Do you ever think of the most random facts and stories about yourself? Not your favorite color or food, or what you wanted to be when you grew up. But just random things you've done or can do or like that you would never find on a questionnaire somewhere? Well, I do, and as with most things that pop into my head my first thought was, "Can I blog that?!" So, here you go.
When I was little, my mom used to love buying me legging sets. I had a few, but the one I distinctly remember was brown leggings with acorns and leaves on them, paired with a sweater and a turtleneck to go under (yes, they were all coordinated--they were made to be). I absolutely despised wearing leggings. I know, right? Leggings are a gift now, but as a child, so not for me. I just didn't like how they clung to my legs. I distinctly remember crawling under my bed in those leggings for some reason, and they got snagged on a wire from the bed frame and I was so happy there was a hole in them so I couldn't wear them anymore! Ha!
I own this shirt. Yes, it says, "There ain't no party like an S Club Party" and I should know, because I went to that S Club Party. In my case, it was a nostalgic but underwhelming party because it was only Jo and Bradley or something like that. But still, life goal achieved. Another thing to note, I'm not wearing pants in this picture. You're welcome for not including visible evidence of that.
Once, in the first few months that we lived in Seattle after graduating, Michael dropped me off at work on his way to an interview (I normally walked to work from our first apartment when we didn't have dogs so I didn't have to go home to at lunch). I got out at a red light, opened my door without looking, and a bicyclist suddenly crashed into a construction cone next to my open door trying to avoid it. I was mortified and asked if he was okay and said sorry but he just got on his bike and sped away. I still feel bad about that!
I love mascots. Michael thinks mascots are dumb and pointless, but there is a point. The point is to entertain children and myself. I seriously bought a boy's large t-shirt with the Blazer's mascot on it. And I fangirl over mascots. Like if I can get a picture with a mascot at a sporting event, I'm ridiculously happy.
I don't wear concealer and pretty much never have. Exceptions can be seen in this post where I put myself on blast for using way too much of it/a shade (or seven) too light of it. When I started wearing foundation, it was BareMinerals. The starter kit came with foundation, a foundation brush, a concealer brush, and a few other things. The point is to use the foundation powder as both your foundation and concealer. Since then, I've purchased a Bobbi Brown foundation stick (I wanted more coverage for wedding makeup, and the girl at the counter said stick foundation would be best for pictures) and on Tuesday I purchased my first liquid foundation from the drugstore...and I still just use the foundation as concealer. I can't bring myself to spend more money on it, especially since I don't know how to match it. (I was proud enough that when I bought my drugstore foundation after staring at the different colors for fifteen minutes it actually matched pretty well.)
I'm the absolute furthest thing from a germaphobe you can possible be. I hate the smell of 'unscented' hand sanitizer. I hate that it dries out your hands. I have literally never bought a bottle of it.
I've mentioned this before but I hate the feeling of getting my blood pressure taken. I'm not a fan of the squeezing, I don't know why.
I have a horrendous cowlick. Bangs? Forget about 'em. Hair laying right even without bangs? Nope, that doesn't work either. Apparently it's hereditary though because my cousin (technically my third cousin) and I look a lot alike annnd...she has the cowlick too.
I had to lower my Fitbit sleep goal from eight hours to seven or else I would never ever hit it. (I think I hit the eight hour goal like twice ever.) And I still don't usually hit the seven hour goal (and if I do, it's only on weekends).
I hate the feeling of loose rings. Last year, when Michael and I took up running, I could feel my engagement ring bouncing back and forth on my finger during the beginning of a run (until I got hot and my fingers kind of swelled). Now that I'm working out again, my rings are loose again and moving around. It seriously grosses me out. I'm not even kidding, that feeling gives me the heebie jeebies. But I guess I should be happy because I'm losing excess fat (in the one place I really don't care about it, my fingers). [When I got my rings soldered together, the looser one was sized down to match the size of the other one, so it's not as bad; the ring I wear on my other hand moves around too though.]
Speaking of rings, the ring I always wear on my right hand is actually my mom's wedding ring from her marriage to my biological father. She gave it to me in high school, around the time my grandma passed away and we were going through things in the house, so I had assumed it was my grandma's. I randomly found it again a couple years ago and started wearing it and my mom saw and said, "Oh, you have that? I was trying to find it to give it to you!" And then she told me where it actually came from. I kept wearing it because I think it's a pretty/unique ring. I could've stopped wearing it because of my father's actions, but he doesn't have that power over me. Anyway, the day before I posted my tell-all about my father, the ring somehow got caught on something inside my car door (still have no idea what) and I yanked my hand (because I didn't think it was caught on something hard, like metal) and it bent the ring like crazy. I can't decide if I should take it as a sign to not wear it anymore, or if I should just take it to a jeweler to get bent back into shape.
I'm linking up with Danielle and Lynn for Confessional Thursday, Annie and Natalie for Thoughts for Thursday, and Amanda for Thinking Out Loud Thursday.