my name is rachel and i'm a hoarder

"...hi rachel."

The last week of my life has been dedicated to many important things. Reading Harry Potter duh. trekking to Provo for a few days of work, singing to Katy Perry's new single, working out phone and money stuff for Ukraine like a pro, eating Oreos, having dishrag whipping wars with Caroline oh i lost bad. and have the welt to prove it trying sushi for the first time in my life holla!, and sleeping at ridiculous hours. 

I've also gone through all of my possessions at least three times, trying to get rid of clothes that I didn't even remember existed, figuring out just how many different hair softening products I need, and debating whether I will ever want to don that ring from 7th grade that has googly eyes embedded in it. i mean, maybe? I've given away bags of clothes and have sufficiently organized my jewelry into what could pass as acceptable apparel for my age. Maybe.

But the one thing I cannot and will not give away? Notes. Letters. Tickets. Valentines. Birthday greetings. Anything that anyone has ever written me. I will go through my box of cards every year, trying to see what I could throw out in an attempt to streamline my hoard, but every time I keep them all. And it's because I read them all. And I smile and I tear up and I laugh and I remember and I put that little piece of paper right back where it was.

I remember the cards I have thrown out in previous years, when I lost all sense of nostalgia and sentiment for an hour and went on a recycling rampage. I regret those rampages already because I miss all those little notes and encouragement and tokens of love.

So, if you have ever written me one of those things, thank you. Whether you signed it, left it anonymous, wrote on the back of a napkin or folded it into a swan, I kept it. And it still means so much to me.

peace and cheetos

rrw

we have words for a reason

So, like any good twenty and older girl without a boyfriend, I have dedicated a larger portion of my life than I care to admit to the fabricated affection of others via reality television. But let's get real, nothing in these things is real. Except for the real bewilderment I feel towards the disappearing act of so many women's eyebrows. But...that's a different tangent.

I've been watching this truly terrible show. I just can't stop. It's basically a Bachelor spin off with less traveling, no roses, fewer cat fights, and no Chris Harrison. i really don't know why i even watch it. In it, three guys date numerous women and then send them home one by one. And I've noticed a trend in these girls that is seriously driving me crazy. They all tell this man how in love they are with him, are very generous in their show of physical affection, and plan their lives out with this man. Then the man sends them on their way and in their few moments to say goodbye all the girls say is "It's ok. It's ok. I understand...."

And I'm all like "WHAT?"
You had already named your children with this guy.
How are you NOT slapping him in the face?
He kissed you good, like, yesterday.

Ok. Sure, they went into this knowing what was in store. And like I said, it's all fake, but I mean really?

The few times I have experienced a guy "sending me home" I was not ok and I was not about to make him feel like everything was fine and dandy. I mean, I tried not to go all girly cray-cray on them, but I tried my best to stand up for myself. Not just say "It's ok. It's ok. You're a great guy and only good things will come to you and I'm just going to stew over this for the next 8 and a half months and tear myself apart about it but for your sake, it's ok. I understand."

NO.
Use your words people. And if you don't have a broad enough vocabulary for it, then buy a dictionary.

peace and rants

rrw

that little black dress

First, lemme just say, yesterday was a downright terrible day for me. It started off great with some sleek looking slacks and a flattering sweater. My awkward bangs looked less awkward than normal and my mascara went on with ease only poked my eyeball once. what of it? But then it just went downhill. Like, way downhill. Excluding the conversation I had with the janitor on the majesty of Montana, I just couldn't get myself to a happy place.

Ugh. It's depressing and embarrassing just to think about it.

Fortunately I have been blessed with amazing friends who will listen to me ramble about my hard life... oh my gosh I'm just sick of waiting for them to come home and I only had like, this really good cereal for breakfast and a superb scripture study and I sat there in front of my overflowing closet just trying to pick from all my clothes and it's just so hard. All my friends are great and I love my family and can't wait to see them and I'm just so sad right now...and somehow manage to NOT strangle me.

Once we deduced that I probably needed to eat something other than M&Ms, things started looking up. Things continued to look up as I made my way to a few different stores to run errands and just be by myself.

While running these errands, I came across some finely sewn fabric that I instantly knew I needed to put on my body. Grabbing my size and another in one size bigger because sometimes you just have bad days and you KNOW you're going to need a bigger size. But guess what? That's ok. I barricaded myself in the dressing room before the fleet of high school girls invaded all corners of the store.

As the fabric fell over my head and my shoulders I thought, "Oh, I love the neckline. And the sleeves are perfect!" I quickly noticed how the waistline was in the perfect place for my torso. The skirt had just enough flare that I could eat a good dinner and still be comfortable (which is probably the most important aspect of potential clothing). The delicate black lace was a complimentary contrast to my less than tan skin. The texture was soft and flattering. This was the dress. This was the dress that would make everyone love me!

But then the dreadful happened.
The hemline. 
2 more inches, an inch and a half, maybe even one, and I would have been doing my little "Yeah I found what I want and I feel good and I'm going to buy this little sucker!" dance yes, that actually does happen. But alas. No such dance was to happen in this dressing room because the dress was too short. But not the "hit-you-in-the-face-oh-my-gosh-what-are-you-thinking-it's-way-too-short" kind of short. It was the "you-could-probably-get-away-with-this-especially-in-the-summer-which-is-right-around-the-corner-anyway" kind of short. Which is the worst kind of short.

I rationalized all sorts of terrible rationalizations. other girls wear things much shorter than this to church.
I made the worst sorts of excuses. i should really wear it while i can, right?
I convinced myself that people wouldn't notice. it's not like that much more of my leg is that big of a deal anyway.

But in the end, the fact that I was trying to justify buying it was reason enough to let it go. Such a sad separation hasn't happened since the last time I went shopping and fell in love with a teapot.

Sometimes dressing modest is a struggle. A REAL struggle that is overlooked and discredited. Modesty? Psh, you covered that in Young Women's ages ago. Why should it be that hard to just buy things that cover you up? Well boys, it IS hard. It is hard to sit there, looking at a dress that you love, that makes you feel pretty and confident and appealing, and say no. It takes time, money, and a whole lot of patience to find articles of clothing that are cute and appropriate. It's a struggle that doesn't get easier just because you graduated to Relief Society and go to BYU. It's really, really hard.

I realized that all over again yesterday.

I commend those who don't have such a difficult time with this as I do, and I'm grateful for their examples. I'm grateful for guidelines and standards that keep me protected. I admit that finding cute skirts and shorts that are long enough for these Weiler legs of mine is difficult, but I know it's worth it.

How about we all try to notice and recognize the modesty in others this week, and compliment them for it? I know I certainly will, because dang. It is an accomplishment.

At least I can count on this one being long enough, amiright?

peace and hemlines to the knees

rrw