PERSONAL BLOG

Dear Reader, Some people want to make love in the club, I, on the other hand, want to eat bread in the tub. You see, I’ve had a long standing love for bath time. And, just last year, I found out that Tina means tub in Latin America. This was equally traumatizing (Tubby Tina - a childhood name) and radically cool (because I love baths). So, as we gather here today, I need to ask you … Have you ever eaten in the bathtub? I have, and I love it. Frankly, I do it for 7 year old Tina - above. 1987 was rough, but my 40’s don’t have to be.

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Dear Reader,

This week I did something groundbreaking. Well, groundbreaking for me. I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks. Ok, I didn’t buy just one pair, I bought two because - well - one for walking and one for ... Everyone needs a toggle strategy when it comes to frequently used items. Look at Carrie and her Manolo Blahnik’s on Sex & the City? I’ve just met my flat and more functional match. I dated someone (many times) who was into fashion and appearances. He wasn’t the first, and there were others along the way. But upon expressing my desire to buy Birkenstocks, Jim said that I should not buy them because “They are ugly.” And you know what?

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Dear Reader, Bodies and minds are strange. Aren’t they? We have them our whole lives yet it seems it can take a lifetime to become familiar with them because they have a peculiar way of overshadowing our heart. Our real center for progress. I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to do hard things. Especially things that we’re scared of. But, at this point, I know that we find growth in the space between “I will never” and “I am going to do this.” Discomfort is a sign of growth and if I kept saying never, I wouldn’t have experienced the gratification and learning that has come with yoga and eating cake in peace.

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I am feeling strong mentally and physically, but it’s my heart that has expanded and benefited the most in the last year through having a dedicated yoga practice. That you cannot see in a photo, but it’s something that I feel everyday as I write and look at the world so differently than I used to. I have chosen, now, to show up every day to my life in a new way. The mind and heart, together, allow us to live. And it turns out that we have these temporary bodies not for admiration, perfection, vanity or to be validated by a partner, relationship, or otherwise. We have these bodies as a gift to be treasured and respected while we’re here.

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*This piece was written on June 5th 2024 and was published on June 8th 2024 because I do not have an editor or a team. I am just one woman with a lot of emotions, grammatical errors and long winded sentences to work through.
[…] and while food was and is the heartbeat of our family, emotions have made this relationship even more complicated. Unlike drugs, alcohol, sex or shopping - things we’d much rather live with than live without - we can manage without them. We can give up drugs, alcohol, sex and shopping. Food is a basic need. I can’t give up food, quit eating or feeling - so I have learned, and am still learning, to live in a delicate balance of understanding. I live in a delicate balance for my father, for my well being, for my freedom from food - to simply love it in an unattached way. 

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Thank you. Thank you to my heart, which cannot be seen in this weird collage. You have carried me, especially over the last two years. My smile is a reflection of you. To my gray hair, you are the beautiful passing of time; a silver song with strings of light that dance on their own - apart from all of the other strands. You help me stand out. To my arthritic feet and knees, you won’t stop moving. Every day you surprise me with your ability and stamina, with a grace I didn’t even know you were capable of. To my skin, scars and stretch marks, you have a great story and you’re also not your story. I want you to remember that.

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Dear Reader, This week, once again, left me hot and sticky. Hot and sticky like a dumpling in a steam basket. On Saturday, doughy and perspiring, I stood in my kitchen cooking in my underwear for the better half of the day. I unwillingly put on clothes (it’s been too hot to think about actually getting dressed) to celebrate my mom’s 74th birthday dinner on video chat. We ate dinner, had dessert and sang happy birthday over the course of two calls. It was virtual and beautiful. After the day’s events came to a close, I was left hot and sticky with a side of tears.

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In two short days I will turn 44 years old. Officially mid-life and taking much into account. 44 is known as the number of death in Chinese numerology; while if you add 4+4 together - you get 8. And, go figure, 8 is a lucky number in Chinese numerology. We, as humans, with a logical and emotional brain, can choose to look at things as we desire - from a positive or negative perspective.
In my 44th year I decided that I am not choosing death but, rather, rebirth. And I am choosing to let luck find me along the way. May the old parts of myself that no longer serve me or anyone else fade and pass on so new life, love and opportunities may enter.

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If I had to give a name to the era of my life, I’d be in the carbohydrate, chai and romance period. I think this phase of life begins for a woman when she’s been on her own long enough to know she can trust herself and her decisions. Of course this period only arrived for me after approximately 18-25 years of terribly toxic decisions (usually involving men), low self-esteem, long days of corporate work and half a lifetime of retail therapy.
And, of course, there’s the childhood trauma that existed before that - but we won’t get into that right now. 

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Dear Reader, It has been 686 days since I’ve had sex and 339 days since I’ve been kissed. My last experiences with romance and passion left me vulnerable and, honestly, I’m still learning to trust myself and my decisions again. This countdown is coming on the heels of my birthday and turning 44 in t-minus 9 days. This is quite an opening statement of truth.  I hate math. But this is the math that sometimes happens in my brain.

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1. Buying yourself flowers

2. Taking yourself on a solo coffee date

3. Having an entire cafe to yourself on a Sunday afternoon for your solo coffee date

4. Feeling sweat roll down your back in a loose sundress

5. A day without wearing a bra or underwear 

6. Not wearing make-up and showing the world what your face looks like naturally

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Call me crazy, but I’ve always found breakfast to be exponentially more romantic than dinner. I am, now, wholly sure, after 23 years of dating that the way to my heart is to invite me to coffee or breakfast. To date, my longest relationships have been with myself, girlfriends and family. We’ve always had breakfast together, so there must be something to it, right? 

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