I’m back! It’s been a few. And in that few I was busy planning a wedding, stressing out about the wedding, being in that wedding, putting pressure on myself to get things done work wise while in wedding land only to discover I just can’t do it all. Lesson: Focus on one thing and trust that it will all get done. Because it does. And even if it doesn’t somewhere along the line it works out in your best interest. Finally two months back and I am sinking into routine. Again. Getting my groove on, listening to rap music when I clean and really just trying to get it all done. One day at a time. Life. I learned my lesson over the past months. It was no excuse to ignore my “voice”, although others would care to differ in the physical sense. But that is why I am back. Writing to you from my comfy bed curled up in my new Egyptian cotton sheets (yup I’m bragging) and comforter (bragging more). This just couldn’t wait until the morning. For some reason it feels like a new year. I’m not sure why, could be my hair is extra shiny tonight. So I will start again. And I will take it as that. This time, more than ever my blinders are on. Tight. Allowing me to create, discover and conjure up new business adventures and ignore all those external forces that tend to latch on when they are so unnecessary. Its funny what your inner voice(s) will say to you. What certain people will say to you. How their opinions of you must be heard. Quite frankly I am learning to shut them up and sport a sweet smile. Why would I listen to a 200 year old curmudgeon anyways? I’ll hear you but I’m not going to listen. Often times picking my battles are in my best interest but deep in my gut always better to say how it is especially when I know what’s best for moi (that’s french for “me”). I mean really, Who knows me better than me? Me. One day others will learn. And today I continue to. Separating those into tiny little compartments. Some days you may need them and other days their shelf life is a little longer. As I continue to make all the mistakes I can, it only makes me a stronger individual. Sometimes I believe that I am superhuman and other times…well who am I kidding, I am just a ball of moosh and tears. And the fire has been taken out of my cracker. But right now I know for sure I am for the most part a firecracker with weird idiosyncrasies that I can only embrace. I am stuck with me. This caricature whom I like. Which brings me to the second part of this blog, my likings. The moustache. I like moustaches. I’ve said it before and I’m saying it NOW. I do. I always will. No matter how out of date that may seem. It’s sexy. And with a great head of hair even better. 70’s. I notice the moustache from afar. Up close. Often times head spinning in the direction of, the “stache”. But on more than one occasion as of late it makes me cringe. It’s lost its lustre. Sadly…oh so very sad. I’ll tell you why, because it has turned into a Miss moustache. Forgive me ladies if you are reading this and you have a “Misstache”. In no way do I want to disrespect or offend because you may like it. It’s just my opinion. And we all have one. Weather we like it or not. In this case I vote NOT. I’ll admit it, I can’t give you my attention considering the only thing I see moving is the hair growth upon your upper lip. There are ways to take the “Miss” out of stache. Wax, thread and my all time favourite, Olay Smooth Finish Facial Hair Removal Duo. I’ll panic at the slightest beginnings of a blonde stache. Whiskers if you may. Even if it’s one tiny hair. Really, this is none of my business but I needed to get it off my chest. And believe me it’s not big. Signing off. Dreaming of unicorns and the 1970’s. This may be symbolic. Or it may not even make sense. I go to sleeps. – CS XX
Well my lovely peeps, the chill is back and so is the rain. Often distracted by puddles and broken umbrellas, trying to keep my head clear is usually a challenge. Lets face it, my mind is pretty imaginative and most of the time I dream of tropical islands, skinny dipping, dancing everywhere, magical places, lavender bubble baths, artistic adventures and frolicking…… on the beach. I like to wrap myself in my house coat, curl up in my cozy bed and convert it into my home office. Most things don’t seem clear. Usually they aren’t . But sometimes they are right in front of your eyes. No need to play peek a boo or hide behind those fears. You may want to play with what you have and splash around a bit. Tears may stream, emotions rise, you might just need some extra special lovin. You miss certain people, yummy smells, change isn’t as easy as picking up a penny. They say chicken soup is good for the soul but so is leaping in the air and landing on your feet with a bit of a stumble. Putting your foot in your mouth is often a good thing. It makes you real. It stirs the heart part. Messages are sent, wires are crossed. But if you’re smart enough to see the everything in between, the black and white is easier to be seen. Let’s face it, sometimes the grey areas are all you need on a rainy day. CS xx
rainy kisses . romantic escapes . flying high . peek a boo . hibernate . lady thoughts .
I had a wonderful conversation with someone this week which included our love for anything odd. For as long as I can remember I have not been a fan of even numbers, perfect hair, perfectly constructed outfits or even stale personalities. I’ve always been attracted to the things that were a bit off, a little uneven, pinches of quirk and cracked perfection. I tend to bring a lot of this into my work and play. With anything perfect there is always that flaw. I believe this is the reason for my love of flawed characters. But then again, we are all pretty much flawed and hide behind our masks. I tend to think abstractly and create abstractly. Lately I’ve been locking myself in my room, blasting music and painting. It’s a release to set your mind free from the “to do’s” and let it go. It’s amazing how a piece of music will guide your brush, inspire your colour and not judge how it looks. Most of the time, my left brain has an idea of how I want to depict something but my right brain takes over and the unexpected is there. I love texture and colour…maybe even a bit of sparkle too. This is just how I roll. – CS xx
“Clear thinking at the wrong moment can stifle creativity.” – Karl Lagerfeld
I started dancing when I was 4 years old. Tap and Ballet were my first and then Jazz. My love for dancing has really enabled me to rock out on any dance floor or living room. Interpretive dances are a must – at a party, at a cottage, in the comfort of your own home (or others). My body does things. As a matter of fact, breaking into creative dance moves in a store, down an aisle, on a stage (especially with a banana) or in the street is my kinda my thing. Weather its dancing to “Saturday Night Fever” or Classical Music I let the music take me where no man has gone before. Er-
When I was 6 years old my ballet teacher, **Rita (** Rita wasn’t her real name) told my mother that I would never be a ballerina. To put it gently (as I later cried and still hold it with me till this day) I didn’t have the proper legs ala turn out. Wow. That was a smack in the face. Especially when you, the little girl with probably the biggest feet in the class had a dream. I absolutely adored ballet and was secretly jealous of those girls who moved so flawlessly on the stage and excelled in the advanced program. Desperately trying to prove her wrong I stuck it out until I was 16, just when I was about to go on point shoes. I absolutely loved point. But I knew that I wouldn’t advance further. You’re probably thinking, “Christina, No girlfriend! You should have stuck with it. Seriously, dreams do come true. You are the ballerina that could! You could have been a ballet star! YOU could have been Natalie Portman in The Black Swan”!!!!!!! Or something like that. But your gut knows best and your body knows it even more. I stopped out of insecurity. Why put myself through the torture of trying to be someone I wasn’t? You can’t fit a square in a circle. Or can you? Instead I’ll have you know I was Vice President of Student Council that year which occupied my time. You’re probably thinking, “Wow Christina you are a jack of all trades”. Yes my friends, I am. Skipping math class to “do council work” was a priority. And stepping out of science class to “take care of an important matter” (free Oh Henry Bars were coming in by the case for the Much Music dance party that night) I needed to be there for my peers. So instead I did what any responsible councilman would do, I decided to prioritize. I chose the only dance class I had time for and made time for. This was Tap. So that little girl who clung to the back row in ballet class, self-conscious of legs and feet, who always looked ahead to the “favoured” girls in the front row returned her point shoes. Another girl with a ballet dream would scoop them up. And plus I was really important that year in high school, so…. Alright. The truth: I knew my dream (and there are lots) to be a ballerina would not come true. I gave up. Something I do not like doing. Ever. Was it my big feet that I was self-conscious of? Maybe it was a turnout. My feet aren’t perfectly arched either. They are, as the boys would tease me in grade school, “flat as a board”. Well guess what boys! My feet grew faster than my boobs. So take that. You know what they say about a gal with big feet?
ME: I dunno.
I have size 8 flippers, sometimes they range to a 9.5 (insanity). For a 5’4 gals with a tiny frame that is just uncalled for! I constantly trip UP stairs, on the sidewalk and religiously stub my toes on furniture. My guy won’t touch my feet. As a matter of fact he cringes at them. Saying things like, “look at those”, “get them away from me” or even, “go get orthotics, we have coverage!!!”. I would say this is verbal abuse. I have feelings too you know. I think I may be a hobbit. Come to think of it, If Bilbo Baggins had a sister I would be she. I am a klutz. To say I have grace, well others would argue I walk like an elephant. That’s when I knew my instincts were right about sticking with tap. I never felt insecure about my foot size, nor my form. And there was a rhythm in my feet. It’s like they would come alive! Yeah, that’s right. I was fast. There was nothing more joyous than the banging sensation of my feet stomping to the ground. I tapped to the rhythm of the music and challenged myself within the beats. I love to tap. Not to mention, I was the strongest out of all three. Maybe my natural talent for stomping really did come in handy. It excited me in a way that gave me the freedom to move my body loosely while staying in control of my feet. I am like a bag of microwave popcorn ready to explode all over the microwave when I tap. I didn’t even have to wear a bun. Instead, I sported a headband. All this and I looked cool at the same time. Yes I always think I’m cool when I tap. Like when I played soccer as a kid we had to take pictures and I thought I was cool by pushing my tongue against my bottom lip (try it. You’ll feel cool). Don’t ask me why but I have proof in the pictures. I even had the honour of tapping with Gregory Hines in Theatre School. Yep! I’m gloating and I name dropped. You will have to just deal with it. Jazz on the other hand well, I am definitely a white girl. Watching me do Hip Hop will cheer anyone up when they are feeling blue. It’s a comedy show in itself. I still got my tappers and have come to terms with my 87-year-old looking feet. Correction – My 87-year-old grandfather has prettier feet than mine. I have no idea where these came from. I’ve also come to terms with the fact that this shy timid little ballerina girl (who secretly glides across the bedroom floor to “Swan Lake” in a Swan costume (I exaggerated the part of the costume) has her ballet slippers tucked underneath her bed. I may have a tiny bunion or two. And I may not be so graceful. But I got rhythm and I got music….Who could ask for anything more?
Ballet classes please? – CS xx
No one ever told me I could’t sport a tutu and heels.
It’s Friday. Are you in love? I am. With a lot of things. I don’t think you ever stop learning the different levels of love. And as you get older they affect you even more. Maybe these are my hormones yapping away. Weather it’s with your significant other, friends, family, a crush (oh get real we all have em), or a new pair of boots that you shouldn’t have bought. I love a sweet smile that makes my heart beat and a hug that tickles my spine. You have lust, romantic feelings, physical attraction (boom boom) and emotional attachment. The beauty of this recipe is that they blend to make one long stroke of love. It took me less than a minute for my heart to melt and my eyes to mist. This is the game of love. – CS xx
Young love is the sweetest . Old love is the deepest – unknown
Friday’s dance selection. I dare you to prance around and dance it off!
I’m not gonna beat around the bush (mind the pun). So let’s get to it. VAGINA. The word some people may cringe at or avoid because it’s so personal. Why are you ashamed? This fantastic beautiful organ is your boom box, your lucky charm, your baby maker. Or you could call it the; woo ha, vagine, copher, cunt, pussy, twat, cooter, beaver, fish lips, taco, camel toe, muff, snatch, fuck hole, garage, oven, love button, penis glove, cock sock, cock pocket, JJ, hoohah, bajingo, cum dumpster, sperm bottle, goop chute, slit, trim, quim, pooter, love rug, poontang, poonanie, cooch, tunnel of love, vertical bacon sandwich, bearded clam, cookie, cooleyhopper, nookie, the pink, honey pot, cunny, vag, meat curtains, hatchet wound, putz, fur burger, box, front bottom, gash, kebab, kitty, minge, snapper, catfish, vertical smile, lovebox, love canal, nana, flower, the cum dump, chocha, black hole, sperm sucker, fish sandwich, cock warmer, whisker biscuit, carpet, deep socket, cum craver, cock squeezer, slice of heaven, flesh cavern, the great divide, cherry, tongue depressor, clit slit,laps, fuzz box, fuzzy wuzzy, glory hole, grumble, man in the boat, mud flaps, mound, peach, piss flaps, the fish flap, he furry cup, stench-trench, wizard’s sleeve, DNA dumpster, tuna town, split dick, bikini bizkit, cock holster, cockpit, snooch, kitty kat, poody tat, grassy knoll, cold cut combo, Jewel box, rosebud, curly curtains, furry furnace, slop hole, velcro love triangle, nether lips, where Uncle’s doodle goes, altar of love, cupid’s cupboard, bird’s nest, bucket, cock-chafer, love glove, serpent socket, spunk-pot, hairy doughnut, fun hatch, spasm chasm, red lane, stinky speedway, bacon hole, belly entrance, sugar basin, sweet briar. And these are just a few.
Unwanted hair in all the wrong places. I tend to whisper to myself very few weeks, “For god sake, why can’t the hair on my head grow fast like the hair on the rest of my body?” This is my que. This is hair removal time. Ladies, I’m assuming we can all agree that we started with the razor method. We’ve shaved our love glove and dealt with those evil ingrown hairs and cuts. Tiny bumps form. You sit down and become obsessed with removing the annoying ingrown hair. You squeeze it, thinking it’s tiny. To your surprise it’s long and thick (get your mind out of my gutter). It slithers out of that bump, bulbous head protruding. As you pick it out you say aloud in your best theatre voice. “Got you! Ya little devil!!!!!!!”. C’mon have a little fun here. All the worlds a stage even if it’s in your washroom. Why is society fascinated with the ingrown hair? Or is it just me? It could be me. I’m fine with that. How about Nair? Yep. Been there done that. $8.99 a box. It’s perfect! BONUS: They even throw in a plastic applicator with aloe cream. Now, you can master the creaming application. You really got yourself a deal here. Plus you earn the bonus points at your friendly neighbourhood Shoppers Drug Mart. You slather the cream on like a baker carefully applying whipped cream to a cupcake. Squatting in position to avoid your thighs rubbing, your slightly part your legs. This is your position for about 20 minutes. Little hairs start to detach (this is all because of a cream!!!! Makes ya think). It is pretty darn fascinating, I must admit. You make sure to lock the bathroom door and make up any excuse to why your partner, mistress, lover, roommate, parents? can not use the washroom. “I’m taking a shower” I yell. They yell back with sarcasm seeping in their voice, “That’s a pretty long shower and I don’t hear the water”. You retort back, “You must be deaf!” Lucky enough you are close to the tap and can turn it on. Still in position, working your butt muscles from the squat, you continue reading the latest edition of ELLE magazine. Finally! – Time to wipe/wash the cream off. The hair wipes off onto your washcloth and you are done. Please do not use this on your face. Oh, but wait!…… Nope you’re not done. There are still tiny hairs that are lingering and did not take. Grrr, you growl like a dog. Begrudgingly, you apply more smelly cream to make sure you get in every little nook and cranny. Hopefully you don’t actually get it in your love part or butox. That would sting (trust me). Unfortunately before you know it, a couple of days go by and the hair starts to grow back. Yikes! It’s thicker and irritation has begun. You apply the cream (thank you BONUS) and then chuck it across the room because it doesn’t do a damn thing. It makes it in the waste paper basket. I, “hooray” aloud! Arms in the air, standing naked in the middle of the washroom, Success! Small victories people. I never made the basket ball team but I do got some skill. I’m known to be stealth.
I turned a leaf over the past few years. I’ve tried soft wax (hurt like a mofo). Legs shaking, palms sweaty, I walked out halfway through my appointment. Then I discovered hard wax at my new favourite place, Frilly Lilly . It’s like a candy store for your vagina. Here is their waxing menu.
Brazilian Wax – $58
Nothing’s left. That’s right. Nothing.
Hawaiian Wax – $58
Aloha! Bare’ly there.
Canadian Wax – $35
O Canada! Perfect for the Canadian bikini.
Alaskan Wax – $25
I walk in and my vagina is smiling. I admit, I still get anxious at the thought of it. But we always think the worst. “What if wax seeps inside?” , “What if the fire alarm goes off?”, “What if my vagina rips off?”, “Is she judging my vagina?”. “What if I fart?”. Judgements and fears fly through your head like a hungry bird. Then you question, “Am I a bird?” Silly. Silly. No! I’m a peacock. After consistently going every 5 weeks you gain a relationship with your female “waxer”. You are delighted to see each other, “Wow I feel like I was just here!”, you even give your new friend a hug. I mean it’s not everyday you have life chats half-naked with a new friend. This Is Amazing! And once you’re lying on that table with your rocket exposed you realize you are in good hands. Literally. The rubber gloves are on and it’s time to get down to business. In the beginning I had the shaky leg and clammy hands but over time I started to feel more like a champ. I may wince, curse, and hold my breath, but I remind myself that I won’t have to deal with unwanted hair for about 4 weeks. Then I start dreaming of unicorns and rainbows and things start looking even brighter. As I picture a unicorn galloping through green pastures, my day-dream is slowly interrupted when she asks me to, “cannon ball” (hug your knees in for the rear wax) or lie down, one leg up in tree pose (for the tiny sensitive bits). Best part of it all. It’s over in 25 minutes and your vagina is ready to rock. The pain slowly dissipates as time goes on. The more you do it and stay consistent with your appointments, the more you get used to it. You may even learn to love it. Your vagina then thanks you for making her feel rejuvenated and pristine. If she talks there may be a problem but subliminally you know what she’s saying. And so will your partner.
A few tid bits of info on hard wax. HARD WAX is strip – less wax. Instead it is applied slightly thicker to the skin than soft wax, so become entangled in the hair for more effective removal. It then hardens and is peeled off. The wax is applied at a little hight temperature to allow the pores to open more and for hair to be removed more easily and less painfully.
Benefits of Hard Wax
- Does not irritate the skin as other waxes do
- Removes all hair of varying length and thickness (especially coarse hair) effectively.
- Prevents & reduces ingrown hairs
- More gentle on the skin
- Skin is smoother after waxing
- Hair grows back slower
- Less painful ….and many more benefits!
So there you be. That’s enough muff talk for the night. – CS XX
Well everyone! The finale of The Acting Class is up! We had a blast shooting it and I am excite for what is to come. I hope you all enjoyed and had a fun time peeking into the acting class. – Christina XO
EPISODE 12 “Wrap Party”
Irene wraps it up with the man in her life. Vic reveals why he has a girl’s name. And the class has a surprise visitor.
“Massage train behind me!” — Christina