Life is like a Rolling Stones song

A few weeks ago, when everything started to change in my life, I came to a few startling revelations:

1) All of the buttons were popping off all of my winter coats. Everything needs dry-cleaning. I didn’t even have a normal coat to wear to drop off the messed up coats. I wore two sweaters instead.

2) Almost every pair of my everyday (read: flat) shoes are in a state of total dis-repair: missing heels, walked down heels, broken straps etc. I consoled myself by saying “It’s OK, I always have the black boots” (my favorite pair of black riding boots that I walked all over NYC with & have survived four Canadian winters). That’s until I looked down at my feet and noticed a giant hole in the hole in the toe. How did I not notice this until now?  Wait, why is my foot bleeding through my sock?

3) My feet hurt. All the time. Most of my flat shoes make my feet cramp &  with every step this horrible electric current feeling shoots up my leg. This has been getting worse over the past year but I haven’t done anything about it. I have no idea why.

4) On the flip-side, I have a brand new Alexander Wang blouse hanging in my closet with all of the tags still on. I haven’t worn it because there is a small dirt mark and it needs to get dry cleaned first. I’ve had this blouse since June.

5) I can’t remember the last time I visited the dentist however, I do remember the dentist asking me if I would “like to visit the toy cupboard” after he finished cleaning my teeth. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything because (wait for it…wait for it) I still go to the same Children’s dentist I’ve been going to since I was eight – which I realize adds a whole new layer of dysfunction to this scenario. My dentist has murals of Disney characters on the walls and Spongebob Squarepants playing on flat screens all over the office. Add in some laughing gas and it basically feels like one giant acid trip. During my last appointment, I got chatted up by a seven year old boy, who looked me over, scrunched up his face and said “You’re big! Why are you here?” All reasons why I’ve been avoiding going back.

I’m basically a walking personal disaster and one step away from wearing a bathing suit as underwear.

I was explaining this whole scenario to someone close to me and they said: “This is all a physical manifestation of the break-up and everything that has been going on in your life” then, they grabbed my hands from across the table and said “You need to love yourself more Simone”

It’s true. I do.

But, how do you start loving yourself again after you’ve neglected so many things for so long?

Last week I was pondering this question while at my new makeshift office (Starbucks). I was having a particularly Humpty-Dumpty-ish morning. I woke up feeling broken like my guts were all raw & yokey & splayed out for everyone to see. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

I was getting ready to plug in my lap-top cord (the battery bit the dust about 10 months ago – another thing on my laundry list of things that have fallen to the wayside) when the girl next to me grabbed the end of my cord and said “Here, let me!” before plugging it into the wall. The next day, I went back to the same Starbucks and a man offered to do the same thing. This made me smile.

Even when times are tough & everything feels raw and scary and like nothing will ever feel comfortable again, the Universe will give you the tools to help you cope. It’s like Mick Jagger sang: “You can’t always get what you want. And, if you try sometime, you get what you need”

Help arrives in the form of:

A small purple bedroom that’s all yours that comes with a lovely room-mate who accompanies you as you move all of your stuff out of your old place (The place that once belonged to two people) and helps dry your eyes as you literally close the door on your old life – the one that seemed picture perfect but, really wasn’t. Kindhearted souls who see you for who you really are, remind you that you are going to be OK but know that you can’t do it all your own so, they come over to put together your Ikea furniture, never asking for anything in return. Best friends who listen to your emo-meltdowns, feed you when you forget to eat and make you laugh.

When I told Ange about the demise of my black boots, she said “Here, take these.” and reached into her closet, pulled out a fantastic pair of black boots that she no longer wears and handed them to me.

When I told my friend’s husband that I really liked one of the side tables in their living room (it was the exact item I needed to complete my new bedroom set up) he said “Take it. I’m throwing it out anyways”

You get what you need.

I’m still trying to figure out this “loving yourself” thing however, this is my strategy so far: Fixed what can be fixed and get rid of whatever is broken, stained, torn or just doesn’t make any sense to keep in my life anymore. Make those doctor appointments, dentist appointments, chiropractor appointments, orthotic fitting appointments (all things I did this morning!) Accept the love that is all around me. I’m hoping if I do these things, I’ll eventually be able to fix myself. This is why I’m in BC at my Mom’s house – because I feel like this is the place where I can make these things happen.

This process also might include buying this print:

Words of wisdom from one of my favorite fashion icons.

I think it’s going to look perfect in my new bedroom.

How do you love yourself?

Symphony for One: The Siena Symphony G-Spot Vibrator

In high-school I had this one girlfriend who was a year older and quite a bit more sexually experienced than I was. Although I had just started sleeping with my first boyfriend, at the time I was still pretty clueless about sex. One day while we were walking home from school she started to tell me about her new boyfriend:

“His penis is curved”

“WHAT?!”

“No, it’s a good thing!”

“WHAT?!”

“It hits my G-Spot”

I think this was the point in the conversation where I just stared at her blankly. Oh, the elusive G-Spot. As an avid teenage reader of Cosmo, I knew that the G-Spot existed however, it would be several years before I experienced the OH-MY-WOW factor associated with that special happy place.

My big G-moment happened when I was 21. I had just started seeing a guy my girlfriends later dubbed “The Magic Tongue” because of his fondness for performing oral sex. One night, while he was going down on me, he inserted one of his fingers and EUREKA he located the buried treasure. Suddenly, it was like I was in a whole new world. It was kind of like that scene in Aladdin, except my ex luckily didn’t have a thing for wearing white harem pant suits.

I was having my very own magic carpet ride. Birds were flying. Horses were running. Pyramids were visable in the distance. Peabo Bryson was singing “WHOAWHOAWHOA!” and Regina Belle was harmonizing “OHHH OHH OHHH”. This guy was a terrible boyfriend however, his ability to take me on magic carpet rides at the touch of a finger is probably one of the reasons I kept him around as long as I did.

When Eden Fantasys said they were planning on sending me my very own Siena Symphony G-Spot vibrator, I was excited and showed my friend a photo of the toy.

Friend: “It looks like a giant finger”

Me: “Exactly!”

The Siena Symphony by Mantric is a G-Spot vibrator made of food grade, silky, silicone. The toy is 100% body safe, hypo-allergenic, phthalates free and waterproof (hello bath & shower fun!). It has 4 different speeds (Escalating, Pulsating, Rollercoaster & Vibrating). The only thing that’s slightly awkward about the design of the toy is that it takes 4 AAA batteries which means I’m either going to have to make more awkward trips to the convenience store or a trip to Costco in the near future.

I think a lot of people might be initially put off by this toy because it has a really pronounced curve. However, it’s Siena’s dramatic curves that worked really well for me. I find that a lot of G-Spot vibrators just don’t quite reach my spot. I either need a lot of control like the Lelo Ella or a sharp curve like the Siena to really do the trick. Siena is curved like a finger…a giant, purple finger.

Did I mention the Siena Symphony is big? Because it is. At 8 1/2 inches, this toy looks massive. Keep in mind that only 4 inches is actually insertable however, the toy also has a hefty girth. I really enjoyed the larger size but, some people may find this a drawback. Regardless, I recommend using some lube.

Siena’s motor is fairly quiet and I’d say the  strength of the vibrations are “medium”. My only actual complaint about this toy is that the clitoral nub is located in completely the wrong spot for my body which meant no clitoral stimulation for me. The vibrations might have been enough to get me off however, I got impatient and finished my magic carpet ride with the help of another toy. Although I enjoyed the experience, it would have been nice not to have to double team myself.

Who would enjoy this toy:

– Intermediate toy users looking for something different, in particular a really curved toy for the G-Spot

-Individuals looking to find their G-Spot

– Couples (I think this toy would be a lot of fun during foreplay or in conjunction with oral sex)

-Fans of large penises.

 What do you guys think? What sex toys are you interested in seeing reviewed? Have a question but are feeling shy?! Email me at skinnydipblog AT gmail.com

{The Siena Symphony was provided to me free of charge in exchange for my honest assessment of the product}

Bajingo Sisters and Wiener Cousins

At the end my last year of university I was given the task of writing a 40 page paper on the film Menace II Society as a final project for a 4th year Linguistic Anthropology course. I had to transcribe portions of the film, do a linguistic analysis of them and then relate them back to Anthropological theories. I don’t think anyone should have to watch the film Menace II Society more than two or three times, let alone the 40 times I had to watch the movie in order to write this paper.You know what repeated viewing of this film does to a person? It drives them insane.

So, what’s a girl to do when her head is full of images of gunshot wounds and sociopath teenagers killing each other?

Watch back to back episodes of the show SCRUBS.

Spending some time within the sterile walls of Sacred Heart Hospital with its goofy doctors and even goofier janitors, was the perfect escape from my personal hell of academic papers and fictional urban violence. I’m also of the firm belief that the solution to most problems can be found within one of Zach Braff’s voice-over monologues.

About two months ago I was going through this phase where I had a ton of freelance work to finish but, I felt totally lethargic and uninspired. The solution to this problem was clear:

SCRUBS.

I went online and discovered that there was actually 2 seasons that I had never seen before (SAY WHAT!) which was basically like discovering the TV holy grail. I downloaded all of them and prepared myself to be healed. Eight Zach Braff inspirational monologues later, I felt much better.

The episode that inspired this blog post is called “My Cuz“. In this episode J.D and Elliott discover that their respective exes, Kim and Sean are dating each other. Things are super awkward until J.D says to Sean:

“We’ve slept with the same woman, therefore we are Wiener Cousins”

{The Wiener Cousin handshake. “It’s a bond closer than family”}

Later, Elliott decides that this makes her and Kim “Bajingo Sisters

{Bajingo Sisters. It doesn’t have to be awkward. Or, does it?}

Despite having dated quite a few people, I have only ever met two people who have slept with people I have slept with (that I know of). The first one I don’t really count as a true Bajingo Sister since she dated an ex of mine when they were 14 (I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a whole lot of “quality sex” happening at that age). I met my first real Bajingo Sister when I was in third year university.

On the night in question, I was at a club hanging out with an ex-boyfriend that (at the time) I was trying to maintain a friendship with. It should be noted that after we had broken up, I had a super awkward one night stand with one of our mutual friends, a guy that we will call Chandler. At one point during the evening my ex grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a group of people. He then introduced me to a very pretty girl with long dark brown hair.

“Simone this is Natalia”

Natalia was Chandler’s ex – a girl he’d often reminisce about, giving me the impression that she was “the one who got away”. We had never met.

My ex, never one to be known for his tact, added:

“Natalia, this is Simone…SHE’S HAD SEX WITH CHANDLER TOO”

I was a deer caught in headlights. If there was ever a moment where I wanted to be teleported out of my own life, it was this one.

Once the awkward laughter subsided, Natalia and I started talking and we hit it off right away.
We made plans to hang out in the near future.

A few weeks later, we went for dessert & coffee in Little Italy.

Natalia was exactly as Chandler had described her: gorgeous. She had long dark brown hair, olive skin and big brown eyes. She is still one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in person. Natalia was well-spoken, intelligent, thoughtful and all around, quite lovely. Over dessert, we chatted about our lives until eventually we could no longer ignore the elephant in the gelato shop:

her: “So….how was he?”

Me: “Some of the worst sex I’ve ever had. It wasn’t just him. It was also me. It was just awkward. You?”

her: “To be honest, we dated so long ago, I don’t really remember”

We both burst out laughing.

I think Natalia and I hung out a few times that summer before we drifted apart – something that happens when two people have really busy schedules and don’t know each other well enough yet to keep up the momentum of a new friendship.

Our bond may not have been “stronger than family” like Dr. John Dorian suggested it would be but, I like to think my Bajingo Sister was pretty cool.

***
I came to realize that the ex who had introduced me to my Bajingo Sister had a knack for creating awkward situations. A year later I received the following phone call:

Hey Simone, I want you to come for dinner with me, my Gay Lover and my Mom

SCRUBS DID NOT PREPARE ME FOR THIS!

I panicked.

What would I call my ex’s new boyfriend? Would we be WIENER SISTERS? BAZINGO BROS? PENIS COMRADES? SISTERHOOD OF MY EX-BOYFRIEND’S TRAVELLING SEXUALITY?

In this case, “So…how was he?” was a question I wasn’t ready to hear the answer to. Oh & HIS MOM WAS GOING TO BE THERE.

As much as I wanted to be supportive with this new direction his life was taking, even I have limits for how much awkwardness I can endure.

I decided that this was one dinner invitation that I would have to politely decline.

Meeting your Wiener Cousin or Bajingo Sister doesn’t have to be awkward, but it inevitably is to a certain degree.

What do you guys think?

The Unhappy Meal

In the bottom drawer of my right hand nightstand, I have this thick black notebook that’s full of all kinds of journal entries and poems that I wrote between the ages of 18-21. Sometimes, I like to go through it just for kicks. Reading stuff I wrote when I was going through my “I’m so deep and emo poetry phase” is often a cringe worthy/hilarious experience. The other day I was leafing through the black notebook, trying to find some inspiration for a blog post when I found THIS poem which I’ve bravely decided to share with you guys*

Let’s all cringe together!

*Please be kind. Sharing bad teenage poetry is infinitely more embarrassing for me than talking about weird sex stuff.

(Also, please keep in mind that this poem was written by a angst ridden, emo 19-year old girl. I’m pretty sure when I wrote this I dreamed of one day reading it in front of a packed coffee house while the beret & black turtleneck clad audience snapped their fingers and some guy played the bongos in the background. Thank god that never happened)

When I re-read this poem the other day, the funny thing was I couldn’t even remember who it was about. This poem could have been about at least 3 to 4 different guys that I dated during that time period. Eventually, I remembered the subject of the poem- this dude who’d come over, sleep with me, eat my roommates food and say stuff like “I really love you but, I’m just not into labels” before flying out the door the next day. His visits would also usually include him un-apologetically breaking something in my apartment (“I just broke the doorknob off your bathroom door. I don’t think anyone can get in there now. You might want to fix that. Gotta go“), using a house plant as an ashtray or doing something totally uncalled for like that time he accidentally got my straight-edge room-mate stoned after using her fancy cookware to make homemade “mushroom tea”. Whenever he left in the morning, I’d be left with some kind of mess to clean up, feeling like shit and thinking; “I can’t believe I let this happen AGAIN”. The most embarrassing part about this whole story is that after I wrote this poem, I’m pretty sure we kept dating for at least another 6 months….WHICH MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE.

Thinking about this made me realize that I used to let a lot of people make me feel bad. Years ago my Mom said to me: “You keep on dating guys who are Disappointers. They build you up, you seem happy for about a minute and then they do something really terrible to bring you down. Like that time ____ bought you a Valentine’s gift and then threw up in your friend’s car…. But, you keep dating themThe big question was: WHY? Clearly, I was aware of how these people were making me feel (like a bad case of the McGross burps) but, it was like I couldn’t act on it. Instead of breaking up with this dude, I was at home writing a poem comparing him to a hamburger. Go figure.

One of my favorite things about being in my late-twenties/early 30’s is that my tolerance for bullshit has gone way down. If anyone makes me feel like I’m eating a “Unhappy Meal” even for a few minutes, I don’t want to be around them. I used to give everyone the benefit of the doubt that under their bad first impression there might be a good person but, now I don’t. I think this all goes back to the concept of Being Thirty and Saying No. I already know how things will end so, the minute I start to get bad vibes from someone, I cross them off as someone I want to hang out with. Life is too short and there are too many good people & opportunities out there. I don’t want to waste my time hanging out with people who are jerks.

So, to follow up with last week’s Sunday Love Bite, I’ll tell you what I wish someone had told me 11 years ago: if your Friend(s)/Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Secret Lover inspires you to write bad poetry where you compare them to questionable fast-food, or you feel like someone is making you eat an Unhappy Meal: LEAVE THEM.

No one worth having in your life should make you feel this way.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s been through this?

Sunday Love Bites #2: The Toothbrush Test

Sunday Love bites are short, random musings on sex & romance usually written while I’m still in my pajamas (or, in today’s case: leggings and a fat shirt)

Love Bite #2: The Toothbrush.

Today’s “Bite” I discovered via Caroline, one of my favorite bloggers. Caroline is a total sweetheart, a terrific writer and one of my favorite people I’ve met through this crazy blogging journey. I adore her to bits and I kind of like to think of her as my little blog sister because a lot of the struggles she writes about remind me so much of things I went through when I was 23. This is a quote she posted in her blog the other day. I wish I had read this 7 or 8 years ago.


Short. Sweet. WORDS TO LIVE BY.

Happy Sunday xox

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