Paxil Pink

Dude, it's no secret that me and Paxil are close, real close.  I've been an overly anxious person since I can remember and Paxil takes the edge off.  I had to make a decision early on - did I want to be one of those extreme neurotic mothers who ruin their offspring's childhood, or did I want Q to have as *normal* an upbringing as possible, given the fact that I'm a single mom and he gets passed around from mom to dad to babysitter to mom to dad to nana....etc, etc.  And don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm wandering around life in a medicated fog.  It just takes the edge off, just like a glass of wine in the evening.  I have feelings.  I feel...

Knowing that we're going to be in our new home for at least two years (we signed a lease...those things are impossible to break, right???)  I decided to make my bedroom a little oasis for myself.  I was going for shabby chic, but the end result turned out a little different than I had intended.  I'm still in love with it, regardless.

Anyways, take a look at this....

pretty pink pill

Now, look at this...

look, i even made my bed for you (sort of...)

I know, right?  I didn't even do it on purpose.  In fact, it reminded me of strawberry ice cream when I was painting.  Then one day, I looked around and realized my room was Paxil pink.  I'm sleeping inside a cocoon of anti-anxiety bliss.  I think this tops my list of 'Things I'd Rather Have than a Husband!!"  A pink room....no self respecting guy would sleep in this room.  And that's okay by me!

I searched high and low for a vanity.  Unfortunately, I think they've gone out of *style* because I couldn't find anything that a) fit my budget or b) looked anything like I had imagined.  So I made my own.  This was a really cheap alternative, a shelving unit from IKEA for under $50.  The mirror - super cool - lights up so I can see every single blemish and pore and hair on my chin...which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it.  The flowers were a Mother's day present from my momma (I know, how's that for a score, huh?  She buys me pressies on Mother's day...which really, she wouldn't be a mother without me, so it does kind of make sense that she should gift me...)

There are pops of fuchsia everywhere in my room, because I love fuchsia.  This room just sucks all stress from my being the minute I walk into it.  And that's been a God send this week, what with the angry uterus and the ultra-testosterone work environment I find myself in right now (which I cannot go into detail, for fear of actually losing my job...I'm that opinionated on the subject...)

Yes, my room is perfect.  Except for the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.  That really irks me.  I wonder when the maid is doing laundry this week?  She's really slacking on her duties.  Geesh...

These Boots *Weren't* Made for Walking

I am a girl in a boys world.

It's always been that way, really.  And I'm not talking about a 'burn your bra' way, either. 

It's in a 'I can do what you do' sort of way.  Only...

I'm so good at what I do that I can get a man to do it for me without noticing that I haven't done it.  I know.  I'm brilliant.

No, I can't fly an airplane...but I can load it so it doesn't crash.  And no, I can't drive a forklift...but I can evaluate whether or not you can.

I'm good at what I do.  But the best part is this...I get to look cute doing it.

The *most* horrible thing about my job right now is that I have to wear steel toed boots.  I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of wearing them, and if you have...bear with me for those who've not.  I would rather spend 16 hours in four inch stilettos than 8 hours in steel toed boots.  I mean, for starters...I'd look four inches taller, so that's a bonus right there.  And they're sexy.  So really, what else is there?

A good pair of shoes is a pair of shoes you can have a love affair with.  I still remember my first love.  They were a pair of patent leather baby blue high tops.  I think I was 10.  I still remember falling in love with them.  And a good many pairs of shoes have followed.  The black Franco Sarta wedges with the pointed toe.  The red crocodile boots. The black suede pumas with bling on the side....just to name a few.  Girls, who needs a man when you've got shoes?  

But I digress...steel toed boots don't let your feet breath, because...well...they're steel.  At the end of the day, my feet smell worse than any man's I've ever met.  My feet sweat in these horrid things.  No woman's feet should smell the way mine do.  Ever.  It's just wrong.  Also, the steel rubbing against your toes causes callouses, which are just ugly.  And please, don't even get me started on the pedicures.  There just isn't any point, because it's destroyed before the week is through.  I had resigned myself to a life of ugly boots and ugly toes. 

Until....

Oh yes.  They're pink.  PINK!!!  I cannot believe my fortune.  I almost cried with joy when I found them.  Imagine....ugly, ugly, ugly....turn the corner...PINK!  Tears of joy, my friends, tears of joy.  And you cannot even believe how many compliments I get on them.  I think I've begun a trend. 

Of course, they kill my feet.  They've been off for an hour and my big toes are still throbbing.  I have blisters on my next-to-baby toes on both feet.  And my feet still smell. 

But I DON'T CARE.

Because they're PINK!

And who hasn't suffered a little for fashion?  I'm sure I'm not the first. 

Oh yes, just a girl.  In a boys world.  I ask you this...how many men could pull that off?

Exactly.