Four Pairs Three Twenties

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After Santa ignored my request for Jelly boots, I decided to comb through some online deals on the day after Christmas with a fifty dollar budget. This was a tedious mission since I had been summoned to work but I was determined and persistent. My first stop was at the site of the retailer that I knew for sure had the boots and in every color you could think of, Bakers. They weren’t offering a sale and they were listed for $59.99 plus the cost of shipping. As a girl who likes to get all the bang she can for her buck, I decided to pass on what was being offered.

My mission was interrupted several times by actual work; distracting me from my target. After handling my clients I refreshed my Instagram feed and there lied a gem from the shoe gods. Urbanog.com was offering 50% off any transaction that included at least $40 worth of sales merchandise! This is a website that I often frequent just because I love shoes and they have any kind that you can ever think of; a girl can dream can’t she? I had purchased from them in the past and had total confidence in the fact that they would have the boots that I’d been looking for at a better deal than I’d seen earlier on in my mission.

There was a pleasant surprise waiting for me on Urbanog.com as I found the jelly boots for $29.60 in blue. I went on to find that there was a section full of items that were buy one get one 50% off which could be combined with the promo code that would get me yet an additional 50% after I reached $40 in my shopping cart. After all was said and done, I had hit a serious lick. I checked out with four pairs of boots including a pair of trendy military boots, two pairs of knee boots, and the boots that Santa didn’t think that I deserved. I spent less than $60 including shipping, WHAT’S MY NAME? I was so geeked when I got them in the mail the other day that I couldn’t wait to try them on and share my awesome deal. I especially couldn’t wait to put on my jellies with my lucky blue scrunch socks that I’ve had since eight grade, nostalgia.

bootcollage

To top things off, I found an unexpected deal on some over the knee socks to wear with them. Kohl’s doesn’t really have much to offer a girl like me so I only visit the store when I have Kohl’s cash. After some Christmas shopping, I came up on $10 worth. I ran in Kohl’s and after probably an hour of trying to decide on trying to find something, anything, I found that Apt 9 socks were buy one get one 50% off. The over the knee socks were ten dollars each which means that I got two pairs for a little over $5 after tax. Score!!!

I can’t wait for my next mission. It’s a sin to not be thrifty, that’s the eleventh commandment, remember?

Not all of us can ball on a budget but for those who have it down, I salute!

-M

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Cougar Season or nah?

I’m often caught in limbo because I’m not like the rest of the thirty year olds, or at least that’s how it seems. I don’t dress as sophisticated, I don’t wear as much makeup, my hobbies seem to be different, and I’m single with no children. I feel like my heart and spirit haven’t aged since I blew out twenty one candles! I do feel, however, that I am wise beyond my years. It’s like I’m mature and immature at the same time, am I a train wreck? I can contribute my knowledge to my many struggles and triumphs. I’m the go-to girl for many of the people in my life for a plethora of things. I’m just Witty Mila and she likes to ramble on and on, obviously.

The intro was necessary for the understanding of why I always look for the younger guys. The men in my age group just don’t seem to “get” me because I’m not like the rest of the women whom they’ve dealt with. It seems as if they have an idea of how someone like me should be and also assumptions regarding what I would want. Men say that women are difficult but I really think its due to all of these assumptions. I’m open and honest so just ask me what I want, sheesh! I don’t fit the mold so I’m often rejected or heck not even selected! It doesn’t break my heart but it does dampen my soul. I am a lover of all things off kilter and random and would die if my stomach didn’t hurt from laughter on frequent occasions. I feel as though I cannot live without having these few things from the opposite sex and that’s what makes the younger fawns more attractive. This may be against the norm for society, but I’m not ready for the picket fence and babies yet. I’m still working on aligning my future so that when I give birth to mini Mila’s, they can have a blueprint.

There’s something about my aura that gives younger men the go-ahead because they most definitely approach me before any men my age or older ever does. I won’t even share the age of the youngest guy that I’ve fancied. My question has been increasingly becoming: Is this a phase? Am I destined to live the life that of a cougar? Why do the cubs flock to me? Is seeming younger than what I really am a negative thing?
For some this may seem trivial but for me, its my life and the clock is a’tockin. For now, I don’t think I’ll change plus its winter time and cubs are more willing to cuddle. I’ve been diligently working on my goals for the new year to come, maybe I will incorporate this plight. Ugh, I don’t even know if it is a plight! You can’t force what isn’t mean to be right? I’ll just be growling and pouncing til further notice!

Purrr to the Grrrr!

-M

And It Opened Up My Eyes I Saw the Sign

Today, I read a quote that really resonated with me and I can’t help but to keep thinking of it. The quote read “I’m not going to miss 95% of life to weigh 5% less.”  How can less than 20 words be so profound? There are just some things that you hear or see that land on your heart like a snowflake on fresh payment, dissipating. I have spent countless moments dwelling on my weight and I have made a conscience decision that I will stop and begin to trust myself. My body tells a story about my life’s journey and just as I have embraced my own personal journey of life, I will embrace my body. As a young whipper-snapper, I could literally drench a cow in A1 sauce, eat it in it’s entirety, and not gain a pound. There have been many things in my life that have had an impact on my, what doctor’s call, athletic-like metabolism, that once was such as spending my late teens being injected with chemotherapy.  My weight was affected, as well as my skin. I have what my mother calls a battle wound on my left cheek. The scar was left after I had a reaction to a drug that gave me a rather less than attractive rash. I rambled through that brief synopsis to make the point that there is more to me than what meets the eye and my slight obsession with my weight has been a hindrance.  Thank God for epiphanies!

This quote has made me realize that I have been standing in my own way.  I have been in many positions in which I could not take a compliment from someone regarding my physical appearance due to not loving and accepting myself.  Holy crap, this is a flaw that adds to the reason why I’ve been casted away to Singletown where everyone knows my name. My new found love for self has been exhilarating and I am embarking on being the most flirtatious girl who’s thirty years old on the block. I am choosing to embrace my curves and lumps and telling the superficial world to “kiss my ass”. I am beautiful, intelligent, strong, independent, and most importantly, a survivor.  I have become a healthier individual, both physically and mentally, on my journey. My priorities have been altered and I can now trust myself to make the decisions that have my OWN best interest at heart.

I’m single, honey, so selfishness is not a crime. It is my time to focus on reaching for the stars and dropping the negative thoughts about weight. I will breathe easier knowing that I can trust myself. I am wonderfully made. I am my own inspiration. I am the creator of my destiny.

‘Til next time,

-M

Style so Laxed

Where do I fit in? Oh, oh wait, I’m supposed to “stand out”. Being a girl who is over six feet tall, this hasn’t been a hard battle for me to win since I stand out whenever I stand up! I am, however, learning that “self” is the dictator of the caliber of attention one receives. My style says, “She’s the homie” and locks me in the infamous padded room call the friend zone. How do I find my way out without being called sexy? Yes, sexy. I hate that term. It’s like you’re telling me that I only look good enough to have sex with. I am more than what meets the eye! I have plenty of women tell me that they love my style and that I am even beautiful; I absolutely appreciate and reciprocate all compliments, but what about the male species? Is this the universe telling me I should be a lesbian?

Somewhere along the ride, the lines got blurred between girly-girl and tomboy. I am a hybrid which confuses the opposite sex none the less. I went from wanting to be Alicia Silverstone in Clueless to shopping in the men’s section. There are many contributors to this transition including, but not limited to, my weight gain that caused my self-esteem to plummet. Now that I have dropped the pounds, my quest now is to find the happy median. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t fat Mila anymore until I tried on a swimsuit while working my part-time retail job and let my coworker see. Her reaction was, “Wow, I didn’t realize all of that was under all of those clothes. You never show off your figure!” What? I have a figure? I have been a slave to layers, please, set me free!

Do I have to trade in my crew necks and combat boots for spandex dresses and sky-high heels? Some girls would squeal at the thought of wearing shoes that don’t have at least a five inch heel out on the town, but I’m on the polar opposite end of the spectrum. I’m almost certain that my style and demeanor are what gives an eighteen year old guy the gusto to kick game to me. I don’t see this as a bad thing, however, I’m not sure about the message that I’m sending. The jury is still out on whether or not I want to be Stella and announce the need to get my groove back. I’m seriously drowning in a pool of confusion; someone throw me the magic lifesaver that contains the serum that swoons men! I guess I can start with peeling off some of these layers.

Here are some picture chronicles that depict why I consider myself to be a hybrid:

Layers, Layers, Layers
Layers, Layers, Layers

Leggings short and Long
Leggings short and Long
Canvas shoes and shorts are a no brainer
Canvas shoes and shorts are a no brainer