Be Body Confident


I thought this was an ever so cute reminder to love the skin you are in. Your body is amazing in it’s own way regardless of what magazines or the media tells you! You are lovely just the way you are. Please stay that way!

Loads of Love,


For the Love of the SEC


If you didn’t already know, I am indeed southern. There are several things southerners take pride in. Good food, family, traditions, country music, pickup trucks etc. Of all of these things, the one thing southerners take the most pride in is the SEC (Southeastern Conference, for those who don’t know.) Every Saturday you can see the banners, shirts and other paraphernalia announcing to the rest of the world whose team is whose. Some love LSU, some are Bama fans, others like Georgia and of course the Volunteers.

If you ever meet a southerner and you actually have a preference in the SEC, it would be best to avoid that subject like the Black Plague. It’s like discussing politics at the dinner table. Why? Because that person will most likely hold you to your opinion for the rest of your miserable life, especially if it is ‘their rival.’ I have seen multiple fights break out just because of two people loving rival teams. Face it, southerners take football very seriously.

Any time college football is on, every southern man shifts his complete focus on the screen without a single notion of what is going on in the world. You could smack him in the face with a bucket of fried chicken and he wouldn’t even flinch. For some reason, unknown by females, they manage to sit, scream, cry and shout their way through four quarters and even waste more time watching the highlights of the game they just finished watching. He didn’t have the same reaction when he was watching The Notebook, I’ll tell you that much.

To be honest, I don’t believe I know a girl who actually loves watching football as much as men do. For the most part, girls pretend to like teams in order to win the favor of the southern gentleman they have feelings for. (You see, if you pretend to like the same team he does, he will hopefully notice you…maybe…not really…well, it was good in theory, I suppose.) In all reality, women mostly see football as a bunch of smelly men running around like idiots trying to catch a small, strangely shaped piece of leather. (The uniforms are pretty nice though if you catch my drift.) Do most girls know football terminology? Uh, no. All we know is that when the man we love is crying and shaking his fist at the TV, something is going horribly wrong. Better get out the Kleenex box. It’s gonna be a long night.

So that is basically what goes on every Saturday in the south. The boys of fall suit up and head to the field where thousands of screaming southerners await the kickoff. It’s a tradition I am sure that will carry on for many generations to come. And to be honest, it’s really not that bad.

Loads of Love,

Just Hold On


I seem to have hit a bump. A bump that has put me in a slump. (Funny sounding rhyme not intended, mind you.) It seems things have been piling in giant heaps and they are threatening to swallow me up.

It’s sort of a scary feeling. Slowly I begin to meet my demise. Strangely, although it happens so slowly, it actually is coming to pass so quickly.

It’s as if I am on the merry-go-round as a child again. (Except when I was little, it didn’t give me such a headache. And it has become more nauseating than fun.) Everything is spinning and all I see is a rush of colors and fragments of sounds. I try to stop, but I know I will fly off into oblivion if I let go of that metal paint-chipped bar. I cling with all my might as my knuckles fade into pallor of white. I feel my eyes trying to focus on one object. Only one. That is all I want. But I simply can’t. It’s moving too quickly.

That is where I am at this point. I believe everyone gets this way at some point in their lives. (At least I hope, because if this is not the case, I am a case.) It is easy to want to give up during times of stress, but I am trying to tell myself to just hold on. Merry-go-rounds have to stop eventually. Eventually my feet will touch ground and I will regain my lost balance. Soon enough my eyes will be able to focus on whatever I wish without thought of them flying out of my head. My hands will regain their color as will my panic stricken face.

I will survive.

And if you are on a merry-go-round, you will too. We just have to hold on until we can let go. Just keep holding on. It will get better! Just try to enjoy the ride if you can.

Loads of Love and Support,

Oh to Be a Lady


When she walks in a room, everyone takes notice. She doesn’t have to announce her arrival or proclaim who she is. She gracefully moves her way through crowds with a soft smile and a friendly glance. She knows what to say and when to say it. She loves openly and gives her all in everything she does. She makes sure others are tended to before she is. She lends helping hands and is a constant companion. She helps put together broken pieces and holds them in place with her careful hands. She listens to the wise and learns from them. She is beautiful inside and out.

She is a lady.

(And no, not of the Gaga variety.)

That is who I want to be. I want to be so beautiful inside that it glows from the outside. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of the thing. Thoughts of royalty and grace swirl in my head when I hear the word.

I have had the privilege to meet a few ladies in my lifetime, and I am truly in awe of their love and composure in difficult situations. It takes so much courage and restraint to be a lady. It is not easy to be selfless and live to help others. I find myself many times focusing on the girl I see in the mirror and trying to please her in any way I can. A ‘Me’ mentality can get you what you want, but it won’t get you what you need.

These women make marks on the world that will last forever. I want to be one of these women. They are truly heroes in every way.

Lots of Love,

Breaking Bad (Habits, That Is)


We all have them. Those dirty little habits that make us go cross eyed and crazy any time they pop up their nasty heads. They can range from gossiping, oversleeping, laziness, bad spending etc. Mine tend to be of the food variety. If you put a chocolate cake in front of me there are no guarantees your fingers will have enough time to make it out alive.

I sometimes claim that I can overcome my said addiction with ease and then the food starts talking to me. I start smelling chocolate chip cookies baking in the kitchen. Suddenly, all of my thoughts are channeled on the sweet smell of soft cookies cooling on the counter. It’s as if I have never tasted sugar before and I must sample it in order for my dull and miserable life to be complete. They sing their siren song and lure me in ever so slowly.

That’s it.

A little more.

Nothing to see here, folks.

Just whistling through the kitchen, minding my own business.

And…pounce. Out comes the Cookie Monster.

*Suddenly the kitchen is filled with the sound of chomping teeth and screaming cookies.*

Yeah. It normally ends that way. Once the beast has been filled, out marches the guilt trip along with the oath that I will never again touch, smell, sample or even lay eyes on another cookie for as long as I live. (My fingers must be crossed behind my back when I make this obscure pledge…) Defeat is written all over my face and I slink back to whence I came with my tail tucked between my legs.

The fact is that these little habits may seem harmless enough, but they are actually preventing us from reaching our full potential. The good news is that bad habits CAN be reversed. The bad news is that no one has found the easy pain free way of doing it.

Bad habits are simply our way of making a short term decision. When I chose the short term affect (which allows me to stuff my face with multiple cookies while watching reruns of the Golden Girls) I instantly satisfy my craving. And everyone knows that when you eat chocolate chip cookies, you must have a cool glass of milk to wash it all down. (It’s like the law of gravity. Don’t question it, just know it exists.) Seems harmless, right? But soon enough, my jeans magically shrink…along with my shirts and various items of clothing. The dryer must be messed up or something…

On the other hand, if I chose to wait and eat a cookie when I have actually ‘earned’ one, I get to keep my dignity and my waist line. Win win. I then get a boost of confidence because I have defeated my addiction and I feel as though I can wrestle anything I come into contact with. (Except grizzly bears. Let’s not get too carried away. They have claws…big claws.)

So if we can conquer our little habits, we can actually become better individually and feel like super heroes. (Just without the spandex, please. No spandex.)

Maybe you have some ideas for reversing bad habits. I would love to hear them! (Please, do it for the dessert community. They are at their wits end.)

Loads of Love and Best of Luck,

So, Who Am I?

be yourself

The big thing nowadays is knowing exactly who you are in this big colorful world. Sometimes it’s easy to look around and get sidetracked by all the bells and whistles other people flaunt for everyone. That causes you to ask the question, who am I? Where do I fit in?

Personally I don’t really like “labeling” people as preps, hipsters, emos etc. because when you think of labels, you start to see that person as a general definition instead of a human being. (On top of that, if you are anything like me, I like to switch things up when it comes to my clothes. With me, you never know what you are going to get because it all depends on my mood that morning. My closet is a mix match of happiness and I love it!)

We all feel, think, do and say the same things. The only difference is our outward appearance. Some people (*cough cough* me) prefer oxfords while others like Nikes. Some people love graphic tees and others love button ups. What’s the difference, you ask? Only fabric, really. They are all people and they are all individuals.

So the question remains, where do you fit in? Well, the real answer is that you shouldn’t. Let me explain. If you fit in with someone else, you destroy your uniqueness. Once you conform to others, you lose the awesome person that you are to be a clone of someone else. After all, no one can play air guitar like you, or bake a triple layer chocolate cake that would put Julia Child to shame. And your postcard collection is second to none!

Who are you? You are that awesome guy or amazing girl that can never be replaced. You are not a label, you are a movement. You are amazingly unique and no one can replicate it. You are the cat’s meow, darling, so please stay incredible and be yourself. Besides, the world is full of clones. We need more individuals!

Loads of Love,

Worth A Thousand Words


I’m not really sure why, but this painting by Norman Rockwell caught my attention. I feel like I can relate to this girl. Out of the hundreds of pictures I have seen, this one made me stop and think. Norman Rockwell is by far one of the best artists of all time (in my limited opinion) and he has many popular pieces, but for some reason I just feel a connection to this piece and I thought I would share it!

Loads of Love,

Lazy Day


Today is wonderful. It’s a lazy day. This means I get to wake up whenever I am good and ready and no one is expecting me to be anywhere. I shuffle to the kitchen for breakfast and no one can tell me that cake is not “breakfast food.”

You know what? Cake is happy people food. I am a happy person, therefore I eat cake whenever I like, thank you Mr. Dietician. After the cake and whatever other things I have managed to stuff my face with eaten disappears, I head back to my room to look on my laptop.

Ah, I have an email, or 541 to be exact. They have been sitting there for a while… Maybe I should read them… Nah, it’s my day off. Reading junk emails is simply not for me today. After all, I just ate cake so I am in a fabulous mood and seeing all those nasty things would just drive me up the wall. Let’s find something more pleasant.

WordPress! That’s it. That makes me smile. Finally, I am home!

*untold amount of time passes as she peruses through her reader*

Well, I guess I need to do something productive. Hmmm.

*looks around room for inspiration*

Oh, my record player looks dusty… You know, if I play some vinyl, it will cause some of that dust to fly right off…maybe. (We all know this is an excuse to avoid dusting, but my sugar glossed mind doesn’t care much about cleanliness at this point.)

*multiple records and several hours pass*

Well, that was fabulous. I need to do that again some time.

I should probably find something to do now. My closet may need cleaning. That’s what I’ll do!

*picks out random shirt*

Wow, I haven’t worn this in a while! I wonder what it would look like if I paired it with this pink lipstick.

*multiple outfits, several shades of lipstick and lots of forties songs later*

That was fun! I haven’t played dress up tried on those clothes in forever. I should probably clean all of this up.

*looks up at the ceiling as if by magic the perfect decision will fall out of the sky*

Well, maybe I shouldn’t. I’ll save it for later.

Now, I am getting hungry. I wonder if I finished that cake for breakfast… I guess I’ll soon find out!

Lots of Love and Laziness,

For the Love of a Dog


In my opinion, every person must own a dog at some point in their life. A dog is the purest form of unconditional love known to man. He doesn’t care what you look like, say, do or feel. He is constantly by your side looking up and trying to read your expression. He cries and wails when you leave him and shakes uncontrollably in excitement when you come back. Even though you feed him the same kibble every day, he eats it up as if it is the best thing you have ever given him.

You can sit in a chair and soon expect him to jump up and take up over twice the space necessary for his small furry body. In turn he looks up at you and sighs with contentment and places his weary head on your inviting leg. He could sit there for hours. Possibly even days just watching the world go by without a single care.

He listens to you when you tell him about your hard day and he licks your hand in agreement. His neck catches all the tears you cry as you hug him and tell him you have had enough. After all of that is said and done, he gives you a look of adoration and you feel as though you can carry on. He begs for forgiveness when he has torn something up and refuses to make eye contact until you accept his apology.

No matter what, he loves you. To everyone else you may not mean much, but you are literally his world. You have hung the moon and the stars and he simply wouldn’t have it any other way. He is the best friend you will ever have, yet he will always see it the other way around. There is not much worth trading for the love of a dog.

Lots of Love,

There’s No Place Like Home


Dorothy had it right when she coined that famous phrase and clicked her ever-so-fashionable sparkly red heels and transported her way back to Kansas. It seems that often times we are transported to a different “world” full of evil flying monkeys, horrible girls who want to steal our shoes, people without brains/hearts/courage that often surround us and rulers that are not what they seem. As soon as you leave your doorstep, it seems as if the rest of the world is purposely trying to push you down. (Unfortunately, the real world does not break out in a musical number when they have something important to say. Wouldn’t that be awesome? And slightly annoying?) Everything seems so topsy turvy and strange. All we want to do is simply run back home and lounge on the couch covered in candy wrappers watching reruns of Dance Moms. (Maybe that’s just me…)

But the point is there is simply no place like home. Home is the place where you can wear those nasty ketchup stained sweats and not feel as though someone is judging you. You can have your hair in a messy nest ball thing on the top of your head without a trace of makeup on your face.

Home is where you can listen to your favorite records and dance (or convulse, if you are like me) to your heart’s content with only your stuffed animals as an audience. I think I am going to have to stop doing that though. I think it scares them.

Home is also the place that you know where all the food is (or the lack there of). I simply hate being at someone else’s house knowing that I can’t freely partake of what is in their cabinets. This may be strange, but if you haven’t noticed by now, I am probably not your average person.

Home is the place where you know just how awesome your bed feels and you know all the sweet spots on your mattress. Something about a hotel bed (no matter how cushy) never seems as comforting as my pink-lined worn nest. The difference is incomparable.

Granted the food, furniture and other belongings may be great, but the people inside the house are what make it a home. Without the people we love, our home is only a storage place with a lot of insignificant furniture. Without the people that aggravate us day in and day out about doing our share of laundry, our lives would be empty. Even though we all rub each other the wrong way at times, we all make up a system known as family. Without family, there is no home. And for that, I am thankful beyond words.

Loads of Love and Poor Dancing,