Going from stunned to stunning and back again in a blink of an eye
By Micah McGarry
Before hanging up, my “always supportive” sister declares, “Well, working from home does have its advantages.” In this case, that is similar to saying that having a power outage does help you keep your electricity bill down. But as I venture past a mirror on my way downstairs to my cozy office, safe from prying eyes, I cannot disagree.
While most narratives start innocently enough, mine actually starts with a mysterious loss of underappreciated eyelashes—a visible section almost dead center on my right eye—the morning of a family reunion. While untimely, and rather strange, this crisis turns out to be the least of my worries. In the days, and weeks, that pass after my familial rendezvous, I begin focusing—okay obsessing—over my lack of lashes. I find that this loss of growth is somehow weighing heavy on my lid and causing me much undo stress.
So what’s a girl to do? What any modern girl might do; query Ms. Google. I find, as usual, she has all the answers. I find my knight in winking armor—the latest craze in all the right crowds—eyelash extensions. I continue researching until I find a matchmaker that is able to introduce us, the lashes and I, that is.
Her services come well recommended, if not a bit pricey, but vanity comes at a price. I lay down in a dimly lit physician’s office with a single beam of light blaring on my eyelids for well over an hour as she works her magic, attaching one stunning lash after another. Sitting still is difficult given that I am almost giddy with anticipation. She suggests a dramatic look, as with my coloring and shear mass of hair, she thinks I could pull it off. How right she is!
These lashes turn out to be unbelievable. My eyes look stunning, alluring, sultry, and any other adjective you might come up with that would describe being eye-catching to the opposite sex; the same sex for that matter. I would have never guessed how much difference the length of one's lashes could make. I find that I now have the ability to wear my hair in ANY style and look smashing without an ounce of eye makeup. Audrey Hepburn would be proud and stunned. Waking up in the morning has also turned out to be a pleasant surprise. I look awake and fresh, even adorable. Oh, sweet life!
All is right with the world…for a bit. Not unlike many relationships, things cannot stay perfect forever though. The first major setback starts a few days after falling in love with these blinking bombshells. Several of the extensions have been strategically placed to cover my missing lashes. Unfortunately, the new lashes are heavier than my own and when you attach counterfeit lashes to super short lashes, the result is…well…"drupage." However that is just the beginning of the downfall. The next sign that this was not meant to be; my long, lovely lashes start to interweave, clump, and poke in some type of childish rebellion. I start spending excessive time brushing my lashes only to find that I am making things even worse.
In the end, as with most of my romances, I find myself starting to try to separate myself from these once-loved guests of my eyelids. I can be found in the bathroom blobbing on eye lotion in order to soften the blow AND adhesive on each lash in order to begin the painful task of twisting each simulated strand until it either disengages from the natural lash or pulls out the extension and real lash altogether. I probably do not need to address this reality, but it hurts…a lot! But most separations do, right? By morning after many tears and some twangs of regret, my task is complete. All the extensions have been removed—as well as most of my original lashes. To boot, the natural lashes that are left seem to have been trimmed by the lash supplier introduced in the 13th sentence of my epilogue. How apropos.
So as I sit here mourning my loss with maybe twelve stubs of upper lash left to my name between both eyes, I jot down my thoughts—lessons learned—for when I am feeling weak and thinking about giving it one more try…
1. Long eye lashes are incredible!
2. Fake lashes may not be for me.
3. Sometimes I only see what I want from Ms. Google.
4. Working from home has definite benefits.
5. Oh, and did I mention, long eyelashes are beautiful?
Contact Information:
Michaleen McGarry
P: 602.819.2025
E: Michaleen@gmail.com
October 20, 2009
March 3, 2009
Zen & the Art of Bicycle Maintenance
A timely guide to preparing your cycle for the pending outdoor season
By Michaleen McGarry
Surrender.
The enveloping spring air lends the mind to drifting. Thoughts of new adventures begin to overwhelm my very essence at the inception of this vernal equinox. Self, cycle, and road are in desperate need of a holiday together. Now. Tend to the task at hand. As William Blake once said, "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite." This wisdom holds true for the spring cleaning of a bicycle as well. If the mechanics of a bike are maintained, the paths of travel are boundless.
Be.
Focus on your machine. What is reverberating back at you? Although not psychic, I can guess that your cycle is in need of a good cleaning, lubrication, and once-over for loose parts. To begin this process, give your bike a nice warm bath with a good liquid detergent. Get all the grease off, using small soft brushes to reach the intricate areas. Gently rinse with a garden hose while trying to avoid bearings. Lightly rub the bike down with a soft, dry towel to circumvent rusting. If you truly feel at one with your bicycle, consider a wax job. The sleek, smooth finish of buffing can be felt and heard as the air rushes by you. In that same vein, don't let unnecessary noise negatively influence the season's first trek. Close your eyes - and listen. For areas in need of a lubricant, use your old friend, WD-40.
Lastly, replace the tires. Yes, replace them. The piece of mind you receive far outweighs the cost. For the penny-pinching biker, I offer this alternative: examine the tire tread for damage and decay. If each tread is injury free, pump up the tires to meet the manufacturer's specifications and think good thoughts.Behold. Now that your bicycle is purified, it is time to consider any possible problems that could be alleviated with preventative maintenance.
Enjoy.
It is now time to take pleasure in the fruits of your labor. As you chart your course and start toward the final destination, consider the words of Ursula K. Le Guin, "It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."
By Michaleen McGarry
Surrender.
The enveloping spring air lends the mind to drifting. Thoughts of new adventures begin to overwhelm my very essence at the inception of this vernal equinox. Self, cycle, and road are in desperate need of a holiday together. Now. Tend to the task at hand. As William Blake once said, "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is - infinite." This wisdom holds true for the spring cleaning of a bicycle as well. If the mechanics of a bike are maintained, the paths of travel are boundless.
Be.
Focus on your machine. What is reverberating back at you? Although not psychic, I can guess that your cycle is in need of a good cleaning, lubrication, and once-over for loose parts. To begin this process, give your bike a nice warm bath with a good liquid detergent. Get all the grease off, using small soft brushes to reach the intricate areas. Gently rinse with a garden hose while trying to avoid bearings. Lightly rub the bike down with a soft, dry towel to circumvent rusting. If you truly feel at one with your bicycle, consider a wax job. The sleek, smooth finish of buffing can be felt and heard as the air rushes by you. In that same vein, don't let unnecessary noise negatively influence the season's first trek. Close your eyes - and listen. For areas in need of a lubricant, use your old friend, WD-40.
Lastly, replace the tires. Yes, replace them. The piece of mind you receive far outweighs the cost. For the penny-pinching biker, I offer this alternative: examine the tire tread for damage and decay. If each tread is injury free, pump up the tires to meet the manufacturer's specifications and think good thoughts.Behold. Now that your bicycle is purified, it is time to consider any possible problems that could be alleviated with preventative maintenance.
- Check the brakes for sufficient pad thickness, replace if low.
- Check cables for rust or fraying, replace as needed.
- Check for loose parts. There shouldn't be any play in the cranks. Tighten the bottom bracket, if needed.
- Try to turn the handlebar while the front tire is fixed firmly between your knees. If the steering is loose, tighten the bolt that secures it.
Enjoy.
It is now time to take pleasure in the fruits of your labor. As you chart your course and start toward the final destination, consider the words of Ursula K. Le Guin, "It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."
January 3, 2009
Battling the Bulge
An In-the-Trenches Account of Fad Dieting
By Michaleen McGarry
It is 07:00.00 hours as five naïve dieters begin their mêlée with the enemy - fat. Secluded in the mountains outside of San Diego with the addition of a "Fad Diet Queen" neighbor, each has agreed to go on a Miracle Diet, which claims to take off ten pounds in three days. Perfect timing, as it is a three-day weekend. Here are the trials and tribulations of the Battalion Six.
Meet The Troops
I am a mother of three, with the tummy to prove it. I am moderately active, exercising three to four times weekly but have never attempted to diet.
Kate, my sister and active mother of two, considers herself a little less than toned and would like to drop a few pounds but has little willpower.
John, Kate's husband, travels frequently. Although exercising regularly, he is finding it difficult to lose those last 10 pounds and has begun looking down the back alleys of fad diets for a quick fix.
Perry is my teenage daughter. She would like to lose some weight - but considers surfing the net physical activity and is hoping for an easy out.
Meg is Perry's friend. She is active, but not at the weight she would like to be. She is willing to try a short-term diet (if it doesn't interfere with her weekend festivities).
The Neighbor is a mother of two, finding it hard to lose the weight she gained with her second child. She exercises regularly, but the pounds are not dropping fast enough.
Saturday, 07:30.00 :: Dieters: 6
We are drifting towards the kitchen. John, Kate, and I sit down to a breakfast of dry toast, two teaspoons of peanut butter, one-half grapefruit, and all the coffee or tea our stomachs desire. We are biding our time, drinking plenty of water, writing a grocery list, and trying not to think about what we are being deprived of. We go to the local coffee house to buy some java. Between 8 a.m. and 10 a.m., approximately 24 ounces of extreme caffeine has been ingested into my body. I cannot sit still, am finding it impossible to stay focused, and must admit, want to throw in the towel already!
Upon our return, Kate makes breakfast for the little ones. She is gazing lovingly at each strawberry as she slices the fruit, pining for just one pancake as she serves the stacks, and salivating at the orange juice she is pouring. For a moment, I think she is going to break.
John seems to be doing just fine, although I do notice him squeezing every last drop of grapefruit juice from his half and eyeing toast crust about to be thrown to the dogs. He decides to make a family website to keep busy.
Perry and Meg join the regime. Perry has already faltered by eating some cereal before beginning the diet. It probably messes with the "miracle" chemical interaction, but she doesn't seem bothered. Meg has high hopes, but within an hour, she waves the white flag and begins enjoying her weekend. Looking back on everything, I wish I had seen the wisdom of her ways!
Saturday, 12:30.00 :: Dieters: 4
We have lost two soldiers from the front line. Meg in the first hour and sometime before noon Perry has called it quits. As I look out into the backyard, I see her laughing, smiling, and eating - a beautifully layered sandwich fit for a general. As for the forces still remaining, our rations consist of plain tuna, dry toast, and again all the caffeine buzz we care for.
John is still doing well. He isn't complaining. I think his silence is for the morale of the unit. Kate and I are not so team-oriented. We have already started our descent into the philosophical depths of dieting…would Plato have tortured his body in this way, the inhumanity of it all, what is perfection, and related topics. No one really wants to hear this right now. Kate has started asking me if we should just stop and try again in a few days. Although I want to, I resist. After all, I need to continue this experiment for the sake of…what I am not sure. Lack of rations hinders clear thinking!
Kate and I take the three small ones to a birthday party. I am pumped so full of caffeine, I may just explode. There is a table full of delectable novelties, each one calling my name. The grapes are whispering sweet nothings in my ear, as I feed them to my daughter. Kate is making the rounds, but stops by to say that she has seen the fruited fork awfully close to my mouth. I deny the accusation, but know deep down inside, I want that fruit. Actually, I want to be covered in fruit, with whipped cream, in a mosaic tile design as I - curses, my daydream has been interrupted! The Neighbor introduces herself…we discuss the diet. She seems calmer than I, but she is also more serious about wanting to lose weight. As a clown entertains the children, I realize that I must make my escape now - before the cake - the cake with whipped cream frosting…
My caffeine high has said its goodbyes and I have freed myself from the "birthday party from dieter's hell" only to realize I am working on an incredibly painful headache and have the energy of a sloth. As it turns out, this weekend is going downhill faster than a sloth on a toboggan. Who thought of dieting this weekend, anyway? Oh, me. With no one to blame, I have come to this conclusion: Dieting sucks!
Saturday, 15:00.00 :: Dieters: 4 - barely
Kate is back from the festivities. We both assumed that if we could make it through the party, we were home free. You know what they say about assuming! Earlier, while buying presents for the party, we bought a carton of Little Debbie® Swiss Cakes out of sheer rebellion, not realizing this box would be our demise or savior - depending on your point of view. We debate breaking open the box one last time. I am not clear on the details of the next fifteen minutes, but all I do know is that by 15:15.00, Kate and I have finished the entire box of Swiss Cakes and two large glasses of milk. Yes, we are broken, but quite giddy and rather satisfied with our revolt.
Saturday, 15:30.00 :: Dieters: 2
John is impressively steadfast. That is, of course, until we get to him. Our mission - make him eat! It takes a good half-hour before he cracks. But once he does, Kate is on the scene creating a makeshift version of strawberry shortcake (pound cake, strawberry ice cream, and whipped cream). John takes one bite and knows he has made the right decision. He is even appreciative of our covert operation to break him. With each bite, I see a coolness come over him. We have a healthy, satisfying dinner, and enjoy the evening. No remorse.
Sunday :: Dieters: 1
Well we're now down to one unwavering dieter: The Neighbor. How ironic; the only person left standing, did it alone. So much for the group support method! We do not hear from The Neighbor, but she is in our thoughts.
Monday :: Dieters: 1
The Neighbor has done it. Not only has she survived the weekend, but she has seemingly defeated the enemy by losing five pounds. We have not lost any weight, but we have not gained any either. Call us the Switzerland of weight loss.
Tuesday & Beyond - Back to Reality
My thoughts: fad dieting is simply the wrong way to lose weight. Yes, The Neighbor lost five pounds, but it's only Wednesday and she has already regained two and a half of them. If you really want to do battle with the bulge, change your lifestyle, exercise a little more, and analyze your current eating habits. In the real world, the benefits of healthy living far outweigh the temporary weight loss you will obtain from any Miracle Diet.
By Michaleen McGarry
It is 07:00.00 hours as five naïve dieters begin their mêlée with the enemy - fat. Secluded in the mountains outside of San Diego with the addition of a "Fad Diet Queen" neighbor, each has agreed to go on a Miracle Diet, which claims to take off ten pounds in three days. Perfect timing, as it is a three-day weekend. Here are the trials and tribulations of the Battalion Six.
Meet The Troops
I am a mother of three, with the tummy to prove it. I am moderately active, exercising three to four times weekly but have never attempted to diet.
Kate, my sister and active mother of two, considers herself a little less than toned and would like to drop a few pounds but has little willpower.
John, Kate's husband, travels frequently. Although exercising regularly, he is finding it difficult to lose those last 10 pounds and has begun looking down the back alleys of fad diets for a quick fix.
Perry is my teenage daughter. She would like to lose some weight - but considers surfing the net physical activity and is hoping for an easy out.
Meg is Perry's friend. She is active, but not at the weight she would like to be. She is willing to try a short-term diet (if it doesn't interfere with her weekend festivities).
The Neighbor is a mother of two, finding it hard to lose the weight she gained with her second child. She exercises regularly, but the pounds are not dropping fast enough.
Saturday, 07:30.00 :: Dieters: 6
We are drifting towards the kitchen. John, Kate, and I sit down to a breakfast of dry toast, two teaspoons of peanut butter, one-half grapefruit, and all the coffee or tea our stomachs desire. We are biding our time, drinking plenty of water, writing a grocery list, and trying not to think about what we are being deprived of. We go to the local coffee house to buy some java. Between 8 a.m. and 10 a.m., approximately 24 ounces of extreme caffeine has been ingested into my body. I cannot sit still, am finding it impossible to stay focused, and must admit, want to throw in the towel already!
Upon our return, Kate makes breakfast for the little ones. She is gazing lovingly at each strawberry as she slices the fruit, pining for just one pancake as she serves the stacks, and salivating at the orange juice she is pouring. For a moment, I think she is going to break.
John seems to be doing just fine, although I do notice him squeezing every last drop of grapefruit juice from his half and eyeing toast crust about to be thrown to the dogs. He decides to make a family website to keep busy.
Perry and Meg join the regime. Perry has already faltered by eating some cereal before beginning the diet. It probably messes with the "miracle" chemical interaction, but she doesn't seem bothered. Meg has high hopes, but within an hour, she waves the white flag and begins enjoying her weekend. Looking back on everything, I wish I had seen the wisdom of her ways!
Saturday, 12:30.00 :: Dieters: 4
We have lost two soldiers from the front line. Meg in the first hour and sometime before noon Perry has called it quits. As I look out into the backyard, I see her laughing, smiling, and eating - a beautifully layered sandwich fit for a general. As for the forces still remaining, our rations consist of plain tuna, dry toast, and again all the caffeine buzz we care for.
John is still doing well. He isn't complaining. I think his silence is for the morale of the unit. Kate and I are not so team-oriented. We have already started our descent into the philosophical depths of dieting…would Plato have tortured his body in this way, the inhumanity of it all, what is perfection, and related topics. No one really wants to hear this right now. Kate has started asking me if we should just stop and try again in a few days. Although I want to, I resist. After all, I need to continue this experiment for the sake of…what I am not sure. Lack of rations hinders clear thinking!
Kate and I take the three small ones to a birthday party. I am pumped so full of caffeine, I may just explode. There is a table full of delectable novelties, each one calling my name. The grapes are whispering sweet nothings in my ear, as I feed them to my daughter. Kate is making the rounds, but stops by to say that she has seen the fruited fork awfully close to my mouth. I deny the accusation, but know deep down inside, I want that fruit. Actually, I want to be covered in fruit, with whipped cream, in a mosaic tile design as I - curses, my daydream has been interrupted! The Neighbor introduces herself…we discuss the diet. She seems calmer than I, but she is also more serious about wanting to lose weight. As a clown entertains the children, I realize that I must make my escape now - before the cake - the cake with whipped cream frosting…
My caffeine high has said its goodbyes and I have freed myself from the "birthday party from dieter's hell" only to realize I am working on an incredibly painful headache and have the energy of a sloth. As it turns out, this weekend is going downhill faster than a sloth on a toboggan. Who thought of dieting this weekend, anyway? Oh, me. With no one to blame, I have come to this conclusion: Dieting sucks!
Saturday, 15:00.00 :: Dieters: 4 - barely
Kate is back from the festivities. We both assumed that if we could make it through the party, we were home free. You know what they say about assuming! Earlier, while buying presents for the party, we bought a carton of Little Debbie® Swiss Cakes out of sheer rebellion, not realizing this box would be our demise or savior - depending on your point of view. We debate breaking open the box one last time. I am not clear on the details of the next fifteen minutes, but all I do know is that by 15:15.00, Kate and I have finished the entire box of Swiss Cakes and two large glasses of milk. Yes, we are broken, but quite giddy and rather satisfied with our revolt.
Saturday, 15:30.00 :: Dieters: 2
John is impressively steadfast. That is, of course, until we get to him. Our mission - make him eat! It takes a good half-hour before he cracks. But once he does, Kate is on the scene creating a makeshift version of strawberry shortcake (pound cake, strawberry ice cream, and whipped cream). John takes one bite and knows he has made the right decision. He is even appreciative of our covert operation to break him. With each bite, I see a coolness come over him. We have a healthy, satisfying dinner, and enjoy the evening. No remorse.
Sunday :: Dieters: 1
Well we're now down to one unwavering dieter: The Neighbor. How ironic; the only person left standing, did it alone. So much for the group support method! We do not hear from The Neighbor, but she is in our thoughts.
Monday :: Dieters: 1
The Neighbor has done it. Not only has she survived the weekend, but she has seemingly defeated the enemy by losing five pounds. We have not lost any weight, but we have not gained any either. Call us the Switzerland of weight loss.
Tuesday & Beyond - Back to Reality
My thoughts: fad dieting is simply the wrong way to lose weight. Yes, The Neighbor lost five pounds, but it's only Wednesday and she has already regained two and a half of them. If you really want to do battle with the bulge, change your lifestyle, exercise a little more, and analyze your current eating habits. In the real world, the benefits of healthy living far outweigh the temporary weight loss you will obtain from any Miracle Diet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
