101 in 1001 #34: Try a foot peel.

Gang, this was so satisfying and so gross and so generally "out there" that I debated even wanting to share it BUT! I genuinely feel like it's a public service to evangelize for a minute here. 

I'm terrible about pedicures. I generally only get them in the summer, when I'm, you know, strolling around barefoot or in sandals or whatever and everyone has to look at my feet. Feet are gross, and I don't generally love letting people look at mine...let alone touch them. I always feel kind of guilty when I go in for a pedicure and it's like, "Hey, here are my feet that have been shoved in shoes and walked/run on all day and are now going to be in your face for the next hour." 

Anyway, I got a pedicure for the first time since August before my family's trip to Miami and Puerto Rico, and it was stressful and not pretty on a lot of levels. I left the salon and ended up randomly Googling "pedicure fixes," and stumbled on Baby Foot. It's this crazy cult beauty phenomenon, apparently - a literal chemical peel for your feet. After reading way too many reviews on Amazon and various beauty blogs, and clicking through dozens of equal-parts horrifying and gratifying before and after photos, I was sold. I was going to try a foot peel. 

Per the website, Baby Foot is "an innovative foot care product that will make your feet as smooth and soft as a baby's foot." The formula is supposedly all natural, based entirely on natural fruit enzymes, and works within ten days to make you shed dead skin and legit peel your feet down to smooth perfection. 

I ordered it in early March, and waited until after St. Patrick's Day to do it. With a bit of apprehension, I soaked my feet for awhile beforehand, then booted up and covered up with my very sexiest fuzzy granny socks for the requisite hour. 

You KNOW you've never seen anything more appealing than that, come on. Really pleased I've made the decision to share that with the world. 

While there are hundreds of photos of the process on the internet, I'm 100% not subjecting people to the process on MY feet. I didn't take a single picture, because, like I said, it's a bit repellent and a bit horrifying. You can Google it if you just NEED to see pictures of the process. That said, I started peeling in about four days, and was done in about eight. In that four-day window, though, I only had about one or two days of really massive peeling. I think this is mostly because I made a point of soaking and scrubbing my feet daily once the peel started working...it seemed to accelerate the process quite a bit. 

Now, ten days out from the initial application, I will say that I've noticed my feet are super smooth and in way better shape than they've been for a long time. Are they baby-soft? No, but honestly that's probably a good thing...I have noticed a few spots that are a little irritated and blister-prone in my gym shoes now, and any more peeling/exfoliation would probably have made that worse. 

Looking forward to sandal season! If you're feeling crazy, pick up your own foot peel here. Or, if this is just too out there for you, head to my 101 in 1001 and tell me what I should do next instead of grossing you all out - ha! 

101 in 1001 #45: Upgrade my iPhone 5 to a newer model.

I've been limping my 3.5-year old iPhone 5 along for...well, the last 3.5 years, and it was finally time for a change. After countless "Storage Nearly Full" alerts, random power-downs causing me to oversleep (despite a full charge), and the traumatic lack of the most current emojis thanks to the lack of upgrade space, I have officially joined the ranks of the latest and greatest. I have an iPhone 7. 

You guys, I am so excited about this. It's got 32gb of space for downloading 10-hour Spotify playlists and taking way too many pictures for this blog. It's shiny and clean and has a fingerprint recognizer that actually works. Yeah, it's a bit big for my Donald Trump-sized tiny hands, but I'll get used to it. 

My mom, dad, and I went to Target on Sunday and did a series of phone swaps...I upgraded my 5 to a 7, Jodester upgraded her 6s to a 7, and my dad adopted my mom's rose gold 6s...with a case to cover the pink. We proceeded to spend the rest of the night not talking as we all messed with our respective new tech, and it was wonderful. 

With a super cute Wit & Delight phone case in tow (the portable battery charger included says "Swipe Right," hi duh that's funny), I'm ready to go - lots of storage, lightning-fast load times, and general extra-functionality for the win. Now if only I could fit it in my pocket...

For more of my second 101 in 1001, head here. Lots to check off! 

101 in 1001 #43: Unsubscribe from junk emails.

Way to start my second 101 in 1001 off with a bang...the ever-glamorous task of unsubscribing from junk emails! 

After I did all my holiday shopping digitally this year, I found myself subscribed to a plethora of random companies' email lists...companies I would likely not be purchasing from again (looking at you, Santa Flask). Additionally, having been the principal planner of several international trips at this point, I was on random distributions from France, Norway, Iceland, Sweden, the UK, and Puerto Rico. Ummmm...awesome, but also the pain of getting emails from the English National Opera or our Norway fjord tour company was just too much to handle on any given Tuesday at the office. 

Enter Unroll.me, an app that fuses the swiping fun of Tinder or Bumble with the practical benefits of reducing junk emails. I downloaded it on one of those random Tuesdays, and went to town. 

Screenshots below: 

Swipe left! 

Swipe up! (I didn't swipe up at all. It's too different from my dating app world - whoa, Unroll.me, make me step out of my comfort zone!)

Swipe right to keep! Awwww, so fun! 

As apparent by the timestamp on my phone, the process of setting it up and getting going took all of 2 minutes. With 478 subscriptions to go through, I thought this was going to take forever and be a pick it up as you go type deal. Instead....

I was whizzing through subscriptions faster than I swipe left on Tinder when drunk. And before I knew it...

FOURTEEN MINUTES, CAMPERS. And that junk email is gone. How insanely amazing is that?! I can't recommend Unroll.me highly enough...it was such a perfect random discovery in the App Store, and saved me hours of laboriously going through my emails one by one and unsubscribing from the computer. Check it out! 

For more (and more exciting) 101 in 1001, head here! 

101 in 1001 #70: Read 25 of the "1001 Books To Read Before You Die."

Continuing on wrapping up my first 101 in 1001 before jumping into List 2...

So in almost three years of reading, I only made it through 14 of the books on the list of 1001 Books To Read Before You Die, which isn't a good indicator for me getting through them all before I, you know, die. The 14 I read as part of the 101 in 1001 brought my total to a paltry 55 books, or exactly 5%, so...yikes, I'm an imbecile. That said, I really enjoyed (most of) the choices I made...and am happy to provide some tongue-in-cheek recommendations for those of you who want to be highbrow and well-read before your own eventual demise! 

1. The Forsyte Saga, John Galsworthy: This was so Wharton-esque, but set in England. Really enjoyed the multi-generation tale of family feuding, divorce and drama. Recommend if: you’rea fan of Wharton, Jane Austen, or Downton Abbey.

2. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote: Legit so many basic bitches I went to college with had the Audrey Hepburn poster on their walls, but I had never read the book. It’s much darker than I feel like I thought it was, and I somehow never realized Holly Golightly was a call girl…Recommend if: you’re a basic bitch with a thing for pearls and breakfast pastries (or if you liked the movie!).

3. Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald: I’ve always been a huge fan of Fitzgerald, and this one didn’t disappoint. The social commentary and general depiction of louche money and failing relationships kept me riveted til the end. Recommend if: you’re a fan of “Gatsby.”

4. The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton: Like I said, I enjoy Wharton…The House of Mirth might be my new favorite of hers. New York class commentary, social climbing, and…more significantly…social falling, all at the turn of the century. Recommend if: you’re a fan of Gossip Girl, “The Age of Innocence,” or Daisy Goodwin.

5. The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway: I generally prefer Fitzgerald to his contemporary Hemingway, and this particular Hemingway left me lukewarm. I’d push a reader toward A Farewell to Arms, personally. Recommend if: you like the ocean/deep sea fishing, are a masochist, or like Hemingway in general.

6. Les Liaisons Dangereuses: I read this in French, and while it was an excellent challenge for my language abilities, I think I missed out on just how sexy and scandalous the novel is. It inspired the movie “Cruel Intentions,” and is WAY full of sex for old-school France. Recommend if: you think Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Philippe are still #goals or have a thing for Marie Antoinette and kinky rococo sex.

7. Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe: Probably one of my favorite books I read in 2016, it chronicles New York in the boom of the 1980s in all its over-the-top corrupt glory. I couldn’t put it down, and had a crazy visceral reaction to Wolfe’s writing in general. Recommend if: you loved “Wolf of Wall Street” and “The Big Short.”

8. The End of the Affair, Graham Greene: Another favorite of 2016, set in WWII England. Greene’s Catholic background and subtextual commentary on religion drew me in, but the vivid imagery and multifaceted characters in the throes and aftermath of a torrid affair kept me riveted. Recommend if: you liked “Atonement.”

9. The Power and the Glory, Graham Greene: I picked this up as soon as I finished “The End of the Affair.” Similarly beautiful writing, this time set in Mexico in the 1930s during the Mexican suppression of the Catholic Church. Recommend if: you have already read “The End of the Affair,” which I preferred. Seriously, start Greene with “The End of the Affair.” 

10. Blonde, Joyce Carol Oates: This has been on my list for years - I found snippets online and could never get my hands on a copy. Finally stumbled across an ancient one at Half Price Books and brought it to Miami with me. Couldn't put it down - the artfully-imagined inner life of Marilyn Monroe was gorgeously written. Recommend if: you think diamonds are a girl's best friend, duh. 

11. The Pursuit of Love, Nancy Mitford: I found this on a list of "Books to Read if You Can't Stop Missing Downton Abbey," which is pretty much me to a T. The Mitfords were notorious in the first half of the 20th century (and inspired the Black sisters in Harry Potter!). This story of the prettiest "Radlett" sister, Linda, and her romantic struggles was a tonic to my sad lacking-Downton life. Recommend if: you still think the sun rises and sets on Lady Mary Crawley. 

12. Love in a Cold Climate, Nancy Mitford: More of the Radlett clan, this time centered around a very wealthy and beautiful family friend, Polly, and her scandalous affairs de coeur. Recommend if: you STILL can't get enough Downton after "The Pursuit of Love" (this IS a sequel, after all!). 

13. The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath: Everyone knows Plath's background, and this semi-autobiographical roman re: a brilliant schizophrenic's descent into depression, madness and ultimate suicide is even more gripping with that knowledge. Recommend if: you're somewhere sunny and feeling good about life, because you need that to not be brought WAY down by this one. 

14. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood: DARK and dystopian tale about a future in which women have zero rights and are solely used as sex objects or reproductive vessels. I read this in December, and have to say the view of the world it depicts is pretty damn freaky. Recommend if: you're feeling a little paranoid about Planned Parenthood or your birth control.

101 in 1001 #80: Go on a date.

Planning on spending the rest of this week wrapping up my first 101 in 1001, before I launch full speed ahead into my second list...check it out here! 

As it's Valentine's Day, what could be more appropriate than talking about my love life/lack thereof? WARNING: Brutally honest post ahead here. And I'm not trying to be a downer, or to throw a pity party...just to be completely candid about some of my experiences in the last few years. Please be gentle :)

"101 in 1001 #80: Go on a date." You guys. UFF DA. 

When I put this item on my 101 in 1001 back in May 2014, I was less than a month out of a relationship that I thought I knew, bone-deep, was going to end in marriage and kids and a Millennial happily-ever-after. Looking back, the old adage “Hindsight is 20/20” proves true in more ways than one, and without my rose-colored glasses on, I can see that that was never really the case with that relationship – it was flawed, in fundamental ways that I had blithely ignored for far too long. So I threw “go on a date” on my bucket list, never really thinking twice about it…and yet, thinking constantly about it.

Now here we are, nearly three years out from that cataclysmic shit-storm of a breakup, and I’ve been intentionally silent on my love life for so long. The more-than-casual observer may have noticed this line sitting on my 101 in 1001…lurking there just waiting for me to check it off. And here’s the funny thing: I have. I just haven't bothered to tell pretty much anyone.

I’ve checked it off in so many ways. In weird coffee dates, in drinks with a maybe-not-so-friendly-friend, in torrid long-distance texting relationships that blew up in my face or never advanced off the iPhone screen. In confusing, ambiguous, best-night-of-my-life outings that require hours of dissection after the fact with my best friends. In hope, and in the complete sense of futility that comprises the flip side of that coin.

How naïve of me, in hindsight, to think that adding “Go on a date” to this list would cover the weird, stressful, what-the-fuck gamut of my love life post-Jon. I have, in actuality, very little experience with dating. Relationships, yes. I’m the kind of girl/young woman/lady who prefers the monogamous, defined, structured life of being with someone and knowing that person is with me in equal measure. Love? Yes, I think so. I love too easily and too quickly, and have learned the hard way that loving doesn’t guarantee a return on investment. But dating? No, not so much.

So what’s a girl to do? I tried Match.com for about a week, and had stress-panic reactions every time I opened it to find dozens of strangers winking and messages flying around. I picked out flattering pictures and wrote a tongue-in-cheek, charming-but-sarcastic bio…or so I thought. In hindsight, I came off like a snide bitch, and never really got comfortable with the whole interface.

I downloaded Tinder, and treated it like a game…sort of a romantic “gotta catch’em all” type deal. I answered perversion and crudity with snark and willful obfuscation. I was called a bitch, propositioned in graphically sexual ways, and generally insulted on a whole bunch of fronts. And without fail, I would freak out, delete the app, and then download it again (usually drunk) for another go. I went on a Tinder date, once, and it was a completely appalling mismatch of personalities on every fundamental level. I’ve never dipped a toe in again.

I tried out Bumble, went on a string of horrific, comically bad dates, and choked as soon as I realized I am pathologically incapable of making the first move, even over a freaking iPhone app. I did, however, appreciate the irony of seeing men on Bumble and on Tinder, and of comparing the way they presented themselves on those platforms. Definitely an interesting sociological experiment, if nothing else. 

Then there are the friends, or the friends of friends. I’ve always believed that it takes knowing me to appreciate me – I’m not generally a candidate for the “love at first sight” approach. I’ve had a few different…”things”…with people who are part of my social circle. The funny thing is, in the past few years, these things have all started over text. I’m best in text, I think. The written word is my strongest tool for seduction, which I suppose makes me some sort of smaller-nosed, less-rhyming modern-day Cyrano. In text, I am witty and charming and much more forward than in person. In person I demur and dissemble, hiding how uncomfortable I am behind a smile and an agreeable laugh.

These textual sexual romantic uncertain things, therefore, are my comfort zone. Rendered, I believe, even more comfortable by the fact that they happen at a distance – not just the distance of the phone, but the distance, in many cases, of state lines or time zones. Some have fizzled back into friendships, given enough time and space. Others took the leap into in-person interaction and absolutely exploded in my face. Still others are ongoing, comfortable in their ambiguity and non-threatening in their lack of proximity.

Long story short: I have checked off “Go on a date,” and so many accompanying subtexts. I have checked off the unwritten item “Get over the former love of your life.” I have checked off “Kiss someone new,” and then some. I have checked off “Get over the fear of putting yourself out there.”

What I haven’t checked off? The “and” behind the “Go on a date.” “Go on a date, and go on another date, and another date, until you are, as they say, dating a person.” “Go on a date, and fall in love.” “Go on a date, and find a relationship.” “Go on a date, and become half of a couple again.” “Go on a date, and fit into the societally-accepted timeline and norm for your geographical and socioeconomic bracket by hitting general late-twenties milestones.”

It’s hard, to look at those hypothetical implied line items, and not feel like a giant failure. Some kind of Havisham wanna-be hiding out in my downtown apartment with my champagne and excuses. I am twenty-eight years old, and I am alone. And I don’t know what to do about it, or whether I need to do anything about it but just keep doing what I’m doing. Every time I have tried to date, it has failed, and I’m tired of that sense of failure. What I’m not tired of is the full, rich, varied life I lead without a partner in it, and the dozens of other people who lift me up and love me and support me in the place of that as-yet-nonexistent date. Maybe, for me, for now, that’s enough, and that’s okay.

A long while ago, I stumbled on these wise words by Nora McInerny Purmort, who I have adored beyond measure for years now, and it really summed up everything I just tried to say so much better than I can, so we’re going to close with them.

“But what the heck is a failed relationship? One that ends? Nah. Those relationships did what they were supposed to do: they lived to their full potential, small as it may have been. They were mayflies: only here for a short period of time. But they weren’t totally worthless. They’re getting you somewhere, you just don’t know where yet.”