Freestylin\\\’

Apparently, CBS (see cbs.com) went genius and now offers free viewings of Bevery Hills, 90210 and Twin Peaks. This has gotten me addicted to 90210 reruns, a show that I was not allowed to watch when it debuted — not until its third season or so. Fashion has certainly come full-circle, because I’m sure that I could assemble all of Kelly Taylor’s outfits from an American Apparel store.

Just in time, too, because in a couple of weeks I am going to be attending my 10 year high school reunion. Which of course, brings me to the all-important question of “What do I WEAR?” If it weren’t enough to decide what bad ass frock I’m going to flaunt with my growed up self, the theme is all white.

You heard it.

In a word, disastrous. The last time I bought a dress for an all-white party, I got to sail around Manhattan on a boat. It was pretty stylish, but what happened to the dress isn’t: It know has interesting brown spots all over it. Coffee? Bailey’s? Who knows.

The other thing is: hair. A few entries ago, I was pining over pixies — which is totally the crop of choice among the truly fashionable. Being the most stylish also happens to involve a set of nerves that throws being self-conscious out the window. Today, after watching my friend, J, look extra awesome with her Melrose Place “Jane” hair, it definitely gave me the courage to cut my hair ala our favorite Beverly Hills shoplifter, Winona Ryder.

This look definitely would have shocked my fellow graduating class, since I had hair down my back throughout high school. My style has also changed into a Nylon Magazine meets Redbook kind of deal, when I used to wear baggy clothes and random snatches from my mother’s hideaway vintage back in the day.

High school is usually a horror story for most people, and I definitely survived through some nightmares. It usually involved boys, best friends, or family. In all, I had a great group of friends from all over the cafeteria lunchroom. I was charming, witty, and a tad bit Brenda Walsh dramatic. There was no Luke Perry for me yet back then, however (not until my co-workers at the indie video store during my college days). It was either the Zach Morris look-a-like in my chem class (whom I would date for five years! By the way, uber-long high school relationships are way overrated — I wish I had the mindset to date more back then) or the Mos Def-esque prince who was a little older and where my heart truly was and stayed for many years, especially after hearing him read a piece that was inspired by the movie Leaving Las Vegas

If you asked me in high school what I would be doing now, the first thing I would have said still remains true: I live for writing. All the rest? Although I wound up with a guy I went to high school with, I didn’t even see him after high school until I was 26! I have a son, although I thought my blooming career would not allow for kids until post 30. You never would have heard me admit to wearing slim/skinny jeans — and I definitely would have had my license by now!

I’m infamous for an article I wrote about pity dating. I still have people coming up to me and telling me how it changed the way they communicate. Many men will not like what I am about to write because they won’t want to admit that this has happened to them with a girl they thought had the hots for them, and probably a few women will be too ashamed to admit that I’m right. However, the truth is that I’ve seen it time and time again, especially with women who are in their early 20’s or new to the dating scene. I wanted to bring it up because of a frustrating exchange with a co-worker in a relationship who didn’t want to admit that she was in a relationship to a guy who was asking her out, even though she was not interested in this guy!

You run into the weird term “chillin’” or “doing something together” or “hanging out”. And I’m not talking about your boobs. Let’s say a guy uses the term “hang out”. In comes your selective hearing: If you do like him, you want to translate it into a date, but if you don’t like him, you want to translate it into something very platonic or “Oh, he just wants to be friends! I like having friends.”

I used to “chill” and “hang” with guys I had no romantic interest in whatsoever, but it turns out I was a bitch and leading them on. I’ve seen this happen again and again in so many instances. A guy will ask for a girl’s number at the bar, she doesn’t want to be mean, so instead of being real about it — she either gives him her number with the intention of ignoring him if he calls or tries to “buddify” the potential date by saying they can hang out “in a group” or “with friends”. Guess what? That’s still leading him on! Guys suffer from selective hearing, too. Many of them will interpret that as, “Oh, we’re going on a group date.” Or, “Oh, she likes me, she wants to hang out.” Also, don’t lie and say you’re in a relationship if you’re not. It’ll either get back to them, or the person you’re interested in will find out and think you’re in a relationship when you’re not.

Ladies, word of advice: Keep it real. Don’t lead the poor guy on. If you’re not interested, just say, “I’m not interested.” Do not be afraid of hurting someone’s feelings. How big of an asshole would you feel like if a guy felt sorry for you and gave you his number and you called and didn’t understand why he wasn’t calling you back? Exactly.

I’ve gotten into so much crap for this. My problem was that I sincerely just wanted to be friends in most cases. So I’d just fool myself into thinking that the guy got the hint, but really, he didn’t.

Also, try not to get tricked about giving your phone number or email out if you really don’t want to. If you want to, then go for it, but if you don’t then don’t. Just say, “No thanks.” That’s it. If you get called a bitch then obviously he’s a controlling jerk and you don’t need friends like that anyway.

My friend, J, kept looking at her phone the other day and telling me, “This guy I’m not into keeps texting me.”

I asked her if she told him she’s not interested. She said no.

I mean, yes. Technically, people are supposed to know that if you don’t reply to their messages, you’re not interested. Honestly, I can spare five seconds in my day for someone I have a crush on. Unless I’m playing a game, which is stupid — game playing is for middle school. In reality, however, many people live in the same place. And that’s (drumroll please):

DENIAL.

They will rationalize that the reason you are not calling back is because of A, B, or C. And you will keep getting those unwanted texts.

In some cases, however, I wonder if, even though the texts are from an unwanted suitor… are they actually unwanted?

I remember running away from a guy in order to avoid him. But secretly, did I like it that he was stalking me because he was giving me attention? Even though I hated his guts? Sometimes, that’s the case, too. And why would I be interested in what he’s up to or who he’s dating after I’m not the obsession anymore? That actually didn’t happen (me wondering about him). But it is a pretty nacissistic an conceited attitude.

Point being: Be real. It’s one of the most attractive qualities in a person — being genuine, honest, and being able to carry that without coming off as a snobby bitch. This is after over a decade of dating, and it’s very valuable advice.

I bought a pack of Camel Lights with the coupon my friend gave me at the same time that I bought the pregnancy test that told me that I was pregnant with my son. I smoked my last cigarette on my way to the undergraduate library, where I peed on a stick in the public bathroom. A couple minutes later, I read the strip that took a second of denial to decipher. Then I threw my pack away with the test that read “positive” and walked to work, my first non-smoker walk in a long time. It was a very lonely walk.

Rarely do you hear about people picking up smoking in their mid-twenties. I had been a preachy non-smoker ever since I learned about cigarettes. I had never, ever been able to understand why people would voluntarily inhale cancer. Stop while you’re ahead. That sort of addiction was foreign to me. I had friends who smoked, but I refused to date smokers.

Then I fell in love with a smoker. I never smoked while we were together. After that relationship, in a self-destructive way, I inhaled my first cigarette (an American Spirit blue — very super intense) and loved it. I loved smoking. I loved coffee and cigarettes, I loved beer and cigarettes. I loved getting to sit on the smoker’s bench. There was this whole smoker’s culture that I embraced. The social aspect was so interesting — sitting at a cafe, having people ask for lights or to bum smokes, it just sparked this whole new range of conversation that was amazing to me. I loved the ritual of rolling my own cigarettes by hand. I could write an entire article about how much I not only loved smoking, but everything that came along with it, including the stench.

Then… I got pregnant. I had to cut it out of my life. I had never attempted to really quit before — I had managed to cut back to a cigarette a day, but I never wanted to quit.

To support me, my boyfriend quit when I did. It was way harder than he’d expected. He caved in a couple of times. He would do push-ups when the cravings would come back.

After my pregnancy, he continued on as a non-smoker. He does not want our son to associate him with smoking. It’s not just about not smoking around our son, but even anything else that has to do with it, like a smoke break, or even smelling like cigarette smoke. He also thinks about what a gross and nasty habit it is, and how much harder it makes any physical activity. Once, after being tempted post-second drink, he looked at a picture of our son on his cell phone to get him past his craving.

I asked him if he considers himself a non-smoker or if he is just on pause for right now — waiting for the right time to start up again. He told me his mentality is that he’s really quit.

I’ve had cravings to smoke many times, but I never do. Mainly, I know that it would be horrible for my son because I am breastfeeding.

My problem is that the cravings are getting stronger now. I talked to my partner about it and he asked me about when I start craving cigarettes. Lately, it’s been when I’ve been feeling particularly stressed, anxious, nervous or lonely. It gets unbearable sometimes.

When I say it gets unbearable, I feel like only a handful of people may know what I mean. My partner flies away for four days out of the week because he has to commute out of state for work. I am stuck in a town I mostly hate — without any close friends left. They’ve all moved to NYC, which is a shattered dream for me. The rest of my friends are either very single or very young, or both — meaning I’m hard to hang out with because I have a kid and I can’t really go anywhere that easily.

My partner suggested that I get through these difficult times by doing another activity that will relax me the same way smoking a cigarette will, and that activity for me is writing and has always been writing. It’s actually a brilliant idea. I thought I could either write here or write letters to long lost friends.

The advice given to mothers who are having trouble quitting smoking is that a mother should keep breastfeeding instead of opting for formula. According to kellymom.com, breastmilk will provide immunities to the effects of secondhand smoke on babies. They become more susceptible to infections and diseases. If a mother decides to continue smoking during pregnancy, she should cut down — 20 cigarettes a day can increase risks. Do not smoke before or during breastfeeding, instead smoke right after to decrease the amount of nicotine that will pass onto baby. It takes 95 minutes for half of the nicotine to get out of your system.

Dr. Lisa Amir, in a review published in 2001, concluded that “Although there is consistent evidence that women who smoke breastfeed their infants for a shorter duration than non-smokers, the evidence for a physiological mechanism is not strong.” That means babies of smokers who are weaned faster than babies of non-smoking moms aren’t necessarily weaned faster because of the smoking — it could just be problems with “poor lactation management” prevailent in smoking mothers. That’s actually a study I would like to read about.

The best bet is to just quit. I actually kind of hate myself for reading that website because now it is even more of a temptation for me. I have to use this whole new mentality for not smoking. It’s definitely easy for non-smokers to preach about how nasty cigarettes are and to use bully methods of communication, which I feel are the least effective. I’m obviously still an addict. I haven’t even quit for myself. I quit for my son.

I just read a little bit about the new book about Hugh Hefner, which is a book all about the Playboy mogul’s sexcapades.

That’s right, his sexcapades. Excuse me while I throw up a little in my mouth.

Onwards. It’s mentioned that it is a “shocking” tell-all, and that the author was given access to Hefner’s personal documents in order to pen the book. The word I’m confused about here is “shocking”. What can possibly be “shocking” about the founder of Playboy magazine. Having sex with a man? Nope, not shocking… threesomes? No… pretty normal and not-quirky if you ask me. Sex has been the new adventure for awhile now. I really do not think that anything could shock me about Hugh Hefner’s sex life. Obviously the man has done a lot and has hidden salami many ways and with many people, maybe all at once.

If you want to write a shocking Hefner novel, sex shouldn’t be the angle. If you want a typical Hefner, story however, then you’re going the right route.

This just in, owning an SUV — especially a Hummer — is a fashion faux pas. NPR’s words, not mine.

A fashion faux pas.

Interesting. Also? A recent survey mentioned on NPR stated that women will be much more interested in talking to a guy with a hybrid rather than a sports car. How much more likely? 9 times out of 10. My boyfriend did not believe this. Honestly, after the 80’s, when have sports cars been sexy anyway? I tend to want to flip-off a sports car rather than want to hump its owner. Hybrids are interesting in theory, but when they develop a way to turn trash (not new food) into fuel, then let’s talk. Neither are that impressive. How does the subject come up at the bar, anyway, without one of the people coming off as an uber-lame ass-clown? “Hey, I-uh, noticed you drove up in that Prius. That’s really, really admirable. So are your underpants made of recycled materials also?” Or, “So, foxy lady. You wanna go for a ride with the top down? My Porsche has your name written all over it.” Ugh. Seriously.

I’ve never had a love relationship with cars, it’s mostly been hate. Attribute my never having a driver’s license to that. My only car love was an ‘88 Buick Regal that got laid to rest two years ago. She was a gas guzzling boat that I drove (ahem) with a driver’s permit. But like I’ve always said, it’s the unhealthy relationships that we cherish the most.

The concept of “going green” as a fashion statement rather than having it be a conscious effort to save our environment just has “wrong” leaking oil all over it. What happens when the trend is over, then?

People tend to have a love hate relationship with girls with short dos. Some consider it a don’t, while others have a strict preference for the pixies. My take?

The current answer is HOT HOT HOT. I’m going short a la Jean Seberg in Breathless, the indie-mother of all American in Paris films. I was surprised to learn that a couple other of my friends are going the super-short route as well.

Photo courtesy gonemovie.com.
Drinking Shandies (not bousgie) with my friend J over some garlic shrimp (bousgie) pizza, we were discussing our desire to crop our locks with the risky new “it” look.

“I like it,” she said. “It gives me an excuse to dress like a slut.”

I, on the other hand, like the ambiguous gender look. Especially lovable: My son won’t be able to yank my hair into bruised oblivion!

I was informed that Lamaze, does in fact, teach vocalization. Awesome! In my previous entry, I mentioned that I used vocalization instead of Lamaze techniques. I opted not to try Lamaze based on what women who took their classes have told me. Be sure to research and explore all options that are best suited for you!

My son was born at home with the help of a midwife, her apprentice, and my partner. I came to this decision after having a series of visits with a midwife at a renouned hospital, but then deciding I wanted a much more personal and natural experience with my baby.

Here are some of the most frequently asked questions I receive from others.

1.) Weren’t you scared if something would go wrong?

I was more scared of something not going wrong and being coerced with unnecessary interventions. This actually almost happened. I tested positive for Group B Strep, and the standard thing is that I would automatically be strapped to an IV during labor in the hospital and be given antibiotics. However, if you do your research on both sides, this is an overly cautious intervention.

I also asked my midwives important questions about their practice that made me very comfortable and ensured my trust in them. This included what their plans were in case of an emergency, whether they had their own oxygen, and many other questions that were of my own concern or that were suggested to me by others.

2.) Did you take any drugs?

No. No anti-biotics, no epidural.

3.) Why no epidural?

Instead, I learned coping strategies for the pain, which worked really well. Instead of Lamaze, I chose to do vocalization exercises which my partner did with me during contractions and honestly that is what got me through the contractions. The vocalizations I used were deep, guttoral grunting sounds. I also used alternative birthing positions which are much less painful than giving birth on your back. One doctor said that giving birth on the back is the most painful way to give birth short of being hung upside down.

There are debates on the use of epidurals, but my main reasoning was that because of evolution, my body knows the best way to give birth. Since I was healthy and had no complications, I trusted that my biology would get me through everything. Epidurals can increase labor and it also interrupts the whole process of dilation and what your brain is telling your body to do at the right time. This helps some women, but I didn’t feel I needed it. I am not against epidurals, I feel that women should make their own educated decisions.

4.) What did giving birth feel like?

It felt like I was shitting a bowling ball. Then the baby kind of plopped out at the end.

5.) Which position worked the best?

I was squatting, with my partner holding me under my armpits for support. I had a very fast labor, too fast to do a waterbirth, which was what I had originally planned.

6.) What would you have done differently?

Drank more water during my pregnancy. I think that had something to do with how fast my baby came. My labor was only 3.5 hours.

Well, folks. The Plastic Scare isn’t just a scare, it’s a nightmare reality.

Sitting in the ocean right now (the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, as it’s called) exists a mountain of plastics that will never, ever break down. Ever. With no exaggeration. Even if you could manage to break it up into a billion pieces, it will still be a billion pieces that still exist and float around and go into the marine life, affecting their hormones. This part of the ocean draws debris to it, and back in the day, that debris used to biodegrade normally. Now, it hosts a range of plastic mean enough to populate Plastic Planet.

On a more homebase level, many baby and toddler toys are made of plastic. Now, you would think that a company wouldn’t make a toy out of a material that would be harmful to babies. That, however, is not the case — some polymers don’t bind and just sit next to each other, and these particles winds up in your baby’s belly. Does it effect them? This plastic debris, called pthalates, have traces of estrogen, which we all produce — but having extra isn’t necessarily a good thing. Plus, it’s just bad for our already deteriorating environment. Some plastics are fine for babies. Many are not, and it’s hard to tell because the toys tend to not be labeled. For the ones that are, 1 or 2 are safer (but not necessarily safe). You can look at Greenpeace’s website to get a gist on safer and unsafe PVC toys. Try opting for wood, metal, or cloth instead.

It’s a great opportunity to support local and independent toymakers as well. I recently bought a really cute bumblebee on wheels made of wood with a baby safe finish on it. It’s much more safe if my son decides to chew it into oblivion. Another idea is to hand make dolls out of old clothing! I have some clothes that are too worn to sell or donate, so I’ve been thinking I could “fashion” these (har har) into my own version of the Ugly Dolls. Just fashion a pattern on some newspaper and stitch the face on! Who knew my American Apparel leggings with the holes in the crotch could be saved?

So… people hated on Marc Jacobs when he did a fashion 180 — he went from being greasy and hiding in baggy, dirty clothing to having a ripped bod adorned in tattoos and blue hair. Big deal. Regardless of why he made this change (which was being diagosed with ulcerative colits — a condition I wrote about before), don’t hate. He’s eating healthier and exercising. Kudos, bravo. Sure he’s designing, franchising, opening branches in locations that gentrifies an area and ups rent and Pottery Barns.

Fine. The man has colitis! Let him have his faux hawk, he looks good. Dirty is so yester-year, and anyway.