Cookies, a fat sack and the ladder to hell

How I got over it

I decided to get really real for this post and not focus on the things I get paid to write about, like my beloved little zombie friends and apocalypse beauty tips. I think it’s an important part of the purging process, especially when you keep things inside for a long time. We all know breakups suck, especially when they drag on and on, or if you’re part of one of those on-again/off-again roller coaster rides that are so satisfying yet, at the same time, gut-wrenching and bloody.

When the ex-love-of-my-life called to say he missed me and was thinking about me, I was a little surprised. I received that same phone call from him many times in the past, but this time, he’d just gotten married—the weekend before. Did I mention our last attempt at a go-around was just six months prior? And that the grand finale absolutely shredded my heart? While my husband calling an ex wouldn’t be my ideal scenario for the first week of marriage, I won’t give in to speculating about whether his is a happy marriage or a sham. I sincerely want him to be super happy and live an amazing life.

Truth be told—up until this phone call, I really thought I was over it. But there are always those vestiges that linger, even when you move on and are with someone else who’s better for you. I don’t think that’s a bad thing really; when you truly love and care about someone, you’re always going to have traces of feelings for them. That’s what love is. But even though my life is amazing and phenomenal, it still felt like someone dropkicked me in the stomach while wearing cinder blocks for shoes.

This time, I concocted the most amazing formula to get over it. While I did, of course, indulge in the cliche marathon phone call to my best friend, I’m not trying to spend weeks reading self-help books and hitting psychoanalysis, so I figured out my own decadent approach for cheering myself up. Read on.

  1. I baked myself cookies. I never just bake for myself, so this time I made my favorites—classic chocolate chip cookies and red velvet cupcakes—and had them for dinner. And breakfast.
  2. I bought myself a sick pair of Jimmy Choos, an equally sick pair of jeans, a hot minidress and a fat sack of weed. Not in that order, but all within a 24 hour period.
  3. I went for a run in nature. The canal by my house counts as nature, right? Anyway, I don’t run—I actually abhor it. And that’s the first time I’ve ever said, let alone written, the word “abhor.” While I hate running with a passion 364 days out of the year, when you want to zone way out and squeeze every last ounce of emotion out of your body, it really does the trick.
  4. I climbed the ladder to hell. Okay, not literally, but “Jacob’s Ladder,” this ominous treadmill-ish machine at my gym. You climb up it with both your hands and feet, and the faster you go, the more difficult it gets. I climbed that evil thing until I was seriously about to purge my cupcake breakfast all over my fellow gym rats. I had to go sit in my car for like 10 minutes afterwards, but it still felt amazing.
  5. I had a dance party by myself. Not the usual stuff I would dance to in a bar, like hip hop or house, but old school punk rock that makes you want to thrash around and jump in a mosh pit. I fell into bed exhausted after this step—it may even be a better workout than Jacob’s Ladder.

Don’t be sad because it ended—be happy because it happened.
Dr. Seuss



Apocalypse beauty tips

beauty tips for an apocalypse worldLet’s say the world as we know it is over. We no longer have our Maseratis, beach condos and yachts and we’re living the life of a piranha. One day you’re chilling with your man and he pisses you off, so you behead him with a machete and cook him for dinner. You were comfortable and secure since you had a partner by your side, so looks weren’t a priority. Now you’re single and ready to mingle, but instead of looking like the perfect girl, you look like Chewbacca. How’s a girl gonna get her swerve back on?

Something they definitely don’t talk about in post apocalyptic books is how to keep your looks once that world-ending catastrophic event hits. We all know that when we look good, we feel good. But with very few tools and little to no luxuries, how can someone make the most of their natural assets?

Let’s start with our crowning glory—there’ll be no flatirons, blow dryers or styling aids. If you’re not down to chop it all off, I suggest stockpiling baby powder for a little double duty as dry shampoo and deodorizer. Obviously, you’ll jump in any non-radioactive body of water you find, and learn how to finger style your hair. You can work the Heidi look with some cute, funky braids—guys loves them. After a few days, when you’re ready for a new look, take them out and get your afro on—the smaller the braids, the tighter the waves. When it needs conditioning, throw whatever oil you can get your hands on or egg whites if there is a surplus.

Skincare—you won’t be winning any post-apocalyptic pageants when you smell like poo and are covered in acne. You’re going to have to get real old school and make your own soap. They made soap back in Babylon, so it’s got to be easy to do. The Celts made soap from animal fat, ash and plant stuff, and the Romans used olive oil. The next time you slaughter your dinner, make sure to boil off some of the fat, mix it with ash from the fire, throw any herbs you can get your hands on for little scent and you’re good to go. For moisturizer, mix a little water with animal lard from your beastly meal, apply it to your face at night and your skin will be smooth as a baby’s bum by morning.

Makeup—Minimal is really the way to go, but if you need a little glamour in the post-apocalypse world, there are a few things you can do to maximize your natural beauty. Get your Cleopatra on with a little charcoal mixed with candle wax (or beeswax if that’s all you can find) for makeshift eyeliner. If you’re near an ocean, search for a jellyfish. Their venom makes a great lip plumper.

Nails—I hate to break it to you, but you’ll have to cut those babies all the way down. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a pair of clippers and a nail file. It’s not even remotely realistic to think that we can have have pretty nails—moderately well-kempt is the best we can hope for. You never hear about humans fighting off zombies with talon-like gel nails.

Bottom line—If you ever find yourself on a solo mission post-apocalypse, let’s hope you’ve got a really great personality and a nice smile.