Being Awesome: The struggle is real

After a wild few weeks (complete with my website going down for the count), I’m trying to claw my way back into a normal routine. Well, I don’t anticipate seeing “normal” until the New Year, so I really must push forward and steal back some time to do one of my favorite things in the world… write!

During my time away from all that is social media, the world has continued to move in various directions that leave me dumbfounded, shocked, devastated, and heartbroken. I may have mentioned before that I don’t read the newspaper or watch the news that often because I am too sensitive and emotional to handle the barrage of daily negativity that I can neither change nor influence. I allow my husband and colleagues to give me the Coles Notes on the world’s happenings, and then I bury my head back in the sand of my La-La Land.

So, this week’s blog is not going to address the heartbreak of the negative actions of some individuals in the world, it’s going to embrace the positivity of our unique traits.


A large part of what has filled my every waking hour over the past few weeks has been an agreement my husband and I made back in June. We agreed we would make one GIANT push to finally get the house to 100% completion after too many years of ongoing improvements. I am proud to report that our main floor is at about 98.7%, and now our focus has shifted to the basement (and the spa bathroom reno that has sat, unfinished, for four years).

During this process, I decided to spruce up our large living room and front windows with valances and decorative curtain panels. I made a vow that I would not “sew” this project the way I normally do (with a glue gun and iron-on hemming tape), but that I would dust off and use the beginners sewing machine my husband gifted my daughter when she was fifteen.

Those who follow me on Instagram would have had the opportunity to share in some of my foibles of the past couple weeks. In the end, the valance and curtains are done, but the sewing machine challenged me SO MUCH that I finished the project with… you guessed it… a glue gun and iron-on hemming tape! Complete with a tulip-shaped glue burn on my pinky finger.

It was during this reno process, I realized that there is a reason we are not all created equal:

If we were all created equal, then you would all suck at sewing, and we’d be kickin’ it Adam-and-Eve-style and wearing a bunch of poorly fashioned leaves on our respective lady and man parts.

Mind you, if I was in charge of Eden, those leaves would be held on with hot glue or iron-on hemming tape… So at least we could trot about confidently, knowing they would not fall off.

I sent photos out to friends for feedback on my design ideas and, even though I received a ton of accolades for the amazing reno, design, and décor things I am working on, I still felt sub-par. I still felt like: Jack of all trades: Master of nothing.

Why do I feel this way?

Society, and some ill-placed “well-intentioned” folks from my childhood have engrained those subpar feelings into my brain.

At work, I am told that I’m “a star,” “the best,” “awesome,” and “amazing.” To which, I always cheekily reply, “Why must you state the obvious?” I also am referred to as Sensei, Goddess, and Donna (from Suits fame—apparently people believe I am the person from which the character was created).


When I ask my husband, “Do you realize what an amazing woman you married?” he stops what he’s doing and answers me with a sincere and emphatic “Yes!” He’s serious… I am not. I could never think of myself as so amazing. At times, I feel like a fraud.


Why can’t I embrace the gifts I have been given?

Why can’t you?

Let’s forget about the narcissistic I-can-do-no-wrong people of the world, and just look at the average Joe or Jane (or Veronica).

Why can’t I take my own advice and sincerely pat myself on the back when I receive 17 marriage proposals after bringing my homemade baklava to the office to share with my colleagues?

Because I’m human.

Because there’s still a part of me that keeps my ego in check. Humbles me.

Because I’m not perfect.

Because if I was perfect, I would know not to start a sentence (never mind four) with “because.”

That’s a good thing—humility.

Even if your right boobie is bigger than the other, or have a thick black hair growing out of a mole on your neck, you’re still awesome and unique.

Just pad your left bra cup, tweeze that Tarzan vine hanging from your neck, and embrace every amazing thing about yourself.

I don’t care if society tells you that your booty ain’t ‘licious enough, or your Aunt Bea still thinks “you’ll never amount to anything because you didn’t get your Viticulture and Oenology degree.”

Hold your hot glue gun up high and proudly shout:

“I am amazing! I am unique! I am a crazy-ass fool and don’t care what you think!”

Yours truly,


(AKA: An amazing friggen’ superhero with a booty that’s ‘licious enough to make a milkshake to bring all the boys to the yard.)


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