Day 66: The Question of Memory

It doesn't get much more glamourous than this. What? Jeans can be glamourous? Who knew (besides me)? The trick with making these pants pull fancy duty is keeping the rest of the outfit ultra shiny and even over-the-top. It helps that the jeans have a little sheen to them, too. Now, a word about the shawl. I have had so many women come into the store and ask me to find them a cardigan to go with their dress. After that first lady I helped, I have gotten into the habit of just immediately pointing them to the shawl area. The reaction is always, "Oh my God, that's perfect! Why didn't I think of that?"

So here's a word to the fashion wise: buy a shawl. But two even. It doesn't matter what color they are, though I would probably go for a neutral, single-toned one (black, beige, gray, etc) and a patterned one like above. They will keep you warm, add instant sophistication to your evening outfit, and won't break the bank. I would suggest pashmina, but cotton, cashmere, or any woven blends are good too. We'll call this ensemble, "My Symphony Jeans," after my father, who, bless his heart, jokes that if his rugged blue Levis are good enough in the garden, they're good enough to hear classical music.

To wrap up season five (it's a short one, thank God, because I have about twenty seasons and a movie to get through), Carrie visits San Francisco to promote her book and takes Samantha with her. There, Carrie meets Big and the two have some fun, but not before Big worriedly picks apart her entire book, embarrassed by how much he hurt her over the years. Back in New York, Carrie meets up with newly-single Berger at a wedding and wonders where it will go. Charlotte starts sleeping with Harry, her divorce lawyer, and finds herself falling for him despite his hairy back. He tells her his feelings are mutual, but he can't seriously date a non-Jew. Samantha throws a party at Richard's beach house and discovers she's still angry at him. Miranda and Steve hook up, and she can't figure out how she feels about it or him.

Lots going on here. I have to say that Harry's character is my favorite of the entire series, so I'm glad he's in the picture now. He's such a hoot and unapologetic about being so. For me, the most interesting issue here deals with how we experience and remember events. When Big confronts Carrie about why she is still interested in him after all he has done, Carrie says that it was all in the past and that half of it wasn't true but embellishment. In the end, I was left wondering, "How can these people have been in the same relationship and be on totally different pages?"

It made me think of my own perspective versus Hank's. Memory is subjective, of course. But then, what is truth and what is fiction? This relates somewhat to the last blog entry and the negative personality issue. How much of what we remember and think is due to our unique perception, which is based on everything from heredity and mood to blood sugar levels at the time of the event and the time of relating the event? How do relationships work at all, considering the two people have totally different perspectives? How can there be any agreement at all about what happened or what's happening?

When Hank and I disagree about a past event, we just can't come to see the other's point of view. We can try to convince the other that what they're thinking didn't really happen. But what's the use of that? I will still see a situation in my own way, no matter how Hank tries to change my perspective. And he'll see it in his way. The same holds true for remembering events. We each have our version of the story. Maybe all we can do when we disagree is respect the other's version of events and move on.

But it's not easy--especially when one person supposedly has a negative personality and the other person doesn't. It seems like so often in big blowouts, I fall into the habit of saying things like, "This has happened so many times before. It's not going to work. This is exactly what happened with ________, and it was a bad sign. Blah, blah, blah." And Hank counters that with, "That's not what happened last time. This doesn't mean anything bad. We're totally different than ________. Why are you so negative? Blah, blah, blah." Who's right and who needs to look at the situation differently? Can the two views work together to form a healthy perspective? Is that what a good union is all about?

I don't like that I remember the 'bad' things. I like to think I remember the good ones, too. But I do have an uncanny ability to analyze, and most of the time that includes being critical of whatever I'm analyzing. In relationship fights, that's the relationship. I also don't like that Hank always has to be the person who sees the 'good' things. It must be exhausting for him, and sometimes his positivity tires even me out. I would like to hear him say, just once, the simple words, "Hon, you're right. We have a problem here." Because sometimes we do.

And sometimes we don't. I guess I need to learn to see more than just the negative, learn to be more supportive than critical. In the end, it is a choice. There is always that moment where you could go either way--towards the relationship or away from it. At those times, maybe it takes a powerful desire to conjure up the good memories, the pros instead of the cons, so you can get through the moment that feels like a con, even though it maybe isn't. That's hard work for me. I get carried away in the moment. There are so many mornings I wake up and wonder why the hell I threw such a fuss the night before. I need to stop running away, and Hank needs to stop running after me. He needs to develop his critiquing skills, and I need to calm mine and maybe use them for something else.

I realize this is a lot of rambling, and I also know it is a lot of divulging. At least it feels that way. But that's life. It's too short not to think about it all, and it's too short to dwell too long on anything. The answer, like always, probably lies somewhere in the middle.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 65: A Critical Review

Since I recently wore my new black skinnies and am obsessed with their versatility and coolness, I've decided to use them for the next few outfits. Watch as we go from day to night and from super casual to sleek and chic. The fashion challenge is on. Here, we have a casual day look. We're pairing the jeans with a traditional cardigan worn buttoned up as a shirt, no need for a cami. Countering the primness of the cardi is the rocker-like accessories. Instead of a formal wristwatch, we have a starfish cocktail ring. Instead of a conservative Coach handbag, we have an edgy black leather number with hardware. The flats also work to keep the ensemble looking carefree (they're next on my must-have list). The effect is studious and sophisticated without being snobbish, though I'm actually not sure you could make black skinnies snobbish if you tried. We'll call this outfit, "Study, Shmuddy."

I cannot believe I haven't posted for a week and a half. My sister was visiting, and I just couldn't bring myself to take time away from hanging out with her to write. Shopping, eating, and chatting were so much more fun. Even if I had wanted to post, it didn't seem in the cards. We were gone for three days to North Carolina for the wedding of my favorite cousin. At the reception, I decided after three and a half glasses of wine that it would be fun to jump and dance in 3-inch heels. At the time it was fine. But my back was so messed up the next morning, I was unable to get out of bed without extreme effort. I actually had tears involuntarily running down my face. So I have been taking twice daily baths for the past few days, and only today has sitting and typing really been doable, though still not comfortable. So I have some catching up to do.

The truth is even before my sister arrived, I had also been having a crisis of motivation. When you're around clothes all day and constantly chatting with your female coworkers, it turns out the last thing you really want to do is come home and pick an outfit and talk (or write) about feelings. Instead, you want a bottle of wine and a bubble bath and to talk to no one. But I have committed to this project, and, by damn, I will see it through. Besides, it's kinda nice to write, once you get going...

Here's the lowdown on the last two episodes. Carrie throws a book release party and attends it without a date. She realizes she's lonely. When the New York Times gives her a rave review, she focusses on the reviewer's one possibly negative comment (that she tosses out men) and wonders why she can't let it go. Samantha takes a shot at babysitting. When Brady's vibrating chair breaks down and he starts wailing, she improvises by setting her new sex toy next to him. It works, though Miranda is mortified. Meanwhile, Miranda's date with an old flame gets interrupted by her constantly crying child, and the new mom realizes how different her life has become. Charlotte takes her mother-in-law to court and wins the house fair and square.

Hank has a theory that I have a negative personality. Since my mother also has this theory, I have begun to seriously consider that it's true. According to Hank, there are certain characteristics of these types that I exhibit. They are as follows:

1. They often remember the bad things about past situations and rarely the good.

2. They think everything is about them.

3. They worry and overanalyze and feel anxious a lot.

Actually, I may have added the last one. It sounds right. He told me many more, but those are the ones that stick out. I don't know if he's right or not. Recently, we went to an exhibit that talked about optimism versus pessimism and the whole glass analogy (which I've never really bought). I looked at the glass for the millionth time in my life and said to Hank, "What if you look at it and think, 'It's only half full?' Does that make you an optimist or a pessimist?"

Either way, in light my work day today and these episodes, I'm inclined to think he's onto something with the personality thing. The day was pretty much like any other, but at the end of it I wanted to disappear. It seemed like miscommunications were happening everywhere, and at every moment I believed I was somehow making a mistake. If my manager looked at me funny, I thought she must be thinking I was doing a horrible job. If a coworker made a joking remark, I took it seriously. Normally, though I am not a laid back person, I like to think I'm able to get perspective a little easier than today. Today, I just took it all personally and stewed.

But maybe that's a more regular thing than I like to admit. I am often tip-toeing around people so they won't be upset at anything I'm doing (number 3). I worry a lot about what people (especially authority figures) are thinking and usually assume the worst (also number 3). When something goes wrong or someone is upset, I immediately think it was my fault and apologize for my perceived part, usually resulting in the person telling me she or he isn't upset with me at all (number 2). And I remember every detail of an interaction, usually focussing the parts that I didn't think went well and replaying them over and over again (number 1).

Like most people, I want to be liked. I am a perfectionist. I want perfect reviews from everyone. Only when I decide I don't like someone do I stop caring about their opinion. But that is rare. I usually like people enough to care what they think, which makes me very social but very anxious and neurotic. People-pleasing is risky business.

In fact, after today, I think I may just make a conscious effort to relax and tell my mind to shut up when it starts creating fantasy scenarios. My manager recently told me that "worrying is a waste of imagination," and that phrase has stuck. I think imagination is a huge driving force of anxiety. You can think off all the possibilities, so you do. What else is going to keep your mind busy? But that's just it. Anxiety takes a lot of mental energy--energy that could be used to learn your job better, think about future goals and dreams, plan trips, and listen to what people around you are saying. It's hard to do any of those things when your mind is whirring with analysis and worry.

I think opinions are important, because I like to think my opinion is important. If mine is, other peoples' must be too. Maybe Carrie does drop men. Maybe she doesn't. That's for her to decide and figure out if she wants to change, but not because some reviewer told her to. In the end, you can't live for other peoples' opinions. I know I'm not the first to say it, but I'm saying it anyway. You can't have peace trying to make everyone happy. You may get promoted, and you may be thought of as endearing. You may have lots of friends. But you will be really, really tired. And you'll always feel like you're going to drop one of the thousand mental balls you're juggling. Take my word for it.

So why not just juggle the balls you want and purposely drop the rest, maybe even make room for some more meaningful ones? I'm going to try it and get back to you.

Until then, I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 64: Dieting Diaries

It just struck me that I wear the same bag every day. Unless I'm going out at night or headed to the beach or on a trip (not usual occasions), pretty much the only bag I take out of my house is my dark green Aldo studded shoulder bag. Don't get me wrong, it's a great bag. I'm not complaining. It was also $22 (pleather is a wonderful thing). Yet another reason not to complain. But considering that I pick out cute outfits with a different bag everyday, I realized I am living vicariously through this blog. Okay, I'm pretty fashionable. But I'm also quite boring. There's a big difference between picking out a picture of a fabulous pair of suede gray sandals and actually spending both money on buying them and time taking care of them (let's face it, storage in cities is a big problem). It's funny that I spend all day around great stuff--cute Michael Kors bags and designer jeans, especially--and can't afford any of it. Oh, well. I guess that's why I'm here--because here I can wear whatever I want. In fact, my new motto is, "Dress for the life you want, not the one you have--at least in your blog." I'm calling this ensemble, "Pick a Ring, Any Ring (or Two)."

It is Hank's and my year anniversary tomorrow. I got my period today. These things do not coexist well. I am also so tired that I actually contemplated going to bed at 4:30 pm but forced myself to stay up. Hey, I had already been up for 12 hours. After working both the closing shift and the opening one, I have come to a grand conclusion that both suck. There isn't a winning situation. Either you're ready for bed when most people are still at work or you're eating dinner at 11 pm and sleeping your morning away (not to mention dealing daily with the post-work, pre-dinner and therefore hungry, mass of shoppers, which makes the little old ladies and stay-at-home moms who come in at 10am seem like angels). Nope, either way you lose (so chipper tonight).

Since I am thinking about sleep with every key stroke, let me get on with this post. The girls try to spend some quality friend time by going to Atlantic City to gamble and eat. Even though Carrie does her best to remind them of the importance of investing in friendships, the girls all seem to be on different wavelengths. Samantha's obsessed with keeping an eye on Richard, until she dumps him. Miranda's tired and wants to veg out in front of the TV, and Charlotte is trying to ignore the unpleasantness of her 36th birthday by hitting on random guys instead of hanging with the gals. Eventually, though, they all end up on the same bus back to the city. When they return, Carrie tries to pick a look for her book cover. Charlotte needs help with her self-help addiction. Samantha blows the UPS guy in an effort to get over Richard, and Miranda joins Weight Watchers to lose her baby weight, briefly hooking up with an insecure fellow dieter in the process.

Dieting sucks. And that, my friends, is my thesis for the night. I have tried nearly every diet under the sun, and I am here to say that none were easy. Although I have been at a comfortable weight for about eight years now (the fear of getting "fat" again has only recently subsided--and by that I mean 5 minutes ago, when I stopped looking at my bloated stomach in the mirror and made peace with the fact that I ate about three servings of french fries with dinner). When acquaintances make comments about how "Some people don't have to worry about what they eat" in front of me, I want to laugh in their faces. What do they know about my history with food and my metabolism? Nothing. Throughout high school and college, I tried an only-Asian diet, a sugar-wheat-dairy-fun-free diet, The Zone Diet, The Prism Diet, vegetarianism, veganism, Ediets.com, metabolism-boosting injections, and a handful of other things I can no longer remember (thank God).

I used to be thirty pounds heavier than I am now. I used to be a size 12 and eat a half gallon of ice cream in one sitting. In fact, I even tried to be bulimic once in high school (actually before I got chubby) but had to stop when I realized that I liked food too much to watch it come back up all destroyed. What was the point of that? Yes, even when I was healthy and even, gasp, skinny, I dieted. My mother and I often did it together, and it was a sort of bonding experience. I think we started when I was 12. My biggest memory was of the grapefruit, egg, and coffee diet, the strangest part of which for me at that age was the coffee.

My mother always struggled with weight and self image problems. I remember constantly putting her body down, even though to me she just looked normal, even healthier than many of my friends' mothers. But looking back now, I finally understand where she was coming from. She had once been a size two, just like many women in high school and in their twenties. She missed it, and she probably hadn't anticipated saying goodbye to her svelte figure forever once she had kids. Sure, she could exercise and cook healthy meals in theory, but who had time for that when you had a booming medical practice, an over-worked husband, and three crazy daughters running around playing dress up and asking for mac-and-cheese?

Only now, as I contemplate one day losing my favorite parts of my figure, ones that I have worked pretty hard to attain during my adulthood, do I appreciate the fear of looking anything less than great. Sure, there are more important things in life, but I like to look good. So shoot me. And this coming from the girl who just downed a burger and three servings of fries. Ugg, and I don't mean the boots.

My weight loss (this is getting pretty darn boring, isn't it?) started my second year in college. The year before, at NYU actually, I had hit an all-time weight high. I had developed a ritual, mostly to conquer my loneliness of being without friends in the most bustling city in the world. At night I would roam the New York City streets alone, sometimes seeing off-off-Broadway plays, sometimes catching a movie, sometimes just walking, but I would always end up in a cafe or dessert shop. Here is where I confess something very embarrassing. I would sometimes eat three to four full desserts a night. It was the only way I could cope at that point.

When I transfered to Rochester a year later, I found myself once again in the land of running trails and affordable gyms. I ran myself into shape. I decided to stop dieting and just learn to eat healthily. I ate a variety of foods. Nothing was off limits. But I forced myself to count calories. Thanks to the online dieting program I had joined while at NYU (which I hadn't used it much), I knew that I could have 1600 calories a day and still lose weight. It was like being in heaven. I had always grown up thinking that 1200 calories was the max and that if you weren't hungry, you were doing something wrong. I forced myself to weigh only once a week (not daily, as I had been masochistically doing) and shoot for losing only 2 pounds between weighings. It worked. In six months, I had lost 30 pounds and felt great about my body for the first time in maybe my whole life.

Now, I don't diet. I don't weigh. I don't even own a scale. My jeans are my scale, and they are worth keeping my figure for, even if it's sometimes heavier and sometimes lighter depending upon the season and where I'm at in life. I don't freak out about gaining weight, because I don't know when I do. I don't count calories, though I have an idea of the calories in what I'm eating. I just know my face looks pudgy, and I don't like it. But I don't make drastic changes. I maybe cut down to one piece of bread with my eggs and bacon for breakfast instead of two. It usually works. I still have dessert, but surprisingly I don't really want it as much as I used to or really only want a few bites. It's amazing what you want (and don't want) when you allow yourself to have what you want. These days, I mostly just know what makes me feel full and good, and I eat that. If one day that's steak, great. If the next it's a handful of peanut M and Ms, perfect.

Okay, well that was a bit Shape Magazine sappy, but thanks for bearing with me. It's funny how so much drama in one's life can be summed up in less than 500 words. I think there's a lesson in there somewhere.

I hope you'll be back. I will, but not before 10 hours of sleep, God willing.

Day 63: A Change of Thought

I saw a lady come in to the store carrying this LV Stephen Sprouse Collection tote. I couldn't believe how cute it was and told her so. When I came home to hunt down a photo of it and see how much it set her back, I found a plethora of believable look-alikes (left) all over the web and some real ones (right) being auctioned off a few months after their January debut. What's the difference between the two besides $400-$1000 buckaroes? You tell me. Yes, the right one would last a lifetime, but the left one just might too. Even though I love LV, I'm not sure I love him enough to spend that kind of dough. So, to knock-off designers everyone, I'm dedicating this outfit to you and calling it, "I'll Take the Fake...and the Cake, Too."

We are on to season five, and I have to confess I've seen every episode in it about six times. When I lived in Peru, you could buy a season for $3.50, so I bought all the ones I hadn't seen (five, six, and six part deux). The only catch was that sometimes they would play, sometimes not. Unfortunately I never got season 6 to work at all and didn't have the time or energy to go haggle my way to a refund. So, when I wanted my dose of SATC, I just re-watched an episode from season five. I pretty much know them verbatim.

But I didn't really remember the context, since I hadn't seen the first seasons for years. I was aware of the big things--that Miranda had Steve's baby and Charlotte and Trey divorced--but had forgotten all of the details and whys. So when I saw these two episodes again today, despite the fact that I have them nearly memorized, I teared up.

Miranda finds that motherhood is challenging her relationships with her friends, especially Samantha, who wants nothing to do with baby talk. Per Steve's request, Miranda gives in to the idea of baptizing Brady and asks Carrie to be his godmother. Carrie finds herself becoming cynical about dating and love at the same time a book offer comes along. She must decide whether she's an optimist about relationships or a pessimist and decides to keep the faith alive. Charlotte starts losing hope as well and turns to self-help psychology for help. When she convinces Carrie to join her for an "affirmations seminar," Charlotte sees just how strong her grief over her failed marriage has become. Samantha decides to give cheating, scumbag Richard a second chance, much to the dismay of her friends. However, she can't quite forgive and forget what he did.

Okay, let me explain the tears. It must be said that Kristin Davis (Charlotte) is a great actress. There is a moment when they attend the seminar when she stands up and asks why the affirmations the lady suggests aren't working faster. She says she wants to believe in love but finds it so hard after divorcing. She feels angry at her ex-husband for taking her hope away from her. The way she says it makes you feel everything she's going through--and makes you want to bomb the motivational speaker's home for making people believe it's easy if they just work really hard to see their situation in a new way. It's just not that easy. Ever.

After breaking up with Billy, I came up with my own philosophy about positive thinking: "Thinking differently about reality won't change it; it will just make you think differently about it." Positive thinkers everywhere will hate me for saying that. I did say it in a different context--relating more to trying to "think" an unhealthy relationship into being a healthy one without anything really changing--but it could really be used here as well. Usually we experience difficult emotions for a reason. Sometimes it's because we're grieving, which I think is a normal, healthy thing. Sometimes it's because we're angry, which can also be good as a catalyst for changing our lives for the better. Sometimes it's physical or hormonal, which can be helped with natural hormones and a little exercise (hey, it worked for me). Whatever their root, personally I haven't found "positive thinking" to be very helpful. Usually it just makes me feel like crap about myself.

And I should know. When I came back from Peru (engaged to Jorge, though he hadn't moved to the U.S. yet), I was emotionally out-of-whack. In retrospect, I see that I was suffering a bit from reverse culture shock, a bit from the train wreck of my relationship with Billy, a bit from the near-paralyzing task of rebuilding my life in Montana I had so suddenly abandoned a year earlier, and a bit from having gone off of anti-depressants for the first time in seven years (still off them, by the way, and that was almost three years ago). My mom saw my angst and suggested a book by Marianne Williamson called, "The Gift of Change: Spiritual Guidance for Living Your Best Life." She said it was affecting her life dramatically for the better. So I gave it a try. As my mother said, "What have you got to lose?"

Well, a lot actually. About half-way through, I literally felt I had hit rock-bottom, but that was right before feeling like the book was really onto something huge. I read every word like it was the Bible, underlining things and writing comments in the margins. The author told me to love, love, love--that if I focussed on loving enough, I wouldn't feel angry or sad anymore, only peaceful. She said that negative feelings were just the ego's way of bringing us down. The ego told us we had things to fear. The ego separated us from God and love. Her premise was that all our "issues" were "inside our head."

I started listening to her radio program nightly with my mother (I was staying with my parents that spring before moving to New York for a summer job). I ordered her "Course in Miracles," a workbook to teaching people how to think differently about their situations, with exercises, affirmations (yes, really), and CAQs. At the time, I was really worried about the direction my life was headed, especially concerning marriage. I thought this book was the answer and decided to think positively about the whole thing.

Until I no longer could. I started to hate myself for feeling scared and sad about what had happened that year. I began to hate the book (and my mother for giving it to me) for basically blaming it all on my brain. Then, I would hate myself more for hating the book, because obviously that meant that I wasn't being loving enough, etc. It was a mind fuck if I ever saw one, and I eventually had to choose the book or my brain and its sanity. I chose my brain, even if it was less than perfectly loving at the moment. In the end, I figured, I didn't want to lead my life not trusting what my body and mind were telling me to feel.

Self-help is really appealing when you are lost. And let's face it, we're all a little lost. It's easy, because someone gives you the answer. Someone offers to take all that anxiety from you and turn it into a simple theory that you can hopefully live your entire life by without having to think too hard. The problem is that you don't really work things out that way. Not really. You stick a bandaid on the problem, but it's still there, lurking under the surface. I didn't want to live my life knowing I had a problem I wasn't facing.

So I let myself feel what I needed to feel. It brought chaos. Jorge and I fought. I cried a lot. I tried anti-depressants again and called my therapist weekly. Then, I quit my therapist, who just kept saying that I was doing fine and had the whole world at my fingertips (

What did I care? I was sad.), and switched to another student therapist, who really helped me work some things out and make peace with myself and my natural emotions and thoughts. I canceled another wedding, trusting my instinct whether my emotions were based on fear or not, I wasn't about to get married to someone I wasn't sure I loved and just didn't want to hurt. I took a hormone test and started taking herbal and hormonal supplements. I got off the new anti-depressants.

With time, I started to stabilize. I cried less and felt hopeful. I talked with friends about what happened in Peru and began to see the craziness of it all and the manipulative side of Billy. Up until then, I still had blamed the end of the relationship on myself. I began to--get this--even feel thankful for the whole experience and what it had taught me. I knew that some of those lessons--taking care of yourself in a foreign place, surviving a breakup without friends or family, trusting your voice (it was in Peru that I really started writing, even if I didn't share it with anyone)--I couldn't have learned any other way. And I learned them without any stupid book on change or forced positive thinking.

Well, here's to trusting ourselves--what we think, feel, and experience. If we don't, what can we really trust? I think even God would agree. I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 62: Goodbye of Sorts

A version of this outfit is what I picked out for a lady today. She came in with a dress similar to this one but with a halter neckline and said she was wearing it for an upcoming dinner event. She was looking for a cardigan to go over it but was finding only cotton ones that looked too informal and junior-y, and she was on a budget. She requested help. My coworkers called me over (an honor I took very seriously).

I asked her what shoes she was wearing, and she described a pair like the above. After 5 minutes of making sure she had seen all the designer and junior cardigans we had (you need to know all of your options), I suggested a pashima wrap in accessories. It was the only thing I could think of besides an overcoat that would be elegant enough and still provide warmth. She was so excited. She already had one! It was purple! Did I think it went with the dress? Since I happened to be wearing a green sundress with a belted purple cashmere cardi today, I had to say yes, which was the truth, even though I was in the middle of highlighting the benefits of a cream shawl. She was so elated about being able to wear the purple, I'm not even sure she heard me.

Then she asked what bag to wear. I said the requirements were that it had to be pretty small and sparkly--beaded, sequined, or having a high sheen. When we looked, I realized we had only one bag in the store that matched that description, and she didn't like it. All the rest were casual bags. I asked her what she owned. She said she had a smallish bronze bag that was really shiny leather and had some fringe detail. I said that would work.

Then she asked about jewelry. I recommended earrings because of the high neckline and showed her a great pair of gold hoops with flower detail. But wait! She already had the perfect gold hoops! And all I could say is, "Well, you've got it covered. You already have everything you need." The bad news? I didn't sell a thing. She walked out of the store empty-handed. I suppose I could have tried to push dangly earrings after all that, but it didn't seem right. The good news? She left really happy and feeling confident about what she had. I, too, felt great. I had helped her assemble a great outfit, even if she already owned everything in it. We'll call this ensemble, "Priceless."

"You can't leave New York. You're the Chrysler Building. The Chrysler Building would be all wrong in a vineyard." Carrie to Big

Well, technically, I shouldn't be writing. I've only watched one episode since the last post. But, since it was the last episode of season four and a big one, I felt it deserved its own space. Carrie finds out that Big is moving to Nappa Valley to live on his recently purchased winery. The last moments between them are really nice. The day he goes, he leaves his favorite record, the one his parents always danced to when he was young, Henry Mancini's "Moon River," for Carrie for when she gets lonely. He also leaves an open plane ticket to California for when he gets lonely. The sap that I am, I nearly cried.

Samantha suspects that Richard is cheating and goes undercover to catch him. After barging in on him, well, in a very compromising position with a young gal, she breaks things off, feeling heartbroken. Charlotte volunteers at a museum, only to see Trey there with his mother. Deciding it's time to move on, she accepts a date with a young, smitten guy who has also recently gone through a divorce. Things start out really well, but when the man finds out how wealthy she is, he freaks out, which causes Charlotte to question whether she's really ready to deal with the drama of dating again. Miranda has her baby and names him Brady Hobbes (Steve's last name and her last name).

For a dramatic episode, it seemed quiet. Big leaving was a significant event, but it didn't cause the drama it could have. Carrie nor he ever cried. They didn't have goodbye sex, though Carrie was ready to. Miranda had her baby that night--how convenient! No, they just hung out and said their goodbyes peacefully. It was actually like they knew that it wasn't goodbye. Since I'm an English teacher on the side, I'll just say it was a comma, not a period--like they both knew a larger secret, which was that they would always be important in each others' lives. When Carrie tells the gals Big is leaving, Charlotte says that she's surprised. She always thought they would end up together, and I couldn't help but feel that the same way. The comfort between them after everything just ain't everyday, if you know what I'm sayin.

I got to thinking about goodbyes--to stages in life, to people, to places. Some things are very easy for us to leave. I had no trouble getting on the plane from Lima, Peru to Montana. Lima's pollution nearly suffocated me, seriously. My asthma (which I didn't even know I had) was so bad that I had to take medicine daily to be able to get through conversations without coughing. Even though I loved the Peruvian food, the people, and the nearness of the ocean, I knew it wasn't meant to be. It was a resting place. Sometimes I miss it, but overall I know that I can never live there.

New York, on the other hand, as I've said before was harder to leave, and I still can't quite give up the desire to return someday. Maybe I won't, but saying goodbye has never been easy. It's almost like I never have. I feel the same way about Montana--New York's opposite, if I ever saw one. All it takes is listening to the A River Runs Through It soundtrack, and I'm transported back to my home countryside. I can almost feel the high desert wind on my cheeks and see the snow-tipped peaks I grew up surrounded by. In those moments, I swear to myself that I'll go back to stay one day soon.

Saying goodbye to people is as funny as places. When I broke up with Arnold I felt elated. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Yes, I cried. There were only two weeks before our wedding, and the tiring task of explaining things to everyone, including Arnold during our daily phone conversations, and apologizing to all involved brought me to tears nearly every day for a month. But saying goodbye was easy. I knew it was the right thing to do. There wasn't any draw back to him as a place of safety or happiness. It was just time to leave, and I knew we would never get back together--maybe never even see each other again. I was fine with it.

I'm not sure there's an equivalent of New York and Montana in a person or ex. Saying goodbye to Jorge and Travis as friends was very difficult. I cried every time I talked to them for a while after breaking up, but it wasn't because I missed being a couple or couldn't say goodbye. I just missed them as people. When Brad and Billy broke up with me, it was harder to say goodbye. It always is when it's not your choice. But that was the thing: I think it was hard because it wasn't my decision to go. I'm not sure it was because I didn't want to be apart from them. I didn't have a strong relationship with either guy, and our histories weren't long enough to feel a real absence when they left.

That's not the same as Carrie and Big, who have formed a deep connection that seems to sustain itself no matter what happens in either of their lives. They try to say goodbye but keep coming back to each other. I know it's fiction, but I'm sure that happens in life with some people too. I'm glad I don't have an equivalent of their relationship from my past. If I did, it would probably be bad news for Hank and I. After all, I'm not really sure you can say hello to something or someone if you haven't said goodbye to the thing or person that came before.

To their credit, Carrie and Big have tried. And that's what is so darn romantic about the whole thing--perhaps the one thing that keeps millions of viewers tied to their seats. They seem to answer the question that everyone's dying to ask: What do soulmates look like? Well, what if they're just the people you can't seem to say goodbye to, no matter how hard you try--the ones your soul seems to know you love even before you do?

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 59: Friends With Money

Sparkles and shine: they really are what set apart fancy from every-day. Everything here has some sort of sheen to it, and the effect is high-class glamour. When you have such elegant pieces, you don't need many of them--only one piece of jewelry, thank you very much. I love the simplicity of this outfit. I also love that the design of the shoes mirrors that of the dress. We'll call this one, "High Class Hottie."

If there is one thing that makes any day brighter, it is getting one's hair done. I did this last week, finally using 1/2-off coupons I've had in my dresser for ages. Still, after full highlights, a toner, a deep-conditioning treatment, and a trim, I ended up down $130. But it was worth every penny. Never skimp on highlights or heels. And now, even though I have yet to shower and do my hair (first day off for a week), I still feel glamourous. I can't help but watch my hair reflect the light when I walk past a mirror. I almost want to exclaim, "Dang, I look good!"

Hey, at least I admit it.

Well, Carrie is trying to "get over" Aidan, which consists of her pretty much living her life as before with the occasional droopy lip and hog-wash romantic thought about what a great love Aidan was for her. Blah. I don't believe a word of it. But, moving on. Aidan tells her she has 30 days to buy her apartment or move out. Savings-less, she first asks Big for a loan, and he gives it to her. But she tears up the check, not wanting to be indebted to him. Then Charlotte, after much drama, decides to give Carrie her wedding ring (worth the measly sum of $30,000) for the down payment with the understanding that Carrie will pay her back. The latter accepts.

Carrie also brings up her father for the first time. We learn that he left Carrie and her mother when Carrie was five, and that the latter has had men issues ever since. She gets a writing job at Vogue to make money for the mortgage. When it doesn't go as easily as predicted, she wants to quit, blaming her desire on her quitting father figure. But she sticks with it. Charlotte throws a baby shower for Miranda and has a breakdown in the middle of it. Miranda starts to trust her mothering instincts. Samantha, after offering to arrange a threesome for Richard's birthday per his request, is pleasantly surprised when Richard turns her offer down, suggests the two of them become exclusive, and finally says, "I love you."

Whoa. Lots going on. The biggest issue for me here is the money thing. To go more in depth about the situation, after Carrie asks Big for the money, her friends tell her not to accept it (wise decision). Then, Samantha and Miranda both offer to loan her the money. Charlotte says nothing. Carrie says she can't accept but becomes infuriated with Charlotte, who is now living off of her ex-husband's income and doesn't even need to work, for not offering her the loan. Charlotte defends herself by saying that she doesn't want money to make their relationship weird and that it is not her responsibility to take care of Carrie financially. Carrie can't understand why, if you have the money and your best friend doesn't, you would give some of it up freely. Carrie says she would. Eventually, as I've said, Charlotte grants the loan.

This is a really big issue. Let me just say that I would not give the loan either. Rather, if I were swimming in money, I would hope that I would give the money as a gift. This is not because I am extremely generous. It's because every financial advice I've ever read (surprisingly, a lot, considering) in the world would say never to loan money to anyone, period. If you have the money to give, give it, and make sure the person understands that it's a gift. They all say it's the only way to keep the relationship the same.

If you loan the money, the loaner will feel indebted to you in every interaction. She will feel pressure to pay you back soon to relieve the owing guilt, but when she can't, she'll avoid you in order not to feel the pressure. It makes perfect sense to me. Heck, I don't even keep track when I buy a friend a coffee. I don't want to think that the person owes me; that doesn't make me happy, either. I also don't think I would take a loan from anyone but my parents for the same reason--not even my sisters. It just makes things complicated. People and money are a strange, strange mix.

Take my mother and uncle. My uncle is brilliant. He graduated from Harvard at age 19 and possesses five specialties in the medical field. Because he is so good at what he does (pathology, mainly), he is asked all of the time to testify for cases dealing with child abuse around the United States. He has so many Southwest miles that he nearly always flies for free. This all said, he is a self-declared money disaster. No one really knows why or what he does with his money, because he lives modestly. But he never has enough.

Enter my mother. My parents, both doctors, have always been pretty good with their money. They've invested in a lot of property and land over the years, and they have a great accountant. So guess who my uncle is always calling for loans? He always promises to pay my mother back, but he never does. And my mother always promises never to loan money to him again, but she always does. It's a vicious cycle. It has gotten so bad that my uncle will sometimes talk to me about his money problems (or even have his daughter call me to talk about them) in the hopes that I can have some influence on my mother. My mother doesn't want to talk about it, because she cries.

I hope never to be in their situation. The loan just keeps growing, and it will never get paid back. I have no doubt about that. I know my mother feels disappointed, and I know my uncle feels sheepish, even if he's now dependent on it. I can't help but feel that it could all have been stopped by my mother either giving the money as gift when she could (and wanted to) and just saying no any other time.

The situation actually makes me glad I don't have a lot of money. It reminds me of that song, "Mo' Money Mo' Problems:" "I don't know what they want from me. It's like the more money I come across, the more problems I see." Good ol' Jay Z. I don't think money is bad. Don't get me wrong. But it definitely can create bad complications. I understand how both Charlotte and Carrie feel. If I had a ton of money, and my friend was in trouble or visa versa, it would be difficult to know what to do. Like I said, I would give the money as a gift. I would also take a gift of money if I had no other options, was desperate like Carrie (I don't even see taking an ex-boyfriend's cash as an option), and knew that my friend/sister/etc had the money to spare. But there's always a chance a person (even me) could become dependent upon asking--like my uncle and mother. That's scary. And it's such a fine line.

Well, here's to matters of money and the heart. Let them mix as seldom as possible. I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 58: Working It Out

Now is a good time to talk about proportions and balance in an outfit. Here, the billowy top counters the skinny jeans and makes for a very flattering silhouette. Now, imagine baggy pants with this top. Not great, right? Since the top is loose, loose bottoms would only make a person look bigger; nothing is showing the form underneath the clothing. The same idea applies when choosing pants to go with a form-fitting top. If you pair it with skinny bottoms like these, you run the risk of looking flashy (or trashy), in other words showing too much form. But trouser jeans would look great. We'll call this ensemble, "Balanced Outfit, Balanced Gal."

I just realized something, and I don't like it. I realized that I take (or don't take) a large percentage of action based on emotions alone. Not so bad, you may say. But for a passionate person like myself, that can mean a lot of passionate actions, not all of them healthy for anyone. For example, when I'm mad, I often can't write. I don't want to eat. I just want to sit and stew in my frustration and hurt and do nothing productive. Instead of getting emotional and then moving on, I seem to be unable to successfully do the latter. Consequently, a bad phone call with my mother or an argument with Hank can leave me literally paralyzed. On the other hand, when I'm happy, I can forget all reason and buy a triple-shot Americano at 8pm, understanding full well that I will not be able to sleep that night. Maybe I'm normal; maybe I'm neurotic and compulsive. Only God (and a good psychologist) will ever know.

This doesn't have much (or anything) to do with today's episodes. It just has to do with life. Regarding SATC, I'll cut to the chase. Carrie and Aidan break up. It seems about time. Even though things appear to be good overall with them, Carrie's doubts and some of her actions (who wears their engagement ring around their neck and repeatedly forgets to tell people she's engaged?) point towards an ending. The producers probably want it this way. Carrie postpones the wedding, saying that she's not ready for marriage. Aidan, in a moment of frustration and honesty, says that he is and that if she's not ready now, she'll never be.

Things aren't much cheerier for the other women. Charlotte and Trey decide to get a divorce, since Charlotte can't give up on the idea of having children. Trey tells her she can keep the house she spent months remodeling. Charlotte tries to find outlets to keep her from grieving, but a breakdown ensues. Samantha, to her surprise, finds herself in love with Richard, her boss, and desiring monogamy. Richard isn't on the same page. Newly-pregnant Miranda wonders why she isn't more excited to learn she's having a boy. She also breaks her big news to her law firm, which she is sure will cost her career dearly.

Dour subject matter for sure. Actually, I was surprised to feel sadder about the demise of Trey and Charlotte's marriage than about Carrie and Aidan. It just always seemed Carrie was using the poor guy and really not that interested in him for who he was. He was always too something--too rugged, too nosey, too "perfect." In other words, not Big. I saw their relationship as a resting place before more drama (okay, yes I knew they were breaking up, but I think I thought they were doomed the first time I saw the series, too). With Charlotte and Trey, there was deep emotion. In their good times (even if there weren't as many as rough times), they were on the same page, even if that page came from a romance novel.

The actors behind the latter two characters are also much better than SJP (I've said this before), and they did a heart-wrenching job of depicting how a marriage can slowly fall apart. Over ten or so episodes, we were able to see the couple go from silly fights to total alienation, and it all seemed believable and like the natural progression of things. There wasn't a time when the characters appeared to be over-dramatizing small things or not trying their hardest. It just fell apart.

It was scary. I won't lie. It wasn't long ago in my viewing experience that Charlotte was head-over-heels in love with Trey, and when Trey was madly in love with her back. Yes, the baby thing (and the sex thing) was a huge "red flag," but I still thought it was something drugs and a therapist could solve. It all seemed like a question of ill-functioning equipment. Until it wasn't. Then, it became about unfulfilled desire and frustration. Then, that grew into anger and blame. Then it displaced itself into a desire to have children, then a frustration with that, then anger, and so on. After the last episode, I just felt so sorry (and worn out) for them both.

And it made me realize how fragile love is and how there are no sure things in relationships. Little actions now may lead to mega emotions later. Things that go unresolved presently can lead to train wrecks later on. At the same time, you can talk out these issues all you want to (Trey and Charlotte tried), and things can still not work. It wasn't like either character said "F it" to the other's desires. Their desires were just incompatible, or the accumulated hurt was too great. I'm still not sure which, and it makes a difference what the answer is. If it's the former--incompatible desires--then there's no use trying after a point. If it's the latter--that there's too much bad blood--then you should try all the time to not build resentment. Tricky.

At the core of all of this is a question I have struggled with all of my life (and I'm sure I'm not the first nor last): How do you know how much work is too much work? I have always been the type to give my relationships everything I've got--to fight against all odds, to make huge sacrifices for boyfriends. I have given up a year of studying abroad in Vienna, my dream city, which I still haven't visited. I have postponed college. I have even considered changing my citizenship (twice) and gone to counseling with partners (three times).

In fact, I am tired of "fighting" for the relationship. Anymore, probably due to my past, I am of the mindset that if a relationship doesn't happen naturally, it shouldn't happen at all, even if there's deep love like with Charlotte and Trey. Hey, they have different goals. They should move on. But is that just lazy? There's a huge part of me that thinks they could have tried harder--that they could have tried to merge their goals in the name of their love. After all, like my mother always says, if you love someone, you will always need to sacrifice. But finding that balance is tough.

And maybe there really are some large life goals that are non-negotiable. For Charlotte, that's having kids. One of the last fights I had with Billy was also over children. He didn't want more kids (remember, he already had one he didn't talk to). I did. You have to know where to draw the line; even if you don't know, you still have to draw it somewhere. Well, there's an argument for knowing (and being honest with) yourself well and good before getting married.

Let me just say that I am glad Hank and I don't have any huge issues. We have little ones. We fight daily or at least every other day, which isn't great. I don't like it. But when all is said and done, we're on the same page about the big things in life, and I don't feel like I'm giving up anything to be with him. I know he feels the same. Now, that's worth fighting for.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 57: Engaged in Battle

Normally I belt a dress like this. However, it seemed to have enough shape to leave a belt out. I love this bag. I won't be buying it, probably ever, but it's freakin cute and very versatile. I also love the Havianas sandals, which I DO plan on buying this summer. The button-up is meant to be worn like a cardigan, unbuttoned and tied in the front for a carefree, summer, day or evening look. Since we're also layering the necklaces, we'll call it, "Layer Up Baby, It's Warm Outside."

Well, Carrie moves in with Aidan and gets engaged (man, a lot can happen in two episodes). She sees a ring in Aidan's bag before he pops the question, so she has lots of time to think about how to answer. She wonders if hesitation is good, if he's the right guy, etc. But when he asks, all her analysis flies out the window, and she says yes. After the engagement, however, the couple begins to fight for space in the tiny apartment, resulting in a huge blow-out. Eventually, Carrie especially realizes that she doesn't need the space that she thought, and the couple makes peace. Samantha falls deeper for her new boss, going against her "sex-no-feelings" policy. Miranda tells Steve about the baby, and the two decide to raise it together without being together. Charlotte and Trey are at each others' throats about getting pregnant. At one point, Trey asks, "When does a marriage get easier?" Hormonally imbalanced Charlotte blames Trey for not trying, and Trey tells her he no longer wants a baby. Chralotte retreats to her friends, planning things with them and telling Trey he's not invited. Trey gets her a cardboard baby as a joke, which spirals the couple into emotional warfare.

The timing of these episodes was scary. Hank and I watched them late last night, as a sort of way to calm down after our own battle. It went like this. Hank came home from school. I was practicing the piano and gave him a quick kiss. We chatted. He asked how my day was. I told him, and I also told him that two gals from work wanted to go to dinner on Thursday night. He asked why I didn't invite him. I said that I was just going to go with the girls. He got sad and accused me of pulling away and being unaffectionate, saying it had been going on for months. I told him he was overreacting, and that I just wanted to nurture some new friendships here and needed social time apart from him. It spiraled, and before I knew it we were arguing about who was going to go take a walk first to get away from the other (which, I might add, Carrie and Aidan recreated perfectly in the episode) and whether or not we were good together. In a moment of complete frustration, I uttered the "b" word, which made everything worse.

Now, this is not our first fight, but it was one of the few where we just came to a stalemate. There didn't seem to be any reason for the fight, well not any huge reason. Yes, I had planned a dinner with friends and hadn't invited him. But it was much more. Fights usually are. Since there was no concrete reason, there wasn't a concrete solution. I ended up saying I was sorry for not being more affectionate. Even though I felt like I was being normal, I grew up with parents who barely touched each other, so maybe my perspective was skewed. I also stayed firm in my belief that social time apart (girls or guys night out, if you will) is a good thing in a relationship, and I thought he should be striving for that a little too. He said he didn't want to, so why should I? In the end, though, he respected my need to spend time with just the gals, and we came to an agreement that if he wanted to go, he needed to say something, but that sometimes I would go without him, and he would be okay with it. I would also try to be more affectionate with him (even if I'm tired) at the end of the day. It was easy enough, but the fight lasted for hours, with two walking breaks in between (first his, then mine with Bela).

The reason I divulge all of this is maybe only to say that I fully understand that fights in relationships are hard. People sometimes make them sound cute ("Oh, she gets so mad when I leave the toilet seat up."), but in the moment they are anything but. They are maddening and crazy-making, and they make you want to punch the person (not that I would) and just get out of there. There's nothing fun about fighting.

The big questions for Carrie are the following: How do you know when a relationship is wrong? How do you know when it's okay? How do you know what to do? Maybe nobody knows. Either somehow you find a way, like Carrie and Aidan in the episode and Hank and I last night, to apologize and move on, or you don't. Trying to move on is all anyone can do. There has to be enough good stuff to make you want to do that. Even though I may feel really down about Hank and I in those bad moments, when they pass, I'm able to reconnect with what's good. That's what keeps it worth it for me.

In relationships like Charlotte and Trey's, there are often irreconcilable differences (pardon the expression, but it's pretty accurate) of values and needs. He doesn't want kids, and she does. Someone has to give up something pretty big in order for that to work, and sometimes the sacrifice is too much. It's not a matter of just getting some air for an hour or getting a good night's sleep. It's about life goals.

Conflict in relationships seems like a give and take, a balance between two questions: What can I give up in this situation, and what do I need to fight for? It's a really hard question.

Well, off to bed. It's 9:00pm, the witching hour. I can't believe this is my bedtime, but more than that, I can't believe how tired I am and how bed sounds really good right now. I hope you'll be back. I will.