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About insecurities

September 28, 2010 By Uncorked V 11 Comments

I was never the smart kid. I was never as smart as my sister, T, when we were growing up. I never got straight A’s like she did, or my cousins A & D did. My grandmother once introduced all of us grand-kids to a friend of hers saying: “T made the honor roll this year, and A & D both got straight A’s! And V … well, V is pretty and she tries hard.”

I always kind of thought I was just average, and I was okay with that.

My parents never said anything to make me feel that way, except the one time my mother told me to ask my brother who is five years younger than me for help with my math homework (which he did). I was an average student. No one expected greatness from me. I was an athlete, but not a good one. I had no special skills or talents. Everyone, myself included, just kind of figured I’d marry someone with some money, pop out a few kids and live in the suburbs.

Something happened my senior year of high school where I became ambitious. I remember it exactly. I was in my high school government class and learning about the fascinating world of politics. Oh my. It was like my soap opera that I had been taping since second grade had come to life in my classroom. I was intrigued. And I studied. And did extra credit. And I got an A in that class. It wasn’t that I wasn’t smart, it was that I just didn’t care about what I had been learning to that point. Okay, I still can’t do fractions or long division, but that doesn’t matter.

When I went to college the next year I took every political science and pre-law class I could find.  I was hooked. I got straight A’s. For the first time I felt like I could actually be something.

Be someone.

A politician? Maybe. A judge? Possibly. A lawyer? Absolutely. I worked my ass off in college, but also partied more than most people. I managed to graduate with two degrees in three years and I can still remember all of the bar specials for every bar on 3rd Street for every night of the week.

I landed a great job after college, one of those jobs that give you “real” experience before you go to law school. Once in law school, I was back to being a pretty average student, but that’s not unusual for law school. I got a few A’s, mostly B’s (and a D- in Ethics, I mean really, legal ethics? Who are we kidding?).

Awesome.  So what about insecurities?

Not only was my sister smarter than me, but she was also thinner than me. She was the one who got all the new clothes, and I was the one who would go home with shoes or a new purse. Because they always fit.

Isn’t it funny how some things, and not others, just stick with you? Today, I know I’m smart. I know I’m pretty. I know I’m funny. I may not be the greatest athlete, but I can kick some ass and have completed a few races. But there is still that lingering insecurity about my size. Why does this still bother me? How can I have accomplished every single goal I’ve set for myself in my life, but these few extra pounds make me absolutely crazy?

I think the answer is that I’m just too hard on myself. I’ve always been my own biggest critic. But lately I’ve had more confidence – things in my life are good. I’m done stressing over these little things that in the long run don’t matter. It’s time to just enjoy my life and my good fortune and happiness. And am going to stop doubting any of it.

And if this is being average, then I’m more than okay with it.

Stuart Smalley … signing off.

To read more by V, visit *uncorked.

Filed Under: Motivate Tagged With: , ,

Too horny to fight back

September 15, 2010 By Uncorked V 14 Comments

I officially look like I should be starring in a country music video. I am bruised and beaten and defeated. I need to be rescued by a cowboy in Wranglers with bulging biceps and shoulders that scream “just dig your nails into me and hold on tight.”

We all know how I suck completely at dance fitness videos. I have wished ungodly things on my spin and body sculpt instructors. I was asked never to return to a gym because I threw a dumbbell at a personal trainer. I hate exercising. Just effing hate it.

Growing up I was always pretty active. I was a figure skater for too many years (my crappy knee is evidence of that). Then I went into Tae Kwon Do and got my first degree blackbelt. Then I played basketball and field hockey. In college I was so afraid of the “Freshman 15″ that I actually lost 25 pounds by going to the gym every day and then signing up for Muay Thai. The constant? I love to fight.

My fitness goal for 2010 was to run the Shamrock Shuffle 8k.  And I did it.  No, I did not shatter any time records. Yes, my running buddy literally ran circles around me and at one point was screaming “BACON” to get me to finish. But I did finish it. And then ordered vodka and french toast at brunch after. So my latest fitness venture to get these last 20 pounds off is Krav Maga.  But I’m not only doing it for fitness, I’ve been wanting to get back into mixed martial arts for a while now.

Krav Maga is the official self defense system of the Israeli Defensive Forces.  I like to call it Jew-Jitsu, but that might be considered offensive – but we’re not talking about your typical accountant here.  It is hardcore. It is hand-to-hand and weapons defense combat training. It is awesome. And today, as my all-too-fine instructor today was working with me on my ground game I realized I am entirely too horny to be wrestling with a gorgeous and muscular hunk of man. I also got my ass kicked.

I was choked, thrown to the ground, pinned down, punched, head-locked, had my hair pulled and it didn’t even result in an orgasm. It resulted in a long hot shower and plenty of Ibuprofen. I have bruises around my neck, all over my arms, and I may or may not have a broken toe. Our “warm-up” consisted of one of the most intense core workouts I’ve ever had in my life. To the point where to throw a couple of knees five minutes later almost left me crying on the floor in pain. But you know what? I. love. it. And I can’t wait to go back for more.

Now, where is my cowboy?

To read more by V visit *uncorked.

Filed Under: Humor, Misc, Motivate Tagged With: , , , ,

V vs. The Unholy Toddler … I mean, my nephew.

September 8, 2010 By Uncorked V 17 Comments

He looks sweet, right?  Last night I watched my nephew, B.  He’s just about 18 months and apparently growing up fast because he’s starting his “Terrible 2′s” early.  Of course, I know nothing about children to begin with and had to ask on Twitter if the “3 Second Rule” applies to babies.  After I picked the chicken nugget out of my hair and dropped it on the floor, I gave it right back to him and he put it in his mouth.  Whatever, a little dirt never hurt anyone.

This probably won’t shock you, but I am not very good with babies or toddlers. After my sister left the house my sweet little adorable nephew turned into Damien from The Omen and I was looking for three 6′s on his newly buzzed head, truly hoping I wouldn’t have to sacrifice him on an alter in a church.  Mainly because I am pretty sure any church I walk into these days would burn to the ground.

He screamed holy hell for about 10 minutes and then he stuck his thumb in his mouth and apparently went to his “happy place” because he was pretty much comatose for the next fifteen minutes.  I got him to eat a bit (hence, the nugget episode) and then when he was done instead of politely telling me he’s done he decided to scream bloody murder again.

I tried everything from holding him (scratch marks to prove it) to promising to buy him and his friends beer when they’re in high school.  Then he started doing something really strange that I kind of forgot he knew how to do.  So imagine how ridiculous I felt when I found out my 18 month old nephew is smarter than me.  The kid is standing there signing to me.  I forgot my sister was teaching him sign language.   Holy crap, I had no idea what he wanted and he wouldn’t stop.

He kept doing the same signs over and over and I thought maybe he wanted more food so I’d strap him to his chair again, which kicked off another round of I-can-make-your-ears-bleed screaming.  I had to put in the DVDs and fast forward until I figured out what he wanted while he’s standing there screaming and signing.  Water.  That’s it.  He just wanted some water. Stupid smart baby.

He also just started giving kisses, which is actually kind of violent.  He doesn’t gently lean in, he kind of falls at you head first.  He fell into my arm but I was happy I got one anyway.  At least he tried.

We went for a little walk before I put him down, which actually went really well and then he was all tired and worn out from giving his Auntie V a migraine.  I changed his diaper (it rarely happens, but I can actually do it and even put it on the right way this time), put him in his jammies (backwards), had to redo that part while he sat there laughing at me like “You really suck at this Auntie V.”  We cuddled for a bit in the old rocking chair (my favorite part).  Then he went right to bed.

Then I opened a bottle of wine and made an appointment with my gynecologist for an IUD.

To read more by V, visit *uncorked.

Filed Under: Humor, Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , ,

Bite it, push it, pop it, slap it

August 24, 2010 By Uncorked V 12 Comments

Yep.  That’s what I definitely do not look like.  Every time I start to get a bit of confidence, I put in the Pussycat Dolls Workout video thinking maybe I am a bit sexier now.  Then it starts and I quickly remember that I’m a chubby white girl with no coordination.  No, I have not learned my lesson.

There are similar incidents stemming from that time I bought Carmen Electra’s striptease aerobics tapes and discovered that chubby white girls who slap their asses and bite their fingers are not instantly transformed into hard-body sex kittens with awesome hair. That was probably the biggest disappointment of my life.

After making sure all the blinds were closed, there was finger biting, ass slapping and as a burlesque-y little bonus – this workout uses props.  A feather boa. Now, since I do not own a feather boa, contrary to the theory that every woman should own a feather boa, I used a scarf. A nice green and white striped scarf from Gap. As I “whipped it” into an unsexy frenzy I broke my ceiling fan and my dogs looked more ashamed of me than ever. I’m sorry boys, I’m working on finding you a daddy.

And let’s just say that “popping it” hurts, “slapping it” doesn’t make me feel sexy and I still don’t understand what “pushing it” actually means.  All this has done is make me tired, sweaty, red-faced and homicidal.  And want a cheeseburger.  And then turn bulimic.  And probably suicidal by the end of the evening.

Since I tagged this as “motivate” I thought I would share Carmen’s wise words: “Never underestimate the power of the finger in the mouth.”  Just don’t do it while sweaty and the opposite of anything that remotely resembles “sexy.”

Now, where’s that cheeseburger?

Filed Under: Entertainment, Humor, Misc, Motivate Tagged With: , , , , , ,

That time I tried to talk myself out of thinking I was crazy (It didn’t work)

August 17, 2010 By Uncorked V 4 Comments

Yes, I’m talking to myself today. Why? Because when insomnia strikes and I lay awake in bed until 7 a.m. on the one chance I have to get some real sleep I tend to think a little too much. Which is exactly what happened last night. I thought about friendships, relationships, family, and of course, my life. And I hate when I get like this, so I think I just need to write it out for a minute.

Lately I’ve been spending more time with friends from blogging than my friends in real life – whether it’s on the phone, in person, or in email threads. Some of my real friends find this odd. I do too. Not all the time, but certainly every once in a while I get one of those “What the crap, V? You don’t even know these people” moments.

I guess it started when I met Brit and Lola.  And that wasn’t weird to me at all. Then there were others, and there are still others that I have plans with already. My blog was supposed to remain anonymous. It was a place for me to vent and complain and just write. I never intended for it to do anything but those things. In a million years I never thought friendships would form outside of the little comment boxes. Somewhere along the way I threw away some anonymity and started trusting people. Trust is not something I normally give away easily. Ever. So how can I invite strangers into my home? Or into my daily life? Good question. I have no idea.

And I do consider a lot of these to be real friendships. I have always been my own person – never one to go along for the ride or do something just to fit in. But most people don’t understand me. I don’t believe in horoscopes, but I read mine every night to kind of “test” that. Lately they have been ridiculously on point, and a little creepy. Last night, before I didn’t fall asleep, I read this:

When you meet people in a social setting and they experience your sexy charm, there are some who won’t take you seriously simply because you tend to be flirtatious. But those aren’t the people you want to develop a relationship with anyway, Scorpio. Concentrate on getting to know the people who you think “get” you. You are one of the deeper signs both intellectually and spiritually, and so it’s natural that there aren’t as many people on your wavelength. But if you forget about who doesn’t understand you and focus on those who do, you will develop a fabulous circle of friends and romantic prospects.

I have struggled with this my entire life. I am honest and I am flirtatious – these have both been good and bad things in my life. There really are very few people who “get” me, which has always perplexed me because I think I’m pretty simple. But some of these thoughts have made me feel stupid lately and I hate feeling stupid. I am a control freak and don’t like feeling that I don’t know what I’m doing. I guess this really has no point, but I’m tired and spent too much time last night not sleeping, but just thinking about all of this and wanted to get it out of my head so maybe I can sleep tonight.

To read more by V, visit *uncorked

Filed Under: Misc Tagged With: , , ,

Not exactly talkative, but would have been my best date this year

August 16, 2010 By Uncorked V 7 Comments

Last month when I was in New Delhi, we went out for Chinese food. Yes, in India (needed to switch it up a bit). The restaurant inside one of their beautiful hotels had the greatest idea, possibly ever.

If you dine alone, they will bring you a goldfish in a little hipster bowl to sit across from you and keep you company. Seriously. I had heard about this ahead of time since a coworker ate there alone a few years ago, but I almost didn’t believe him.

I patiently waited for someone to come in and ask for a table for one.  I didn’t think it was going to happen since it seemed that everyone dines in groups of at least 15 in India.  Then a woman came in.  Alone.  And she was seated at a table, asked what she would like to drink, and the waiter walked away.  I was so disheartened until I saw him return with a bottle of water and the goldfish.  There it was.  Put in front of her to keep her company while she ate by herself.  Amazing.

If I had gone by myself and didn’t know ahead of time about the fish, I’m not sure how I would have reacted to a fish being put across the table from me. But now I want to go sit by myself with the goldfish. Name him. Talk to him sporadically. Laugh randomly like he told a funny joke or blew a funny bubble. Start an argument and ask for a new fish because this one offended me.  Maybe take a little bite – sushi anyone?

Anyway, this may have been the best thing I saw in India. I freaking love this idea.

To read more by V, visit *uncorked.

Filed Under: Entertainment, Humor, Misc Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

The truth, half-truth, or that thing you say that isn’t even close to the truth

August 12, 2010 By Uncorked V 7 Comments

I have always been a phenomenal liar (go ahead, insert lawyer / liar joke here).  But it’s the truth.  I am great at omitting important pieces of information, manipulating the facts, and speaking in half-truths.  I’ve only been caught in two lies in my life.  And both times by my parents.

When I was young I would lie about kid stuff.  Did I brush, floss and fluoride before bed?  Wait, you didn’t have to do all that?  You also probably didn’t have to wear a shirt to your dental appointments which read “I love my Dentist, He’s my Daddy.”  I did.

The first time I got caught lying to my parents was about whether or not I flossed one night.  I did not.  And I paid for it.  Or at least my ass did.  The second time was devastating.  I was confronted by my parents because they found a cigarette in their car while I was home from college on break my sophomore year.  I lied about it.  But I retracted and came clean.  And you know what killed me?  It was that look of disappointment.  That look is pure torture and one I’ll never forget.  I’m sure it was present when I lied about the flossing, but I was too young to recognize the look itself, or suffer the emotional consequences of getting that look.

There was yelling.  There was crying.  Then somehow the fact I occasionally smoked cigarettes turned into me drinking and driving, smoking pot and having sex.  Oh hell no.  Well, if I would lie about one, of course I’m lying about the others, right?  Parent logic.  Brutal.  The shocking part of this is that I did admit to two out of the three.  Mainly because I was afraid of that look again.  I don’t drink and drive, and never did (especially when I didn’t even have a car at school).  But I tried pot.  And I don’t think I ever actually admitted the sex thing but it was probably pretty obvious by my reaction.

Today I’m still a great liar – and my skills have only improved.  You learn tricks.  You know not to give two excuses for one lie.  Don’t fidget.  Stop sweating.  So here’s the kicker.  I can lie with the best of them, but I don’t.  For someone who generally speaks their mind, what is the point in lying?  It just doesn’t make sense anymore.  And it’s entirely too much work.  So I don’t do it.  Well, that’s not entirely true.

I do lie to myself.  And unfortunately, I’m still really good at that.  I guess the joke is on me.  At least my disappointed face is oddly attractive in the mirror.  Sometimes I even wink at myself for good measure.

To read more by V visit *uncorked

Filed Under: Entertainment, Misc, Parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , ,

My mortgage will last longer than your marriage.

July 29, 2010 By Uncorked V 24 Comments

You know what is tacky? Not reciprocating all the thoughtful things I have given over the years because I’m not getting married or having a baby.  That’s tacky.

So after years of being single, I graduated college, then law school, and then bought my own condo. While doing all of this on my own, I spent thousands of dollars (money that isn’t exactly growing on trees for me while drowning in student loan debt) on engagement parties, wedding showers, bachelorette parties, weddings, destination weddings, baby showers, baby gifts, baptisms and just about everything else you can think of. All the while having to con a good-looking, presentable male friend into going to events with me as my “+1” or going solo in hopes of being that guest or that bridesmaid who gets drunk and slutty with a groomsman (which of course did happen on more than one, or four, okay maybe seven occasions).

When I bought my condo in Chicago it was a big deal for me, so I threw a housewarming party and I registered for it. My mother was horrified and told me in no uncertain terms am I allowed to tell family or family friends that I am registered for a housewarming party. I thought it was a great idea. People told me they wanted to get me something anyway, so instead of getting something that I will inevitably return because my tastes are quite particular, why not get something I actually want or need?

This may come as a surprise, but I didn’t listen to my mother and told people who asked that I was registered at both Crate and Barrel and Bottlenotes (register for wine!). This housewarming party was phenomenal, I got a bunch of stuff off of my registry, tons of wine which came in the mail, and some hand delivered.   Those who didn’t buy something off of either registry came with gift cards to one or both! Aside from a few people who still think it’s acceptable to bring Yellow Tail as a gift, the party was a complete success (sorry, I’m a bit of a wine snob – and won’t even cook with Yellow Tail…really, spend $2-3 more and get a decent bottle). Or just go with vodka. But not the cheap plastic handle crap. I guess I’m a vodka snob too.

I personally think that graduating from law school, or buying a condo, is more impressive than getting married. Besides, if you’re going to give gifts for marriages, they should be for a ten year anniversary – anyone can get married, but if you can stay married – that’s the real achievement.

One more thing to note, expecting mothers, please consider open bars at baby showers. You will get more of us single, city girls (who will predictably wear black) to attend and not bitch about buying yet another gift or making the drive out to suburbia. And God help you if I ever hear one of you bitch about having to buy a housewarming or hostess gift, I will come over and trash every single piece of china or crystal you received for your wedding. And take back whatever expensive and thoughtful gift I gave you.

Lastly, since I hope to move again in about a year, there will be another party (yes, again – you get like 100 parties before you actually get married and no, I don’t feel bad about throwing myself another one) and this time around, there will be strippers.

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