Romantic Monday (Week 4) – Forcing Off the Layers

Fresh faced and trying to feel good about ME.

India Arie is on repeat on our computer right now. The image of myself, something I have always, always struggled with; what do others think of me? What do they see when they look at me? What do I think of myself? How do I look in those skinny jeans? Some days I’m thin. Most days I’m fat. Every day it’s on my mind. Am I beautiful? Inside? Outside? What are my goals? I accomplished this, I didn’t accomplish that. I lost a pound. I gained a pound. I ran. I didn’t run. I wrote. I watched television instead. I ate that piece of cake.

This Romantic Monday (please click here for an absolutely beautiful post made by Mrs. Hotspur) for me, is all about self love. I may be stretching things here, since it is called romantic Monday, but with all of the different takes on the subject floating about, I figured I could make it work.

So here’s a stream of consciousness post, very true to what races through my mind each and every day, a sort of pep talk mixed with a few I-can’t-help-it downers. My thought process in all its vulnerable glory.

I hate how I look in the morning I love how I look in the morning, fresh faced with blemishes and eyeliner streaking down one cheek am I gaining weight? My face looks puffy but that’s just the sleepiness doing its thing, you won’t think the same way later, stop poking at yourself in the mirror. I’m in the shower do I look thinner today? You haven’t eaten breakfast yet it’s all empty I almost don’t want to but the hunger, the hunger is stronger than the thought of giving in to some disorder, he tells you you’re crazy every time you say it but does he really feel that way? You’ve come such a long way, a long, long way don’t do this now, she tells you, he tells you, what is there to be but happy. Either way I cannot win, too thin you’re disease, too fat he doesn’t want you, you can’t fit in, to clothes or crowds or friendships and you’re pregnant, they’ve whispered it so often you may as well be, I’m afraid they’re all thinking it. It’s the one way to stab at me to pull the tears out to force it all to the surface. Forcing off the layers I can’t even look I turn the mirror as I move and bend I closed the door I lock it so he doesn’t see but he has seen, he’s touched, he’s kissed, but mostly with the lights low a bulge here or there it lessens my value, my arguments can’t hold up my opinions do not matter I fade into the majority next to others, firm and uninhibited and strong and standing straight I am pathetic, I am lessened, I don’t know my way around it all, what good am I? You’re well-spoken, you are a graduate, you are valued, you are loved, you are looked at, really, really looked at when you catch him staring at you even in your pajamas, no bra on, no lipstick, stubs of eyelashes poking out from above those green eyes, sorry nothing on for show today, am I still me? Something else? But you like how those collarbones show themselves, I’m afraid they’ll disappear tomorrow, but do your pants still fit? They aren’t snug yet, stop paying attention to the number, how do you feel? I am broken, I am fixed, my mind is in shambles, my mind is piecing back together, you are not the only one. Never, ever alone. Don’t believe everything you think, repeat it back, go through the motions, feel everything around you, don’t waste a single second. Swallow the air and dance in the kitchen and kiss him on the mouth and force his hand around your waist at night and don’t worry about those layers of blankets in between it doesn’t matter, you are here, he is here, they are here, you’ve come such a long way, keep going, push, keep fighting, you are your own guide, you are your own destiny, you have the will, you look so good in that red lipstick.

Happy Monday.

– Nicole Marie

My Head is Spinning!

Somehow, this explains how I’m feeling.

So I’ve been a little MIA from my blogging duties this past week. Not that I’m a post-every-single-day kinda gal anyway, but I’ve been especially neglectful lately. But in my defense, a whole lot has been happening! Aside from me trying to make that moo-lah with lame 5 AM shifts and long weekend shifts (leaving no time for anything except a glass of wine or two…maybe three… before bed!), Joe and I make settlement on our home this Wednesday! So I’ve been tossing everything I own neatly packing my belongings into boxes and totally breaking the tape gun knowing exactly what I’m doing while I tape each one shut. (I also just tried to be cool with the strike-through and can’t figure out how to turn the font black like the rest of my post. *Le sigh*)

Meanwhile, Joe is stressing and drinking way too much coffee and buying plastic bins because his books are too good for cardboard boxes (kidding, the plastic bins are convenient) and I feel like I have no idea what’s going on and I’m supposed to be moving everything I own into our new place on Wednesday. My stomach is in knots. Like those crazy boating knots. So in a few weeks time my future in-laws are visiting from Florida for the holidays, and our belongings must be packed neatly away so Joe we (there I go again) can hang Christmas lights! Hooray! Totally stoked about having my own little writing getaway as well.

On another exciting note, after weeks of whoring around my short story, “Sirens Underwater”, it has been accepted for publication by Philadelphia’s Apiary Magazine!!!! The issue will be released December 7th, and will be available in bookstores in the Philadelphia area. I’m hoping it will also appear online, so I can link it up all over the place. This is my first publishing gig and I’m stoked. I’ve also been invited to the issue’s release party on December 7th. Time to plan my sophisticated writer outfit.

With all this (happy) stress I’ve been neglecting my love for running! But today, the best friend and I went for a great 4 mile run. I can’t wait to have a space to hang all of my running bibs, too!

But, as busy as life gets, I could never ever neglect the most important part of every Monday: Romantic Monday, that is, hosted by the suave Edward Hotspur. I’ll be posting mine shortly. I encourage everyone to participate, and read some of the other fantastic posts that have been popping up over the last few weeks. So, blog yours and link it up at Edward’s page!

It’s a beautiful day here in Jersey; the weather is in the upper 60’s. Counting my lucky stars after how blessed we were that Sandy left us with no damage. Praying for those who were just..devastated. Click here to donate to those who were affected by Hurricane Sandy. Anything and everything helps.

Here’s an awesome song. Enjoy!

 

Romantic Monday (Week 3) – Age Ain’t Nothin’ But a Number

Halloween 2012. (Charlie’s Birthday!)

I’m just gonna break it down for a minute here – you know, get all sappy and lovey and emotional, and maybe even shed a tear (seriously). Three years ago I met the man I so lovingly refer to as Charlie, even when he’s in trouble. (His mother prefers to call him Joe. Pft. That’s just his real name.) We met in a bar (you really can meet the love of your life in one of those) and he bought me a shot of whiskey and I resisted the urge to throw up because I was 21 and had never tasted whiskey let alone smelled it, and some song came on and we danced and by the end of the night he asked for my phone number and I was holding his hand and rambling some drunken nonsense.

We hung out a few times, and by the fourth time I felt it was necessary to know things such as age and last name. Well, my jaw dropped when the words “thirty-six” left his lips and he shifted a little in his seat, too, when I stated my age. But, as we’d just been laughing and talking about music and movies and making plans to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special, I took another sip of my wine, shrugged my shoulders, and kissed him.

After that, almost every night turned into dawn and notes were scribbled onto paper towels and left where he would find them when he woke up and I had to leave for class, and those words, that “thirty-six” had faded from my mind as fast as it had appeared, because my heart was beginning to grasp at something that does not know such limits as age (no worry of legality here). I was sleepless for weeks but so high off of my own happiness I didn’t even notice until I was in his arms, in his bed, listening to that Company of Thieves song and watching the flames from the candles on his book stand flicker against the ceiling. I’d never dated anyone who liked Jazz, and his bedroom was filled with books and albums and instruments and artists I had never heard of and it was clean, a room of someone who was responsible and it made me smile.

He still smells the same as he has since we met and I still love to bury my face in that little crease between his neck and shoulder and inhale. You know how a familiar smell can bring you to a specific moment in time and space?

We spent time – weeks, months, laughing and playing and drinking and learning about each other. He taught me, I taught him, I’d found an equal who held more life experience in their grasp yet didn’t hang it over my head as if my age were a sure sign I knew nothing at all. We’d never had such a large age difference in the dating realm. But it worked. It worked – and works – beautifully.

A year flew by, then another, the few fights we have (knock on wood) end in hugs and kisses and someone cracking some nonsense joke. We talk in strange voices and make strange faces and sometimes we look deeply at each other for a second or a minute and go right back to whatever it was we were doing. We watch television and he wraps a single finger and my single finger, he’s scraped the frost off my windshield since the first time we got snowed in together. We live together and he still walks me to my car even at seven in the morning. He tells me to be careful when I leave to go shopping. I say I’m cold and a minute later there’s a blanket on my lap. I make him coffee, sometimes I make the bed, I try my best to be as amazing as he is but I can’t even compare. I break things and I can’t cook but he loves me anyway.

We are so, so, so lucky, those of us who feel this sort of love. Knowing there’s another human being who can look at me when there’s a pimple between my eyes and there’s eyeliner from two days ago streaming down one side of my face and I’m wearing slippers and Christmas pajamas in September, knowing this person can still look at me and have a genuine smile spread across his face as he leans in and kisses my chapped lips? No. Words.

To you, Charlie; you saw me through one of my darkest moments this past year, you have, and continue, to treat me like a queen, you accept all of my quirks and my craziness (and maybe even embrace it), and you support me in every single thing I do. And I will always do the same for you. We’re buying a house, we’re just getting started, and I get to spend the rest of my life with you. So, what about that age difference thing? The man stole my heart – I have to follow it.

“There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.” – Sarah Dessen

At the end of, at the end of the world

Will you find me?

So that we can go together 

The Other Woman – Romantic Monday

Welcome!! This is my offering for the first official Romantic Monday, freshly founded by the one and only Edward Hotspur. Click here to read his romantically romantic post. Please don’t judge me too badly as you watch this little introduction I’ve thrown together. But do enjoy the background music and the beautiful face of my very best friend. (And just a reminder…it’s New Jersey, not New Joizey.)

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way….

Here is our list of everything we adore that makes us romantically connected in the most non-homosexual way (for the most part) ever.

1.) Blood does not run through our veins. Cabernet Sav-ing-yong (in that voice from the video) does. This proves we are blood related.

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2.) We always end up having the same clothes, like the same pair of leopard print draws from Walmart. (Don’t judge me….clearance…) As we got changed one afternoon, we both pointed to each other’s asses and yelled, “HEY!!!!”. This has gone on for quite a few years now. Jeans, shirts, all by mistake. This demonstrates our amazing – and identical – fashion sense.

3.) What is usually every man’s fantasy – but is Joe’s nightmare – the other Nicole (on those really, really drunk nights) will sometimes sneak into our bed. She’s the teaspoon, I’m the big spoon, Joe is the salad serving spoon. On these nights he remains fully clothed, jeans and all – studded belt, too – to avoid awkwardness. I feel bad for him as we talk in “the voice” before we fall into a deep slumber. That poor, poor man. (He enjoys calling us “dumb broads”.) This proves, as the big spoon, that I am the man in the relationship. *sigh*

4.) As more proof that we are non-sexual soul-mates, Romantic Monday falls on our official “day of play”; every Monday is full of drunken debauchery and cooking some amazingly yummy food. Of course, it’s always after a 3-10 mile run. As the other Nicole’s pop would say, “It’s all about balance, baby!” “hahaha” – the other Nicole.

This man is 58 years old and runs every. single. day. And loves his beer maybe more than we do. 😉

5.) Our passion for fun music gets our shoulders shakin’ and our booties movin’. Oh, yesh (video voice).

Even as we were posting this, we had to stop to sing, “DARKNESS, DARKNESS DARKNESS.”

6.) We are foooooo-deez. We make margarita pizza, and tilapia, and artichoke spinach dip, and more pizza, and chicken, and more pizza, and delicious, blush, vodka sauce, yummy, delicious, pasta…..and we top everything with cheese. (Healthy cheese.) 😉

We couldn’t help but dig in before we took the picture.

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7.) We share a mutual love of tattoos….so we just had to get one two-gethaaaaaa.

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8.) We love Halloween, and we love dead things, and haunted walk-throughs, and every year – instead of letting the breasts and booties hang out – we like to look like someone just ran us over. Lots of blood.

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9.) This one doesn’t necessarily connect us, but the other Nicole is one talented “lova” (nickname…video voice). Ch-ch-check it out. Click here, seriously. DO IT. Amazing things happening there. Everything completely handmade. I own 3 purses.

10.) ::drumroll::

My love for running is shared by my best friend. “YEY!” – the other Nicole. (She likes to spell “YEY” that way. I do not.) So, basically, back in the day, the other Nicole’s running father forced us to run and we almost died. But now, we are running beasts! She has completed a ten miler, and I recently finished my first half marathon. But by far….the Color Run is the funnest, most epic run we’ve ever completed (we’ve done it twice).

Philly 5K

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We completed another Color Run about 2 months ago, and our mutual love of fun music was clearly demonstrated……

My non-homo girlfriend, my partner in crime, my let’s-forget-the-world-and-get-tipsy lova, the one (besides Joe) who reads my mind when I shoot her a look. We tell it like it is, we hold nothing back, she’s a pain in my ass, I’m a pain in hers, we love and laugh and hug and fuel each other creatively and laugh again. She is amazing enough to be my first Romantic Monday post.

Enjoy (I hope).

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You’re wel-come.

xoxo,

Nicole & Nicole