Never Say Never

Last Sunday I ran the LA Marathon.

It was the first day of spring... finally spring! And, it was also a record-breaking rain storm in LA.

Exactly 10 years ago I ran my first marathon. I have blurry post-marathon memories of feeling equal parts of miserable and empowered. It was an accomplishment but it was one less thing I had to do in my life. Done! But... well... you know... never say never.

I am so grateful that I made a 2nd commitment to 26.2! I can't remember a time in recent "wileygirl" history when I have felt more proud of myself. My fabulous running partner and I ran thru the skeptical comments from friends and co-workers, up the hills of downtown LA, thru the cold, windy torrential "movie" rain, thru Hollywood to the ocean and crossed the finish line feeling strong. This time, instead of checking a task off of a bucket list, we are planning the next one. This time, I feel nothing but empowered.

Today I did something else I swore I would never do again... I posted my profile on match.com

Living the single fairytale

The World's Shortest Fairytale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy, "Will you marry me?"

The guy said "No" and the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, drank martinis with friends, always had a clean house, never had to cook, had a closet full of shoes and handbags, stayed skinny, and was never farted on.

The End

After feeling the weight of the expiration date of my previous blog title, I found new inspiration in the above anonymously penned tale. It was a chain e-mail that I received years ago, printed, cut out, and tacked to my bulletin board at work. Recently a picture of my nephew fell off my board exposing a corner of this tale... it had been covered up by of all things, pictures of other people's babies that have begun to take over my board which up until about 4 years ago only had pictures of fun single girl adventures with my friends. I'm not sure if I heard a choir of angels sing or the sound of an Apple computer turning on as I saved the tale buried under children ... but it was definitely an aha moment.

Trust me... I still want the knight-in-shining-armor-white-horse-Officer and a Gentleman moment - I still want to be in love and get married. BUT... and this is a very big BUT... the point here is to enjoy my single fairytale. I have always joked that I have shoes not kids, but it's not just a joke... it's also awesome!

Somehow over the last several years as I celebrated friend after yet another friend's trip down matrimony and motherhood lanes, I think I lost the "use the fine china everyday" attitude and took on a waiting for my turn mentality.

Months ago I decided to stop using my vacation time and holidays to visit my friends and their families (I actually spent a week in Hawaii this February... in a hotel...without any kids that don't belong to me!) so I had already taken a baby step on that path... AND a few weeks ago I started cracking open those "Reserve" bottles I had been saving for some "special" reason.

As I poured bottle after bottle of costly libations down the drain, (uhm, yeah turns out it's also stupid to save wine for a special occasion if you have less than idyllic storage conditions...) I pondered if and when I would ever stop learning my life lessons via the frying-pan-on-the-back-of -the-head method.

I took my lumps, bottle after once-upon-a-time wonderful bottle and vowed to LIVE LIVE LIVE.

And do a little more shopping...

chicle! chicle!

I learned an interesting fact from my friend that works for the company that makes my favorite gum... the Hispanic market accounts for 25% of the U.S. gum consumers.

It's no secret that I'm a gumaholic.

What a lot of people may not know is that I am quarter Mexican... you see the craving for chicle is in my blood...

So, when my friend invited me to a latin music concert sponsored by her company I jumped at the opportunity to find my straight Ricky Martin and to stuff my clutch with free gum samples!!

As the venue started to fill up I quickly realized that my Ricky probably was not in this crowd... I was surrounded mostly by Latina groupies who knew what I had no clue about... the headliner bands had some really good looking men. I have to be honest... I was more intrigued by the women around me than I was the musicians (a little too much of a "queso" factor for my taste) but these women provided fantastic people watching.

These chicas miraculously squeezed their curvy bodies in to the tiniest and tightest of dresses without a hint of slimming undergarments. That 75% white girl in me would never even dream of donning such a costume without extra strength Spanx, dim lighting and a few glasses of wine. I watched with admiration as these girls teetered on their stilettos with fiery confidence. They danced like a refrigerator magnet... you know the one... "dance like no one is watching" blah blah blah. It was a zest for life that came from the inside. They were sexy, spicy, adorable, and I wanted to be just like them.

But wait, I am Latina... at least 25% of me is...

I'm not sure why some of us allow the daily grind of life to dull our spirit. Heart break, exhaustion, disappointments, cultural influences and struggle over the years can quench our inner light. It just doesn't make any sense to rob ourselves of the joy that comes from living "la vida loca."

Trust me... I won't be squeezing my body in to colorful elastic tubes anytime soon... or ever, but I did find their body confidence and passion inspirational. I decided I needed to take a few notes from my little Latina sisters and let more of my true self shine.

After all... who doesn't want to exude spicy sensuality?

So, today as I sit here on my couch in my blogging uniform, which is a tank top and underwear, I decide to spice it up with a big white gardenia hair clip. And tomorrow morning I am going to my first Rumba dance class.

Olé!

Crushes

I have a serious crush.

I am head-over-heals for a beautiful pair of Christian Louboutin booties I found at Barneys in Chicago last weekend. I can't stop thinking about them... so cute... we would make an amazing couple.

I am also crushing on some fabulous over the knee Frye boots as well. It's fall and I am surrounded by super hot shoes... super hot guys, not so much.

It's that wonderful time of the year and my heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of the new military jackets, jeggings, and shoes, shoes, shoes.

The good news is it's fall... the bad news is it's fall.

The summer flew by... we almost didn't have one. I am believing that summer is the new fall, but that doesn't stop 2010 from slipping thru my fingers.

Sure, I began this quest believing that by the time fall came around I would be practicing my signature with my new surname... but don't think for a second I've given up hope...

Sometimes crushes are safer when they aren't real. I know that my checking account would have a hard time recovering from giving in to my crush on those booties, and sometimes giving in to a crush on the wrong guy can be a devastating choice as well. But as I leave behind a season of flings and fun adventures, I enter this new season more open to the risk of crushing on someone... maybe I will fall in love.

Hey, wouldn't those Louboutins looks fabulous with a wedding dress?

Typing 101

When you're single the most annoying question people ask you is of course, "why are you single?" The second most annoying question is, "what is your type?" I can honestly say that I don't really have a clear cut type other than the guy has to be sexy. And I'm not sure exactly if that can even be classified as a type because this can come in all shapes, colors and sizes, so-to-speak and means something different to everyone. Sure... I have my preferences... and I have a few friends who think they know what my type is, although I have yet to have any of them track down the allusive wileygirl type and set me up... which could (lightbulb) be a good topic for another post...

I have recently discovered something even more annoying than being asked one of these two questions. I have been "dating" someone for the past 4ish months... (time out- let me first define "dating" as nothing serious, but definitely consistent)... anyway, almost every time I'm with this guy he feels the need to mention what type of girl he likes to date or typically falls in love with. You guessed it... he never describes anybody remotely like me and sometimes he describes the exact opposite of what he told me he liked the week before. Confusing, but mostly very annoying. I'm not exactly sure if he really doesn't know what he is looking for, is surprised that he is attracted to me because I'm not his usual type, or if he is trying to make sure I know that he doesn't want anything serious between us. But what has to be the most annoying thing about all of this is for some reason I'm completely intrigued and feel the need to solve this mystery.

Currently this is an on going riddle that I have yet to crack.

I have, however, made some discoveries about myself, my dating history... and maybe even my type. Mr. "Not-my-type" has made me think about the fact that, at least when it comes to the guys I have dated over the past decade, I am really not any of their types. I have realized that I am not messed up enough for them to save or prude enough to fulfill their madonna fantasy of a pure wife/mom. We all know there is an exception to every guy's rules which is hotness, and I'm not hot enough to over ride either of these "types".

For the most part it seems I am a serial saver dater. "They" say women are always trying to fix men...but let me tell you, there are an awful lot of "sexy" men out there who are on the market for a fixer-upper. I'm not sure exactly what it is about these men... insecurity, control, displaced liberalism... who knows, but I have come in second place to many a hot mess.

I suppose you can add "saver" to my "type" list, but not only is that about as vague and broad as sexy, it's also ridiculous. I'm not going to suddenly develop a case of the crazies so bad that one of these men is going to swoop into my life and rescue me in to the sunset.

So, I've thought about it and I'm adding a few more adjectives to my definite type list: sexy is still a must, hangability, genuine, secure, and most importantly looking for a wileygirl.

Confessions of a Teenage Beauty Queen

As I was looking in the mirror this morning, the open bathroom window that was merely supposed to bring in a cool morning breeze was also bringing in the sound of names over a bad sound system followed by cheers and applause.

It must be graduation at the high school down the street.

It hit me, as I was slathering a generous heap of anti-wrinkle cream across my forehead, that I graduated from high school exactly 25 years ago.

It's not that it made me feel really old or depressed, I was just a little shocked that I've hit such a milestone.

Well, ok, I lied... it did make me feel kind of old, which was maybe a little depressing...

As I listened to the names reverb through the school district speakers, I started thinking about my senior year and began to consider how much of that girl is still who I am now.

If you ignore the world-is-going-to-end teenage moments like showing up to the senior prom and another girl has the exact same dress on, (please note this is never good, but my high school was SUPER small so it was an extra big fashion disaster), or the time I missed curfew and found my mother sitting in a chair right behind the front door, or the time my shoe came untied during a pep rally while I was performing a cheerleading dance routine, then I have to say... my senior year was pretty magical...

I was a cheerleader, although I really sucked at it because I thought jumping around yelling at people to get excited about watching our mediocre football team get trampled by bigger kids from bigger schools was kind of lame... especially when it was freezing cold outside. But being a cheerleader truly rocked... because you know, those super cute skirts! I was editor-in-chief of the yearbook which might sound geeky but I loved making creative decisions and most of all being in charge. My boyfriend of course, was the popular local rock star who was a whole 35 minutes away at college. He came home every weekend and his band would play at an old pig ranch in the middle of nowhere and we'd make out in his car. Good times. To top it all off I reigned as queen of the town having been named Miss Wrightwood the summer before my senior year.

Like I said... magical.

I've only been back to my alma mater stomping grounds a handful of times since graduation. My parents moved away and the majority of my high school friends and I got out of that small town and stayed out. And then Facebook happened.

I've had coffee with a high school friend in Chicago, drinks with another girlfriend in San Jose and even attended a mini multi-class reunion in Las Vegas. And a couple months ago I got the Facebook invite to see that same high school BF reunite with the boys for a gig at the Yodeler. Of course I had to go... hopeful that an evening spent with old flames and crushes would provide marvelous material for my blog. But instead of leaving with a spicy story, I just came away from that night with a grateful heart. I realized how much the people I grew up with influenced who I am today... I felt grounded and connected to a place I thought I didn't belong to anymore.

Anyway... how much of that girl is still me? Well, I still make decisions based upon how cute the clothes are, I make my living as a creative director, I'm still wildly attracted to artistic boys be it musicians, writers, actors, photographers... So it turns out the only thing that I've left in my past is that tiara.

Well, actually I still have it... I just keep it tucked away in a safe place. It cracked years ago and while still in one piece, it's really fragile.

Click.

Somehow over the years I think I've lost some of that care-free confidence that allowed me to enter and win that contest. I don't need rhinestones any more, but I need to work on rediscovering some of that inner sparkle. I would also like to look that fabulous in a bathing suit again. Yes... there was a bathing suit competition involved...

6 (pack) Reasons to watch World Cup Soccer

So, I'm not a soccer fan but I think I'm coming down with World Cup Fever. Turns out there are some very good reasons to tune in... Here are my top six:

6. There's an app for that. There actually IS a World Cup app that yes, I did indeed download to my iPhone that tells me schedules, scores, and whatever I need to know or more importantly what some hot guy I meet might want to know. I'm pretty sure this makes me a super cool chick.

5 .Goal Celebrations. The passion and energy from the fans and players is crazy. Unfortunately, it is now against FIFA rules for a player to remove his shirt to celebrate a goal... but I keep watching hoping someone will risk a yellow card in exchange for a flash of those abs.

4. You don't really need to know what's going on. It's like watching fireworks... you just have to ooohh, aahh and oh pretty much whenever you want and you'll fit right in with everyone around. Goals only happen a handful of times in the entire 90 min of play so it's pretty obvious when to be enthusiastically ecstatic or disappointed... hand gestures are helpful. The tricky part is figuring out what team to root for...

3. It's Cosmopolitan. For one month you can embrace an international camaraderie and exuberance for a sport that brings the whole world together. It's also a sport that is much more fun to watch with other people, especially if they aren't American. I've got my local Italian place where guys will scream, cry, throw things at the TV... it's crazy! I have no idea what they're screaming, but of course anything sounds amazing in Italian.

2. The players are unbelievably hot. In fact it might even be a rule that you have to be hot to play soccer. The best part is that they are completely unobstructed by cumbersome helmets and padding. OOOOH LA LA!

1. Hot guys watch soccer. And hot guys watch soccer en masse. Morning, noon or night whenever the games are on, restaurants/bars are packed with gorgeous men. Fit, gorgeous men.

So, for the next month I will pretend like it doesn't annoy me that you can end a game all tied-up, and instead enjoy my lunchtime field trips to local pubs where I can enjoy the views. Maybe one of these adventures will help me reach my GOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!!!!!!!