Bestie Trip : Vegas Edition

This past weekend I went to Vegas with the bestie. We had both talked about doing a girls trip for a long time and it just happened to be our 25th High School Reunion. So we went and had a blast. Thank you to her hubby for agreeing to this trip.

One of the things that makes her my bestie is that I NEVER have to hide my true feelings from her, no matter what is going on in my life. I am NEVER afraid to speak my truth with her. She never judges, never makes me feel bad for wanting what I want even if it makes NO SENSE to her. And the funny thing is that most times, she can see through my facade when I'm trying to "fake it" and usually calls me on it after entertaining me for awhile. I feel no shame if I begin to sob my eyes out because 100% of the time, she's sobbing her eyes out with me.

Every time we get together we do a little bit of everything. We do some partying, pampering at the spa, we've added gambling to our fun-things-to-do (even before this trip), watch some really good shows, movies, shopping, eating. We even snuck in a visit to a psychic (so random) and a stop at REVOLT Tattoo -- all the while catching up on our lives. And the catching up part is where we let go of all our frustrations and try to make sense of the things happening in our lives, separately.

I cherish the catching-up-part. Especially during this trip. I spoke my truth and I feel so good that I actually admitted it to myself and told my best friend. It's nobody's business what my deepest desire is and when I spoke the words to her - she had the biggest smile and tears of joy that I finally came clean about it. (There is one other person I told but he and I have not spoken since last October.) After unburdening myself from "my truth," I felt different. It was like my mind changed in an instant and I believe that my deepest desire will happen for me.

The first night we arrived, we opened up our bags. We both had bought outfits for each other. She says that the stuff I buy her is wayyy too short and I tell her the stuff she buys for me is too tight or sexy. But it's what we do. We played dress up with all our new outfits before we went out to meet up with our classmates at a Korean Karaoke Bar. Oh my goodness, SoJu is my new drink - peach flavored.

If I talked about everything we did, each day would have its own post. We packed a lot of things into our short weekend. Something we started doing as we left the hotel is take a picture in the full length mirror. I share the pictures below. We always have a good time when we're together. Next girl's trip... NYC?

You Think You Pretty?

My friends and family say that I am "feeling myself" a little too much lately. According to them, my excessive selfies on my social media is the manifestation of me "feeling myself" a little too much. People text me or message me about it. Honestly, I don't really care what people think anymore. Does it hurt when my closest friends say I just want attention? Sure. But what they think of me is really none of my business and it has taken me all of my life to get to this point. I am no longer in the business of having to explain myself to anyone or to somehow feel bad for "feeling myself" a little too much. And honestly, I want to surround myself with people who are positive. I'm not saying NOT to tell me your honest true feelings but let it be constructive and not meant to tear me down. Certainly as I move toward living the dream, I will need people to help ground me and keep me authentic but as I said, let it be positive and constructive.

I was raised in a culture that demanded humility and absolutely NO outward expressions of vanity. I am 42 years old and I am still desperately trying to overcome the idea that honoring my beauty is bad. I am sure that many Samoan girls and women can identify with this. I grew up getting berated for trying to be "beautiful". My mother, her mother, her sisters would call me "cheeky" if I spent too much time in the mirror. The result was me being very uncomfortable with my femininity. It was easier to be a "tom boy" and mimic the actions of my older brother because he was almost honored for his brawn and his physical attributes. If he played flag football, I wanted to play flag football. He wanted Jordans, I wanted Jordans. Even my selection in clothing looked like his - very boyish and masculine. If he got a duffel bag for his football stuff, I wanted one instead of a purse. Eventually I embraced my femininity in my late teen years but the transformation was very awkward.

It was the day of my senior prom the first time I let my mother take a tweezer to my eyebrows. She had wanted to do it several times before but I absolutely would not let her because she had discouraged it so much in my childhood. And now that I was turning into a woman, at least physically, I just didn't trust that she wanted me to be beautiful because she didn't want that for me when I was a child. Well, that's not entirely true. It's not that she didn't want me to be beautiful. It's like she didn't want me to know that I was beautiful?!

My mother actually graduated from beauty school. She loved doing hair. I have pictures of me as a child with beautifully coiffed hair styles that were far too grown up for me. It's funny how these coming-of-age experiences stand out in my memory. When I think of the tweezing experience, I am immediately transported back to that moment in time. I about died from the pain of it and only allowed her to do one side. This is why you will NEVER see me post pictures from my senior prom because I only had one eyebrow shaped and plucked. The other side was my normal. I think I destroyed most of the pictures from that night anyway. Several months after the prom, after I had graduated from high school, I was sitting in a friend's home in Carson, California. She was my bestie at the time. We were talking while she plucked her eyebrows. It was at that very  moment that I decided to finish what my mother had started.

I have spent a good portion of my life trying to understand why I was discouraged from honoring my beauty. Even now, it feels funny to refer to myself as beautiful. My mother's insistence on modesty in the way I dressed and how I behaved is probably a reflection on her upbringing. Thus, it was the only way she knew how to mother me. As a grown woman now, I can understand some of her reasoning but I wish she would have fostered my self-esteem and help me to appreciate my reflection and my body. Instead, I was shamed into behaving a certain way. I will never understand the use of shame as a tool for control. It has such terrible side-effects that lasts long into adulthood. I know it sounds like I blame my mother entirely for the way I interpreted her mothering. That is not entirely true. She did the best she could with the tools she had.

Being teased by other kids had a large impact on my self esteem also. On so many occasions I remember getting dressed for school, feeling pretty as I walked out the door. As soon as I got to school, one particular boy would ALWAYS tease me about something and most times it had to do with the way I looked. And in typical bully fashion, he was the instigator in his group of friends. His friends would giggle and laugh at his remarks at my expense. I had no words to defend myself. Even now, my eyes well-up with tears thinking of how he made me feel. I think if I had the confidence to know that his words didn't matter, I would not have tried to disappear into the wall whenever he was around. Surely, I tried desperately to stay out of his way. I didn't have thick enough skin to deal with his put downs. Maybe things would have been different if the women in my family helped build me up instead of tear me down. Maybe I would have been stronger to not take to heart what the bully was saying about me. We will never know.

The old me would turn into a shrinking violet if someone was to tell me, "You think you pretty?" Really, the person asking the question is insinuating that I think I'm better than everyone else and that I am really not that pretty, else why would he or she ask the question. "Do you think you're pretty? Cuz you're not," that is the real meaning of the question. I know it sounds strange but in my 'hood, where I'm from, this is a typical reaction to a beautiful person. It reeks of insecurity and a touch of jealousy. I know very attractive people that have asked that question, "You think you pretty?"

The new me has no patience for anyone that wants to stifle my enthusiasm for my reflection. And if you ask me that question today, "You think you pretty?" My answer is emphatically, "Hell yeah! I do think I'm pretty. I'm gorgeous. I am beautiful." Really? That is so shallow. My physical appearance is not even the best part of me. And as I step out from behind the shadow of my childhood where being beautiful was somehow dirty, I refuse to let anyone tell me different. Hell Yeah, I think I'm pretty!!

Preface 2014, Part II

Ripped these questions from oprah.com -- it's totally my style of writing. It prompts a memoir-type reaction.

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1. What Younger You Would Like About Present you

The picture to my left is a picture of an actual entry in my journal dated February 5th, 1989. "...They called me the ugliest girl in the world..." The younger me that wrote that would love that the person I am now has shaken off the mean-ness of what those people said then. People, especially teenagers, can be mean. Who I am today is very careful about accepting any label that someone else gives me. I only take into consideration the labels that are positive and are from genuine people.

There is a children's book titled You Are Special by Max Lucado. This book is a MUST HAVE for any book collection. I heard it for the very first time about 2 or 3 years ago in a class at church. The teacher read it to the class to set the tone for the lesson she was going to share with us. I don't recall what the lesson was about. The only thing that stuck with me is that story. The city where the Wemmicks live has a system of giving out stars for their favorite people and dots to the people they dislike. Punchinello always seemed to acquire dots and never any stars. This affected how he felt about himself until a fateful day when he happened upon a special person without any stars or dots. Anyway, the me today has not allowed that really mean label of "ugliest girl in the world" to stick to me. That is the best thing that younger me would love about present me.


2. The Watched/ Read It List
The book I'm reading right now is long overdue.... Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. When I was a little girl, I remember clipping an article that ranked Atlas Shrugged in the top ten of most influential books of all time. I never forgot that. Here I am at age 38 just getting around to reading it. So far, it is well-written however I'm still in the beginning stages of the set up of the story.

The last movie I watched is The Secret Life of Walter Mitty starring Ben Stiller. This move was so delicious! That is the best word I can use to describe it. I devoured it and thoroughly enjoyed the story. It was very well-done. At the heart of the story is an average guy who loves his work and is on the brink of being downsized. He works at LIFE magazine and the story is driven by their motto:
To see things thousands of miles away,
things hidden behind walls and within rooms,
things dangerous to come to,
to draw closer,
to see and be amazed.

On a side note - I have always been a fan of magazines. I was co-editor of the yearbook in High School and that is where I fell in love with the whole layout-written-word-photography thing. Even now I subscribe to magazines just to look at the design in it. And for the most part, I do read the articles and consume the pictures. O Magazine is still my favorite. The combination of meaningful articles, fantastic photography and art work, tasteful ad designs, and fabulous layouts makes it my favorite. Thank you Walter Mitty for reminding everyone to live LIFE.


3. The Mistake You Never Want to Make
I always knew that I have never wanted to be a single mother. This is not saying that single mothers are mistakes. I just knew it was/is not for me. Raising a child alone was NEVER on my to do list. I remember a couple of my friends becoming mothers when we were 14, 15 and I just knew that I had other things to do besides being a mother. Anyway, who wants to do it all alone?


4. Your Ideal Outfit

This is such a weird question but I guess it's valid because there is a place inside all of us that wants to be something different than what we are right now. Conservatives probably think about living out some secret, wild life. Piercing their nose or tongue or cheek. Dying their hair hot pink. Doing a mohawk hair style. All of us have some kind of idea of what we're not, what we think we are, and what we would do if we weren't afraid of criticism. So my ideal outfit is pictured here. Visit Monif C.'s website to check out snazzy, downright gorgeous stylings for the plus size woman.

I think this outfit is so fabulous! It comes from Monif C.'s 2012 collection. I love the color, the drama, the designers selection of chiffon, the print, the silhouette of it all.  This is so my style! It is absolutely gorgeous and looks very lux and expensive. I would totally rock this if I were going out to a fancy event tonight but since I'm not, I pinned this dress to my "Fashion Dreams" pinterest board.



5. A Deep, Dark -Shhhh- Secret
My life is such an open book. The stuff that I put on this blog is major evidence! I can't think of anything that I have hidden. Actually, I take that back. My teenage life is fairly a mystery on this blog. Who really talks about what they did as a teenager? Above, I posted a small pic of my journal with those mean words that someone called me. Teenagers can be mean and bully-ish of those guys that called me . I have to say that I was one of those mean, bully-ish people in elementary.

It was the 2nd grade and her name was Jennifer Mackey. I'm not sure if the spelling is correct. She was a fair skinned haole girl with blond hair and light eyes. She used to come to school wearing a rain cap or a wig everyday. At that point in my life, I did not quite understand what it meant when an eight-year-old had to wear a rain cap or a wig to school. Of course now I do but this is thirty years later. I was so mean to her and I can't even remember why except that maybe she was different from us (all my friends). I remember pushing her into the mud. She stood up, started crying, and yelled at me to stop being a bully. She never gave in to my tantrums. She just kept fighting back. I wish I weren't that mean little girl that I was. I wish I could find her and apologize to her for being such a bully.
  

TBT: 1994 July 18th

TBT= Throw Back Thursday = This is a look into my written diaries from nearly two decades ago. Most of it is straight from my diary. I may have omitted a thing or two, changed a name or two, corrected grammar, added a hyperlink here and there (for context, of course) etc. etc. The general theme of who I was all those years ago are IN TACT.

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Monday
July 18th, 1994

Just chillin'... doin' nothin'. Trying to make this journal readable. Or at least exciting. Well, I was just talkin' to Shane about me missin' my doctors appointment this morning. I guess I was just too lazy to go. Upset about what was told to me last time and afraid of what it would show this time. You know? Well, Shane was kinda disappointed and inside I felt bad. This man cared about what's happening to me. I'm frustrated with myself for not even making and effort to go. But anyway... I'm fixin' to go to San Francisco tomorrow. Gotta get outta Hawaii. Ya know?! Get away from Thomas. Shane drives me crazy. Now I know I'm feeling too much. I can't believe I actually consented to seeing someone who already has a "FRIEND". I think I'm crazy for actually doing that. There's just too many feelings. Too much emotions to deal with. I think about him all the time. I mean, he's seeing that other girl and it's driving me nutzo. I just don't know how to tell him... I don't wanna lose him because he does want his freedom. I don't wanna tell him how I feel and get rejected. Especially now in my life, I really don't need rejection. You know, we started with an agreement that we'd be free from those unnecessary bonds. I mean we'd be free to see who we wanted to. I mean there'd be no problems. But now it's so different. I fell different! But if committment and love come into the picture right now, I think I'd put a strain on it. A strain on our friendship. There's already enough pressures on it anyway. In the very beginning, the both of us wanted to get away from the committment thing. The both of us had Fatal Attractions stalking us. I had Thomas. He had that girl he's still seeing. Things just ain't right. I wish sometimes that I never got involved in an awkward relationship such as this one. Like I said, too much feelings!

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A pic of my diary where today's blog post was lifted from. The poems in this post are actually in my diary.

END NOTE: A dear friend of mine wrote the poem, A Fathers Love and Knowledge. I wrote the other one in response to the emotions that arise from rape. I viewed myself as fairly innocent prior to being raped. Even though I had been sexually active and drank and cursed like a sailor, I never felt as dirty as I did in the days and weeks following the rape. I look back at all of this and try not to judge the little girl that I was. I cringe at some of the things that my-little-girl self thought was important back then. I can't believe the things that I put up with in the budding relationship between Shane and I. She was, I am, a work in progress.... always!

Reflecting Death

The past two months have been such a roller coaster. With all the different funerals and deaths that I have dealt with in the past couple of weeks, I am emotionally overwhelmed (not in a bad way). Life is short. People I love will come and go in my life and just because they're gone from my presence doesn't mean that they aren't alive in me.

We buried Uncle Roy today. When my mother moved here from Samoa she lived with his family. He was a little boy when she came through but my mother always spoke so highly of his mother.  If I remember correctly, my mother left Samoa to attend the Church College of Hawai'i and to escape my grandmother's attempt to marry her off. I did whatever I could to assist in making the memorial services for Uncle Roy a success. From decorations to set-up and execution, ordering flower leis, following-up on food orders, making sure there are enough workers to assist in different things. **whew** I feel like I put in more work than when my own mother passed...but that's because others served me in my own preparation to send my mother off. I put in work in remembrance of my mother and my mother's love for Uncle Roy's mother. I wonder if other people think about the relationships from the past and serve in "remembrance of"...? Both my mother and Uncle Roy are gone from my presence but I know that their energy is out there somewhere in the great big universe. A piece of them are alive in me.

Death has a way of making people reflect on life and the people they love. Surely I have contemplated my mortality since the passing of my mother. I think of my father and how wonderful he still looks at 70 years of age. I think of preparing a living will to tie up all the loose ends and helping my father get his stuff together also. But most importantly I need to sort out the stuff that really matters and hold on to it; sort out the stuff that's just FLUFF and let it all go. Ultimately, the thing that matters most is my family and the people that are closest to me. I want them each to know how much I love them.

Perhaps this is a continuation of my previous "Letting Go" post. I have to release my feelings in some way, shape, or form. I have become so infatuated/obsessed with death, dying, and the "whatever" of life after death. I read through my most recent book, Proof of Heaven, in a day or two. It's a neuroscientist's account of his journey beyond death and back again. It was a short, simple read and I enjoyed it (for the most part).

I love to dream about tomorrow, about what life will be like after this dreaming. There are so many traditions in the world that discuss the afterlife and I think all of them have a measure of truth in them; from purgatory to reincarnation to multiple lives -- they all have something I want or something I hope is true. What if one lifetime is not enough? I wouldn't mind coming back through the ages to find my friends. It almost seems like the ULTIMATE game to play.... hide-and-seek through the eternities. **sigh**

When I wake from this dreaming, I hope to see my mother and my grandmothers there, grandfathers that I have never met, my uncles and aunts, cousins, and dear friends. I hope they will meet me at the beginning of my journey and help me cross over.

Revisiting Thomas

I suggest reading through the Thomas Chronicles for background information.

First installment of the Thomas Chronicles

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I dreamt about Thomas last night. I don't know why he entered my dreams but he seemed to be the constant theme through it all. It could possibly be because I had googled him the other night and found him on some reunion site. He doesn't look as good as I remember him to be. The years have crept up on him.

Through the grape vine, I've heard that he's doing well. He works. Supports all his kids. Is still married. Bought a house. He's settled! As it should be.

In my dream, he followed me everywhere. There was no escaping him. Wherever I was, there he was. I was in a library -- there he was. I was walking on the street and he was following me in a white truck. I was at a restaurant, eating with some friends, and there he was, observing me from the window. I was in the middle of the city, hand in hand with my husband and there he was following us. The crazy thing is that he wouldn't talk to me in the dream. He would observe from a distance but never confront me. It was downright creepy. Everywhere I'd turn in my dream, he'd be there staring at me.

I think my subconscious is regurgitating all these emotions because at one point in our relationship, at the tail end of it all, he began stalking me. The guilt I've felt over how I "did" him haunts me from time to time. I feel like reaching out to quail my tortured soul and perform some kind of restitution. But I think that restitution would only serve me. Me contacting an ex to apologize for bad behavior would offend my husband, would offend Thomas' wife and would only benefit me. I would be the only one able to unburden my sins.

**heavy sigh**

It's funny how dreams always seem to affect me in such an emotional way. I know that this is how my subconscious speaks to me. As I purge, I let go of my "sins" and become more and more ready to accept more of the abundance in the universe. I deserve it!