reach the beach: (a sorta) recap

I owe you all so many blog entries about the fun things I've been doing lately. But since I got home at around 11pm last night from Bar Harbor and am on a 7am flight tomorrow morning to Puerto Rico you'll get a little bit of updating, a few pictures and a promise that the rest is coming as soon as life calms down just a little bit..

Reach the Beach was May 18-19. It was epic. And HOT. But at least I didn't have to run up a mountain and I didn't get the worst sunburn in the entire world. I loved my team, and especially my van, beyond words. Not only did we laugh non-stop for the entire relay, but they were the most supportive group a girl could ask for. When I wanted to lay down in the street and just let myself get run over by a van, they were there to keep me going. Also, they are all SO FAST. I'm pretty sure that I was the slowest one on the team. Sorry guys. That made me feel a little bad, but I'd like to hope that my driving skills and witty banter made up for what I lacked in pace.

For those of you who have never done Reach the Beach and are wondering: what does one do at a 24 hour, 12 person, 200 mile relay? The answer is simple:

Take lots of pictures with friends

 

Decorate your van. Well, actually Danielle took care of that, but we rode around in it and told her what an awesome job she did. That's pretty much the same thing, right? 

Give lots of thumbs up. For yourself, your teammates, and random strangers who are also crazy enough to embark on such a mission

Give the stink eye to everyone. Why? Why not.

Hardly ever sleep. And when you do, look at beautiful as possible. If not, it ruins your street cred.

Pose for more pictures. Obviously.

Wait.. what am I forgetting? I can't quite think of it.. oh right.. RUN. You're supposed to RUN during Reach the Beach. 16.5 miles for me this year!

REACH THE BEACH. And then steal artsy pictures from your teammates.

Seems easy enough, right?

overextended?

See this? This is my schedule for the next two and a half weeks. I knew that I was busy, but looking at it all written down makes me realize just how insane it is. I have ONE free day between now and June 4th. One. And that day will be right after I return from a climbing weekend in Bar Harbor, and one day before I go to Puerto Rico. I know, I know, first world problems. But seriously, even looking at this schedule is giving me anxiety. Although, if you know me at all you know that a lot of things give me anxiety, so it's pretty much par for the course.

If I manage to survive this year's Reach the Beach, climbing trip, Puerto Rico (laying on the beach is hard work, I tell ya) and everything in between, then I'm going to have to start packing. Because, oh YES, I am moving on June 23rd. And not only that, my parents expect me to have moved pretty much everything except for my furniture before their arrival. My plan of action is to lock myself in my apartment for a weekend with a ton of boxes, garbage bags to purge the massive amounts of crap that I have acquired since I last moved two years ago. And wine. Lots and lots of wine. Anyone want to volunteer to help? I could be persuaded to share my wine. Maybe.

Also, see that TOP SECRET event on the 23rd? I wanted to call your attention to it but I won't be telling you what it is. Not just yet, anyway. I know, I know, I'm such a tease.

What are some events that you're looking forward to? Tell me about your summer plans!

this is why i'm crazy

Oh, you know, just a normal phone conversation with my mother:

me:      between last night and this morning, i came down with a cold
mom:  oh baby, i'm sorry. are you at work? you should go home and rest
me:      i took some mucinex, i'll be fine
mom:  are you sure?
me:      yes..  i don't know if it's related but i'm having a hard time focusing my eyes. things look.. fuzzy?
mom:  have you been eating a lot of sugar lately?
me:      i don't know, maybe? no? what does that have to do with anything?
mom:  i mean, when people with diabetes eat too much sugar it can have that effect on their vision.
me:      i don't have diabetes
mom:  people can get diagnosed with diabetes at any age
me:      I DON'T HAVE DIABETES
mom:  you never kn --
me:      i have to go. you're too crazy for me right now

this is why mondays suck

What is up with all the douchebags lately? First there was the woman who sidled up to me at the bus stop and told me that I should wear makeup because I'm "not naturally very pretty". Sweet of her, right? And then there was the maybe-homeless  guy who approached me, asked about sauces, and then spit on my foot. And then of course there were the jerks who called me fat and told me not to wear colored denim. But this morning, well, that just takes the cake.

Let me set the scene for you: every morning I take the same bus. When I arrive early to the bus stop I sit on the bench and wait for said bus. People line up against the fence and wrap around the corner if need be and the benches are closer to where the doors open. So, if I'm sitting on the benches technically I could be in "front" of someone who's been waiting at the bus stop longer. Our stop is the FIRST on the bus route, which means there's never an issue to get a seat. Okay, now that you have that information..

A few weeks ago, I plopped down on the bench and pulled out my Kindle. All of sudden I hear someone sigh, loudly, and say, also loudly, "Are you fucking kidding me?". I look up, and he is looking directly at me. I think I said something along the lines of "Seriously?" and continued reading. It agitated me, I tweeted about it, and then promptly forgot that it had happened. Everyone's entitled to a bad day, right?

Well, this morning I did the same. I walked up to the bus stop and sat down on the bench and then I hear it.. the sigh. I recognize the voice when I hear the words "Are you fucking kidding me?" once again. I look up, and he is glaring at me. I was really unsettled but managed to reply, "Do you have a problem with me sitting on the bench?". He looked at me in the eye and said "You are such a fucking cunt".

I'm sorry. Is this real life?

I looked around and EVERYONE at the bus stop was staring at the ground or the sky, anywhere to avoid making eye contact with me. I wish I'd had my wits about me so I could have formulated a witty response, but I had nothing. I sat there on the bench for another ten minutes waiting for the bus. The entire time he was glaring at me. At this point the bus was late and I felt too uncomfortable to sit there so I got up and walked to my car and drove myself to work, crying the whole way.  I really try to let things roll off of my back, but this cut me to the core. I was hurt to be singled out and embarrassed that I was called such an awful name in front of a group of people.

When did calling a woman a cunt in the middle of a rush hour crowd become acceptable? I guess I must have missed that memo. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt so awful if someone had been brave enough to step in. I can't imagine that I would sit idly by if I'd heard someone talk to a young woman that way. I wish I could say that I'm no longer upset about it, since it happened this morning. I mean, I grew up in New York and have lived in Boston for over ten years. I have experienced a LOT of disgusting and awful things on public transportation. But this, this just cut me to the core.

I've decided if I see him again I will do what I usually do, which is sit on that damn bench. And if he dares to open up his mouth to me I will stand up, walk over to him and let him know that if he says another word to me that I will be calling the police and filing charges for harassment.  Next time, I won't need anyone to stand up for me because I'll stand up for myself.

So, that was my Monday morning.

burlesque life lessons

A few months ago, my good friend Lu and I purchased a Bloomspot for a four-week Introduction to Burlesque series on a lark. It wasn't until we signed up for the April sessions that I actually took a look at the class descriptions. I scanned the paragraphs and saw all of the "normal" things - gloves, boas, thigh highs, nipple tassels -- whoa, hold up a second? Pasties? Nipple tassels? Hell to the no. I swore up and down that I was not going to be swinging ANYTHING from my breasts. Especially not in a room full of other women. I think the words "I'd rather throw myself into traffic or get eaten alive by wolves" were uttered about ten times. You know me, I'm not really all that dramatic, so...

Each week focused on a removal and a dance move of some sort. Week one was the bump and a glove removal, two was the grind and shirt/skirt removal, three was floor work and thigh highs and week four was the dreaded TASSELS and boas. One really great thing was that was the same group of women in the four sessions, so we all were able to get comfortable with one another -- and with ourselves. I couldn't stop laughing for most of the first class. I just felt so goofy and uncomfortable. It's hard to take yourself seriously when you're walking around in yoga pants and heels, doing the bump in a room full of strangers in front of a mirror. I did get a bit of a kick when one of the women told me that I had "the perfect ass for the bump." She referred to me as the "girl with the butt" for the entire month, and I can't say that I minded one bit.

By the second week I was able to get more into "character" and relax (ever so slightly). It was the skirt and shirt removal, and it sounds silly, but I was nervous to take my shirt off in front of a room full of women. Although, I don't think it was the act of taking off my shirt (I was wearing a bra underneath anyway), it had more to do with how I feel when I'm trying to be sexy. You see, I've never felt sexy. I've been described as funny, sassy, cute and smart. I'm not one of those women who exudes sensuality. And if I try at all, I normally just seem totally awkward. In the end, I did it, but I was wearing a pretty dowdy bra and I felt really uncomfortable. But I did it, while looking at myself in a floor-to-ceiling window the entire time.

Unfortunately we missed week three - that's when they did floor work and thigh highs. Luckily, we were able to practice the floor work in week four. As I may have mentioned, week four was when we would combine all of the skills and moves we had learned. And then.. we would be working with tassels. I wish I could say that I had no reservations about it, but I was totally flustered and stressed. Luckily, I had brought some box wine with us to enjoy in the parking lot before class started. It wasn't enough to get me drunk by any means, but it definitely helped take a little of the edge off. After we'd reviewed the moves from the first three weeks it was time to all apply our pasties. It was pretty comforting to see that I wasn't the only nervous one. A lot of the women were deciding if they should wear tank tops under their bras for the removal. In the end we went Musketeer style -- all for one, baby. We decided, as a group, that we'd all just go for it, no tank tops.

I stood in the front of the room for the bra removal. I'm really self-conscious about my breasts (among other things..) and I was nervous that other women would judge me and think that they were saggy, or that my nipples were weird or something. But you know what? When we were all jumping around the room topless, dancing to music I actually felt... FREE. I wasn't judging my body or how I looked. I was having fun and letting go. Looking around the room I could tell that many other women in there felt the exact same way.

The last task our instructor gave us was to take one final song and to combine all that we had learned. She told us that the song was over four minutes long and that we should just go for it. And you know what? By the time the song was over I was standing there in my heels, underwear and red nipple tassels. I wasn't laughing at myself as I had in week one, and I wasn't uncomfortable as I had been in week two. I felt awesome and -- dare I say it? Sexy. Yes, I felt sexy.