I Feel Pretty

I'm a rather goal oriented person, and upon my recent move decided upon what on the surface seems like a rather silly goal. Treating myself to something 'nice' once a week. Not a big splurge, but something that without this objective would not happen.

So far they are kind of beauty related:

Week 1- pedicure (so desperately needed it barely counted as a splurge, and I LOVE pretty feet.)

Week 2- manicure (it was fun to have pretty nails!) :)

Week 3- my first ever eyebrow wax.

You see, last week on our break my coworker popped into her fave spot and got hers done. I couldn't believe the transformation. Have been thinking about it non stop. Stopped plucking every day in preparation. So today I took the plunge.

Unbelievable what a difference this makes. I feel all glam and pretty, even with bright red skin. Not sure why I didn't start this years ago.

Who knows what next week brings. I'm open to suggestions, just remember, these pockets aren't lined with gold, so hopefully my splurge can be around $20.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Packing and cleaning today, I realized something startling. I'm about to leave the neighborhood that I have called home for the last 7 years. I've lived on this street longer than I have lived anywhere else in my life. This is where I've forged the closest friendships of my life. Where my heart was broken...and where my heart mended. Where I seem to have found my stride, motivation, really come into my own.

It has been a whirlwind couple of weeks. You see, I've been itching to move into SF for quite some time now. Fall of 09 is when I caught the bug. Why? I'm not certain. At the time I worked in Alameda, and had a handful of friends in the city. I started looking, getting a feel for how far I could stretch a dollar. Ended up finding a great place, in what was at the time my target neighborhood. Enter fate...and a bad economy. The company I worked for wasn't doing so well. I had survived several rounds of layoffs; so many that in fact I was the only one left. Before I signed a lease, and put down my money, my boss told me he was going to have to let me go.

My current place in WC offered me lower rent, at the exact same time. I reluctantly signed a lease. Wouldn't you know it, I was unemployed all of one and a half weeks. You read that correctly, weeks. Got a great job, in SF.

And I've been commuting to SF...and being very resentful of the 2 1/2 hours a day I lose. And being resentful of leaving my house around 9 each morning, and not getting home until 8 every evening. Add in I now seem to have many close friends, in SF, that I can't easily see after work. To be blunt, lets add in that I seem to date men in SF, and my 'walk of shame' involves public transportation. YIKES!

So, I started looking again, in earnest, after receiving a hefty tax return. Found a fabulous place, a 15 minute walk to the office. 2 1/2 blocks from a close girl friend. Close to some great night life. It has definitely been a whirlwind couple of weeks, and Monday morning, movers are arriving and I'll be a city girl.

I'll always be a small town girl, at heart.

Just Another Wednesday...

Last Wednesday, MW (coworker and friend) invites me out to happy hour at the Clock Bar, located in an upscale hotel in Union Square.

MW and I are both dressed kind of rock glam-over the top this particular day. I'm wearing a very short black skirt, shirt with a fur collar, and high heeled boots. MW is wearing a black, faux snake skin mini-skirt, white embellished tank top, high heeled boots. There is a big healthcare conference in the city, and the bar is full of men in business suits. MW and I, perhaps stand out in this crowd.

After a couple cocktails, I personally decide it is time to leave. As I'm saying my goodbyes, the fellow sitting next to me, who had tried to get my attention earlier, starts talking. We chit chat, MW comes over, and I acquiesce and agree to stay a tiny bit longer. The fellow, Tomas, offers to buy me a drink. Now, I have a good feel for people, and I don't like Tomas; and I politely decline, and state that I have to take public transportation home, which is horrible when tipsy. Tomas suggests that he will have a limo take me home, and looks at MW and says "you have a limo service programmed in your phone, right?" At this point all I can think is "holy hell, he thinks we're hookers!!!"

Now, MW doesn't not pick up on this detail. Tomas wants to take us to dinner, and her response is "somewhere fancy, we only eat in nice restaurants."

***MW is an itty, bitty thing, has had several cocktails and quite frankly we're only eating soup for lunch these days.***

Then he wants to buy us drinks and MW announces that we "only drink top shelf". I'm becoming more and more uptight, and less and less agreeable. MW is becoming visibly frustrated because I won't accept a drink and refuse to consider going to dinner with these fellows.

The highlight of this exchange is surely when MW was attempting to explain our jobs. "People pay us thousands of dollars for help with their love lives, you know. Well, not us, but "the people we work for". Yep, she just told him we have a pimp...

Finally, he excuses himself and I proclaim "he thinks we're hookers!!!". While MW is skeptical, I promise her it will make sense later, beg her to trust me on this one, and so we leave.

The solace and comfort I have is at least I was mistaken for a prostitute at the Clock Bar. Not like AP, who was mistaken for a working girl at Jack in the Box recently. Maybe it is time to rethink the work outfits???