went wild with the idea of the underlying structure of a drawing. So I drew a fancy lady with her cat, and their underlying skeletons. They’re not perfectly anatomically correct, so don’t get too nit-picky! Hope you like it.



Poor Pitiful Pants

October 29, 2014

I have a kidney cat now. Every day in the evening I entice Pants to the bathroom with delicious treats where Adam jabs him with a giant needle so that he can get the fluids he needs. We sit there for about 3 minutes while I feed him treats and Penny sneaks her paw under the door for snacks. Pants is pretty good about getting subcutaneous fluids, but probably because it means he gets treats. We really do hope it makes him feel better. Kidney stones suck.

He’s been home since last Wednesday and it’s been so awesome to love on him. On Friday he had a checkup to retest his values. I was so so freaked out! I couldn’t eat or sleep, and just stared at Pants with scrutiny imagining new behaviors and phantom sad looks. I was absolutely convinced that he was going to die, that his numbers would be in the tank and he’d have to stay in the kitty hospital/prison for another week. To my surprise though, his numbers were even better than when he was discharged on Wednesday! His bloodwork is now normal, the high end of normal, but normal none the less! My vet friend Kristie thought for sure he was going to die and was trying to prepare me for the worst. She was surprised, it’s always good when a vet is surprised (in a good way) I’ve decided. As my tiny little animal hospital said, “treat the kitty, not the numbers.”

Talk about an emotional roller coaster! We went from one vet wanting us to put him to sleep, to another vet saying he seemed like he was in acute crisis and she hydrated him for a week. Now he’s home and we have a new normal that revolves around needles and pills and nasty tasting kitty meds. I’ll take the new normal if it means Pants feels better and I get to love him for a little longer. Pets are people too.

Can someone get on a Doug style translator so my cat and I can talk? Thanks!

Makeup monday: Scarab eyes

September 22, 2014

Oh look a Makeup Monday. I am not a total failure on the makeup front. I loved how this turned out. Honestly it’s pretty subtle just wandering around on the street, though I suppose a close encounter would get a “hey ma’am your eyeliner is bangin!” Obviously by another chick who like, really likes makeup.


I used the Sephora Collection Color Spectrum palette. It’s kind of a shit palette to be honest with you. Pretty colors, but they pretty much have no pigment when you finally get them to your eyes. I applied most of these wet so that I got color out of them. I over-lined my lips which I have deduced makes me look weird. I have a tiny mouth. I’ll just deal with it from now on. That is all. Carry on.