I’m just beautiful me

As I get older one thing becomes more and more (painfully ) clear: I am my own WORST critic, and it needs to STOP. 

Today Husband and I had pictures taken, and tonight my photographer posted a preview on Facebook. This photo, actually: 

It's beautiful. The colors coordinate well and are bright and vivid. I am radiant. Husband is smiling (well as close as he comes to smiling for pictures anyway), and his eyes are so BLUE. We look like we are comfortable and happy with each other. 

Kate and Sassy Jose told us all through the evening how great we looked and how happy they were with the shots they were getting. I know it is not most important (or at all), but there has been a huge outpouring of love from our friends in the form of 'Likes' and positive, loving comments on Social Media. What IS most important:
This is a photograph of me and my beloved. Because of that there is not one reason I should look at this photograph with anything but a heart bursting with love. 

My initial reaction to seeing this photo? "Ugh. I have a pooch-I wish I could have found my belt so I could hide that, I'm jowly, you can totally tell I need my roots done, and to top it all off I am REALLY starting to look like a tired, middle aged woman."

WHY!? WHY DO WE DO THIS!?? 

 I am surrounded by beautiful people I am lucky enough to call friends. They come in all shapes and sizes, with so many wonderful attributes and talents. I constantly find myself comparing myself to these incredible women and tearing myself down because I don't stack up to my own stupid standards; Social Media makes it even worse. Rather than being happy with what I CAN do and a body that works and is healthy and allows me to do so many things others cannot I can only focus on the fact that I am simply not built to be a size 6 or a B cup-no matter how many treats I refuse or Zumba classes I attend (thanks hearty Dutch genes!). Instead of relishing that every day I look more and more like my beautiful, precious mother and I have a loving, supportive Husband who thinks I am the most beautiful woman alive all I can think is that I no longer look like I'm 20--like that's a bad thing. Yes, I will be 35 this year; I am closer to 40 than 20. I am officially middle aged. There. I said it. I have smile lines, crows feet, and old acne scars. But do you know what? Those smile lines and crows feet show I have lived a life that has sometimes been sad, but has mostly been full of happiness and laughter. They show I have learned and grown. And those scars? They taught me empathy and compassion; they remind me of that every time I look in the mirror. Most importantly? The scars and lines aren't as bad as I perceive them to be. 

I catch myself doing it with other parts of my life, too. I recently embarked upon an opportunity that has presented itself (it is still very much in the air so I don't want to put too much out there yet), and once I put myself out there for this opportunity I immediately began to doubt and nay say myself. 

I am always telling myself I am beautiful, good enough, capable, and qualified, yet I rarely BELIEVE IT. What good is telling ourselves these things if we refuse to actually believe them?

I am working on all of these things, and learning that confidence is not pride and self-doubt is not humility, but it is a slow process. A process I was reminded of again tonight. When I receive the rest of my images from tonight's session I will try my hardest to make sure I only focus on the positive and not the negative. I need to remember my perception isn't always correct; and the people I love clearly see something I do not, so I need to trust that. As for the days that doesn't work I will just play this on repeat, have a good cry, get up, brush myself off, and try again tomorrow. 

 

weird

WARNING: I say 'weird' a lot in this post. Like A LOT. And there may or may not be a monster photo dump at the end as well. Consider yourselves warned.

I’m still working on ‘the post’. It will be at least another 3-4 weeks before we have our photos and video, and honestly once I got my dress on I only remember maybe 30 minutes of the whole night. It's not even a continuous 30 minutes at that-more like random flashes so I’m hoping the pictures and video will help jar my memory. Until then you get this other thing I’ve been mulling over since the wedding.

As of today Mr. Wonderful and I have been married for two whole weeks. The thing I get asked the most is “how’s married life?” My reply? Weird. Married life is a lot of things-but weird tops the list for me. Now don’t get me wrong. I am not unhappy or complaining. I love Mr. Wonderful more than anything and I am so happy he chose me to share this adventure with, but it’s still weird. A good weird, but weird nonetheless.

It’s weird to be Kristen Newman…Mrs. Newman…Sister Newman. It’s weird that the Seinfeld reference I thought was so funny when we first met (‘Hello, Newman’) is now one of the most annoying things ever. It’s weird to know I’m done looking for my Eternal Companion-Mr Wonderful is my guy, forever and ever. It’s weird to have him come home and snuggle up next to me every night rather than call me on his way home from work as I’m falling asleep. It’s weird to be budgeting money and sharing the expenses with him after I’ve been doing it by myself for so long. It’s weird learning how to sleep on a side vs the middle of the bed (the act of ‘star fishing’ makes sharing a bed with ANYONE problematic). Although he had seen me not looking pretty before the wedding it’s weird for him to see me with the sleep in my eyes, morning breath, grumpy ‘just leave me alone and let me wake up in peace’ demeanor, and bangs that stick straight up (no joke) when I very first wake up--every single day. It’s weird living with someone after ten years of being alone and getting used to each other’s quirks. It’s weird that all it took was a 20 minute ceremony for sex to be ok (and encouraged) after 33 years of waiting. It’s weird that I have a whole new family that loves and accepts me and it’s weird how I instantly loved them back. It’s weird to go grocery shopping for two and to make food and know that half to two-thirds of it is not going to go bad before it gets eaten. It’s weird to be buying milk twice a week. It’s weird to not be stressed all the time about dating, getting engaged, or planning a wedding and constantly being on the brink of a melt-down. It’s weird how easily we transitioned from ‘dating’ to ‘married’-especially Mr. Wonderful. He is like a duck in water. It really has been an awesome thing to watch, marriage totally suits him.  It’s weird how jarring it is to go from planning a wedding to being married and how quickly everyone’s lives go back to normal after you’ve been running at Mach speeds for so long (this change happens quite literally overnight). It’s weird that it’s not all about me and my wants and needs anymore; and it’s weird to constantly remind myself ‘I’ is now an ‘us’, and there is another person to consider when I make decisions because they don’t just affect me anymore. There’s an us here now.

So yes, being married is weird. But it’s also pretty fantastic. Although all the things I mentioned are weird, they’re pretty freaking awesome, too. I just wish people would have told me how weird it would be, and that this surreal, weird feeling is completely normal!! I also wish I had taken the people who DID say this to me seriously. Now I will reiterate it for you to ignore like I did:

Marriage is fantastic. But it’s weird. And an adjustment-even when you’ve been together as long as Mr. Wonderful and I. I’m learning no couple is exempt from this, but that’s ok! It’s an adjustment looking at your new signature and realizing that you’re still you (just new and improved), or remembering the hand turning the key in the lock at 11:30 at night is supposed to be there so there’s no need for your pulse to quicken and your adrenaline to race.

So yes, it’s weird. They don’t call it a major life change for nothing. And you know what I’m learning? It’s ok for it to be weird. There’s nothing wrong with me because it’ll be weird for the next little bit. I had 33 years to get where I was before, and no matter how wonderful and right this change is it’s going to take more than two weeks for me to get used to where I’m going next. And you know what? That gets to be ok. Good thing I have a pretty awesome, supportive, amazing, loving man by my side. That helps a lot with the weirdness, too. This marriage thing was a pretty good idea, after all. I highly recommend it. Oh, and as promised here's the photo dump to get you by--thanks to the fantastically talented Nancy for taking them!

With daddy. Look at those lashes!!

LB2 was in a car accident (he's ok!) and was in the hospital so he was unable to attend. I am SO grateful for modern technology and friends with iPads so we could Facetime him in!!

Waving to LB2 on the iPad during the ceremony.

                                                        

You bet there's a zombie on this!

Mr Wonderful wanted cupcakes, so he got cupcakes.

I don't know what this is...

I'm sorry Megan. I LOVE this picture and your "wow this is heavy face" too much!

Dancing with my daddy.

My handsome Groom dancing with my momma

I have silly nieces

My beautiful niece who wanted nothing more than to dance with me all night. She even called last night to ask when I was getting married again. Once is enough for me, baby girl.

Being scary with my nieces.

Yep. She's gorgeous. And my friend. Lucky!!

like-minded

When did having your own opinion become a bad thing? And when did it become ok for people to trash yours when they don’t line up to what they themselves believe to be correct? People’s politics, religious views, clothing choices, movie tastes, what sports you watch and teams you root for, music preferences, and even whether you prefer an iPhone or an Android are subject to ridicule if it strays from what is considered ‘the norm’. Who defines what is ‘the norm’ anyway?

One of the ‘norms’ that bothers me the most is the battle of the Beatles. If you are not a rabid fan somehow you are not human or something equally ridiculous. Let me go on the record and state that although I enjoy their music they are not my favorite, and in my opinion they didn’t revolutionize anything. They merely made popular what other artists like the Beach Boys and Elvis were already doing. Yesterday I shared a video on Facebook and stated that although I’m not a fan, I love this particular song. I immediately had a friend attack me and call me a loser because I am not a member of the Beatles fan club. What I WANTED to do was go on the defensive and retaliate to the personal attack I felt was being thrown at me. Instead I tried to take the high road (which I may have failed at) and stated I feel I am an individual because I don't merely go along with the crowd because it is the ‘cool’ thing to do. The person then attacked me (or so I felt) again by saying people can say that about Disneyland. Not wanting to get into an ever bigger, more pointless argument that would do nothing but tick me off I decided to let it go.

My question to you, dear blog readers is this. Why do people think bullying people with different views is ok? I enjoy a good debate and the opportunity to share my point of view with other people, and I may get passionate (which may sound angry but it’s me just wanting to be heard and have my point of view respected), but I would NEVER attack someone personally and resort to bullying, name calling, and mud flinging for what they believed, so why do people think it's ok to do it to me? Are they that insecure with their own beliefs that they are afraid a differing point of view will cause them to come toppling down? What ever happened to live and let live? Maybe this is the wrong approach to take, but at the end of the day I am only worried about the choices that affect me directly and what I will have to stand accountable for before the Lord. Will He care that I was a rabid Beatles or Disneyland fan? I doubt it. Will He care how I treated the people who didn’t share my beliefs? You betcha. So here’s my proposition-fitting because it is anti-bully month and all: you worry about you and I’ll worry about me, and anything we don’t see eye to eye on we’ll respect each other’s right to our views and just agree to disagree, yes? Ok, good. 

*and for the record I DID talk to this particular friend rather than just passive-aggressively posting here.

word vomit

I'm pretty good at thinking before I speak...usually.

Unless it involves a certain man and a certain life event that is well on its way but has yet to occur. (No I'm not delusional, I promise. I'm not going to share why for the interwebs though.) When that subject comes up I'm about as capable of keeping my filter intact as well...nothing.

Seriously what is my deal? I can go from decent, loving girl to ungrateful spoiled brat in a matter of nano seconds. The fact that I am well aware of what I'm doing and still incapable of keeping my mouth shut is particularly disturbing. Especially because no matter what anyone says NO ONE deserves having to put up with that. I know it's terrible and unacceptable because not only am I ashamed of my abhorrent behavior I'm absolutely humiliated to admit this. WHY am I admitting this publicly again? 

How do you keep your filter in tact? I'm failing miserably and if Mr Wonderful knew what was good for him he'd simply say 'sayonara' rather than put up with this nonsense.  Because I will be the first to admit it is complete nonsense.

excuse me, but that's my seat

One of the reasons I love Facebook is it's pretty much the ultimate form of people-watching. I find it especially fascinating to see what REALLY pushes people's buttons. Sometimes I feel the fire in my belly flare when someone says something against things I'm passionate about, and other times I feel a kinship and an affirmation of why I'm friends with someone I see eye-to-eye with. Usually I find myself laughing at how fired up most people get about the LAMEST things. Today's controversy? Assigned seating in movie theaters. No joke. Had a friend post this as her status this morning:

"Assigned seats in movie theaters?! No. That is not going to work for me." 

Some of the comments that followed were hilarious-and surprisingly passionate for such a simple subject. I even heard someone was un-friended due to their views on the matter.

My first thought was "Really? I think it's a fantastic idea." 

Now before any of you get your knickers in a twist and start sending me hate mail for my opinion let me paint you a picture: 

It's circa 2005. You have been waiting with baited breath to see the midnight showing of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (don't judge me-I liked Episode 2 and 3) since the moment your friend got the tickets on pre-sale weeks ago. You rush home from work to gather the things you'll need to keep yourself busy for the next five hours while you wait in line. (No, we didn't camp out. We're hard core, but not THAT hard core.) Anyway, you get to the Jordan Commons around 7:30 or so and the line on the North Pavilion is already forming in the maze of dividers, but you can still see the doors so you're not worried. You spend the evening playing games and showing off your newly-acquired engagement ring (that may or may not be the reason this movie holds a spot in my heart-I got engaged that night before getting in line). Excitement starts to build around 10 o'clock because you know in just 30 minutes the doors will open and you're in primo line placement for a decent, if not AWESOME seat. 

Then at 10:45 it happens. The 3-4 people you have been making pleasantries with all evening let FIFTEEN people join their group ahead of you. No biggie, it's only 15 seats. Your little group of six still has a hope of sitting together and avoiding the dreaded first five rows. Eleven o'clock finally arrives and it's time to go in. There's a bum-rush once you got past the doormen, but you're finally inside. 

What do you see upon entering the theater? Those 15+ people who cut in front of you in line are now spreading blankets, jackets, purses, and anything else they can use to 'reserve' the primo rows in the center of the theater for heaven knows how many MORE people.
Needless to say you are pissed. You'd been waiting in line since 7, you'd played by the rules, and these jerk-faces were going to come in at the eleventh-hour (literally) and scoop up all the good seats? Well, folks, it happened. If I remember correctly our group ended up being split, and Superman Lover and I were banned to the back corner, fuming all the while. 

This was not the first time this would happen to me. I remember it happening for viewings of Harry Potter 3, 4, and 5, Spiderman 3, Superman Returns, and most of the X-Men movies.  To say it jaded me towards movie-going was an understatement. When Larry H. Miller's theaters started assigned seating I was all for it and drove the ten extra minutes it took to go there as the Jordan Landing right by my house had not yet jumped on the bandwagon. 

When Mr. Wonderful and I started dating he and I could never see movies together opening weekend because I hated waiting in line and being herded like cattle only to be jipped once I got inside, and for some reason he loved being an enforcer and keeping the bum-rushers at bay. Plus he prefers the Jordan Landing over LHM's theaters-but that is a blog for another day.

The Landing has since implemented reserved seating on their 'blockbuster' movies, and after a little resistance Mr. Wonderful now loves that we don't have to be to the theater hours in advance to fight for mediocre seats. I love it because I'm not having to have my personal bubble violated being herded like cattle or waiting in line for nothing. 

What say you? Yay or nay on reserved seating? 

busy pants

I'm always a little taken aback when people tell me I keep myself busy. I'm not like Riss or Meg and have to schedule my time out months in advance *wink wink*. I'm usually available for last-minute things, and my schedule is relatively open, but after a little reflection I realized I am a pretty busy girl-just in different ways:

-I helped Sparky coordinate (well I made food platters) coronation for one of the MANY things he's involved in.
-I attended my first Pride this weekend. It was fun to have a new experience and to see so many of my friends!
-Since my friends are so great at supporting me I've been trying to support them more, too! (Hedwig, Chicago, Seussical, and Pirates! Of Penzance?, and a stop by the Canyon Inn to catch Channel Z are next on the list)
-A quick (and I mean quick) flight to St George for my Lexi bug's first birthday, then right back home that night so I could do a show the next day.
-Trying to keep going to tap, but rehearsals have taken over there, too...
-Mr Wonderful is still working swing shift (YUCK), so we try and see each other as much as we can during the week-usually involves odd hours and runs to the gas station for a cherry coke and twenty minutes to fill each other in on our days. We try to make Saturdays our day, but sometimes my business gets in the way...
-I have been cast in THREE shows in the last six months, and they have all been pretty substantial roles-oh, you know about Spitfire, the massive undertaking that was Blithe Spirit, but not the third? That is because I was just cast as Missy in the 'Marvelous Wonderettes' this last weekend with my old friends Meg and Melody, and new friend Paige. We started rehearsals yesterday, we totally rock, I love the pro team, the script is so cute and funny, and it's lots of good old school 'bubble gum' music from the 1950's and 1960's that I am having a BALL learning. We open in July, and I am SO EXCITED to finally (Oh, I didn't tell you I've auditioned for this show every time I've seen a posting for it and never been cast until now? Well I have.) be a part of this show. Stay tuned-details to follow!

Cindy Lou (Melody), Missy (me), Suzie (Meg), and Betty Jean (Paige)

So all of this coupled with the fact Mr Wonderful has been cleaning my kitchen lately more than I care to admit I guess I DO keep myself pretty busy after all...

what a momma's boy

Well boys and girls, here's the post I was previously not going to post after all...

Yesterday my sweet Riss posted about momma's boys, and I feel awful about the diatribe I left on her comments. I won't lie; this post is mainly for her so that I may redeem myself for the snarky comments I made and hopefully give a little perspective. For the rest of you have a good laugh on me as this is not my brightest shining moment and I allowed myself to become the complete contradiction of what I believe a woman should be.

The year was 2000, and I was working as an assistant event coordinator for the Hollywood Connection (ho-co), and by boss decided to set me up with her son-who also worked at the Ho-Co. Momma's Boy was months away from serving his mission, so although I had a little crush on him I knew it really wouldn't go anywhere. Aside from a couple dates (that his mom had a fairly big hand in) nothing really did.

It wasn't until he came home 18 months early due to health problems that it really got interesting. By this time I had just started dating Superman Lover (don't judge; momma's boy never said/did anything to make me think we were anything more than people who had gone on a couple dates before he left, and I told him I would only promise to not get married while he was gone. I was allowed to date other guys!), and Momma's Boy coming home really threw a wrench in the cog work. I remember one instance after I told him about Superman Lover that he called me and wanted to have an airing of grievances-which he was totally allowed to btw. It was the fact that he did it upon his mother's suggestion, with his mother's guidance, and I even remember sitting on his mother's bed to have it. For some reason that had all just rubbed me wrong. Although I fully admit I had wronged him I couldn't help but feel bugged that an almost 20 year old man was still running to his mother for this. I realize I'm super independent and always have been, but to me this was borderline extreme. I'm all for going to your parents for support, but I would never dream of allowing them to play puppet master in MY life. After this incident I began to space myself from that situation-because it was really awkward and for someone who said they wanted to date me he wasn't really making any effort to do so. The last time I ever went over to his house was probably the most uncomfortable situation I've ever put myself in. Not only was I getting the cold shoulder from mom, I was getting it from everyone else, too. It was then that I realized if I were to marry this guy every time we had a disagreement he would run to his mom and his siblings making something that was between he and I into a situation of me against the whole family. I knew I would never be happy in that situation, and that was a deal breaker for me. I walked way and never looked back.

Fast forward five-ish years.

My engagement to Superman Lover had ended about eight months prior, and I decided I was ready to start wading back into the dating pool. In my not so brightest moment I enrolled on some LDS dating site, and who should appear as my number one compatibility match but momma's boy. Going against my better judgement (I was convinced on a site THAT large him not only popping up as my number one, but also within the first week of joining this was too odd to ignore), I reached out, he replied, and we ended up on another (lackluster) date. Like a fool I let him kiss me at the end of said date and then we got to talking. I could feel the twinge of attraction returning so I asked him if maybe he could give me another chance to prove I had changed. This was his reply: "I have to talk to my mom first." No, I'm NOT kidding. A 25-year old man needed to talk to his mom before dating a girl. I was asking for a chance, not a proposal. I was again reminded that should anything happen there would be three people in that relationship: me, him, and mommy. I wish I could say I immediately cut bait and walked away, but I didn't. I was stupid and twitterpated, and engaged in not so great activities that I wish more than anything I could erase. My only defense is I was stupid, stupid, stupid.

I did learn my lesson though. I will NEVER date/attempt to date a momma's boy. A man who loves and respects the woman who birthed him? Definitely. A man who needs to ask mommy's permission/input before deciding what to have for breakfast? No thanks. There needs to come a time when men stop relying on their parents, put on their big-boy underwear, and start making decisions for themselves. Something momma's boy clearly hadn't figured out how to do...

Yet another reason Mr. Wonderful is a keeper: he's no momma's boy.