I mustache you a question, but I'll shave it for later.

My opinion of the mustache fad: to some degree, mustaches are popular in the Provo area because of the BYU Honor Code. Guys can't grow beards, but mustaches are allowed. The resulting attitude is that beards = telestial, but mustaches = celestial. It also helps that Sammy's gives you a discount on their grilled cheese sandwich (you only pay 75 cents!) when you wear a mustache there on a Monday (because every Monday is Mustache Monday, duh).

Really though, I think that on some level, we're making fun of mustaches. We're poking a little bit of fun at people who actually think mustaches are cool, but only by thinking ourselves that mustaches are cool. It's like the kid at school who's popular because he's just so odd (like Screech from Saved By the Bell, or my little brother Parley).

At any rate, here are just a few of my favorite mustachioed pictures of my friends and me. I'd post a lot more, but I really mustache . . .

This one is mostly to prove that I know how to make more than just one face when I'm wearing a mustache.

How swimming changed my body image

Swimsuit.

There's a word that makes plenty of women shudder. I used to get really embarrassed at the slightest mention of that word, even though in my mind, a prototypical swimsuit was a one-piece covered by a tank top and shorts, or some other super-modest combination of clothes worn into the swimming pool. Still, something about wearing a swimsuit gave me this gut-wrenching feeling, this fear of some horrifying experience like getting on the diving board and making someone barf in the pool at the sight of my body. (K, so maybe that's a little overly dramatic, but you get the idea--I, like many people, love to swim, but dread the attire.)

Last year, I decided that would change for me. I still wanted to be modest, but I didn't want to feel like I had to jump into the pool fully-clothed in order to feel comfortable. Specifically, I set a goal that I would be able to feel good about myself without wearing shorts over my swimsuit.

Now, the underlying message to myself when I set that goal was that I wanted to get hotlegs. I wanted to exercise a lot and lose some weight. I wanted to end up with really nice, muscular thighs and fabulous calves. I wanted to zap any cellulite that I had so that I could essentially have legs like a volleyball player (even if they were doomed to eternal pastiness). I was going on a lot of bike rides, and I thought that after several months of doing that consistently, I could afford to go to the pool without wearing shorts.

Usually, when I shopped for swimsuits, I'd buy a patterned top and plain bottoms, since I was just going to cover the bottoms up with shorts anyway. At the beginning of last summer, though, I bought one with a plain top and patterned bottoms. After all, if I was going to be showing the bottoms off later on, they might as well be cute, right?

Well, as fate would have it, the first day I was going to go swimming that season, my other swimsuit decided it was done working for me. It no longer fit right, the ties were falling apart, and it was just not going to cooperate. I was left with no choice but to go to the pool in my new swimsuit. Since it was supposed to be my no-shorts swimsuit, I hadn't bought any shorts that matched it, so I just didn't wear shorts that day. It was no monumental decision; I just thought that I'd rather be noticeably chunky--yet fashionable--than to have my chunks disguised by clashing pieces of frump.

That day was really empowering for me. My swimsuit still fit me well, and it still covered enough of me to keep me feeling modest, but I was probably more comfortable that day than any day from my teenage years when I'd jumped into the pool wearing basketball shorts and a tshirt for comfort. No longer did I have to worry about my shorts falling off and showing my swimsuit (because heaven forbid I go swimming in a swimsuit) or having my clothes stick to me in really unattractive ways when I got out of the pool.  We had a grand old time, my swimsuit and me, just enjoying the sun and the water and the fact that I have a body. And yeah, I have more of a body than some women do, but it is still a body--a gift from God--and it can do some amazing things. I mean, just when it's at the pool, it can swim, jump, cannonball, flip, do handstands, have underwater tea parties, make cool hairstyles, catch frisbees, and throw things, and it's learning how to dive. And let's not forget how awesome my body is at floating.

So yeah, my thighs touch. Yeah, they jiggle when I walk. Yeah, I inherited enormous--but not necessarily muscular--calves from my grandma. But I am happy. I am fairly healthy. My body is beautiful, and I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Dates (and pistachios)

Let's cut to the chase. I don't blog about dating very much, and here's the reason why: I find myself significantly less-qualified than I'd like to be in terms of having had experiences to validate my opinions on the matter. However, I think the head on my shoulders is pretty decent (in more ways than one, wink), so here are some of my observations and thoughts on the matter. (My friend gave a talk a few months ago, and he asked a few questions of his friends about some different aspects of dating; these are his questions and my answers.)

What aspects of typical dating do you like?
     a. Getting to know people better. I’ve known some of my best friends for 5 or more years, and I still learn new things about them every time we talk. Each time I come closer to one of God’s children, I am amazed by His ability to create so many people who are so different, yet so similar, in mind-boggling ways. I think dating is a very natural and fun way to find those differences and similarities, through doing various activities and interacting with other people.
     b. Learning more about myself. I have been on a couple of dates within the past year that have really taught me a lot about what is important to me, in relationships and just life in general.
     c. Doing fun activities that I wouldn’t necessarily do by myself or just with my roommates or other friends. People can get really creative with date ideas!
     d. Testing myself a little bit—seeing how I can overcome my insecurities. I love when I go on a date and feel like I have gone out of my comfort zone a little bit and yet still felt comfortable. (That said, my comfort zone is probably bigger than it should be, and it takes a lot to make me feel uncomfortable, so this doesn’t happen on every date.) Still, sometimes it’s just being on a date that makes me feel a little nervous or more self-conscious than normal, and if I can overcome that, it’s the best feeling in the world regardless of how the date actually goes.
     e. I love feeling like I am worth someone’s time. I don’t, by any means, measure the worth of my soul according to how many dates I go on, but when someone takes time aside from their typical schedule and social life to spend time with me—getting to know me better, seeing me as an equal and as a good use of their time, confirming that I’m not the only one who thinks I’m kinda cool—I feel happy of myself.
     f. Good, enlightening conversation. This doesn’t have to mean “deep” or “philosophical” conversation, but just conversation that is wholesome, entertaining, and real.
     g. Smiling. Being on a date is the best excuse in the world to just smile nonstop. I feel like we shouldn’t need an excuse to do that, but unless you’re on a date, people tend to ask, “why are you smiling so much?” People don’t really ask that while you’re on a date, because they know you’re just trying to be as attractive as possible.

What aspects of typical dating do you find frustrating?
     a. People taking it way too seriously. It’s supposed to be fun! And while there should be thought involved with how we go about dating—we should always be considerate of the feelings of others and trying to understand and be true to our own—it doesn’t have to be something that is a chore to do or that we’re dreading or always stressed about.
     b. Lack of communication. Regardless of whether you’re a man or a woman, it’s hard to tell someone that you are (or are not) interested in him or her. That means that there are a lot of people never getting a chance, and a lot of people being led on.
     c. Fear of rejection (not necessarily my own fear). I get really sad when I see amazing guys (whom I would feel honored to have the chance to date) get turned down by girls they’ve pursued, and then give up, assuming that will happen with every other girl they may be interested in. Sometimes this happens after a bit of time, but I’ve seen it happen before there has even been a first date. So girls, unless you get a true “creeper vibe” (which I’ll explain later), just don’t turn down a first date. It is not going to ruin your reputation or your life if you have an evening full of awkward moments with a guy you’re not attracted to right now. It may ruin your record of having a lifetime of perfect dates, but who the heck wants that record anyway? The only perfect date any one of us needs in life is the one at the temple with a person who is right for us. With our limited perspective and imperfect judgments, who are we to say that a given child of God is not worthy of our time for an evening—or that we are not worthy of theirs?
     d. The one percent. My perception of dating in Provo is that it happens a lot for a small percentage of the people, and very little for the rest. I may be wrong about that, but that’s what I’ve observed in my own life and the lives of my friends. I’m afraid that, because there are so many good people here, a lot of people are afraid to date someone because they're certain they can find someone better just around the next corner. And while it's true that there can certainly be better people for us than the ones we're currently associated with, I think we are not always the best judges of character. (I’ll address that issue later on, too.)
     e. The 99 percent. I am kind, I like myself (but not too much), and I’m super pretty, but I very rarely get asked out. (There, I said it.)

What aspects of dating would you change?
     a. Types. Guys, if you’re only dating one type of girl (because she’s “your type,” supposedly) and you haven’t gotten married yet, why is that? Is it you? Or is it the type of girl you’re dating? Same thing in reverse goes for girls. I guess I just think it’s silly that everyone goes around with their perfect “type” in their minds. Sure, there are certain characteristics we want to have in our future spouse, but how will we know whether or not a given person possesses those traits if we don’t take the time to get to know him or her first? I would be grossly mistaken if I thought that I could really know a person and judge whether or not he would be a good match for me just by having seen him in certain circles. I’d also be a fool for thinking that I understand exactly what I need in a husband—only Heavenly Father knows that perfectly. The least I can do is try and discover that understanding by associating with all sorts of guys.
     b. People’s definition of “creepy.” To me, a “creepy” person is someone who gives off the serial rapist vibe—someone who actually gives me the heebie jeebies and whom I don’t feel safe around. I hear so many girls calling guys “creepy” when, in fact, he was just a nice boy trying to make nice conversation, and he either didn’t have the social skills or the handsome face of someone the girls would find attractive. There are creepy people in the world for sure, but the fact that you’re not attracted to them is not what qualifies them to be creepmeisters. Quit calling guys creepy if they aren’t actually creepy. (I don’t know if guys ever call girls creepy, but if so, they should stop it too, barring the presence of the aforementioned creeper vibe.)
     c. People’s attitudes and complaints about the “friend zone.” So many people think it’s a terrible thing to be put in the friend zone. They see it as an indestructible, inescapable box.
I think that’s stupid.
When I get married, I want to be married to my best friend, so why should I not date people who are already my good friends? In fact, I’d say that if anyone ever wanted to date me, they sure as heck better be in my friend zone first! Sure, there’s always the risk that the friendship will not be the same (if even existent) later on, but that is what I’d consider a righteous risk. Look at it this way. If you never date your friend, you’ll both end up marrying other people. Once you’re married, your friendship will definitely be different or nonexistent anyway. If you do try to date and it doesn't work out, you’ll both move on and end up dating and eventually marrying other people. Either way, the friendship will change at some point in your life, for better or for worse. (See what I did there? Marriage pun.) So, since it’s usually girls who are blamed for putting guys in the friend zone, I’ll word it this way, though I can cite dozens of my own experiences to show you that it works both ways: Girls, if a guy friend wants to date you, give him a chance. It should be flattering that he wants to risk the friendship for something better. Guys, if you want to date someone who’s already a good friend, be a man and take the dang risk. Everyone, stop using “saving the friendship” as an excuse—our highest purpose here is not to have eternal “justfriendships,” but to marry, which is brought about by dating.
(Can I get an “amen”?)

Gee-tar

If you've read my blog for a while, you probably remember Clark. (Almost a year ago, he and I were fake-engaged for April Fools' Day, and it was a hoot.) He really is a great friend, and it's going to be hard to say goodbye to him when he graduates and moves away next month.

A while back, Clark asked me to help him learn how to play guitar. The problem is, I'm pretty much self-taught, and I can't do anything more than play a bunch of chords. I told him he'd be better off finding someone else if he wanted to get really good and do anything fancy, but he still wanted me to teach him, so I agreed. We have probably gotten together and played guitar about 5 or 6 times total, but he has made a lot of progress.

Anyway, here we are playing Ingrid Michaelson's "You and I." Enjoy!

(By the way, I'm pretty sure we've only worked on barre chords twice, and here you can see him playing one of them pretty much effortlessly. I'm proud of him, and I'm proud of myself for having effectively taught someone something. Woohoo!)

Rrreeeewwrrr! Kitty scratches!

I went with Kaitlin and her roommate April to see a movie last night. As usual, we enjoyed it--and I don't mean that we sat there stone-faced and enjoyed it internally. We laughed when things were funny, teared up a little bit when things were heartfelt, and swayed to the music when they played the cheesy late-80s love song. To me, that is part of the movie experience. I like to let myself feel what the movie is making me feel.

Well, apparently, some people don't like our method of enjoyment. Now, let me clarify: When Kaitlin laughs, she laughs (which makes me laugh harder, usually), and when--in the film--an engaged man kisses another woman, we're going to emit a "you're in trouble"-toned "oooooooo . . ." but, to my knowledge, there was not a single time in the movie when our enjoyment of the film interfered with others' ability to hear and enjoy the film as well.

But maybe we were wrong, because we got heat for it once the movie was over.

First, let me paint this picture for you. There were probably about 20 or 25 people in the movie theater, so it wasn't super crowded. We had walked in about 5 minutes after the movie had started and gone all the way to the top--the very back row. In the row directly in front of us, there was a blonde woman who looked to be in her mid 40s and a young couple. When we first walked in, the blonde woman had given us a dirty look, like, "How dare you come watch this movie!" but I thought maybe she'd just eaten something sour, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Turns out it was her attitude that was sour.

When the movie ended, the guy that was part of the couple looked back at us and stared till we made eye contact. Apparently he had turned back a couple of times during the movie, so Kaitlin suspected he might be upset with us. After he caught our attention, he said, "Y'all were really loud," to which we apologized as kindly as we could--maybe we were being louder than we thought we were. I felt genuine remorse for about half a second, but what happened next just shocked me. The middle-aged woman said to us--over her shoulder as she was walking away, without the decency to look us in the eyes--"Yeah, next time bring your mommy with you so she can tell you when to shut up."

Our jaws dropped. April leaned over to me and commented that her panties must have been in a wad, Kaitlin teared up a little, and my face flushed. If you know me at all, you know that I don't blush because I don't ever get embarrassed, but I could feel myself turn red--I'm still not sure if it was out of embarrassment, anger, shock, or what. All I know is that I have never been spoken to in that way by an adult, and I'm having trouble recalling any similar incidents from middle school, even. I'm pretty sure that, no matter how loud we were, that comment was completely uncalled for.

I fumbled through a lame response about how if she wanted to watch a movie with my mama, she could pay to fly her out from North Carolina.  . . . I am no good at trash talk, so it was pretty flimsy, but mostly I wanted to just point out that we were not some kind of boisterous teenagers seeking to be obnoxious, but that we were adults too. Sure, we're young adults, but at least our panties were in their proper configuration.

Sometime during all of this commotion, I felt something hit my head. Now, keep in mind, we're in the very back row, so it couldn't have just been dropped on my head by someone behind me. I felt the back of my head, and I found a prize in my hair--a piece of chewed up, still soft and fresh enough to smell, obviously thrown our way by someone who wasn't happy with us, chewing gum. That's right, chewing gum. Lucky for me, I hadn't leaned back and gotten it stuck even more in my hair, because it came out fairly easily. And lucky for whoever threw it, I didn't see him or her do it; had I seen it happen, I may have tried to pull out more of my terrible trash talk and just embarrassed all of us even more.

My feelings were a little hurt, but I'm trying not to let it get to me. I just hope the next time we go to a movie, we are surrounded by people who can at least enjoy our enjoyment.