Pick So Good

I like to write. I pick my skin. I hate it. I like sex, writing about secret sex, and reading about secret sex. I rarely reblog memes.

[picksogood]

Prozac

It’s been two and a half weeks, and so far I feel nothing. I thought I would at least feel numb, but I feel nothing. I’m just waiting waiting waiting for it to kick in. For something to happen. For my mind to somehow adapt to my life. For my love to overtake all other feelings. My friend told me she loves her son more. We all love our kids, we would die for our children, murder steal and cheat for our children. But she says it unlocks the love even more. That’s what I’m waiting to see. I know I love him more than anything in the world, but I don’t know how to show it. It’s all covered up by just coping with sick kids, sick husbands, bed wetting, food making, laundry, dishes, there’s no time. Even when we just sit and play Legos and do nothing, it’s boring, I can’t focus, I don’t know what to build with Legos, and I don’t know how to talk to kids. I have nothing to say, and they sometimes babble on and on and sometimes they don’t talk at all. We played games this weekend because he was sick. That was about all I could do. It was nice. We connected. Why does he have to be sick for me to make an in road?

[picksogood]

Sometimes I don’t think I’m capable of addressing any behavioral problems my son might be having because I’m not capable of addressing my own mental health problems. I generally automatically assume that what he’s feeling is what I felt as a child or that his problems are the same problems I had as a child. I know that’s a bad assumption to make because while genetics plays a role, his experience is different than mine and his mind is unique. But sometimes I just don’t have the strength. I feel lost, and in most other situations I can immerse myself in knowledge and data. I’ve learned languages fluently, I’ve familiarized myself with policy spheres that were completely new to me. I get paid to do research and analysis, and I’m good at it. But kids are not my thing. I order books and don’t read them. I search around online. I make a doctor’s appointment. But in the heat of the moment, I just want to crawl into a hole and give up. When I walk in the door and he immediately melts down, I wish I could turn around and get in my car and drive back to work. When he cries and yells and throws things, I want to walk away and lock my bedroom door and fall alseep til morning.  I just don’t want to be around him. I don’t want to parent. I don’t know how. People who say “all you can do is give him a hug and tell him you love him” have no clue what it’s like when you’re sitting on the couch trying to do exactly that and it’s been over an hour and you still can’t do anything.  I’m a person, too. I have feelings. I have rights. He feels helpless so he has to make me feel helpless. He feels powerless, so he has to take away my power.  Now I feel completely powerless and completely helpless. Now we both sit there utterly depressed and it’s the fourth time in three days and I’m exhausted. I feel resentful and jealous and ungrateful. Why can’t I just have an easy child? Why did everyone else had a baby who didn’t have colic and who slept for more than 20 minutes? Why six years later do his eyes turn red and he yells and wants everything to be his way all the time? Why do I have to have endless patience? That’s not who I am. Why don’t I get to be myself, yet he gets to be himself? Why do I have to be the parent and he has to be the child? I don’t know what I’m doing, and most of the time I just want to scream. Sometimes I do scream. Then I feel like I’m making it worse. But I’m caged, here, too. I’m trapped. You’re not the only one suffering in this relationship. 

[picksogood]

On a day when I was feeling quite blue, I found myself replaying this video over and over. I am a former Christian music lover, and I just found these lyrics so uplifting and inspirational. I felt very lost today and this song made me feel grounded. It's not nearly enough to turn me over to the light side. I believe in humans and space and bacteria and evolution more than I believe in a higher power. But it was a timely comfort in an hour of need. And for that I can respect this artist for shedding light on a world haunted by darkness.

[picksogood]

Fuck Diet Coke.

I’m getting a 5% raise, and I’ve spent all day crying about it. 

I asked for a raise in June and was turned down. Now I’m getting 2% above the cost of living adjustment (which is 3%), and it feels like a slap in the face. An appeasement.

When you look at my job performance, I have gone above and beyond in certain, if not most, areas. I took on a few big projects this year without being asked to. I looked for leadership opportunities where there were none. I took stuff of our VP’s plate even though I’m not in a decision-making role. It was hard because you want to get things done, but you don’t always have authority to move the process along. So the fact that I was able to accomplish these tasks felt like not only professional growth but benefit for the organization. My projects directly served our members and directly promoted our cause in the media and among policymakers.

But there’s this one area of my job I hate. I’ve been here almost four years and never had to actually do it very often until this year. For three years, I wasn’t allowed to do that part of my job. Developing content and speakers for our seminars and conference. I always helped wherever I could, but the girl who did it just wouldn’t give it up. 

And I didn’t mind. I hated doing it and didn’t want to do it. And even when my boss would nudge me to be more assertive (because she personally wanted it taken away from the other girl), I literally had the door slammed in my face by our old CEO.

Our old CEO believed in me. He didn’t think it was a good use of my time if he and the other girl had it handled. He would say, nah, I don’t think you need to be in this meeting. I would get left off of emails and meeting invites. So I told my boss, look, the CEO himself doesn’t want me in these meetings, can we please get this removed from my annual objectives? I don’t want my raises and bonuses dependent on this one area that I never actually work on. 

And she finally agreed she would ask the CEO to take it off.

And then, both the girl who did the seminars and the old CEO left. It was December. Our EVP got the job as CEO.

So now, January 1 comes along, and the new CEO says, well this was always supposed to be your job so we’ll keep it assigned to you.

I never complained. I faked it as best I could. I tried to smile. I always met deadlines. I checked to make sure our numbers -- both on attendance and revenue -- for seminars and conference held steady over last year, and in fact they increased slightly. I suggested and wrote the summaries for both keynote speakers for our conference. I wrote the summaries for three panel sessions. We held five seminars this year, and the other girl had already written the first one before her last day. I wrote the other four. 

I don’t do any logistics or event planning. We have an events manager who does all the invites, hotel contracts, foods, RSVPs, travel and hotel for the speakers, all of that. I’m supposed to brainstorm the day-long topics, but we usually have a staff meeting where other people suggest what they think our members would want to learn about.

Then I write the paragraphs that describe what the topic for the day will be and what each speaker will present. It’s harder than you think, and it doesn’t get easier over time. Sometimes the the theme for the day is something I know nothing about. I sometimes don’t have any contacts with people who would be good speakers on those topics. I have to spend a few hours googling what the issues are and watching YouTube videos of people who sound like they might be experts but whom I don’t personally know.

We can’t reuse the same topics from last year, and we have to know our audience and what they would want to hear. We only allow one sponsored speaker per seminar so that our event doesn’t become a giant commercial. So we have to choose topics where sponsors will want to come have a booth and trust that the right influences are in attendance at the event. 

So apparently the CEO mentioned to my boss over the course of the year how much of his time he spent doing seminars and conference. And during our annual staff retreat, two of my coworkers observed his lack of acknowledgement that I played any part at all in seminar and conference development. 

When my boss advocated for me getting a raise and pointed out all the projects I’ve been working on, his response was yes, but. 

She and I had made a list during my annual review of all the things I’ve done that were above and beyond. And even in the area of my objectives for content development, I exceeded the baseline goals set out for me as written.

So when he said yes, but, he told her I should take more initiative with seminars and conference and that I don’t express the same enthusiasm for that part of my job as I do for others. 

He also said, “Jane” doesn’t get to work directly with the CEO. And “Sally” doesn’t get to work directly with the CEO. And shouldn’t I just thank my lucky stars that I have this wonderful opportunity to work directly with the CEO.

And you know what? I worked directly with our old CEO plenty, and he believed in me and thought I was “quickly underutilized,” and he was heavily involved in content development and didn’t think that was an effective use of my time. 

And yeah, the whole reason I wanted it taken off my objectives was so that my raises wouldn’t be dependent upon that aspect of my job. So now a year later, come full circle, and my raise feels like it’s much lower than it should be because of stupid content development.

My other observation is that our current CEO was promoted from EVP and when that happened, no one from within our company got promoted to EVP. So all year long we haven’t had an EVP or COO type position. A number two.

I noticed it frequently with this year-long project several of us have worked on. It’s inter-departmental but since no one is leading, we can’t tell each other what to do. My boss and I constantly point out that our other VP drops the ball on stuff but it’s not our place to go tell him to do his job. We have to coordinate and it’s really hard because there’s no EVP or COO to run the show. And it’s stuff that we just wouldn’t ever bother the CEO with but we feel like, hello, are you noticing how clunky this is? Our members notice it. They even wanted the Board to approve a new staff position to manage the whole thing. And I kept telling my boss she should advocate for herself to get promoted and then we wouldn’t have all this mayhem. But she said that’s not going to happen.

So if he thinks he spent soooo much time working on seminar and content, maybe: a) he underestimated how much time our old CEO spent on it, and b) he didn’t have the time to spend on it because he was busy doing a bunch of shit that our old CEO never did because he (our former EVP and current CEO) was the one doing it all the time. If you had an EVP or COO, you wouldn’t have spent so much time this year working on that stuff and you wouldn’t have felt so constrained by seminars and conference. 

Which brings me to the title of this post. 

It’s like when I worked for this lobbyist, and part of my job was to make sure the little fridge in her office was always stocked with Diet Coke. I had just finished my master’s degree, and I had to get down on the floor and get the 12-pack out of the storage closet and go in her office and bend down and restock the fridge. 

And I could see how this task contributes to the organization as a whole. Making sure the lobbyist if fully caffeinated at all times is critical to the mission of defeating and amending bad bills. 

So I stocked the fridge with Diet Coke. 

I never complained about doing it. I smiled while doing it. I made sure to get to it before it got too low so that they would always be cold. 

But don’t fucking ask me to LIKE doing it. Don’t fucking tell me that well, yes, the fridge was always stocked with Diet Coke, but you just didn’t seem super enthusiastic about it. You didn’t ask to be Director of Diet Coke stocking. You don’t seem like you live, eat, and breathe Diet Coke. 

Fuck Diet Coke, man, and fuck you. I don’t need you to placate to me with a 2% consolation prize. Don’t fucking tell me you don’t have room in the budget. We had three staff positions that were vacant the first quarter of this year, and our latest Board report shows we have a $75,000 positive variance for staff salaries. 

That’s not money set aside for something else. That’s not reserves. We didn’t lose money on other budget items this year that we need to cover for. That’s money that has already been designated for that purpose and will go unspent. It’s showing a projection of $150k positive variance by the end of the year. 

You think I’m a spoiled ungrateful millennial brat who feels entitled? Deal with it, bitch.

[downoutatx]

I am stupid. I don’t say that in a derogatory, I don’t like myself kind of way. It is more of a matter-of-fact statement about my suspect critical thinking skills. I finally had the exclusivity talk with WC because we have been having frequent, unprotected sex. Apparently, we have agreed to only screw each other, and if we do decide to screw someone new, we need to use condoms. That’s not the unreasonable, bad critical thinking part. The problem is that sexual exclusivity does not mean emotional exclusivity, nor does it mean that we are precluded from dating other people. He said - very concisely, might I add - that he likes me and enjoys spending time with me but can’t make any guarantees. I was trying to ascertain how long I have with him before me drops me like a bad habit, and that was the reply, along with a few admissions about his past relationship history, which is nonexistent. Also, he slept with his cousin’s husband’s sister. We just happened to spend Thankgiving, ACL and a Nerd Nite with her and her boyfriend, and he conveniently failed to mention that part until I ask him about our relationship status. Nice. It’s funny because I felt some sort of way about her the minute I met her. Like she was auditioning me because he cares about him. 

I am a highly sexually charged person (if you couldn’t tell), and I talk about sex openly. I check out men and women, and I am not afraid of experimentation. This a good thing in my estimation. Unfortunately, I haven’t mastered the art of emotional detachment in the sex department. I tend to think of this as a good thing; however, it would be a very helpful skill in this situation. The funny part is that I got my orgasm back after we had an honest conversation. So not only am I having sex with a man who doesn’t want to be with me, but the sex is fucking awesome now. 

We had our work holiday party on Friday. I planned the shindig at Speakeasy, a bar that stays true to its name and has a certain gritty, underground vibe with lots of leather chairs, a bowling alley and a pool table. I wore a ridiculous glitter dress, true to form, and I think the boss’s wife hates me. Way to play the “hot personal assistant’ card. Good job, me. (More of my awesome critical thinking skills in action.) I played pool with WC’s assistant against the boss’s wife and another guy’s wife, and I miraculously shot the winning 8 ball into the pocket. That never happens. WC’s assistant gave me a creepy hug, and it was then apparent that he wants to sleep with me too. What an interesting threesome that would be. Later, I told WC my concerns about his little protege, and he already knew that the other guy wants me. He said that he might have to have an awkward conversation with him at some point.  Does that mean that WC wants to lay claim to me? So many mixed messages. 

WC and I went out with a few co-workers after the party, including WC’s boss, our sexy hipster graphic designer, and the designer’s 23 year old girlfriend who I would like to kidnap for a wild threesome with WC and I (see: Unicorn). She is this sexy little blonde girl with an attitude who originated in Sacramento. A California girl after my own heart, really.  WC got a little grabby at the bar, holding me around the waist and touching my back. His boss who knows about us told me that she would have guessed our involvement based on his body language if I hadn’t already told her. In any case, she’d never seen the two of us together like that, and for some reason I feel some sexual tension around her and him and me. I am not sure what that means, but it is an interesting dynamic. After the after-party, the three of us went back to my place where we listened to music together and drank more beer. When she left, WC and I had wild, drunken sex until we exhausted ourselves and fell asleep next to one another. WC and I spend a lot of time together for two people who aren’t together. 

The morning after our holiday party, I woke up in his arms still drunk, and we decided to carry the party into brunch. We had bellinis and frittatas at Taverna on 2nd street, which has mediocre food and the best $2 champagne drinks in town. The waiters there are incredible – I think that morbid, off-color joke-telling skills are apart of the job interview process. Our waiter that morning told us that he’d like to request “Jingle Bells” as the soundtrack to his funeral and talked shit about the fake blind guy who wanders the street in front of the restaurant dancing and yelling at people. You’ve got to love a fake blind guy almost as much as you love the waiter who maligns him. It was a hilarious breakfast, to say the least. 

Over mimosas, I told WC that he’s actually my frenemy because all we do is shit talk together. The strange part of this exchange was the look he had on his face when I called him a frenemy and the heart pangs I felt when he looked at me that way. It was as if I hurt him by saying that. I carried the joke into the rest of the morning and afternoon. We went to the Google Fiber station in downtown, decorated picture frames with little kids, and took raunchy photos inside of a holiday snow globe. Then we coaxed the morning into afternoon by drinking whiskey and cider at bars all across Austin. He admitted that I tick a lot of boxes on his woman qualification list, and I admitted that I don’t believe any one person is capable of ticking every box. We talked about my full relationship history – the sordid part – and I don’t think that he was particularly perturbed. After our afternoon of drinking, we ordered espresso coffee concoctions and kissed indoors while watching the hazy, Saturday drizzle. We have a lot of fun together, and the ease with which we talk and enjoy each other’s company is unreal. It’s like he’s my person. 

Because we drank all day, I had the genius idea that we should take the molly that was left over from the gypsy caravan that crashed at my house. I thought it would be brilliant if we enjoyed the trip by walking a few miles to the Trail of Lights, a giant christmas light show in Zilker Park. Apparently everyone in the entire city decided to go to the same destination. We showed up rolling, feeling nauseous, trying not to step on any small children. We were very high and very uncomfortable in the 75 degree freak-heatwave on Saturday night. It was overstimulation at its finest, and it was terrifying. After the trail, we headed to the giant Christmas tree that was fashioned from the moon tower and over 3,000 lights hanging from the top. If you spin beneath the tree, it looks like an immersive light-up top rotating above your head. WC was too tripped out to spin, but we were both giggling like crazy. We stopped laughing long enough to share a kiss beneath the tree. It was wildly romantic. This might be the MDMA talking, but that kiss felt like everything. 

We walked back to my house after the Trail of Lights, and we were pooped after a four mile walk and a crazy night. We tried to go to sleep, but instead of drifting into oblivion, we ended up having the most mind-blowing sex of my life. I had the biggest orgasm in recent memory. OMFG. 

I drove him back to his place around 11 am today after we enjoyed breakfast tacos and espresso drinks at Dominican Joe’s around the corner. We were both wildly disheveled after our weekend of sex, drinking and debauchery. He told me that I am beautiful today, and I couldn’t take the compliment. After I dropped  him off today, I realized a terrible thing. I may be in love with him, and he doesn’t want to be with me. 

My computer battery is about to die, so this is my goodnight. Happy holidays, friends. 

[picksogood]

Haha Sacramento girls and threesomes!

Give it time. You're scared of falling and getting crushed. Maybe he's just scared of falling period. And that's why he's never done it before. Doesn't mean he never will.

Haha awesome use for the molly :) I was debating using ours for this Friday's agenda... But I'm too scared to fo drugs with strangers. Maybe for the sequel if Friday goes well.

[picksogood]

Fridays at work.

I must be the only person on the planet who doesn’t leave early even though the CEO bails by about 3 pm. What does that say about your home life when you’d rather sit at work alone, goofing on the Internet, than leave early? Usually I’ll go to a bar until 5 or so, but I’ve been sick and not drinking. Wanted to go shopping, but that gives me anxiety. At work, alone, with quiet, is sometimes the only place I want to be. And it doesn’t cost me any money. Should have brought a book today... Or my gym clothes... Yeah right, like either of those is going to happen. Guess it’s off to the bar I go, hi-ho.

[downoutatx]

Anxiety

Austin winters are strange – one day will be borderline icy, while the next will allow you to sunbathe in a tank top. This pattern is similar to my experience in Southern California (minus the actual ice), so my wardrobe is accommodating. That’s the good news. 

The bad news is that I haven’t been able to write for the past week or so, and I finally had myself a little meltdown yesterday. There is no logical explanation, and I don’t generally have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It as if all of the important moments are coming to a head - a reckoning, if you will. That’s all life is, really, An amalgam of important moments, people. I tend to push things out of my mind when I don’t want to think about them, but you can’t run from your past or your present because, well, it’s yours. I find that when you ignore things and manage to lull yourself into a false sense of security, pianos drop on your head. This is why you’re supposed to deal with issues head-on instead of ignore them. 

My friends from studying abroad in Bordeaux came to visit over the weekend. We talked at length about our lives, as girls do. It was so nice to catch up with them and learn about their realities; however, I also shared my own journey over the last five years. This was similar to discounted therapy. I always laughed at the word “trigger,” but this is a thing. Triggers exist. Talking about my past is a trigger for me. 

During my friends’ visit, I sent an apologetic message to another girl who we studied abroad with who recently lost her husband. I haven’t talked to her in 10 years, and it may have been wildly out of line. Still, her Facebook posts make me weepy, and I wanted to reach out.  

(Disclaimer: This post is going to be all over the place. My mind is spaghetti.)

In other news, my IUD seems to be settling in nicely, but “placement” was an interesting medical experience. Paragard is non-hormonal, so I can’t blame any of this influx of emotion on birth control, nor am I ovulating, which I learned is a potent reason for having feelings. Last Tuesday I went in for my placement at 2:30 pm. It was supposed to take 5 minutes, and it ended up taking 30. The nice OB put me in the stirrups and began the painful experience of placing the damn thing until the first IUD turned out to be defective. I have a high pain tolerance, and I only took an ibuprofen to mitigate the cramping. Apparently, my vaginal walls aren’t bothered by prodding, so that is the good news. During the doctor’s first attempt, she placed the IUD incorrectly in my cervix while I writhed. Then she fired her nurse while I was spreadeagle and got another nurse to join us in the room who reset the entire affair. I liked the second nurse much better. Then we began again with help from an ultrasound machine.  During the second attempt, the doctor reportedly put it in the right place, and she gave me an awesome printout from the ultrasound machine like it was a baby. Turns out, my IUD looks like a boxcar if you juxtapose it next to my intestines. My intestines line up perfectly like little wheels, while the IUD comprises the top of the little car. How freaking cute.

Fast forward to Wednesday. WC took me out for a sushi dinner at this new place in East Austin called Fukumoto. The sushi was good, and he gazed across the table at me like a man in love. Despite the fact that I had the IUD placed the day before, we went back to my place and had sex. I didn’t get off, but I enjoyed myself and wasn’t in pain. We didn’t use a condom, and we still haven’t had any  kind of grown up talk about our relationship status. That alone should be a little anxiety inducing. It is Nerd Nite again today, which will mark the third Nerd Nite since I started dating this man. We’re approaching three months, but who is counting? I am crazy about him. He knew I was having a bad day yesterday, and he offered to cheer me up. His advice was to go and get some cardio. That is the best advice I have received from a man in a long time. 

Fast forward to Friday. The girls and I went to Hotel Vegas, which is my go-to for dancing and general shit shows. WC came and met us, and I introduced him to the girls. They approved. I got very drunk, ditched the girls and went back to his place for a sleepover. I shake my head at myself a lot, but this was not my finest hour. I woke up in his arms around 5 am on Saturday, and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Damnit, I didn’t mean to sleep here. I just came over to have sex.” I’m a real charmer. I gave myself a wicked hangover and spent Saturday like a zombie with the girls. We still had fun; however, I was sober that day, and I didn’t dance when we went to White Horse in the evening. I needed a nap. 

My anxiety “episode” began when I dropped off all the friends at the airport on Sunday. Something was not right, and it got progressively worse. I don’t have anxiety attacks, so the feeling of being gripped with palpable fear was foreign to me. I put myself to bed early on Sunday because I couldn’t stop freaking out. Monday was very hard, and I went to happy hour with the girls, which did not help at all. I cried at the bar. Then yesterday was downright awful. I cried so much. I am surprised I made it through the day. I tried to take myself to yoga, but I parked in the wrong spot and didn’t have time to move the car before class. Parking downtown is the worst. I went to Trader Joe’s and bought shampoo and veggies instead. They validate. 

I went to bed early again last night and slept till morning. Today is going to be a better day. Everything is going to be ok. I am going for a quick 2 mile jog, and then I will get ready for work. One foot in front of the other. I don’t need to run screaming back to California. I am giving myself a pep talk here. I think it is working. 

[picksogood]

So I think when I’m trying to reblog on my phone it’s not working. I wrote a whole big long response to this, but basically the EXACT same thing happened to me! Total waterworks.

But think of it as being on uppers for three days straight and then coming down. Adrenaline, lack of sleep, too much alcohol, 10 years packed into 72 hours. 

I felt guilty that I complained too much and gave the wrong impression of my relationships with my partner and my kids. I missed them and got homesick and cried at the airport. Then within 10 minutes of being home with my kids, they resumed being assholes despite having been perfect little angels the whole time I was gone. 

I missed my partner so much I started thinking crazy thoughts like marriage. But 48 hours later I came to my senses and remembered, I dont’ WANT to get married! Haha.

I was actually a tiny bit relieved when I read this. I was comforted by the fact that it wasn’t just me who totally fell apart after the trip. 

I was so much fun and definitely WORTH it! But I think our serotonin levels must have gotten out of whack. I slept on an air mattress for three nights, and not for very long stretches, and ate and drank and ate and drank, and all the excitement of being out with the girls with no kids or bills or bosses or bad guys, it was just too much fun to handle :)

Our chemicals will balance themselves back out. Today’s already Friday and I’m sure by the time you read this you’ll be feeling much better. Took me a couple days to realize my response never posted :/

[picksogood]

Girling.

I keep seeing adult being used as a verb and a gerund, and while the idiomatic expression makes total sense it has just never been my problem. I’ve never struggled to pay bills on time, keep up with laundry, or excel at a job despite a bad manager. Instead, I’ve always struggled with the opposite problem: being irresponsible and investing time, money, and energy in hair and make-up.

Over the years, however, I’ve come to value and admire the girly habits developed in adolescence. While my feminism compels me to continue to admonish society for expecting young girls to focus on trivial and damaging cultural norms, as an adult I wish I had learned how to care about these things at an earlier age.

As humans are wont to do, I always shunned these girly traits because I didn’t understand them. I was a tomboy because I thought not fitting in on purpose was better than trying to fit in and failing. My best friend always had perfectly curled bangs and a perfectly coiffed ponytail with a homemade hair bow made by her stay at home mother. My mom couldn’t braid to save her life, and the few times she tried it came out crooked so I would take it out as soon as I got to school.

I was into minimalism before minimalism was trendy. I didn’t understand the need for multiple pairs of the same category of shoe. Sure, you need one pair of flip-flops, one pair of boots, one pair of gym shoes, and one pair of street shoes. When I started working, I had one pair of brown shoes and one pair of black shoes. I only use lotion on the days I actually shave my legs (which is about once a week). jewelry and accessories have never been my allies. Fake jewelry makes my ears infected, and rings and bracelets got in the way of notetaking. My purses are utilitarian.

I’m also pretty thrifty. I hate spending money on myself, and shopping gives me anxiety. Even as a kid. My mom would offer, but it was just too overwhelming and stressful. My parents fought about money a lot, so I never wanted to be a source of tension for them. I also have little fuzzy memories here and there of my mom buying me something that I then never wore and feeling ashamed that she wasted her money.

But throughout the course of my career, I go through fits and spurts of attempting to be more girly. Any time I start a new job, I vow to myself I will wear make-up and fix my hair every day. This is a new office, new staff, fresh start. I will dress for the job I want, not the job I have. I will be put together and appear sophisticated.

No one ever questions my abilities. People know I’m smart within 10 minutes of talking to me. I know this because they tell me. But sometimes I wonder if they just know I’m the smart, messy girl and then they put me in a box and fail to see my potential to fill a higher position because it never occurred to them I could be a manager or a lobbyist.

I try to break that mold with every new job I take, but within a few weeks I fall back into my old habits. I try to justify my principles with feminism, eco-consciousness, anti-commercialism, etc.

But there’s another career lesson that’s been haunting me for the past 18 months: always be prepared. The more exposure I get, the more I realize you need to be ready at all times. If you want to be the person in the meetings, or the person running the meetings, you need to be ready to go to meetings. I used to only wear a blazer on the days I had meetings. Now I sometimes get invited to meetings at the last minute. I keep a blazer on the back of my door, but it’s not dry cleaned and doesn’t always match what I’m wearing.

I used to dress comfortably for long flights back and forth from Europe. Now I’m on the 6 am flight to LAX, and you never know who you’ll be sitting next to. Dress up and carry business cards. Ask to get upgraded or to move seats. You never know when the person next to you at the airport bar or on the flight just happens to have a position open or knows someone who knows someone. And there I am with no make-up and haven’t showered just because I had to get up at 4:30 am that day.

You never know when you’ll get invited to happy hour after work and so-and-so stops by for a drink as well. I used to just keep my make-up in my desk drawer, but then people would notice I had none on in the morning and now all of a sudden at 10:30 am I have a full face of make-up.

Be prepared.

And what I realize is, most girls have known this all along. You could go grocery shopping and end up meeting the man of your dreams at the checkout. You go to the movies and bump into someone from high school. Perfect hair and make-up at all times isn’t for hot dates, job interviews, and family holidays. You look your best at all times so that you’re always prepared.

And I never really learned how to do it. I sorta did. But I don’t care, so I just do it quickly. My day make-up doesn’t differ from my night make-up all that much.

You would think someone who picks would care a lot about make-up. I see youtube videos of pickers who spend an hour and a half covering up the damage. But one will often hear me utter the phrase, “I wish I was more vein.” I’m just not. Mirrors are a trigger for me, so I generally avoid them. I can go the whole day with food stuck in my teeth despite washing my hands frequently in the bathroom. It just never occurs to me to check my hair and make-up while I’m washing my hands.

I also – and this is true for many things in my life – can’t unknow things once I know them. I know way too much about chemicals, fragrances, and other ingredients in beauty products. I try the natural ones, and they suck or they are expensive, or both. I know way too much about how the fashion industry works. I don’t buy it.

I feel disloyal to myself trying to fit in, but I feel like I’m only hurting my own career by not giving in to society’s expectations. For women, it’s very tricky. You don’t want to dress slutty, but  you don’t want to dress frumpy.

What is it about push-up bras, thong underwear, and high high heels that just make you feel powerful? I hate it, but it’s true. If feminism is about doing what you want, then who gives a shit if someone likes high heels and wants to wear high heels? Well, the truth is, she’s been trained from a very early age to want to want high heels and to want to feel powerful wearing them. But I digress.

Girling, yeah, my Achilles’ heel. I’m smart, capable, ambitious, personable, independent, and sophisticated. But I fucking hate showering more than every other day. I suck at doing hair and make-up. And I wish someone would buy all my clothes and tell me what to wear. I always wanted to be a model just so people would pick everything out and put it all together on me. I didn’t want my photo taken or to walk down a runway or be famous. I wanted someone to come in and run my life.

And that’s what people who use the word adulting often mean. No one is here to run my life. I have to pay my bills on time. I have to make sure my oil gets changed. I have to make sure the laundry gets done. I get it. I totally get it. Except no. I’m a mess in all the wrong ways. I sometimes wonder how other whether my colleagues would take me seriously if I dressed up more and did my make-up consistently. Not just when I feel like it.

One time I work make-up like every day for two weeks, and the CEO made so many comments (nothing critical or sexual, just observations that I was actually wearing some) that I just gave up and stopped doing it. Thank you for noticing and thank you for the compliment, but we don’t need to talk about it every single day.

It’s like when my mom loses 80 lbs (she’s done this multiple times). People want to compliment her on how great she looks, but they end up gushing on and on and on that my mom gets so embarrassed and actually starts to feel ashamed that she must have looked really, really bad before and not realized how bad it was if people are making this big of a deal about how good she looks now. That’s how I sometimes feel. Geez, do I look that terrible without make-up that you have to make such a big huge deal about it on the days I do wear it?

That’s not people’s intent, of course. That’s just how it feels.

Who knows? I had my annual review yesterday, and make-up was of course not one of the things we discussed. But we did discuss my career goals and my strengths/weaknesses. And my boss said I take constructive input well, which was a huge personal success for me since I’ve had previous bosses accuse me of being defensive, overly sensitive, and argumentative. So being at this job almost four years and having her say that made me feel like I’ve really grown as a person not just an employee.

But I still get that itch. That whatever my next job is, I will be the person they interviewed. I will show up every day as the person they met at the interview, not my normal ragamuffin tomboy self.

We’ll see. Have to land myself a new job first...

[blondeangelbaby]

Seriously....

Me while I’m glancing through my ask box….

I understand that if you are new to the Sugar Bowl and/or Tumblr, learning the ins&outs can be a bit of a…. learning process. But…..

How do some of these rookies even leave the house without asking how to do it first?

Damn, the asks I get make me question how you stay safe in your vanilla life!

>Don’t take candy from strangers >Don’t crawl into the strange man’s van- even if he offers you a dollar >Don’t put any metal objects into the light socket

……..

Should I continue?

XOXO, ~Angel

[picksogood]

Seriously!!! Should I meet him at his place the first meet because he has social anxiety? Should I let him have sex with me before any allowance? Yikes!!!

[picksogood]

Aghhh

It's happening again.

I have an opportunity to be a supervisor in our Florida office for two months. And my man is really against it...he's been in 'long distance' relationships before and he got hurt really badly (cheating, lies) and so when I asked what he's worried about with me going, he said "things will change"

I wish it was easy and he could say "I support you, and we will get through it together!" But instead I feel awful. I feel like I'm doing something wrong, I feel like I'm going to lose him if I do this.

I'm not sure I even want to do this anymore.

I love him so fucking much. If I lost him I don't know what I would do. I would hate myself forever if I lost him over this.

Fuck. What the hell.

[picksogood]

Aghhh

It's happening again.

I have an opportunity to be a supervisor in our Florida office for two months. And my man is really against it...he's been in 'long distance' relationships before and he got hurt really badly (cheating, lies) and so when I asked what he's worried about with me going, he said "things will change"

I wish it was easy and he could say "I support you, and we will get through it together!" But instead I feel awful. I feel like I'm doing something wrong, I feel like I'm going to lose him if I do this.

I'm not sure I even want to do this anymore.

I love him so fucking much. If I lost him I don't know what I would do. I would hate myself forever if I lost him over this.

Fuck. What the hell.

[spicysugarbaby]

Have you guys ever received your allowance via direct deposit? Is it safe?

[picksogood]

If it's more than $13k per year it is reportable to the IRS. The annual gift allowance is adjusted by the IRS every year so it might be a little higher than $13k. And if it's not a close relative, you often need a gift letter explaining where the money came from and why that person is gifting it to you.

For example when I bought my second house, my boyfriend's parents gave him some money for part of the down payment.

The house is in my name only, so the gift had to be made out to me and since they have a different last name, we needed to include in the letter how we were connected.

When my father gave me some money for part of the down payment on my first home, the gift letter was for straightforward.

If it's above the gift allowance, it is taxable income. Direct deposit not a good idea.

[cantcontrolmythoughts]

So POT SD wants to meet up at his place on the first meeting. He says he has anxiety issues with being out. Should I go and ask for half of the allowance upfront? Or should I stay? I told him that I’m not comfortable with going to his house on the first meeting but he insists that his social anxiety is bad. I could potentially lose him but I need the cash

[picksogood]

and wait wait back up a second. Half the allowance up front?? FULL allowance up front! Always. Never after. Never. Always BEFORE.

[cantcontrolmythoughts]

So POT SD wants to meet up at his place on the first meeting. He says he has anxiety issues with being out. Should I go and ask for half of the allowance upfront? Or should I stay? I told him that I’m not comfortable with going to his house on the first meeting but he insists that his social anxiety is bad. I could potentially lose him but I need the cash

[picksogood]

No do not go. Public place. Always. Do you know his real name? Never let desperation cloud your judgment. You need the cash but you need to be alive first. Not raped not murdered. Social anxiety is a classic line. Just be cautious. Bring a friend if you can.

[xostripperheaux]

I don’t like speaking about things before they happen cause I think I’ll jinx myself but I need some advice with this one.

So there is this guy from SA that I’m talkin to, I really like his profile. His allowance is set to substantial, it says he’s an investment banker and a millionaire. He favorited me so I sent him a message and he replied, told me he’s moving to my city this week and he wants to meet on Saturday. We exchanged numbers and been talkin throught text but he’s so busy and I just don’t want to let him slip away cause he’s a fine ass brother and I’m thinkin he may be my jackpot.  He doesn’t seem like the other guys I talk to on SA. So my question is how do I stay in contact with him without feeling like I’m bothering him but also keep him interested?

[picksogood]

You just gotta be patient. And be cautious. I'm "moving to your city soon" is a very classic tactic. If he's in town he'll eventually want to make a firm plan to meet up. If he keeps being vague or asks for photos, then he's playing you and is never coming to your city ever. If you can't google him, take everything he says with a grain of salt until you know for certain.

[raincitykittyy]

Can some one pleaseeee recommend a protein powder that doesn’t taste like ass?

[vancouversugarb-blog]

Vega Vanilla Protein with greens. Reminds me of cake 😍

[raincitykittyy]

I tried the chocolate one and hated it but I’ll try the vanilla! Ty :)

[vancouversugarb-blog]

Yeah, the chocolate tastes horrible. Make sure the vanilla is “+greens”

[raincitykittyy]

Thank you!

[theescortbunny-blog]

Smaller vitamin shops will gladly let you taste one before you buy!

[picksogood]

Orgain.

Also, take ANY protein powder and add regular dates and/or 1 Tbsp of unsweetened cocoa powder (the baking kind), and it will cover up the stevia (metallic) taste. Or half a banana works too. Or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract.

Never just use plain protein powder and milk/water. You need fiber. Half a banana or 3 dates or even some vanilla yogurt (probiotics) will do the trick. You want protein but you also don't want to be bloated. I pop open probiotic capsules and add them to my shakes.

also a handful of fresh or frozen spinach. Can't really taste and it's an easy way to add an extra serving of greens to your diet :)

[firstingredientissugar]

First (or third) impressions

I’m starting this a little late: I’ve already been on three dates with three different men. 

Let’s call the first guy G. G met me at Starbucks, bought me a drink, and invited me to sit in his SUV so we wouldn’t be overheard. We ended up going to his place, where he had me undress for him, felt me up naked, and gave me $100 before dropping me back at Sbucks. He was nice enough and used to doing this, and while I felt weird (he asked me a lot if I liked it and I obviously lied that I was as into this as he was) I wasn’t uncomfortable. Considering this was my first date, and I WAS uncomfortable being a stripper, that’s a pretty good sign. 

The second guy, A, was late. He bought me a bellini and gave me a ride to class in his Bentley, one hand under my skirt. He encouraged me to date lots of guys – all together, I wouldn’t even need a job! 

B, the most recent, was probably the nicest. He wanted to steal a kiss after coffee but that was all – mostly we just spent a couple of hours talking. He emailed me shortly thereafter to set up a second date, which I’ll report on when it happens. 

There was another guy, who offered to pay me $5000 per month to sleep with him twice weekly. He said he could go eight times in two hours and I gathered that he had little to no sexual experience – easy money! He cancelled our first date and never got back to me, which I think underscores my previous assumption. 

The hardest part is when they ask what I want. What am I supposed to say: “give me all your money?” I ask about previous arrangements so far. One guy I gave a number to ($2000/month) and he never wrote back, but that’s considered a low amount from what I’ve read so it might have been something else.

There’s a difficult balance: how to keep the fantasy alive while still profiting from what is basically sex work. These guys could easily hire a professional, and they choose not to because they want to believe their beautiful young mistress is genuinely into them. 

[citrine8-deactivated20160610]

Oh my god I felt like I was in a horror story reading op’s post. Didn’t your momma teach you never to get into strangers cars? Jesus I’ve been with my sd for a little under a year and I’m still on my guard when I get into his car. A mess.

[sugar4life]

OMG. Me too citrine8. I have been with two of my SDs for over two years each and I still think to myself every time I’m alone with them in a hotel room or car, “Is this the day they murder me because their wife is suspicious or they are simply done with me?”

The entire first paragraph was a full horror story all wrapped up in one… and then there were more after that. I really hope these stories are fabricated or exaggerated at least a little bit. Never let your guard down when you are living a secret life. It’s too easy to make a ghost disappear.

[sugaryvixen]

Poor girl deactivated her blog. Hope she smartened up/still is alive. 😧

[citrine8-deactivated20160610]

Oh my god

[picksogood]

I sometimes wonder if men make fake blogs and then pretend to be SBs bragging about $300 or $600 a meet as if that's fair and awesome in order for other real SBs to read it and think that's the market and drive the prices down.

Or as in the OP, to act like getting $100 for feeling you up naked, or driving you to class with a hand up your skirt for free, is all fine and dandy and these SBs should all wise up...?

Because really, wtf?! I'm so scared for some of these ladies getting in cars and going to hotels with randos they met 10 minutes ago.