Opinon

A little bit crazy ⁴

The other day, Scott and I were discussing a couple we know from…uh…let’s just call it a “previous life”.

Scott: I don’t know if I like them. They’re too…well…normal.

Me: Yeah…they’re definitely very normal people, but you can’t deny that they are so incredibly nice. I enjoy spending time with them.

Scott: Okay. Maybe it’s not that I don’t like them…it’s more that I feel like they don’t like me.

Me: You always think people don’t like you.

Scott: Yeah…but this is different. They’re both just so incredibly perfect. Their lives are perfect. I suppose I feel like they’re constantly looking at me and rolling their eyes. You know…laughing at all the weird stuff I do or the things I say wrong.

Me: I think it’s all in your head.

Scott: Katrina. They unfriended me on Facebook.

Me: Okay…maybe it’s not all in your head.

Scott: Whatever. I mean…I don’t really care all that much. I guess I just don’t understand people like that. They’re just so…flawless. They never say the wrong thing or make questionable decisions. They’re the picture of success and the American dream and those douchey Scott Disick pants that have the lobsters embroidered all over them!

Me: I kind of like those lobster pants.

Scott: You would. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that they’re just so impeccable and…I don’t know…boring.

Me: Exactly! I was just thinking about this the other day. I’ve begun to realize that I’m naturally drawn to people who are a little bit crazy.

Scott: I could have told you that years ago.

Me: And I don’t mean crazy in a mentally unstable way–although I don’t really have a problem with that either–I’m just talking about people who are quirky and a little bit off. You know, someone who isn’t afraid to date a nineteen-year-old gogo dancer they met online or wear a sketchy looking cheetah jumpsuit in public.

Scott: I’m the same way. Pretty much all of my friends have a little streak of crazy in them. Plus, I married you.

Me: See? It’s really not all that surprising. You and I both have a little streak of crazy…it makes total sense!

Scott: Yeah, I guess. I’m just sick of all the non-crazy people casting judgement on me.

Me: But here’s the thing: Those people act like they’re judging….but I think they’re secretly jealous. Living vicariously through other people’s random acts of craziness, if you will.

Scott: Hmmmm. Are you sure you aren’t just in denial?

Me: Think about it! How many times have one of your “normal” friends asked you to rehash one of your crazy stories to them? In my experience, those people are always fascinated with the random crap that makes my life a little bit…well…bizarre.

Scott: It’s true. They’re not experiencing those things for themselves, so they feel the need to hear about it from us!

Me: Precisely! And then they roll their eyes and pretend to be disgusted as a desperate attempt to cover the longing they have to be crazy themselves!

Scott: I don’t know if I would go that far.

Me: I would. Regardless, I’m starting to learn that life is too short not to be a little bit crazy. I don’t want to get to the end of my existence and wish I would have had the balls to compete in that ridiculous beauty pageant or publish random videos about dessert on YouTube, you know? People with the crazy gene have way less regrets.

Scott: Um…I don’t know about that.

Me: Fine. But I would rather regret a crazy decision that regret not having the courage to actually make the decision in the first place.

Scott: You know what? I’m glad we’re both a little bit crazy.

Me: Me too.

****

I’m not saying you have to be crazy to have a terrific life. Are you completely normal? Awesome! You’ll probably be allowed to run for political office one day!

(My dad still thinks I should get into politics. Uh…I’m pretty sure the things I’ve written on my public blog would definitely make that impossible, Dad.)

(Plus…someone who would make naming the chihuahua as Minnesota’s new mascot their first official duty probably doesn’t belong in public office.)

What I am saying is that it’s important to own who you are. Are you one of those orderly, normal peeps who never does anything questionable? Embrace it! Secretly, us crazy folk wish we could be more like you, sometimes.

And if like me, you have a streak of crazy coursing through your veins, don’t be ashamed! Life’s too short to ignore our urges to wear the ridiculous jumpsuit or compete in the beauty pageant for grown women! Crazy is interesting, fun and memorable. I challenge you to own your inner-crazy and celebrate your quirks!*

*Unless owning your inner-crazy involves running for public office. It’s not that I don’t think you’d be fabulous…it’s more that I don’t need any extra competition in my race to become the mayor of Smalltown.

**We are so getting a chihuahua on our state flag.

***I’ll also make Scott legally required to wear douchey lobster pants at least once a month.

____________________

Psst! I want to assure you the couple we are referring to is NOT you! I know for a fact they don’t read this blog, and probably don’t even remember who Scott and I are…despite our many attempts to leave our crazy stamp on their oh-so-normal memories.

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A lesson from the naked spa ⁶

Y’all know I love me a day of clothing-free laziness at the naked spa. (And if you didn’t know that, you can read more here. I highly suggest checking out this story of the time I was quite literally the only nude person at the naked spa. The tale is 100% true, and one of the most awful, memorable and strangely awesome experiences I’ve ever had.)

But back to the story at hand. When I found myself in Seattle last Friday with the day off from work, I knew exactly how I wanted to spend it. My sister Hayley had also taken the day off so we might spend some quality time together. And so, at the butt crack of dawn (by which I mean 10:00 am) we crawled into her 1986 Toyota and hopped on I-5 towards Lynwood. We had some naked relaxing to get to.

Hayley had never been to any spa–let alone a nude one–and seemed slightly tentative about the entire experience. I assured her she would feel right at home, and offered to pay for her day pass, just in case she didn’t end up liking it. I was more concerned about her reaction to the general spa experience as opposed to the idea of walking around naked with dozens of fleshy strangers. Hayley and I come from a family that is very comfortable with the idea of not wearing clothes.

Err…that may have come out wrong.

Let me clarify that we aren’t one of those new age families who have family meals in the buff and vacation at the nudist colony or anything. Still, I’m pretty sure one of my parents (I’ll let you guess which one) was a nude art model, and my sister and I visited our very first nude beach as elementary school students. (Perhaps this explains my desire to crash that naked resort in Mexico?) My parents have always had the very European mindset that “It’s just a body.” While they always encouraged modesty and adhering to social guidelines, we were also taught that the human body shouldn’t be something that is taboo or shameful.

Needless to say, Hayley took to the naked spa like a fish to water. (A naked fish to water.)

Olympus Spa actually requires you to remove all clothing before entering the spa facilities. Much like a traditional spa, they provide you with a few towels, and a robe to wear. But I’m not talking the plush robes and bath towels you see in staged stock photos and luxurious advertisements. These towels are thin, worn and basic. The robes are clinical mint green cotton with thin red stripes–they look oddly similar to the modesty covers one wears during an annual pap smear. In addition to the medical-inspired robes, patrons are required to wear a pale pink shower cap to prevent hair from clogging the various drains. The result is an army of relaxed, naked women, walking around barefoot in identical uniforms. Hair is hidden, makeup is absent, and there’s a serious abundance of tattoos.

“It kind of feels like we’re in prison!” Hayley remarked as we waited in line for a spot in the spa cafeteria.

“Yeah,” I responded, “A very relaxed, zen prison with lots of tea and throw pillows, but I totally see the similarities.”

“I think I would do well in prison. It feels like one giant, naked sisterhood.” Hayley added.

“Yeah…but real prison doesn’t have delicious Korean food or a 150 degree mud and jade room.” I reminded her.

“I meant I would do well in spa prison.” she elaborated.

I smiled and nodded. The fact was, Hayley had passed the naked spa prison test with flying colors. She was worry-free, comfortable, and wasn’t letting the sweaty pink shower cap cramp her style. Dare I say it, she had made the nude spa her b****.

After a lovely lunch of steamed dumpling soup and Korean BBQ shrimp, Hayley and I returned to the pool room for a bit of communal skinny dipping. We couldn’t help but observe the variety of women around us (in a studious way, not a creepy way) and comment on the incredible nature of the human body.

“It’s kind of amazing how our bodies are all identical, yet at the same time so completely different.” Hayley observed. “I love the vibe here,” she continued, “Everyone is comfortable and embraces who they are. I feel like everyone here really loves themself.”

She was right. As I gazed at the dozens of naked strangers sharing the pools with us, I couldn’t help but agree that each body was uniquely beautiful. Some women were tall, others were petite. Many sported athletic physiques while others were incredibly soft and curvy. Every shape and size was represented, and the variety of female physiques were all graceful and delicate in their own special way. The spa was a place to celebrate the individuality of one’s body–no one was ashamed or self-conscious. It was a community of pride and diversity.

“I feel like they should bring awkward teenage girls here on field trips.” Hayley remarked. “You know…so they could see that it’s really not that bad.”

I nodded in agreement. Instantly, my mind travelled back to the late nineties — my junior high and high school years. I remembered studying magazine photos of Jennifer Lopez and Britney Spears, sighing as I felt I would never measure up. While I was never self-conscious about my body as a young girl, I absolutely hated my nose. Keep in mind that my beak has been the size it is now since approximately 1991. While I’d argue that today, my nose is relatively proportionate to the rest of my features, as a twelve-year-old girl, my face hadn’t even come close to catching up to the size of my schnoz. I would spend hours looking at my profile in the mirror, desperately wishing I could afford a preteen rhinoplasty. My father, who I clearly inherited my nose from, would try his best to comfort me.

“Katrina,” he encouraged, “You have a beautiful nose. Once you’re older, you’re going to be more accepting of who you are and less worried about silly things like this. But until then, just remember that there are lots of things that are more important than your face, okay? Plus…Barbara Streisand has a large nose, and she’s one of the most beautiful women in the world!”

At the time, I didn’t believe him. (Partly because I had no idea who Barbara Streisand was.) Yet now that I’m older and wiser, I see that his words were full of truth. While I still struggle with my appearance and feeling comfortable in my body, I become more and more accepting of myself as the years pass. I can’t help but think that going to the naked spa as an awkward bundle of puberty may have been really good for me.

“You are so right, Hayley!” I exclaimed. “We should totally do that. Like, start a foundation where we bring young girls to the naked spa to make them feel comfortable in their own skin. We could call it ‘Awkward is Awesome’ or something! It’s genius!”

Hayley stifled a giggle before continuing. “Umm…I was kind of joking, Katrina. I don’t think you could actually bring young girls here on field trips. I mean, it would be cool if you could, but I’m pretty sure most schools would consider it sexual harassment or something.”

Oh. Right.

So much for being the naked ambassador for young, self-conscious tweens everywhere. Sigh.

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Gaga for blogging ⁶

Over on the Facebook page, I promised I would write about the story behind this photo today.

We almost died…and that is NOT an exaggeration.

Alright…maybe it’s a bit of an exaggeration. Still, the great Iowa blizzard transformed our seven-hour road tripped into a thirteen hour death ~~march~~ drive. The good news is that all of us (including out measly two-wheel drive Toyota) survived the journey. The bad news is that we didn’t get to bed until 2:00 am.

Also? I had to wake up extra early to teach a group exercise class before work.

This is my long-winded, extremely whiney way of saying that you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear about our slip n’ slide snow driving misadventure. I realize that this means I’m breaking my Facebook promise, and I apologize. Please understand that there is simply not enough coffee in the world to write about our Donner Party-esque drive home from Omaha last night.

As a minor compensation, I’m going to talk about something that’s been on my mind for a while as of late.

(The valuable life lesson I learned at last month’s Lady Gaga concert.)

During her performance, Mother Monster said two things that left a lasting impression on me. The first was a simple thank you to all of us in the audience. She was well aware the majority of us were humble middle class folk, who probably had to wake up early the next day and report to work. She acknowledged that tickets to her performance were crazy expensive, and expressed sincere gratitude that we had spent our hard-earned money to come see her live. Her message was so thoughtful and heartfelt…it was surprisingly refreshing to witness a worldwide celebrity taking note of the fact that $200 for a few hours of entertainment is significant financial investment.

Her second sentiment resonated with me on an even deeper level. In her own, bizarre and artistically poetic words, she encouraged everyone in attendance to simply be themselves. She challenged us not to worry what others would think, not to seek acceptance or popularity…not to follow the crowd. Sure, not everyone’s going to “get” you, like you, or want to be your friend, but who really cares? At the end of your life, embracing who you are is exponentially more important.

It’s a simple message–possibly even a bit cliché. Yet something about hearing it from a girl who had the cahones to wear a dress made of meat to the VMAs made it all the more powerful to me. Specifically in regards to blogging.

While I would argue I’m pretty good at being true to myself, I do tend to worry what others think on a nearly constant basis. Writing a public blog is essentially asking for scrutiny and criticism–something that can be extremely frightening. I often times find myself not wanting people to judge or think less of me based on the content I choose to publish. It is for this reason that I significantly filter the things I share on this blog.

(Yes…believe it or not, this is the toned down version of me. I like to think of it as “controlling the crazy”.)

As a blogger (writer? artist? creative spirit?) censorship feels inherently wrong. Yet risking relationships, public opinion and possibly my future doesn’t always seem worth it. Then again, would these things even be in jeopardy if I said “who cares?” and freely posted whatever I wanted? Am I being paranoid? Realistic? Overly cautious? Logical?

More often than not, I wish I could find the courage to be the Lady Gaga of blogging. Type whatever I want (while obviously wearing the meat dress) without thinking twice about the consequences. Miss Gaga has certainly experienced a great deal of success by being true to herself (and not caring whether people approve), but is she an exception to the rule? Does being blatantly honest, completely transparent, and just a little bit crazy always work out so well?

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. How do you filter yourself online? Do you have a policy for blogging or social media? Am I being somewhat rational, or do I need to stop being a drag and just bec a queen, already?

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Fashionably Late ³

The day after the Academy Awards feels a lot like the day after your birthday. You’ve been waiting and waiting for so long, only for all of the glamour and excitement to whiz by in a ridiculously expensive, champagne-fueled blur. Is it strange that I feel mildly depressed once the Oscars have come to a close? Maybe it’s the knowledge that I have to wait another 364 days for the ultimate red carpet, perhaps it’s realizing I’ll never make to the best (or even worst) dressed list, or maybe I’m just devastated that there will be no more Seth McFarlane boob songs.

Whatever the case may be, I can’t help but feel a little bit empty knowing it all came and went so quickly. My only glimmer of hope? Realizing that it’s completely acceptable to be overly critical of our favorite A-lister’s fashion choices for at least another five days. The hackers may have kept me a little behind schedule…but today I’m out in full force, ready to talk hemlines, hairdos and haute couture.

(Plus, being the first blogger to post about red carpet fashion is akin to Jessica Chastain making the mistake of showing up to the red carpet early on Sunday. The very first rule of fabulousness is being fashionably late, right?)

My Absolute Favorites

Jennifer Hudson in Roberto Cavalli

Jennifer is having such a moment right now. Her transformation over the past few years has been nothing short of amazing. The fit, color and sparkle of this gown are so gorgeous. I love her sleek hair and thick bangs. (If only she had chosen something like this when she actually won her Oscar. I don’t even want to think about that strange metallic jacket she donned in 2007.)

Zoe Saldana in Alexis Mabille

This may have been my favorite dress of the night. I love that Zoe takes risks and chooses unique and interesting pieces. The detailing? The belt? The layered ombre hemline? Sublime. (And let’s not forget her rocking figure.) I probably should be jealous, but instead I just want to do a celebratory cart-wheel.

Jane Fonda in Versace

You guys. This woman is seventy-five years old. She should be in a retirement home! Instead, she’s trotting around in canary yellow Versace making the rest of us look bad. I mean…she clearly has way less cellulite and wrinkles than my sorry 28-year-old self. (I think I just got inspired to pop in an old workout VHS and start doing some leg lifts.)

Charlize Theron in Dior Haute Couture

I think Charlize might just be the most beautiful woman on the planet. I still can’t figure out how they made her so ugly in Monster. This gown is sheer perfection on her — it kind of makes me want to hack all of my hair off and grow seven inches taller. (Unfortunately, I would look less like Charlize and more like Anne Hatthaway’s character in Les Mis…only chubbier and with sparser eyebrows.)

Giuliana Ranci in Rafael Cennamo

This dress is so modern and sculptural….it looked even better on live TV. I also love that Giuliana had the balls to chop all her hair off the morning of the Oscars. (Let’s be honest…her Kardashian-esque extensions were getting a little ridiculous.) Truly, my only criticism is that homegirl needs to eat a sandwich.

Stuff I really liked

Halle Berry in Elie Saab

I love the structure and sleekness of this. It pairs beautifully with her short hair and makes me want to steal her body and attach my head to it. (If such a thing is actually possible.) She looks like a diva…in a good way.

Octavia Spencer in Tadashi Shoji

Stunning and elegant. She looks as if she’s been wrapped in a delicate, ethereal cloud. (I can’t even imagine her making that poop pie in The Help because this dress is so darn classy.) I wish Adele would have worn something similar.

Jessica Chastain in Armani Prive

Beautiful. The color and fit are flawless. Her hair is dreamy and she really does look like Jessica Rabbit. That being said, I feel like everyone is doing the “Old Hollywood Glamour” thing and I would have loved to see her in something more risky.

Jennifer Lawrence in Dior Haute Couture

I’ve got to admit…when I first saw her arrive, I wasn’t a fan. After seeing a shot of her from the waist up, I may or may not have uttered the words, “She looks like a middle-aged bride!”

And then I saw the shape of the entire dress, which was kind of amazing. I also love her backwards necklace and the fact that she fell. Who doesn’t love a girl who falls during the biggest moment of her life and then just shakes it off? While I do prefer her hair darker, the fact that she biffed it on the stairs and then made a joke about it totally makes up for that.

Naomi Watts in Armani Prive

I call this “post-modern cleavage”, and am obsessed with how modern and geometric it is. So different from what the other actresses chose, and I applaud that.

Michelle Obama in Naeem Khan

FLOTUS, you never cease to amaze me. I love your dress, your arms, your bangs…and most importantly, your loyalty to J. Crew.

I also love that you not only wore the dress to present the Oscar but also to attend the governor’s dinner that evening. You could have changed…but you are low-maintenance and that’s why we adore you. (On a semi-related note…did you know her dress sparked a bit of controversy in Iran?)

Catherine Zeta Jones in Zuhair Murad

Gold and sparkly. Me likey.

Quvenzhane Wallis in Armani Junior

Two words: dog purse.

(I also love her sassy attitude. She’s like the miniature version of Tyra Banks except way less annoying, and with a much more proportionate forehead.)

Stacy Kiebler in Naeem Khan

Flapper chic. I’m not sure which is better…the dress or the man! Although George could use a shave and some Just for Men gel. Sorry…somebody had to say it.

(Side note: I couldn’t remember what Stacey was famous for–other than dating George–so I Googled her. Did you know that prior to her DWTS days she was a professional wrestler for the WWE?!)

Stuff that was “meh”

Adele in Jenny Packham

Adele…this is the same thing you always wear. You are a beautiful girl and I just want to see your arms!!

Side note: can we talk about how fabulous her hair was when she took it down for the performance?? If I had hair like that I would just walk around naked so nothing distracted from it. (After it had grown long and voluminous enough to function as “full-coverage hair clothing”, that is.)

Amy Adams in Oscar de la Renta

Elegant and pretty…but I feel like she always does something like this. Would have loved to have seen it in a jewel tone.

Kerry Washington in Miu Miu

Pretty color and nice detailing, but it kind of looks like she’s going to the Hollywood prom.

Nicole Kidman in L-Wren Scott

I feel as if I’ve become desensitized to the perfection that is Nicole Kidman. She looks absolutely flawless…but I’m not crazy about the neckline and the swirls are a little juvenile. (Keep in mind this is coming from someone with greasy hair and blackberry seeds in her teeth who is currently wearing a coffee-stained sweater.)

Stuff that we should probably pretend never happened

Anne Hatthaway in Prada

How many times do we have to tell you, Anne? Your “headlights” are not a trend!!!

Kelly Rowland in Donna Karan Atelier

I think my friend Kayla put it best when she asked why T-Boz had been invited to the Academy Awards.

Nancy O’Dell in Mark Zunino

She should just quit her hosting job and join The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills cast, already.

Maria Menounos in Romona Keveza

Miss Pepto Bismol 2013

Amanda Seyfried in Alexander McQueen

A lot of people loved this dress, but I’ve come to expect more from Amanda. The color and pattern feel too old for her, and the neckline paired with her up-do screams 2001 suburban mall fashion show.

Salma Hayek in Elie Saab

While I loved the architectural neckline, this look doesn’t work on her at all. It hides her best assets, makes her look 3 feet tall…and the hair is nothing short of disastrous.

(Again…keep in mind that this is coming from a girl who hasn’t showered in two days and is contemplating eating a muffin the size of her face for dinner.)

Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter