Mother Nature

Sooooooo.

I felt like writing. Should I talk about my amazing breakfast burrito I had last night? Or how excited I am to see my family for Thanksgiving? And to make these cute little turkeys with my nieces and nephews:

The best (and generally only) type of "craft" I do is an edible one. And these look very edible.

Then I remembered my blog is supposed to be about underwear. Stuff no one wants to talk about. But, you see, mother nature decides to stop by every once in awhile, and despite my best effort, ruins a pair of my beloved undies. Ugh. And no matter how much Oxy Clean you put on them, some colors are there to stay.

So what do you do with those? I'm not a hoarder. But I can't waste an *almost* perfectly good pair of panties. Solution: wad them up, put them in the corner of my undie drawer, and save them for the next time mother nature comes around. Problem solved.

I Googled this just out of curiosity. Funny what people Google. It's always comforting to know that someone else had the same stupid question, but they felt dumb enough to ask an actual person. Solution: Google it. Google doesn't get mad. It might say in a snobby voice "Didn't you mean..." if you didn't spell correctly....but still. That's the most rejection.

I stumbled upon a funny article. The dirty jokes are in the first paragraph so I suggest you skip them/not read it at all if you get offended easily.

the 5 types of period underwear

It made me laugh. Enjoy.

Thank You. Part Four?

I know there should be a part three to end the story. But I'm kind of sick of talking about it. You see, I thought it would be a good idea - that maybe I would be more validated for my decisions by talking about what happened.

For some reason I felt like I needed someone to agree there was emotional and verbal abuse throughout December and into January. Was there physical? No. There's never an excuse for it, but it opened my eyes up to how it can happen. Two people can be so toxic for each other, they stay together and that animosity escalates. Crazy what people can do to each other. What matters though is that I say it happened, even if no one else knows every single supporting story.

Ten months later, I have hindsight. I'm proud of myself for not letting that be my story for the next 5-10 years of my life. So often we sit back and let life happen to us. We let it happen and blame our circumstances, then fill our physical, spiritual, and emotional (oh don't forget mental) voids with something, anything. Substances. Habits. Food. Or more unhealthy relationships. We continue in that spiral for however long we choose.

Or....we fill it with positive choices. New hobbies. New ideas of thought. Uplifting people. Some sort of belief system that gives you hope for right now and for the future. It's different for everyone. And we may slip up, look back, and wonder if we could have done something else to change what happened. The classic words stuck in my head by therapist Fred Riley (shout out at the bottom) are: you can *should've* all over yourself. If you don't get it, say it fast. If you still don't get it, then you can ask me.

I've had my share of both the downward spiral and the upward in the past year. What matters now is I'm learning from it, and can handle anything else coming my way. Like I told my momma, the next man I end up with will either being completely amazing ... or take my house, car, and ALL of my money away.  Hahaha.

I'm not perfect. I don't have lovey-dovey feelings towards the ex. It doesn't mean I haven't forgiven him. That part is between me and the man upstairs. So unless I feel like talking about watching the video with the police, or busting out a few choice words I never had before, these are my thoughts for today:

I owe the ex a million Thank-You's.

Thank you for making me a little less trusting. I am a million times more cautious and wise when it comes to relationships.

Thank you for teaching me to listen my gut and not ignore it.

Thank you for making me more willing to speak my mind. Feisty, if you will.

Thank you for helping me to appreciate all of the healthy, trusting relationships I have in my life. Namely with my family and a handful of close friends I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to have.

Thank you for reminding me that at the end of the day I am patient, loving, and forgiving.

Thank you for teaching me to give people a break. We all have our vice. I know I have mine.

Thank you for letting me be the lesson in your life.

Thank you for sending me on a whirlwind of even deeper lessons with myself 6 months after the fact.

Thank you for now letting me share my story in  a way that helps me heal.

Thank you for letting me learn how to get back up.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to show just how gracious I really can be.

Thank you.

P.S. I owe so much to Fred Riley for helping me. He's an individual, family, and marriage counselor that is absolutely wonderful. And hilarious. Keep in mind you have to find a therapist you have the right "fit" with...I tried two before I started talking to Fred.

Happy Tuesday! And underwear posts will be back on after this weekend's festivities. Ragnar Relay #4...here I come.

Part deuce.

I don't really know how many parts there will be to this story. But I wanted there to be at least two, just so I could put part deuce. Yeah, I'm weird.

Ahh, so where did we leave off? Oh yes. In love. Getting married. And then things started to change.

Ben's car had been stolen, or at least he told me so. We were sharing my car. He drove me to work one uneventful December morning while it was still dark outside. I looked over and his eyes were closing...nodding off. Maybe he's just tired, I do that sometimes. Right? It happened again. Only this time the car swerved into another lane. "Babe, you're driving weird. It's scaring me." Ben immediately retaliated, "No I'm not, I'm just a little tired, I'm fine. See? I'm fine." The car swerves again. "Seriously, babe, pull over. You must be really tired or something, and it's scaring me." The tension ensued until he dropped me off. He spent the rest of the day at work - or at least that's what he told me he was going to do.

Ben picked me up that night. I notice the tank is almost on empty when it was over 1/2 full this morning. He reminds me that it needs gas. "Seriously? I just filled it up. Did you drive around a lot?" And...cue the excuse. Ben: "No, that's crazy. I just drove it to work and back. I think it needs a tune up, it's eating up so much gas it's crazy."

This part of the story probably seems pointless to you. But to me, little things like this I ignored along the way kept adding up. And adding up. Until I broke down, thought I was the crazy one, and went to see a therapist. I'm depressed, I must be. There's a lot of change and I don't know how to deal with it. Ben says I'm acting weird and unappreciative lately, it has to be me. I'm a drama queen the day after getting my wisdom teeth out because I'm not up and about. Drama queen, and crazy. I'm selfish. That one stuck with me...selfish. I never listen to him because I suggested the Corner Cafe for breakfast instead of a "diner". I always get what I want.

I'd started to be more active in church then.  I worked  a 7pm night shift on a Saturday and Ben picked me up in the morning. I planned on sleeping a few hours then going to church for an hour at 1. Setting the alarm on my phone, I told Ben he could do whatever but I was going to go. I made it a point to fall asleep with my phone in my hand so the vibration woke me up.

As soon as he thought I was asleep, Ben came into my room, took the phone out of my hand, and put it back in the kitchen. I got up a few minutes later and asked him why he did that. "What?" and he looks at me funny. I stared at him for a minute. "Why did you move my phone?" Ben put his famous baffled face on and asked me, "What are you talking about?". "You came in and took it out of my hand so I wouldn't get up for church and you wouldn't feel bad about not going." There, I said it, I put it out there. Then he points his finger in my face and tells me I'm crazy. I'm the crazy one. I imagined all of it, and he can't do anything right lately. I'm demanding. I worry too much. I'm a stress case. I'm the crazy one.

And so I let it stew in my head, that I'm the crazy one. I suggested to Ben that we go see the therapist together. Maybe it would help us learn to deal with all the changes happening. It's a lot of change, and is obviously causing some stress between us.

So much stress that I began to imagine someone was using my credit card. Several days before Christmas I noticed it gone from my wallet. I lose things all the time. I can't even find my keys when they're in my own hand, so of course I'd lose my credit card. Had Ben seen it? No, he hadn't seen it or even touched that thing in weeks. He had no idea what I was talking about. Please, Ben, if you used it, it's okay. We'll work it out, I don't care if you did, I just need to know so I don't have to report it to the police.

The next day after I noticed a few hundred dollars spent at Walgreens and Denny's. I made a facebook post about how hillbilly it is to use someone's stolen card there, then reported it to the police and the bank. All this time, Ben sat on the couch next to me and not a word came from his mouth. I tried asking him a few more times, maybe he used it and forgot to tell me. He denied every time, then proceeded to tell me I'm crazy and I always think it's his fault.

By this point, I can't even tell you how crazy I felt. Like I was asking myself, "Are you out of your mind?" Totally convinced that everything was my fault, that I have trust issues with relationships. I don't tell you about these little stories for pity - I only tell them so you can see how people are manipulated. How a good liar can make everything seem like it's your fault. Things got even more fishy - his "boss" wanting to pick things up from him at midnight on a Saturday. Work plans came up suddenly when family functions came around. This was not the man I fell in love with. I trusted that man, and this one I did not.

I felt awful even wondering if Ben took my credit card, but I couldn't shake it. The places where it was used were all in proximity to my apartment and to his. I wanted to figure it out so I could rest my weary brain. I called Wells Fargo and wrote down the times of the transactions. Then I called Walgreens to see if they had video footage...and I waited.

Three days later I received a phone call. It was Ryan, the manager at Walgreens. He thinks he has a "winner". Ben sat next to me on the couch. I remember praying that the culprit was a woman. Please, just make it be a woman so I don't even have to wonder. Ryan describes the man as "Tall....bigger build....has on some sort of plaid shirt...". That could be anyone, right? Anyone. I'm talking myself through this, and then he said it. "He's got some sort of big tattoo on the inside of his left forearm....it almost looks like a star."

Aaaaaaand pause. My heart sank. Wasn't Ben's tattoo on his right? I look over. No. Left arm. Lots of people have big stars tattooed on their forearms, don't they?

If you've endured my lengthy story-telling so far, I applaud you. There's only two more parts to the story for blogging's sake. That night, and the aftermath. The part where I get to explain my thinking process behind the actions. Coming soon: where I get to sound like a cold, heartless woman that put her fiance in jail. Haha. Fashionable green/white stripe jailbird undies:

Cruel, cruel joke. It's either that or continue to be terribly nervous about this next post. So I will just laugh until I mean it....

Calling in Sick. Part Uno.

Do you ever wake up in the morning wishing you could call in sick to life that day?

Like, "Hey, umm, God,  I'm not feeling like facing a few things today, can I just check out for a bit and come back when I'm feeling better?" 'Cause I have.

January 3rd ish, 2011:

Amy (ER nurse manager): "Hello, this is Amy."

Shelly: "Umm, hi, Amy. It's Shelly. How are you?"

Amy: "I'm doing well, how are you?"

Shelly: "Well, listen. I don't really know how to say this, but I think I'm going to need some time off. I feel kind of silly asking, and I don't want you to think I'm telling a sob story or anything, but I could probably use just the rest of the week off."

Amy: "Okay...."

Shelly: "Yeah. It's just, in a nutshell, my fiance, or ex fiance now is kind of in jail. Long story, he's addicted to oxycontin and stole my credit card and a bunch of stuff. So I really appreciate it. And I'm glad I can tell you. Thank you."

Amy: "Oh, I'm sorry...you know, things like this happen. Go ahead and take your time. Just remember not to take too much time away from work, make sure you get back into a routine of things..."

Shelly: "Oh I will. Thanks so much. I should be back next week."

Click.

Pretty sure I tried to have the same conversation with God, but it didn't go quite that way. My body tried so hard to "check out". I was spacey. Headaches. Wanted to faint every time I stood up. But there's no checking out of life.

I remember asking my Mom if I could just be in a coma for a couple of days, then wake up and I would be fine. It's called the shock stage. My body and mind were trying to make some sort of sense in what happened that whirlwind of an afternoon on December 28th. And all of December. November. October. Back to the end of September....

By that time Ben (name has been changed so I don't get sued or whatever) and I had been together 6 months, and we were in love. So much that we started talking about getting married and starting a family. At that time, Ben was talking to the LDS missionaries. I stayed out of the whole process, so I didn't feel like I was pressuring him. I had told him I'd marry him no matter what he chose.

He got baptized in October, and moved up to Utah that weekend from Las Vegas. (Note to self, never date someone from there again.) We got engaged October 30th before a Halloween party. Was I ready? Good question. Is anyone ever truly ready for that?

November ensued, and cue in the sound of a bomb slowly descending from the sky. You can ignore it while it's falling until it hits the ground, right? And things started to change.


Don't you always hear that line when someone says what went wrong in a relationship? Is it me? Is it him? Something's not right, here. We argued. We'd never argued before. Was it stress of him being baptized? Getting engaged? Moving? Yeah, that's it. It's all stress from life changes.

Fast forward a bit. I made some cupcakes at Christmas time and invited a few friends over. Ben was sitting on the couch, nodding off while everyone else was laughing. I made some comment about him needing to get his blood sugar checked. He agreed, said it's crazy how tired he gets when his blood sugar is low, even though he just had a couple cupcakes....yeah. Low blood sugar.

So all this brings you up to speed for the juicy part.

Pay Attention!

Well...err...you don't have to. Not at all. In fact, I don't even know why you're reading this post.





I know why I'm writing this, though.

Because after all the underwear is said and done, at the end of the day I have a story. And someday, it will help someone.

There are a lot of self-help books out there about addiction. Books for the addict on how to stop. Books on how to love the addict, but help yourself. Books on how to re-build a relationship with an addict. How to love the addict and hate the addiction.

But I didn't do that. I made a choice ten months ago, and now I live with it. I chose to look at the facts of the situation, listen to my rational side, and decided that I would be happier single for the rest of my life than with said addict.

This isn't a story to convince anyone of my sainthood. This is a story about self-preservation. About natural instinct. About listening to your gut, coping, and moving on. About finding some humor in a crazy situation to maintain a shred of sanity. And if I have to wear underwear on my head while talking to you in order to make you laugh, so be it.

Hopefully, at the end of this, I'll have made some valid point that no one else has had the courage to say. Maybe, just maybe, someone can find direction  and humor in a situation they're faced with from all of this.

Like I said. Everyone has their story, and I'm going to say mine. I don't care if you read it or not, but I think it's pretty interesting. Maybe I'm just a little biased.

Act I to come soon. The topic might be a bit heavier than underwear for the next few posts. Just a fair warning.

scurred.

Scurred = different way to be scared according to urbandictionary.com.

I'll admit it. I went to a therapist once upon a time. Yep, and no I'm not scared to admit that one. If you ever want to know why, that's another story. But in therapy, you quickly learn to acknowledge feelings. For me, I'd try to ignore them and then they'd come out in another way: anxiety. But now,  I just say I'm scared. Imagine the worst. Realize it's not that bad. And get over it. I'm not saying it's for everyone, it just works for me.

So now, I just admitted that I am scared about this little medical problem I have. Without divulging too much, I gain weight quickly and easily, and have a lot of symptoms that come with having too much androgen-type hormones. (The hormones that come from those little adrenal glands that sit on top of my kidneys - cortisol, aldosterone, female/male sex hormones). It's all fancy-shmancy endocrinologist type stuff. 

With moving and being put on birth control then taken off because they need to measure my hormones and yadda yadda, I'm finally artificial hormone-free x3 months and just got my results back. Nice thing is, it's not PCOS. Downer is I have to get an abdominal ultrasound. No, I'm not preggers.  Although it would be a darling baby if it had the Lucas family genes.

The ultrasound is a nice, friendly way of saying "let's make sure you don't have cancer" before they check other blood tests. Reality is, I probably don't. My DHEAS is 513, normal is around 300, and it's usually 600 or greater with a tumor. Yeah? Yeah.

Regardless, I think I have the human right to be a little scared. It's definitely a reminder of why I do what I do, and why I try to be understanding with difficult parents of my little patients. Medical things are scary. It's different from what our bodies should be doing.

It makes me a little bit more grateful to be a nurse. That I get to support the patient and family in a stressful situation for them.

Oh....and there's no underwear in this post. Sorry. Besides the fact that my adrenal glands are in relative position to the top of my undies. Happy fall!

And so it begins...

In the A.M.! I'm starting it. I don't think I've ever put this much single planning or thought into something...I mean even my nursing degree. Kidding.

Workout + six small meals planned for tomorrow. Actually, planned for the week. My fridge is stocked. My before photos are taken. I made sure to eat an extra fatty celebratory meal (Panda Express) to begin, right before I got in a bikini for the "before" pictures.  I even made some protein pancakes (see recipe below!) so I can grab them in a hurry. This. Is. Legit.

The menu tomorrow if you're curious?

1. Scrambled egg whites and a whole wheat muffin.
2. Protein shake with banana.
3. Mini chicken pizza on a whole wheat muffin made with low-fat mozzerella cheese. Topped with spinach. Cucumber slices.
4. Luna bar.
5. Repeat the pizza + cucumber. I'll be at work and need something I can heat up and eat in a hurry.
6. Protein pudding (sugar free pudding made with protein powder).

The workout? It's a 45 minute upper body outlined in intervals of intensity. I get to use my knowledge from when I attempted personal training with Gold's Gym. I guess I found out the most valuable thing about myself when I did: I am my best challenger.

When I ran the Wasatch Back this year, miss Kati made an observation - that I do best when I'm left alone. I'll just keep going and going if I don't have a distraction. This is true. Not that I don't need encouragement...I just have a mild form of "Ooh something shiny" syndrome...so if I don't have a distraction, I just keep going...and going...

The pancakes I made were interesting. Not too shabby. They definitely have a different texture. I discovered they cook very quickly, and the sooner you get them off the pan right when they are done, the better. It's because egg is a "binder". That, combined with the protein powder, can make it a little dry. But add on a dab of sugar free syrup and voila....

Protein Pancakes

1 c whole wheat pancake mix
3 scoops EAS vanilla protein
1 egg white + 1 whole egg
3 T cottage cheese
1 1/2 c water

Blend. Cook like you do a normal pancake. But like I said, they cook quickly. The underside will be totally done and it will still be runny on the top. Go ahead and flip it. Just do it.

I dabbed them with a teeny bit of smart balance spread and sugar free syrup. So if you're not a Splenda fan, add a bit of sugar free fruit spread. I'll let you know if these hold up from freezing well or not. Or if they just taste like cardboard.

Wish me luck!

oh, dating. (don't murder me all you married peoples).

Dating....oh man.

That's all I have to say. Really. It's weird/difficult/self-esteem wrecking/fun/exciting/motivating sometimes.

Getting back into the jungle of singledom last January, I kind of hit the ground running. Mostly for distraction. And since I either A. work with mostly ladies, and B. scare the majority of men at church away with actually having a pair of hips and telling them I blog about underwear, my options are limited. So where did I turn? Online.

I have considered blogging simply about the best one-liner emails I get. I don't respond to probably about 90% of my e-mails that I get from mail users. Why? Well. If I get a line such as:

"What's up, baby boo?"

First off, I'm not your "boo". Nor are you a thug, you are white boy with a goatee who listens to Eminem. Not a thug. Or:

"Having any luck on this site?"

Clearly, if I were, I would not still be on this thing at three in the morning reading silly e-mails like this. And last but not least, my favorite:

"I'm kinda interested."

I'm so flattered! I'm kinda interested in you too, now I'm just going to delete this e-mail....

And just for the record, those are all real, actual e-mails I have received. I wish I could say they were made-up. 

So wish me luck. Maybe I'm just looking for love in all the wrong places. Maybe I can try speed dating, simply to get some more blogging material. Arranged marriage just sounds more appealing all the time.

Now, before you kill me or write an encouraging comment back, I hope you know I am quite kidding about all of this. Somewhere deep down inside that joking heart-breaker side of me I know that love comes when you least expect it. You can't rush or force it. All you can do is try to be ready for it when it comes along and be the best person you can be. I just have to be able to laugh a little at the journey, right?

Have a lovely day. :)

Buried alive.

I feel like if I blog about something, then my decisions are "public". And if I know people know about the little thoughts that go on in my head, I may be more committed to them. At least I can hope so.

But, I'm just going to put out there the horrible truth. Since May, I have gained about 22 lbs. I'm not one to worry about the scale much with all of my exercising and whatnot, but something has got to give. I don't overeat, but my eating is sporadic. Outside of my medical stuffs that I am figuring out (something with adrenal glands and DHEAS hormone and/or PCOS), I've got to face the facts: my body is selfish. It loves to hoard the fat. I should make it go on that show on TLC about the hoarders - Buried Alive.

That is my body. But with food. It doesn't know how to throw it out well. So I'm going to teach it.

I'll never be able to erase that memory of seeing actual fat tissue when someone's cut open in surgery. I got to watch a few in nursing school...that's enough to make a person run away from food. 

Not that I'm running away from food. Food is good. I love it just as much and probably more than the next person.  But I love a good challenge. Add the word "challenge" onto anything and I will probably do it just to prove myself. It's like when I was little, my brothers and sisters would ask me to get something, and tell me they would time me to see how fast I could. A challenge? Yes! I think so. Maybe that's why I stayed skinny when I was little. Forget the challenge....I'll just sprint to get everything I need. Haha.

I guess I'm a firm believer that medicine can only go so far. And for a majority of health care problems, prevention is key. So if I want to have high blood pressure in 5 years, go ahead and eat those chicken nuggets, Shelly. Kidding. But I am starting the Body for Life challenge on Monday for 12 weeks. Totally committed, eating 6 times a day, one free day a week, exercising 6 days a week, committed. I've found some ladies starting on the same day and am so excited to hear about their journeys.

If you've  never heard of Body for Life, it's not some crazy point-counting thing that confuses me just thinking about it. Eat 6 times a day, small meals, pair a protein with a carb and add in veggies twice a day. I love it. I think it should be called the normal, healthy, what-everyone-should-be-doing plan. But I'm a little biased. Enough ranting. But at the end of this, I'm pretty sure those undies are going to be looking a little better on me.

Waaay overdue for a post. So I made cupcakes for you.

Well, kind of. I took pictures of them. I made a hot cocoa cake (sounds fancy, right?) with a blueberry cream cheese filling, with a butter/cream cheese frosting topped with fresh blueberries. I love these, they have a little bit of everything. Not too heavy chocolate, some creamy fruit, and a great vanilla frosting. 

First, I made the blueberry filling. I took 6 oz. fresh berries, covered them with sugar, and let heat do the work:

Then, I added a couple tablespoons of cornstarch with a tablespoon of water, and let it bubble with the mix. You can mash the berries as they are cooking to let the juices out. You do not need to add any other water.

 It turned into a funny blob of blueberries. Then I mixed in 4 oz. of cream cheese to it to make a filling.

Ahh, then these beauties. You can use any chocolate cake mixture. I was out of cocoa, so what did I use? Hot chocolate. And cut down on the sugar. Recipe's at the bottom for these beauties.

Then using whatever cupcake-filler tool you have, put the filling in the cake. I couldn't find mine, so i simply cut a hole out with a knife, filled it, and put the cake top back on after I cut off excess cake.

Top with some yummy homemade cream cheese and butter frosting...

Put them in a cute box, add some blueberries, and voila! Everyone now thinks you bought these fancy-shmancy cupcakes somewere. Nope. Made right here in my 5x5 kitchen. At least it feels that small.

Hot Cocoa Cupcakes:

1/4 c ghirardelli double chocolate hot cocoa mix

3 T hot water

1 c + 2 T unbleached all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking sodea

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 tsp princess cake and cookie emulsion (available at most TJ Maxx, Ross, Orson Gygi, or any specialty cooking store) 

2/3 c buttermilk (any fat content)

*Preheat oven to 325*

1. In a small bowl, combine hot cocoa and water. This will bring out the chocolate flavor and it should look like a syrup.

2. Combine dry ingredients, set aside.

3. Beat the butter and sugar about 1 minute or until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and beat in individually. Mix in the vanilla and emulsion (If you have it. it's not critical.)

4.Mix in the cocoa, then add half of the flour mixture. Add the remaining buttermilk and flour, adding each individually.

I baked these at 325* since my oven is circa 1968. It took a bit longer that way, about 20 minutes, but it helped the bottoms not to burn. Just bake 12 minutes and watch carefully. If you touch the top and it lightly springs back, you're good. If it collapses, you'll prrrrrrobably need more time.

P.S. I bake in my underwear sometimes so it's a completely appropriate post.

i live in the prettiest. place. ever.

Okay, close to it. I made it. I made it I made it I made it. And in the end all of the money the stupid move cost will be worth it...right? That's what I keep telling myself. And it's probably not nice to call my move stupid since it's what got me to this wonderful place. Whoops.

I wear underwear here...just like I did in the SLC. It's not really any different. I need to get some new ones. The only thing that's different is it's kind of double duty...it's more humid here. We'll leave it at that. Cotton = sweat absorbency. I'm not talking sweaty guy at the gym with the ring of wetness from his back to his knees, I just get "misty" with all the humidity. TMI? Sorry.

So I've had a week off to move, settle in, and attempt to host visitors in my not-so-put-together apartment.  My sweet friend Jenna drove down with me, hauling a 5x8' trailer on the back of my Pontiac Grand Prix. Definitely not intended for towing, but we did it. Bless her little heart. And after two days of driving no more than 60 mph, turning off the air conditioning while going up hills to prevent overheating the car, in-n-out, and getting cut off by other cars every two minutes, we made it. Put all the boxes in the apartment and went to play at the beach.

Then 2 days later my sweet parents came to help settle me in. We went to La Jolla cove, shopped for tables, and spent some time at Pacific Beach...about 5 blocks from my house. Oh and saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Don't forget that. Here's some sunny cove shots...

My hair's cuter not wind-blown. I need a hat in beach pictures. I need to get some cute hats...

Momcat and the Daddo

Pacific Beach sunset. Seriously? Yeah, I live here. It's not quite settled in my head yet, but I'm sure it will be. This week: back to being nurse Shelly, and the Rosey Revenger in derby. And getting outdoor wheels so I can skate by the scenery. :)

wrinkles

I love getting older.

Yeah, I just said that. I realized this morning that I've either been completely naiive my entire life, or just that I have an innate, undying sense of possibility.

I think I'll choose possibility.

Call it my rose-colored glasses of believing. It's funny how you get to know yourself as you get older. Yeah, I have an emotional relationship with myself. What's wrong with that? Not in like the multiple personality way. Just me getting to know me. And my tendencies. Habits. Likes/dislikes.

So bring on the freckles and little wrinkles to the sides of my eyes I get from laughing. I'm so ready for you.  

92109

Yup, that's my new zip code in t-9 days. Saaaaan Diego. And yes, the above picture is the print on the underwear for moving day. I'm moving July 31, and things might actually be coming together:

1. The job: Yes, I have one. I'll be working at the Mid-City urgent care clinic for Rady Children's hospital. Now I just need to make sure on August 1st I get that nursing license squared away! Never thought getting a nursing license in another state would be such a series of hoops to jump through. My advice...pick a compact state.

2. The place: Yes, I have that as well! I'm going to be living in a teeny studio at crown point, a little residential area below Pacific Beach.

Which will be about 2 blocks, 5 minute walk, 2 minute bike, whatever you choose, to this:

Sail Bay. With a paved trail that wraps around the whole bay and connects down to Ocean Beach, and up north to Pacific Beach. Kill me now. Actually don't, because I really need some time to take this all in and actually use my beach cruiser.

Seriously, it's amazing how everything falls into place when it's supposed to. I hadn't even planned on living in this area, until I drove by the only afternoon I had to look at houses and came across the lovely little place.

I love answering questions about moving. Do you know anyone down there? No. Why are you moving? Because I can. I get some weird satisfaction about having all of the reasons and yet none of the reasons to move. My true honest-to-goodness answer is pretty simple - I need a change. I think anyone that knows me well enough would agree.

With moving across states always comes so much stress, but as things start to come together I realize I wouldn't change it for anything. New experiences = life, and I need to learn to deal with all of them. Even the experiences like having my car wig out the week before I move, or flooding the basement with the washing machine. Pretty sure those are all things teaching me to roll with the punches a little more. My next update will probably be from sunny San Diego :)

There's really no underwear for this one.

I know my blog is about underwear. Or the things that happen to me while I'm wearing said underwear. No, it is not suggestive. I do not wear said underwear in front of a mirror making kissy faces and seductively posing. Sorry, kids. It's just not happening.

Anyhew, all kidding aside, it's Father's Day. I woke up this morning, entirely grateful that I have a Dad to call. Who I know is there. Who I know will listen. Yes, we have our differences. But that's because he raised a daughter with an entirely too alert and stubborn mind. At the end of the day, I'm so blessed to say I have a Dad that is there - that truly cares about me, and just wants me to have the best in life.

I know I'll understand things a little more one day when I have a child of my own. And heaven help me when that does happen. I can only imagine the stubborn-ness multiplying with each generation I pass my genes on to. But today I can't help but be overwhelmed with memories of all the times my Dad was there, and will be there for all the best moments of my life.

Happy Father's Day :)

i'm on vacation, suckas.

Well, I was. For a week. In Maui...seriously gorgeous. I didn't think I could ever be in love with a piece of land, but it's true. True love. Clear, turquoise water, precious little sea turtles, perfect weather, mocha men with tattoos....seriously Shelly heaven.

I went with my bestie Lindsey (who lives in Dallas), and Lisa and Kate - nurses I work with. Funnest. Girls. Ever. We made time to relax on the beach every day and work on our tans...or my "peachiness" in my case. When we weren't laying out we rode bikes down Haleakala - huge dormant volcano, rode scooters around Lahaina, snorkeled in Molokini crater, attempted to paddle surf, and finished out the week with a fantastic surf lesson and luau. I was seriously physically ill when I had to come back to reality. Only because I was totally crushing on this little island called Maui.

Some of the stories that happened will not ever be disclosed outside the "circle of trust", a.k.a. the girls, but suffice it to say there are some things I will definitely remember the rest of my life.

Going on vacay made me a bit reflective. Maybe it's because I finally had time to wind down and look back at the past 5 months of my life? My life is now a total of 24 years, but there's definitely a landmark at the 'five months ago'. If you know me well enough, you will know what that landmark is. I hate that it's a landmark. I hate that it happened. But on the opposite spectrum, I am totally grateful. Grateful for an experience so big, bigger than I ever could have even imagined would happen in my little world, it's made me re-evaluate everything I thought I knew.

While I was a little sentimental one morning, watching the Maui sunrise, I texted the ex. Why, why, why? I asked myself the same thing. I told him I hoped he is getting help. And reminded him of places to turn for help. Probably useless. But I felt like I needed to say it. Our conversation previous to this one ended not-so-peacefully, so I guess I was looking to fix that. And according to the Chinese zodiac, I am a rabbit. I seek for peace in my life. So I have to go with what the Chinese zodiac says......right?

Sometimes I feel guilty, and ask myself if I should have done more. If I should have done more to help the person I had planned on spending the rest of my life with. Mostly because in the same situation, I would hope someone would show me a little mercy. I know I have my own problems and vices, and what makes them different from his? What makes a problem so big it affects a relationship with someone else? Just curious if anyone has any thoughts.

I've always had this theory, well, since the 'landmark', that there are two factors to a person's issues. One, if they are honest about it. Two, how much it affects other people. The ex, sadly, totally dominated both of those factors...not honest, and let it harm quite a few other people. This all could be justification. Or just some deep thinking here.

But to wrap it all up, by texting the ex, and giving some well-wishes, I took a vacation for myself. A vacation from hurt, from anger, from sadness, from frustration with him and myself. By forgiving others we forgive ourselves.

I love Maui.

P.S. Pictures to come soon!

uncomfortable situations.

So I was fresh out of clean, cute undies. What did I revert to? My backups. You know, the ones that give me perma-wedgie. And you, my friends, are not getting a picture of that. Sorry to get your hopes up.

No seriously. Perma-wedgie can throw off your day. I would know, because I grew up with five brothers and had a perma-wedgie from ages 3 - 8. I think it may have permanently damaged my crack, so unless I get the hipster style from Victoria's Secret, those darn wedgies creep up on me again.

About throwing off your day....I had one of those days. You know the ones where everyone seems to pick on you for no good reason? Or one person singles you out as their "make Shelly feel like crap" project of the day? Yeah, one of those. Vertically challenged person at said place of employment decided to power trip on me to make me feel shorter than them. Did not work. Okay, a little bit. Where I wanted to go in the bathroom and cry. But I didn't. Go me.

So after a short venting session with my mother (bless her soul for listening), I was ready to go again. Ready to stick up for myself against that wedgie of a person who needs to wedge themselves in my "crack" just to bug me. I'm going to change my personal undies by "getting a new pair", or not caring what said person thinks. By just being me, and letting my new outlook replace that old, wedgie person. Hope that made sense. I was never too good at allegories.

So pick out your wedgie people....don't let them get to you. There's always a new pair out there.

come visit soon.

I bought these undies not quite knowing what I could wear them for. But they were in my size. And the style I like. And it just so happens that they fit perfectly for the past 24 hours of my life.

Forgive me for being slightly sentimental here. I took a quick trip up to Idaho for Mother's day. I was able to see my beautiful mother and sweet sister - both amazing, selfless mothers. (And a special shout out to my sister in Boise I didn't see!) I could not ask for better examples of wonderful women.

I could share countless stories of why momma is my hero...making me breakfast before I left for dance every morning, or bringing socks to school when I forgot an extra pair for after practice. But it all adds up to just one thing: my momma's massive and inextinguishable amount of love for her family. I am seriously and truly blessed to be born in the family I was.

There's this song by Vanessa Carlton (super girly, I know!) called Carousel. I'm a sucker for some gorgeous piano music and a pretty voice. Let it suffice me to say that every line in this song somehow relates to my life in the past year. I was seriously humbled to realize that in one way or another, I have always had love in my life because of my family. No matter what happens, they still love me for my silly and sometimes stupid self.

And that, my friends, is better than any silly boy's promises that will only be broken, or carton of Ben 'n Jerry's that will only go straight to my hips. I just needed to open up those big eyes of mine a little bit more and see how ridiculously lucky I am. Take a listen to the song if you like:

Keep an eye out for the official video with me, will you? It should be amazing. And the sheet music...so I can play it. Happy Momma's Day.

down & derby.

So lately I've been strapping four wheels onto each foot and attempting to look cool, a.k.a. roller derby! Probably one of the best decisions in my entire life. A workout that doesn't feel like a workout. Something that I feel pretty awesome even having the guts to try doing. And not to mention, all of the ladies that do it are ahhhh-ma-zing. Talented, beautiful, and friendly ladies. That clap for you when you fall down. It's a win-win situation.

The best thing about it all though, is the liberty to wear pretty much whatever you want and fit right in. In the derby dictionary, "no-pants" night = wear underwear or shorts so short they could be underwear with whatever choice of hosiery you prefer. The pair I wore the other night over some pink pantyhose:

 Why, hello there. These make me so happy. Not to mention I wore them to Piper Down afterwards with a few of the girls. The polite people were ones that actually asked instead of just staring.

One thing I've learned though, is derby isn't all about looking pretty. Those girls just make gliding around on skates look easy. If you still think it's easy, try to strap them on after 15 years and try to turn around in them. Not so easy. I'm in a beginning group (yay soy-cheezies!) and we pretty much do all sorts of drills to learn how to skate. Only after we start feeling comfortable on them do they throw us on the track and pray for our souls when someone throws a hit.

Out of all the different sports/yoga/pilates I've done, pretty sure derby takes care of the thighs like no other. A bonus for me since God truly blessed me in that area. Regardless of the workout and feeling cool in fishnets, I'll say it again. These women are amazing ladies that juggle all sorts of things in their lives and still manage to be derby girls. Love it.

If anyone would like more info, you can check out The Red Rockettes on facebook. It's a rec league with newbies and veterans alike all there for the sport.

You, too, can wear your fishnets and be proud...

slightly scandalous. be warned.

Today I did the classic no-no. Wasn't supposed to buy anything...but then came across something I've been trying to find for over two years. A pink & sequin swimsuit. That actually fits. And...are you ready?...

Just a little sneak peak. I'm saving the rest for my trip to Maui in t-3 weeks. I know, I know. It's not "technically" underwear. But it's my blog, my rules. Anything scantily clad = underwear to me from now on. I just couldn't pass it up.

After buying it I went through the whole question thing in my head that every other girl (and their sister, and grandmother, and cute fluffy dog) does. At least I think so. How fat will I look in this? Will the sequins accent any jiggling that occurs? Does the pink give a highlight to the muffin top or draw attention to my tree trunk thighs?

I can seem pretty smiley and confident at times. But guess what? I have major insecurities, too. As well as every other girl (and boy) out there. I don't want this to turn into the classic "love yourself" talk, with Christina Aguilera crooning "you are beautiful" in the background, but really. Who is someone else to tell you what you should wear or what you should look like? Or who qualifies to wear a swimsuit and who doesn't? I found this lil' quote that's a wonderful reminder to at least fake it 'til I make it: When you are strong enough to love yourself 100%, good and bad - you will be amazed at the opportunities that life presents you.

I'm going to wear my pink sequin swimsuit, damn it, and I'm going to wear it well.

Take a trip. Or a hike. Outta here.

I'm getting better at telling what people to stay out of my life. It's hard for me. I like people to like me. So much that in my past I've put my feelings at stake before someone else's, even if they are in the wrong. I'm getting better at using my rational side and listening to it. You know that side that says "Yeah...you're a jerk...and I'm not going to dig you out of it this this time?" That one.

I've always said that I've wanted a person in my life,  'significant other' if you will, that has lived a little bit of life. My pet peeve: someone who is judgemental, or naive. I used to think experience, or "life", makes a person more understanding. It does -  but there are some people who are still just congenital poo-faces, and always will be. Congenital = born with it. And not going to change.

I've gotten to the point where I can at least verbally tell someone, "Hey, you did this awful thing to me, and you're mean." Rational side of Shelly can list out the facts of what happened and make myself feel justified. But the part that makes me "me" is that little emotional part that still believes in the goodness of a complete and utter poo-face. My rose-colored glasses, if you will. The part that questions what I could have done better, what I can change about myself, or  I can take the blame. That part of me is inherent and never going away. I just have to save those little glasses for someone who really deserves it.

Maybe these lil' undies will bring me some more adventures today in telling people where to go. Stay tuned. Listen to these three reasons at the beginning of his video. Fan-freaking-tastic.

i see london...

Yep, I'm blogging about underwear. Such a necessity, and so under rated. 

Last week I bought a few new undies that were desperately needed. Part of the 5/$25 at VS. Love those. I have an obsession with ones that say things across the toosh. I have no idea why. 

But since then...weird things have been happening. I pretty much have a story for every new pair I wear. So why don't I blog about it? Each time I wear a new pair, I'm going to talk about it. Mostly because I love underwear and the safety and security it brings, but because funny and weird things seem to be happening to me lately. Maybe it's part of being 24, single, and a nurse, that crap happens? Speaking of underwear... get it?

So the first pair!

Cute, but nothing crazy. I dub these my "Save the World" panties. Why?Here goes.

10:00 am: I'm sleeping after working until 3 a.m. Someone is ringing my doorbell incessantly. Three minutes later, still ringing. I throw on my glasses and squint through the peephole. I have no idea who it is. Open it. Wrong door. Seriously?

12:30: Some dude is knocking on my neighbor's door. Loud. Incessantly. I put on my best "I will kick the crap out of you" face, open it, stare at the man, and close the door.

Mind you, my neighbors are little partiers. Mariachi music all hours of the night, people coming in and out all the time. I just haven't complained about it.

1:00 pm: Someone else knocking loudly on my neighbor's door. Yelling some name. After a minute I open it up. It's a blonde lady, a speech therapist saying she's coming to visit the little girl who's delayed. She says she's worried the pregnant mother isn't safe, because she can hear her voice but no one is coming to the door. I tell her something is up with all this ruckus.

1:30 pm: Speech therapist lady and I go to the apartment office and talk with a manager. We call the police to have him go to my neighbor's house. They go, the Mom is fine. (Apparently.) All the yelling was about the teenage brother being "sick" and worried he is on drugs. Speech therapist lady speaks with the family, and they call the cops back so they can do a wellness checkup on the son. Saved the day? Probably not. But hopefully the son will get some help.

This is not nearly as exciting in type. I'm just glad I'm moving on Friday. And going to Hawaii in a month...I'm going to need a lot of new undies for that trip.