Last night at dinner, this woman walked around the corner and stunned me by how much she looked like my mother. I was fascinated by her cheekbones and overall facial structure. It took me a moment to realize it couldn’t be her. It got me wondering about the similarities of cultures in Europe; mom being Italian. Is it possible her face has been out this way, shared by so many for thousands of years?

This morning, I got picked up for a tour at my hotel. The next 2 people picked up were 2 Irish women. Too bad we wound up on separate tours because we made quick friends at the station. They were super friendly but very ” don’t fuck with me” as that is what drew them to me. The guide asked me the same question 3 times hoping for a different answer and I answered exactly the same all three times because it was annoying. They immediately found common ground and introduced themselves. They also kept asking him questions to ensure he didn’t screw them over or make off with their Hard Rock coupon. This personality I have is far from random. It’s Irish and immediately identifiable when around real Irish people. So how many generations of my family have carried this with them? It’s in my DNA. I’m the nicest person in the world but very skeptical and quick to lash out if I think you are fucking with me. A little English vs. Irish, Protestant vs. Catholic, Belfast and car bombs, Sinn Fein, IRA. Same exact feeling I had while traveling Ireland 10 years ago. I felt like I had known those people my entire life and that I finally fit in somewhere. I suppose I could just move to Southie and solve for that.

I went to Fátima today which my religious friends know a ton about. We were taught about it in CCD and Catholic school. It’s actually kind of an honor to be able to say I have been there. As you know, religion is quite difficult for me, spirituality is more my thing. I had no intention of attending mass but then changed my mind. How could I not go to church at the Our Lady of Fátima location? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity and reunites me to a common bond I have with my dearest high school friends.

I made it 25 minutes, not because I couldn’t follow along in Portuguese…. I actually knew every step regardless of language because church is in me. It’s that all the people in there are united in this religion. We are all from different countries, speaking different languages but our experience with the church exactly the same.

Except that tourists kept popping in to see what was going on, as if you don’t know what mass sounds like. They would do the sign of the cross with holy water so they knew but then they’d pop out just as quickly. A bunch of people came in late which I found very disrespectful and one man carried on a loud cell phone conversation just outside the open door. The people a few pews in front of me had just tried pushing ahead to get off the bus rather than let the people in front of them get off first. One person pushed me. Several people coughed and sneezed without covering their mouths. Many people on the bus kept talking when the guide asked them not to as it distracted her while switching back and forth across five languages. And yet, shouldn’t we all be courteous as I know that is what we were ALL taught by the church? How can we behave so wretchedly towards each other and have this religion in common? Have we not all been listening all these years or is it selective to serve our needs?

I was also looking around wondering who might be divorced and being judged by a peer of the same upbringing. Who drinks too much, like me, and gets judged by those who drink little? By the way alcohol judges, they sell plenty of alcohol in Fátima along with Rosaries and crosses so you need to settle down. They have bars across the street from the church. What an odd place for a vacation. Creepy almost. Anyway, who in the church is hiding their sexuality for fear of being judged by the person sitting next to them when a large amount of the holy people are pedophiles?

So I got mad and left 25 minutes in because every single one of us is an asshole. Every self righteous one of us. We have this powerful religion and its teachings in common and we believe 45 minutes a week in church absolves us of pushing people off buses or creating societal conditions where gay teens commit suicide. You are not better than me just because you say “golly” instead of “fuck” or only drink wine on special occasions. You just hide your evil better and believe your own heresy. I let mine out in the open so others know I truly am a safe place, even though I don’t go to church. I practice my religion better than you. I believe in a greater love than you will ever experience.

Every time I travel I am drawn to churches built thousands of years ago. Regardless of current events and beliefs, people many centuries ago believed so brutally they dedicated their lives to painstaking, perfectionist erecting of these holy structures. I have always had a hard time believing the Bible and always felt it a self serving book written by the politicians of their time. But I thought for a second today ” what if it’s all true?” Then i will be joined in Hell by many people who somehow believe they won’t also be there. Or, are we so gullible we carry naïveté on our heads the way African women carry pots of water and food on their heads to their villages because it’s just what needs to be done? Either way, I don’t think a good answer befalls either side.

Heading into Fátima, I wondered if I might experience a miracle. After all, if 3 Shepard children were approached by the Lady of Fátima and asked for a miracle so they could prove to the villagers, police and journalists they weren’t crazy, it didn’t hurt to ask. Just as I was hearing back to the bus I nearly ran into a woman wearing a rain hat. It was the woman I saw in Lisbon last night who looks like my beautiful, Italian mom.

PS. Forgive my sanctimony. I must admit, I bought 2 new rosaries which match my living room. It can’t hurt.

I have been incredibly busy, especially this week trying to make sure 2 weeks worth of work is attended to in a way that creates only minor bumps in my absence. I haven’t had a day off since December so I could do this trip. But, as a person who also studies people, I am blown away by how some people behave when they know you are busy and trying to get a lot done so you can go. There are some people who try to help you get things done because they really appreciate you and want you to leave early if you can.

There are other people who panic and start showing up more than usual, making demands, asking questions they feel are critical to have answers to in that moment but truly aren’t that critical and they will sleep not knowing for 2 weeks. It’s almost a subconscious physical response of panic…like, “I know you are busy and I know you are going on vacation but my needs are now more important and more frequent than anyone else’s and I should be allowed to disturb you.” Or, “I didn’t actually need anything but since I can see you, I thought of something so I am going to stop you on your way to the bathroom, comment on how late I am still around and yet continue with the need. In fact, it was so bad, my own staff started commenting on it and offered to help take work off my plate because they felt really bad for me. And yet, they are the ones suffering the most because they got the least of my time.

It’s absolutely fascinating and horribly disturbing at the same time. It’s flattering but equally offensive. I ALWAYS get things done and 90% of the time I even over deliver. I have about a 30 year history of accomplishing everything I set out to do. There is literally zero proof of professional ineptitude on any project I have been responsible for. In fact, when I need help, I do ask for it. But, no. I am not going to tell you how I will do it. I am not going to have answers for daily, hourly checkins. I can only tell you it will get done and it will get done when you need in a satisfactory way. In fact, the more you bother me for updates and Truly inconsequential questions you sadly believe are critical, the less I get done and the more I slow down which I means I am farther away from having an answer than I would be if left alone. You are actually disturbing my critical brain process as I have ADD. You set everything back at least half a day when you interrupt.

I have an anxiety disorder so I understand what it’s like to live life with constant panic. I panic about getting out of buildings safely in the event of fire or attack. I panic about how much my sleep is disrupted. I panic about flying. I panic in crowds. I panic when sick people come in close contact with me. I panic from vivid, violent nightmares. I do not panic about where people need to sit in 3 weeks. I do not panic about how others need to handle their responsibilities…..like if a computer doesn’t work. I submit a request to have it fixed and move onto the next task. I can’t fix the computer so I am not going to wander around wondering how it will get done. I find something else to do while it gets worked on. I don’t panic about meeting deadlines 4 weeks out.

And yet, when I respond that I don’t have the answer just yet or that I know everything will work itself out, I get the eye roll of disappointment as though I have failed before I have even been required to be done. It’s that look of….”somebody else should be handling this.” Here’s the thing, somebody else panics all the time and is so stuck in the moment they have no vision…no confidence. That hinders the outcome, the possibilities and the ability to pivot when they hit a roadblock. All my life I have interpreted that eye roll as there being something wrong with me….that I don’t measure up because I don’t measure life in an excel. But the observations I have had this week have changed the way I see myself completely….so much so it was my therapy topic yesterday. There is health and balance in my approach. This madness, the need to interrupt me when I am talking to someone else, to hold me hostage to a conversation 45 minutes after my day has ended while I have my hand over my eye because a migraine has started and I still have a 2 hour commute ahead of me, to threaten me or try to make me feel guilty for needing to walk away to take a piss….that is absolute insanity! It’s inhumane. It’s complete self absorption, lack of boundaries, lack of empathy for other human beings. It’s narcissism to some extent….sociopathic. It’s not professional. It’s not a badge of accomplishment or anything to be proud of, quite honestly. It’s embarrassing when you start to dissect it.

I am grateful to the folks who tried to clear a path for me today expecting me to head out by 1, whose mouths dropped in horror when they saw me emerge at 4:45. They actually thought I was already at the Cape. Nope, not until 9 pm. But there is comfort in knowing there are others like me…others who acknowledge we are not brain surgeons, nor are we building a spaceship. They see the look in my eyes of a bleeding woman with sharks on approach, unable to get away because I am caring, I am polite, I empathize and realize they will short circuit without this attention. I realize I am stronger and can handle their panic on top of my own biological needs….basically because I have an illness which shuts off all my bodily needs several times a day as it is. But it doesn’t mean I don’t get to call it out today. It’s obnoxious. It’s out of proportion to life and these people need my therapist far more than I do.

And I’m on an airplane bound for Portugal and Spain. Year 2 of my travel goal in place. At the end of 2016, I was miserable with just going back and forth to work only to not even make ends meet for my bills. I was so unfulfilled but knew I couldn’t quit and knew I couldn’t just take any new job. Whatever change I make needs to be financially equal at the very least. Not easy to do without the husband back up income which buys you a few months to get that in gear. That was the year I felt suicidal for the first time in my life.

That’s when I decided that to be truly happy I would need to write and travel out of the country at least once a year (and fix my medication.). April 2017 kicked off my blog. May 2017 I headed to Amsterdam, Bruges and Brussels. Life changing! It was a very, very happy year for me.

I took the suitcase out of the spare closet today and started throwing a “pile” together of things I don’t want to forget. Emptied out the carry on bag with the broken strap and started transferring my rosary beads, plug converters, earbuds, compression socks to the new carry on….also a super vibrant Betsey Johnson bag just like the broken one.

I love the Europe vacation because, while it may not be the one which relaxes me, it’s the one which enriches me. I feel like it’s renewing my prescription glasses every year so I get to see the world without strain or smudges. Something inside me shifted last year and I am giddy with excitement for what lays ahead this year.

I have been obsessed with the idea of Portugal for years and I don’t know why. I know nothing of the history. I don’t really eat a lot of fish and am very turned off by the idea of any type of fishy stews (although, chorizo and linguisa….have at it.) It’s just a magnetism I feel and can’t ignore. It’s like I know the place is somewhere inside me and will be awakened when I get there. I feel like much of my indoor decorating has roots in this area of the world. There’s a femininity I feel pulled towards which I can’t explain. But in my world, where most of my behavior is masculine and strong, this vacation feels like a softer opportunity to me.

Today is the calm before the storm. Although, last week I did have one panic attack about how many times I would have to fly on this trip until I made some changes. Over the next few days I will develop an intense nervous energy, Struggle with sleep (nothing new) and start having “upset stomachs” of which I will spare you the details. I dread getting on an airplane because I honestly feel like I am marching to my death every time. And, if I don’t want to die on a plane, I can control that by just staying off of them. So I must be really, really stupid to put myself through this. That’s how powerful these trips are for me. I desperately want to experience other parts of the world, other cultures….better cultures so much so that I challenge myself to encounter my biggest fear which makes me physically ill for several days leading into my trip and sometimes even a few days after I land. And I am not convinced I won’t die on one of these trips which is super upsetting to me.

So I just hope and pray (yes, I do actually pray and I don’t travel without my high school rosary beads) for the best because I need churches, historic streets, buildings preserved and respected over thousands of years, the mathematical challenge of translating currency in my head (thank god for the Euro which makes it easy.) I need these things and experiences to feel alive, to have a point of view, to understand and empathize with people. If I am going to spend my life alone, I want to have dozens of years of these experiences where I feel less alone amongst foreign strangers than I do on home turf. These trips turn my switch on and it’s ok if I don’t have someone else to share it with, to witness with me. I think I am stronger and more interesting for it.

2018 adventure, I am ready!

I’m not telling, I’m asking. I have a long, glorious list of friends going back 40 years. Childhood, Junior High, High School, College, and the ones I have made at all my grown up jobs along the way. If I’m lucky, I see some of them once a year. Some of them every 5 years.

I enjoy my quiet life. While my friends have gotten married, I have spent the last decade counting them disappear into email and Facebook likes. Before I realized it was actually happening, it started with inviting all of them to celebrate birthdays with me. I’d be so excited when they would all accept and I knew that mixing my different groups of friends would be really fun. In my early 20s, it always panned out. But as I got older, everyone would still accept and then suddenly about 24 hours ahead, the declines would start coming….”I have to go to a funeral, I threw my back out running yesterday, I forgot my husband had his work party….etc.”. There were concerts I bought tickets for many times and had a friend cancel at the last minute leaving me in the hole for a hundred bucks and not able to go at all since it was too late to find someone else to go. None of them thought this stuff was a big deal. It was. It was devastating. I spent a lot of time crying during times I had expected to have amazing, fun plans with people I loved and admired.

I had a handful of friends in my 20s I was never without. Every day I was out with one of them even if it was just doing errands, sitting around listening to cds, or going out to eat. And, we talked on the phone all the time. I thought I would be buying coffee and bras with them forever. Eventually we’d have our husbands and do weekend barbecues. They’d have kids and I’d babysit. My calendar would be full of all the kids’ birthdays and I’d have a collection of cards and 20$ bills I’d be sending them every year. I’d go to their birthday parties. I’d swing by the hospital when they were born. I’d be the one planning baby and wedding showers for everyone. It just never happened. Everyone moved on without me.

During my 30s I started to teach myself to go to movies alone, to eat out alone and to even travel alone. I started going to concerts alone. I shopped alone. I purposely put myself out of commission on my birthdays by being away and unreachable for the day simply to avoid the disappointment of waiting around all day for someone to reach out who never would. My birthdays have suddenly become the saddest day of the year. My friends don’t think their birthdays are that big a deal. I guess one must get used to always having someone to give them a gift, make them a card or take them out as happens when you are in a relationship, get married and have kids.

I work with a handful of great people I see most days. They make me laugh like crazy and we have a lot of common experiences because we speak the same work language. But I don’t see them outside work functions. They are in relationships and have other things to do. Why else would I go to the Cape every weekend? I have nobody waiting on me to make plans. I have friends who occasionally ask if I want to meet up but the plans never materialize or they cancel at the last minute. No big deal except I spend my whole week looking forward to it and wondering what to wear. And I tell my work friends about my plans only to have to later admit they never happened whenever I’m asked “how was dinner with your friend?” Can you imagine the embarrassment last year when I had to share I was going on my legendary friend vacation alone?

Don’t get me wrong. My life isn’t bad. I’m not unhappy. I love my text messages and Facebook activity with my friends. I do feel in touch with friends every day because of social media and I am grateful. I have a great dog who keeps me company. I eat out whenever I feel like it. I am old hand at sitting at bars by myself. I actually look forward to traveling on my own. I’m sure as much as I miss being with my friends all the time, they likely miss their independent days to some extent. They love their children and all the activities that ensue but probably do wish they could just hang out with me at a bar on a Friday night. But they can’t and suddenly 15 years go by when you realize you stopped enjoying chimichangas and strawberry daiquiris because that friend has 3 kids. You haven’t had an omelet and milkshake at a 24 hour diner because you haven’t seen that friend in 10 years and you are now lactose intolerant. You haven’t had your gorgeous best friend play wing woman at the club where all the coast guard/marines/navy guys hang out because she’s married with a 10 year old kid and new career. You can’t swing by the soccer field and have a cup of coffee with your mom friends because, while they would welcome you, they live an hour away. You used to see your 2 best friends once a year, on schedule, but can’t anymore because sometimes spouses just become uncomfortable about it and I guess that’s ok too.

I read an article today that says it takes spending 90 hours with someone to become friends and 200 hours to become close friends. I still have that kind of time but no one else does. Is this what it’s always going to be like since I never got married? Are my 90 and 200 hours 20 years behind me?

I am keeping it in the shallow end again. I have been so busy lately my brain is overstuffed and acts like a spreadsheet download all night….every night. It’s a good kind of busy but it moves into my creative territory and leaves me capable of nothing but worrying about beauty products. Here are a few more of my awesome, cheap finds.

Does your makeup bag look like this? When you first bought it, everything fit and the top zipped shut. But if you are like me, you like to buy fun stuff every now and then (like that little tube with the black top and pink stuff in it….that’s a great highlighter from Wet ‘n’ Wild easily found at Walgreens for 5$.) As I prepare for Europe, I realize this situation isn’t going to work and I don’t feel like having all these products spilling out in my carry on. Hence, look what I found on Amazon for under $10….

This pouch is double the size of my current makeup back and has a drawstring closure so it’s more flexible. It’s also got a little padding on the inside so I don’t have to worry about anything breakable. It’s malleable so it will maneuver in my suitcase or carry on in whatever shape I need it to take. I can probably also throw some accessories in it too. One bag instead of two.

Find yourself incessantly annoyed by chapped and chafing lips? Chapstick actually doesn’t work. Vaseline is fine at night but a little basic. Plus, when the dog moves around and sheds fur, it magnetically attaches itself to my lubed lips which is gross. This stuff from Burt’s Bees is perfect and while it can attract dog hair, it’s far less. It’s not a goopy consistency, doesn’t have a smell or weird taste. And, it works!!!

However, do you still want to do a proper lip exfoliation? If so, this is the product for you. It’s all nature and can actually be ingested. You rub it all over your lips to exfoliate and can just lick any extra granules off. It’s vegetarian!

Got terrible foot pain like me but don’t want to keep your hands occupied by having to hold the ice bag on or around your foot? Hands free! Found it in Amazon and it’s cheap. It’s meant for feet specifically. You warp it up and secure with Velcro. You can even walk around on it. This is a time saver and nuisance avoider for me which means I actually use it every night like I should. When it’s high maintenance, I don’t bother. This is a life saver for my nerve pain. Works for arthritis too.

Do you love nail polish but find you buy a shade that doesn’t come out the way you want it, it chips a lot, or it’s trendy and you don’t want to spend double digits on something you may only wear once or twice? Sally Hanson Hard As Nails Extreme Wear. Stop and Shop for $2.99. For real! And, it lasts longer without chips that my Revlon, OPI, Essie and Maybelline Color Show….all of which are $8 or more. Drop the 🎤

Last but not least. Tired of the wage gap and can’t afford to food shop? Feel like shopping at Market Basket with people who go out in their pajamas in public is your only option? Tired of our President fucking up the country so much that you noticed your gas prices going up? You’ve got to food shop and Stop & Shop. They send you coupons in the mail or via app customized to what you normally buy. And, they always have discounts on items for cardholders. I spend the same and sometimes less here than I do at Market Basket. Not only that but they partner with Shell gas and allow you to earn discounts on gas when you got to Shell stations. Tonight I got 35 cents off every gallon which makes a meaningful difference.

Those are my PSA recommendations for busy gals who like life and doing it on the cheap and easy. Happy shopping!!!

Last night I was checking one of my sad little dating websites and found this unsolicited message (meaning I didn’t “like,” “swipe right” or even view this person’s profile)

“My dislikes are obese liberals who lie about having an “average” body, that look in the mirror and fantasize about their imaginary option of being remotely picky.”

When selecting body type on my dating profiles, there aren’t many options between “about average” and “full figured/obese.” Being someone who appreciates accuracy, the average woman is between size 14 and 16. I am between 10 and 12. Technically, that’s smaller than average but I do still consider myself overweight. Why quibble? I definitely am overweight.

Like an idiot who had just taken an ambien, I responded. There were some typos but for being being in hallucination stage between wake and sleep, I did ok. Trump voter, small penis….KKK member was the ambien. That one made no sense but it could still be accurate.

I guess I am supposed to disclose as obese and have no interests or things I am looking for in a man. I think he was angry because he initially thought I was attractive enough to view my profile but found 55 is way out of my age range. Regardless of my weight or appearance, since when am I supposed to have no “conditions” to set some range around what I am looking for? Are overweight women expected to take what we can get? Well guess what? My best looking ex was with me when I was heavier than I am now. If I could get him fatter than this, I am still holding out. It’s just so offensive to every woman to think our appearance dictates what we are worthy or not worthy of having in our lives. And yet, as long as I remain single, I fear my weight is getting away with invalidating me.

The email got worse….

“Where I come from we go cow tipping for fun and heffers like you are the target. I’m not a doctor but Im paid very well to guess the weight of sloths like you at the carnival. You don’t qualify for the “ladies” category oink oink.”

This is a 55 year old man. He is someone’s father….maybe even grandfather. Can you imagine this man raised children? While I fought back, this blog is by no means some proud, fat girl declaration. There is no victory. There is no “I am so proud of what my body does to sustain and nurture me.” There is general sadness on behalf of any woman who is beyond the single digits in wardrobe, every woman who has ever given birth and adapted to a new body shape, every woman who has the prefect body but still starves herself or works out too much for fear of ever not having that perfect body. Every woman who has been cheated on with the thinner woman, any woman who has fought an eating disorder and every single little girl in the world who might have to encounter just one of these men even once in her life.

I used to weigh over 230 pounds. I lost 80 pounds and am still fat. I risked my life to have weight loss surgery because I thought I would be better off dead than to continue living like that. That’s pretty sad, don’t you think? I didn’t think my life held value because of the size of my clothing, To put it in perspective, it was only 230 pounds. There are people much larger than that who see no clearing in the woods. Some would consider me lucky. 230 pounds is the weight of an athlete. He doesn’t consider killing himself when he gets on the scale, does he?

I would love to lose another 50 pounds but I just can’t. God bless my family and ancestors but we are just a fat people with only a few exceptions….one being a vegetarian and others running at least 10 miles a day. Only extreme measures get you an average body on either side of my family. I don’t think anyone is actually “skinny.” I also do indulge in things I want to eat in moderation because when I didn’t in the past, I developed a binge eating disorder and murdered my metabolism 20 years before it normally slows down. For real. There is something medically wrong with my metabolism.

I do Orange Theory workouts and burn about 600 calories a class. In order to do it, I have extra padding in my sneakers, wrap my feet in additional padding and can get about 20 minutes in on the treadmill before my nerve pain and arthritis kick in. My knees rotate pain. My left shoulder struggles through some of the weight exercises. It took me over a year to manage a running man and burpees cause injuries every time. I have to modify because my feet can’t do the pain.

I take a prescription that makes me nauseous around a great deal of food. I can’t eat more than a quarter of a meal in one sitting right now, which I am happy about. The sickness of food is not predictable. What I ate happily for lunch yesterday could make me vomit today. And yes, I chose to go on this medication specifically because I would rather vomit at the smell of hash browns than gain any more weight. When I disappear to the bathroom during dinner outings with friends, it’s not to purge but sometimes if I eat too much too fast, I have to hang over a toilet for several minutes to maneuver my stomach enough for it to re-arrange food while spitting out saliva repeatedly to stave off vomiting. I chose this for life rather than get fatter. That’s not something to be proud of. I hoped it would have gotten me a husband by now. Not even a boyfriend.

Getting this email embarrassed me because it makes me think I must be even bigger than I see myself. Do people look at me with pity because they figure I don’t know how big I am? They pat me on the head for all my gym trips but feel sorry for me knowing nothing helps. I’m so embarrassed. For real.

I still don’t think any of this means I am required to suck 55 year old, Republican Trump loving dick. Maybe that’s just further disillusion on my part. Maybe I am supposed to accept Trump dick. Even though I am still 1% below the “obese” rank, I am still fat. Not to worry. I have re-adjusted the lens and just want everyone to know that I do know I am still fat in case you were concerned I felt good about myself.

When you are single and house hunting you don’t really have a wishlist. Or, you do but you also know full well you aren’t likely to find anything you truly want as you know having the one income means settling for an outdated kitchen, stained carpeting, parking lot vs. garage and an old bathtub which is super shallow. 2 income people usually get a house with a garage, deep tubs, and an updated kitchen they don’t like the style of and will probably change in the next year. They don’t like paint color in one room but can fix that. And a half finished basement is ok because they will design the finish plan themselves and create an extra room for the kids to hang out in.

I hate shallow tubs. The ones you fill up but aren’t deep enough to cover your whole body. You have to shift back and forth depending on which body parts you want to keep warm. While doing that, you can also hear the water draining so it’s only minutes you can have a hot bath….not the long hot bath you see on tv where the water is neck deep, has room for bubbles and possibly a second person.

I have always been a bath girl until I moved into my townhouse which has a poor excuse for a tub I cannot afford to upgrade. I have learned to love long, hot showers instead because baths are like sitting in a tepid puddle. Until now. The handy item above found on Amazon stops one area from losing water and allows you to fill the tub a little higher. It’s not perfect but expands the bath by a few more minutes. I would also recommend the drain cover so the water isn’t getting sucked out from the bottom drain as well.

It’s not a 2 person tub, nor will it last an hour. But 15 minutes and being able to cover your boobs while reclining is better than nothing.

Have you been pining away for years wishing you could afford to have your teeth whitened but know you can’t afford the procedure? Maybe you are an ex smoker, current coffee drinker whose yellow teeth embarrass you but you can’t even afford the crest whitening strips from the supermarket because of your tight budget? Yep, me too. Found this stuff on Amazon for 6 or 8 bucks. It’s not a miracle but you will see a difference. Just buy a cheap extra toothbrush and be prepared for all the black in your mouth. It does rinse out but is really jarring at first. Totally worth the loose change.

Do you have wavy hair that, on its own, really looks dull and lifeless? Kind of like the 80s if you let your perm grow out? That’s me. I either have to purposely wave it with a curling iron/styling wand or straighten it with a flat iron. But even with a flat iron there is a moment in every straight hair day where I reach to the back of my hair and feel a wave that I missed or just wouldn’t get fully tamed out with the iron. For the rest of the day I am annoyed that the back of my head looks like I didn’t check It before leaving the house. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have seen it because it forms slowly throughout the day and is just something you feel in a 2pm meeting when it’s just too late and everyone sitting behind you knows you don’t have your shit together and only look good in the front….like a mullet.

This Salma Hayek product you can find at any drugstore is a miracle worker and probably doesn’t set you back more than 10$. It works so well that the flat iron is just a quick process to flatten out anything you didn’t get with your brush and hair dryer. Totally recommend this.

Do you travel and wonder which bras you need to pack? Including the fact you might want to wear tank tops and none of your bras look any good hanging out of your shirt? You want a cute option you don’t mind showing off? Try this sports bra. I can use it for my normal workouts but now feel confident I can throw a cute black t shirt, tank, or sundress\maxidress over it without looking completely unhip or like someone’s mother. Another cheap Amazon find. This bra is waiting to go to Portugal and Spain very soon.

As I find more cheap products the average, 1 income gal might appreciate. I will make my endorsements for you because we have got to stick together and help each other out in this economy. Single girls unite and run the world!!!!