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Making My Hot Mess Self a Productive Hot Mess

Some girls identify as being hot messes. Put my photo in a line-up, and I’d be picked out. No second thoughts.

See, I’m a recovering addict. It took me turning thirty to get my act together. Stable job. Great relationship. Mother to one and three bonus kids. And even then, I still struggle with baggage. Oh, and have I mentioned I struggle with depression?

This is my attempt to blog it out. Make sense of life. Use my time on the phone to actually accomplish goals and not just escape into Facebooklandia, my favorite place, or worse–lose my sobriety. I’m gonna write that novel, learn how to dance hip hop, perfect my mother’s buttermilk pie recipe, lose those thirty pounds I’ve gained since 2015, etc. I don’t always wake up this motivated, but I feel like I could drive 35E to the moon. Dallas reference.

2018 will be a great year, but I’m not waiting until January to get . If you want to join me in rocking 2018, then come along. Bring your Vans. Won’t be easy, but definitely worth it.

Here I come.

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In Which I Make Up For Not Looking Like a Fool at My Junior High Dances

So, I really like dancing. Like, REALLY like it. But–My rhythm is akin to a baby giraffe learning to walk. In junior high, I was good at the Macarena, but that was about it. This year, I want to thrive and be a dancing queen and finally feel the beat at 33.

So, I went to YouTube and found two videos to help me learn to dance the floss. One was from LokTer Shan, and the other from ChillyChill Chris.

Now, I’m not saying I’m going to be part of a music video anytime soon, but Momma put together a little swish swish tonight.

I feel a bit accomplished. Maybe, in a few months, I’ll be able to speed it up and actually look like I can hang with my Gen Z kids. For now, though, I gotta keep counting those steps in mah head.

Level One Makeup Goal: Smokey Eye

Confession: This was supposed to be blogged in March, which is why my hair is still long, but I never got around to it. Until today.

One of my 2018 goals is to learn how to do my makeup. Now don’t get me wrong. I love sitting in a chair at MAC and letting an artist go wild with style. But in this day and age where a 13 year old looks more put together than the best IKEA geek’s furniture, this hot mess momma needs to work on her skills.

My first goal? Eyes. They’re the windows to the soul.

Enter Kat Von D’s Innerstellar, not a new palette, but new to me.

I looked up YouTube tutorials for this palette and found many offers of help, some six minutes long, some seventeen plus minutes long. Obviously, I went for a shorter vid. My apologies to the amazing girl who posted the video I ultimately chose. I didn’t save it. Can’t find it now. But if I come across it again I will tag ya here because you helped me pull off a bomb look.

I wanted to recreate a smokey eye, that seductress of shades. Bring on some old school Hollywood glamour. The YouTuber recommended tape to help shape the color. I only had painter’s tape so…

Be very jelly of my life hack skills. Honestly, I don’t even know why I have painter’s tape and not Scotch tape, but it let the show go on.

Thanks to a Millennial friend, I have tons of brushes in many shapes and sizes, so I wasn’t completely lost with dabbing on the lid color in Orion and rounding out the contrast color Lunacy. Soon, this formed.

Look, daughter dancing and singing to “Havana”! I almost look like I know what I’m doing, ooh-na-na!

End result:

Okay, so I need some help with the liquid eyeliner. Stay tuned for Level Two Makeup Goal, where I’ll go on a quest to nab the Holy Grail of eyeliner looks: the winged look.

For now, I’ll take looking a little more put together. ✌🏼❤️🦄

My Lesson in Kindness

So, unless you’ve been caught in a never-ending Law & Order: SVU binge, you know Facebook has an On This Day feature, where you’re reminded of past achievements that put you on figurative mountaintops and mistakes that legit hurt worse than a you-told-me-this-movie-wasn’t-sad-but-it-is-and-now-I’m-bawling way.

Today, I was reminded of how I looked three years ago.

My first thought was one full of self-hate and loathing because that’s how I’ve acted towards myself for the past 33 years. “How could you let yourself go? Again? God, you’re such an idiot. Life was so much better back than.”

That’s when I hit the brakes. “Really, Dani?” I asked myself. Four years ago, my life was broken. I had moved to a new city for a new career and was constantly homesick and lonely. Following a weight loss program was easy because I had no desire to eat. Exercise meant I didn’t have to come home to a broken marriage. And this picture doesn’t show that to the average viewer.

Fast forward to today. I’ve since met the man of my dreams, remarried, and became a stepmother to three gorgeous bonus children, all with dreams and goals of their own that we get to help them achieve. My daughter decided she was ready to move away from the only home she’s ever known and try out life in the Big City, and she’s soaring.

All the little things that make life, well, life have happened along this journey. My husband and I traveled to Mexico City, where we ate awesome street tamales and rocked out to Pearl Jam. We’ve tried out funky ice cream cones and have donuts and coffee for breakfast every Saturday. Instead of a thirty minute DVD workout, we’ve been known to push aside the sofa and coffee table, put on Spotify, and dance.

The scale and recent pics tell me I’m heavier today, but there’s not a scale that measures happiness.

Now, I’m trying to get fit again, and if the progress is a little slower this time than last, that’s okay, because I’m experiencing life fully. “So be kind to yourself,” I remind me. I don’t know if I’ll ever really overcome 33 years of brainwashing, but I’ll keep working to show myself some kindness.

And now, for some more SVU.