December 31, 2014

An anything-but-lazy girl's guide to relaxing well: Vacation edition

An anything-but-lazy girl's guide to relaxing well

I'm milking the last of my vacation, meaning I geared down into a (quasi) washed, (moderately) unkempt but incredibly relaxed state. 

Ready to make the most of your time at home before heading back to work? Here's what I wear and do to relax well on my break:

1. Lululemon Wunder Unders are perfect because they straddle the sweatpants/leggings line so well.
2. Thick, warm socks: Laying around isn't always great for my circulation.
3. Lip stuff. You know, they get chapped.
4. A big cozy cardigan like the Kimchi Blue one Santa gave me for Christmas.
5. Zit cream. (Because you shouldn't wear anything else on your face, obviously.)
6. Books, like Yes, Please or #GIRLBOSS, for when I'm tapped out on Gilmore Girls or Downton Abbey.
7. Glasses. (Because contacts put a serious cramp in sporadic napping.)
8. A t-shirt. Maybe a men's one. I like grey ones for loafing around the house.
9. BKR. (Because drinking water makes me feel less guilty.)
10. A mug of tea. Preferably one that pairs well with the leftover chocolates I eat for breakfast.

All of these things pair well with a thick blanket (like a Parachute down duvet or anything else that begs for you to bury yourself in), a couple episodes of whatever show you're watching, and a snack. Always a snack.


December 10, 2014

Feminism: Count me in.



Treading delicately is difficult when the floor is littered with land mines.

My heart is heavy and full. An article is making its rounds on Facebook, resulting in women refusing to label themselves as feminists. I continually fight the urge to comment because it all makes me feel feisty, which means it likely won't be productive. Thinking and writing results in something more coherent and cohesive, leaving all (or, at the very least, some) of the land mines in tact.

Feminism is big and bulky. I took a Women's Studies course in university and it had everything television told me to expect: An aged hippie professor, a gaggle of militant lesbians and the token creepy guy faking empathy while leering at the woman beside him. I learned lots, including how women advocating for equal rights started long before there was a label for it.

I walked away from the class thankful for the courage and sacrifice demonstrated by the women whose stories I heard. Do I agree with everything done in the name of feminism? No. But I can't deny that my present ability to own a home and a car, to vote for political leaders, and to find protection within the law against abuse and harassment isn't the result of women working tirelessly for equality.

And I never had to do anything for it. I am unbelievably fortunate.

Sheer stubbornness keeps me from ripping off the title and rolling over, crying into my pillow about how the word has been used in ways I don't like and how it's all just not fair. Nah. No thanks. I'm quite content to stand here – even if I'm all alone – and say how thankful I am for what has been done and acknowledge how much more needs to happen.

(Yes. There are still discrepancies. And inequalities. In so many ways.)

For the sake of our daughters and sons, or nieces and nephews, let's not worry about the trivial stuff. Hashtag movements are nice, but they don't last. Let's keep praying and advocating and working to remind ourselves of where we've come and how much further we've left to go. Because both men and women carry figurative weight, unrealistic expectations and impossible demands.

You know, what she said.