Give Yourself an Ugly Day (Or Two)

We've all had them: those dreaded ugly days. Those days where you look in the mirror and just go: ugh! And there's no amount of fiddling with hair, layering on makeup and sucking in your belly that can fix it. Clothes are strewn all over the floor, evidence of the fact that nothing, no, nothing, looks good. Your hairbrush lies on the bed, exhausted after fighting (and losing) a battle that left you looking like fluffy here. 

Some people's reaction is to throw on a pair of their most horrible (and loosest) pants, a t-shirt, make a face at the mirror and go on with their day, vowing to buy themselves a bag of potato chips at the earliest opportunity. 

But there is another way to look at this. I've come to realize lately that, far from ruining your life (or so it might seem at the moment), ugly days can be quite liberating.

Some people don't even allow themselves an ugly day. I feel sorry for them. You know who I'm talking about: those guys whose hair is gelled to perfection, and who look at everyone around them with an expression on their face that clearly screams: "I'm better than you." Or those girls who go jogging with makeup on. Seriously - they do exist. I've seen them. And trust me, it's pretty creepy watching someone jogging towards you with not a single drop of sweat making it past their thick layers of foundation, wearing so much mascara you wonder if she can see past her lashes. 

Now, I'm not crazy enough to spend an hour putting on makeup just before I head to the gym, but I do like to feel pretty. I'm the kind of girl who likes to wear a pencil skirt and high-heeled ankle boots, with a "cat eye" that takes me 20 minutes and a 30$ eye-liner to perfect. But I can also feel perfectly happy with a pair of jeans, a t-shirt that's a little too big and a bare face. 

Last week, however, I experienced a couple of ugly days that were worse than any I've had before. I caught a virus from my daughter, called "Feet Hands Mouth," which consists basically of red spots appearing in those very places. My hands were absolutely covered in sore, itchy red bumps. I even got one on my chin, and a few around my nose. There was one just on top of my right nostril that stuck out so much, it was a pity that it wasn't Halloween yet, because I would have been very convincing as a witch. 

Once the torture of the itchy bumps subsided, and I was left to deal with their disgusting appearance, I said to myself, "screw it!" I'll just be ugly for a couple of days. 

It just so happened that we were planning on going camping that weekend (a happy coincidence.) I packed nothing but a pair of black sweat pants and a couple of t-shirts. I didn't care what I looked like. And that led me to also not care about the things around me that usually make me feel uncomfortable (if you read my past post on camping, you'll know that being out in the woods definitely counts as taking me out of my comfort zone). 

I will illustrate: a wasp buzzed past me and I hardly flinched (!!) My daughter dropped all sorts of food on my clothes and I couldn't care less. I even had to dry myself with a tea towel (having forgotten to bring bath towels) after my shower and I saw the whole thing as an amusing adventure. I let my hair air-dry into whatever position it wanted and ended up looking like a cross between Mel Gibson in the movie Bird on a Wire and Farrah Fawcett (on a really shit day). 

But the most amazing thing is, that I felt so free, I actually enjoyed camping more than my husband did! Which is in itself nothing less than a miracle. (I won't even count the fact that he had also caught the virus and was going on endlessly about how crappy he felt.) 

What do you do when you have an ugly day? Please leave a comment.

Find Someone Whose Flaws You Can Live With

There it is: my number one relationship advice. It's not very romantic, I know. But it really says it all.

Allow me to explain.

In all my past relationships, there would be a time when I would call my best friend on the phone, crying about something my boyfriend at the time did. We've all been there: complaining that our significant other is a certain way, or does certain things, with which we are not happy.

For example: "He doesn't want to move in with me and we've been going out for two years!" Also, "He cheated on me and conveniently forgot to tell me!" Or, "He threw an "Ah Caramel!" cake at me because I'm not thin enough for him!" (That actually  happened).

Now, these are things no one in their right mind should tolerate. People do these sorts of things to the person they're with because they find fault with them, and instead of ending the relationship in a decent and respectful way, they treat them like crap.

Every time I called my friend after one of my crises, she would say the same thing: "Why do you stay with him then?" The answer was simple: because I was afraid of being alone. And that's why we all stay with someone who is not right for us, isn't it? We don't know what it will be like to go back to dating, when's the next time we're going to find someone, and so we continue with the relationship.

(Which actually explains the incredibly high divorce rate. People stay with someone they in all honesty can't stand, and they sometimes only realize it after they're married and have three kids. Then they're in a hurry to find someone else, form a reconstituted family, in which there are now six kids, and after one or two years they lose their minds and separate again. It's a real mess).

I had an epiphany on the day my best friend told me the following about my relationship with the man who is now my husband: "I know he's right for you because you haven't once called me on the phone, crying."

That's when I realized that it's not just about loving someone for their flaws; it's about being able to live with those flaws. And it's also about finding someone who will be able to live with yours.

I'm going to end with a quote from the fabulous Marylin Monroe, who, as her three divorces attest, unfortunately was never able to find someone who could live with her (ahem) imperfections.

What's the most important thing you've learned about relationships? Please leave a comment.

Take a Zumba Class This Winter

When we are hit by a sudden a startling cold wind in early September, and even a snowstorm in Calgary (when it is still, technically, summer) we cannot help but reflect on the long winter months that lie ahead.

If you're like me, this change in weather might be making you look forward to the great new fall clothes you bought in August (those ankle boots are just screaming to be let out of your closet), the beautiful mix of yellow, orange and red adorning the forest, and of course pumpkin spice lattes.

But once winter arrives, there's no getting rid of it until spring, and you're faced with the prospect of months and months of snow layered over ice so thick, you wonder how on earth it's ever going to melt. The snowbanks are as high as your house, and you practically need a chainsaw to make it out of your driveway. You snicker at the guy on the radio urging you to take advantage of the season by engaging in winter sports, because you a) hate skiing, b) can't see the point of ice-skating because it's nothing more than going round in circles, and c) the kids are too little for snowshoeing anyway.

Therefore, there's nothing left but to allow yourself to sink into a crippling depression as you look out your window at the grey, misty sky thick with the promise of ice and snow, again. Which will promptly be pushed onto your front lawn, adding height to that snowbank you've been cursing inside your mind over the past weeks.

Or, you could take a Zumba class.

Seriously, if you haven't discovered Zumba yet, sign up for a class now. Before you give in to the urge to spend your evenings sitting on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and watching the entire series of The Game of Thrones for the third time, repeating in your head over and over the phrase "Winter is coming."

Zumba is so effective in driving away the winter doldrums, it's a wonder psychiatrists don't write up prescriptions for it. The combination of upbeat, fast-paced music (much of it Latin), the dancing and the pure energy emanating from everyone in the room is enough to make your feel like you're at a midsummer party in the Caribbean.

Plus, if you're trying to lose those few pounds incurred by ingesting bags of Halloween chocolates and pumpkin lattes (and who isn't?), it's the best way to do it.

An iPad Is Not a Camera

Am I the only one who stands dumbfounded and stares openmouthed whenever someone pulls out a huge tablet and starts taking pictures with it?

I see them from far away, holding it up at arm's length in front of their faces, so huge it blocks their entire heads, taking photos of a building, their friends, whatever, and all I can think is: "You're gonna drop it!!"

Personally, if I had such an expensive toy in my possession, I wouldn't hold it up in the air like that. It's just too risky.

Unless, of course, someone gets the bright idea to attach straps to it - but no, even then, I think I'd just feel silly having a tablet hanging from my neck.

But wait … what the hell? It does exist!

How nice. Like a little handbag.

Seriously though. Something like that would just eventually get smashed to bits (at least if I was wearing it).

So why not invest in a nice camera? You know, that tool that was invented to (ahem) take pictures?

Or at least, let's limit ourselves to snapping photos with our smartphones. They don't make us look quite as ridiculous.

What do you think of the ever growing and alarming trend of using a tablet to take pictures? Please leave a comment.

Go Camping

I don't mean in a 27' trailer, complete with king size bed, high definition TV, two bathrooms and a fireplace. That's not camping.

I mean in something where you sleep under canvas and the pattering of raindrops lull you to sleep.

This may surprise you (after reading the above sentence), but I'm really not a fan of camping. Not at all.

Yet, that's actually why I'm giving you this piece of advice: because it's good to step out of one's comfort zone.

I went camping for a total of three weeks this summer. And it's done me much good. For example: I'm much more calm around bugs now. I don't scream nearly as loud as I once did whenever I find a spider in my clothes.

I've also embraced the air-dried hair (adorned with little twigs fallen off trees), wearing the same cotton dress from Target for three days straight look. I cast my cute sandals aside for walking shoes and Crocs. And I even stopped caring that my legs were pock-marked with nasty mosquito bites (though the itching drove me nuts).

Seriously, though. Camping has real advantages, especially for most people who can't afford those week-long, five-star hotel stays in the Caribbean (you know, the ones your friends post infuriating pictures of on Facebook). It's your ticket to getting to see lots of great places, without maxing out the credit cards.

Case in point: during my three weeks sleeping in a tent-trailer, I saw:
Downtown Boston
Harvard
Cape Cod
Virginia Beach
Bottlenose dolphins swimming close to shore
Williamsburg (outlets!!!)
Jamestown

And of course I had access to all these wonderful things we don't have in Québec city, like Ben&Jerry's ice cream shops and affordable shoes and handbags.

I also got so much fresh air, warm weather and sunshine, I'm just about ready for another winter now (no, I'm not insane).

It's true I had to duck into Starbucks just to escape, from time to time, but it was worth it (hint: if you're like me, choose a campground that's near a city, or at least in close proximity to a place with a decent café). I'm even (almost) looking forward to my camping trip next year.

Have any interesting camping stories? Please leave a comment. 

Sit on the Toilet!

A public toilet.

Yes, I said it.

I don't know when or how this odd insistence by people in general to hover over a toilet started. I'm guessing it's inherent in our Lysol-everything, wash-your-hands-for-no-less-than-five-minutes and do-everything-you-can-to-avoid-touching-the-sink north-american culture. Because, of course, the last thing we want in our extremely clean, anti-bacterial sprayed environment is to catch some horrible disease.

Here's a fact: it's been proven that toilet seats in public washrooms have a lot less germs than we think. The floor is much dirtier (better use the hook behind the stall door for your purse, ladies) and even the hand dryer spreads more germs. That's right. The idea that public toilets are riddled with bacteria, leading so many people (women especially) to hover, or to waste paper in an effort to create a butt shield, is a myth, according to an article on ABC news.

I'm a member of the do-not-hover club (I just made that up). Simply because I just can't pee like that. I don't know how other people do it. What I do know is that every time I use a public toilet, I'm obliged to wipe the seat first, because some weird germ-phobic made a disgusting mess on it. It's ironic that, while I can walk into a nice public washroom with pristine sinks, shiny mirrors and fancy blow-dryers, I can't find a toilet seat that hasn't been peed on (or sometimes even pooped on. Revolting.)

Now, I know that if you belong to the "hover camp," I can't convince you to sit on a toilet seat no matter how hard I try.

So why did I bother writing this post? To introduce my proposal for a simply brilliant idea:

Squat toilets.

If we can't as a society use toilets the way they were designed to be used, why don't we have them all torn out of public washrooms and replaced by squat toilets, like they have in Asia?

I mean, think about it. They're much easier to squat over since they're at floor level. Your butt will never have to touch the surface of a toilet seat again (except in your home, if you choose to keep your regular toilet, which you can sit on or hover over as you please). There will still be a bit of a mess, of course (no one has perfect aim), but at least no one will have to sit on it. You may get a few drops on your pants, but I'm sure that's already happening with people who hover.

Gross, you say? Think about it next time you step into a public washroom.

Watch an Approaching Storm

I'm the kind of girl who likes to stand out on my front porch when there's a thunderstorm coming.

(Some people don't like to do that and would think I'm a little nuts, I know. Like my grandmother who used to light candles in every window to ward off lightning. My dad as a kid, however, would run out into the storm, most likely sending her into a panic, poor woman.)

Watching an approaching storm is like watching a movie - like one of those blockbusters featuring tornadoes bent on crushing the main characters under a barn - only it's better, because it's real.

The other night I was reading on my sofa when I noticed the sky rapidly getting darker. I put my book down, opened the front door and stood on the top step. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a cold new wind on my warm skin. As the storm approached I watched the black, low-lying clouds move swiftly overhead and marvelled at the utter blackness coming towards me.

Suddenly the whole sky lit up, and a bolt of lightning descended over the hills. The wind blew harder and became chillier. The trees swayed and the leaves rustled as they performed a mad dance. Lightning struck again, throwing a white light over the rooftops. After that the rain came, cold heavy drops falling at a slant onto the porch where I stood. Reluctantly, I went back inside.

A thunderstorm is one of those things that illustrates just how powerful nature is, like volcanoes erupting, ocean waves crashing on a rocky cliff, or blizzards raging across prairie lands.

For me, that beats super-high resolution images any day.

Are you the kind of person who likes to stand outside and watch an approaching storm? Please leave a comment.