I've decided it's an epidemic. Everyone is having babies. There are babies all over social media. Old classmates, high school and college, seem to be multiplying like rabbits.
WHAT IS HAPPENING???!!!

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In reality, I'm at that age where this all makes perfect sense. But I don't think I'm quite ready to face that yet......

In my mind I'm nowhere near the right age to have a baby.........mostly because the thought of having a baby right now makes me want to drown myself in bourbon while simultaneously punching myself in the uterus. 
DON'T HATE ME!!!! I would NEVER actually do those things.
I actually love kids, and I am one of the luckiest people in the world to have 2 (soon to be 3) beautiful nieces that I'm crazy about. I'm just not personally ready to have children. Someday. But today is not that day. Nor is tomorrow that day.
Being an aunt is enough for me right now, and it's awesome. 

I'll be 28 at the end of May, which is terrifying to me. I don't think it's a vanity thing necessarily, it's more so that I'm wondering how the hell that many years have gone by already. I know all of you that are older than me will want to slap me, but it's coming up on six years since I graduated college. SIX YEARS!!! I can't even process that. I've been out of college longer than I was actually in college. It doesn't seem real.

Those of you that were in my class in college, just let that sink in for a minute............
Six. Freakin'. Years. And yet I STILL don't truly feel like an adult. 

I was stuck at 23 for awhile.............Probably because it's the last year I vividly remember, which would explain why I was stuck there. I finally got used to 26 and now all of the sudden I'm going to be 28? I used to think it was ridiculous when adults would say that time goes faster as you get older.
What an insane concept. There are always 24 hours in a day. How can it go faster?
I really hate that they were right...............
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The past 5 years have flown by. A lot has happened -- good and bad. Within that time I've transcribed for Tony Monaco, worked at two churches, had a traveling music studio, gigged quite a bit, gained a bunch of weight, moved to Tennessee and back, earned my MBA, lost a bunch of weight, and landed my first "big girl job." On top of that, four of my closest friends got married, another one had a baby, my dad survived cancer, my baby sister is finishing her freshman year of college, and my brother is about to have his third daughter. That's a lot of sh*t in 5 years. 

During that time I also met Will. That's another story for another blog post..............
I went from my longest relationship being a little under two years, to all the sudden I've been with Will for almost 5 years. WTF?! How is this possible???!!!

"Grab the wheel, Jamie. You're swerving." 

​I guess my point is that the same things and the same timing aren't right for everyone. I need more time to figure my own stuff out before I can bring a kid into this world. Hell, I'm even nervous about the responsibility that comes with having a dog, let alone a baby! That kind of responsibility is terrifying to me. 

I am absolutely thrilled for those of you that have children, whether you felt like you were truly "ready" or not. Clearly things don't always go according to plan, and sometimes the results are what we really needed anyway. ​I think I'm absolutely capable of being a parent, and hopefully a good one, but damn is that thought really scary right now.........

Regardless, there is one fact that I've had to face, which is why I know I am nowhere near ready to have a child: I'm too selfish.

I would like to think that I'm a very compassionate and considerate person, but that doesn't mean that I'm not selfish. I'm not ready for my life to be turned upside down by a tiny human that depends on me to survive. Small children are basically tiny drunks anyway -- they act just as dumb and need just as much assistance. 

When I become a parent I want to do it right, and for me that means waiting probably 4-5 years. 
Yes..........that means I'll be 32-33 years old. Look at you doing math.........you're so smart!!! ;)
And again, that's not the right thing for everyone. Some people are ready WAY before someone like me, and that's great! I just know know that I would be doing my kid a disservice if I didn't wait until I can start being more selfless. I'm not there yet.

Bottom line.........I know myself. All y'all can keep on poppin' out babies, but nothing will be inhabiting my uterus for quite some time. Although, the way time is starting to fly, I suppose that will be sooner than I think. Sh*t.

There will be a time........when no one will be able to tell me........I should go on American Idol.
​Soon...................SOON!

Why? Because my prayers have been answered and the show is on its final season. 
Although there have been rumblings that it may not be the final season after all..........which would royally piss me off. Put it out of its misery already!!!

As I've said before, I really do appreciate everyone who believes in me enough to think that I could make it. You just don't understand how it really works. But that's okay! That means the producers of the show have successfully done their job. Their job is to create the illusion that the competition is based on talent. So it makes sense why you would push people you think are talented to audition. In that sense, it's truly flattering.
Regardless, the show is unfortunately completely fabricated.
In the words of Elf, the creators of American Idol sit on a throne of lies.





Let's break this down, shall we?







There is a screening process before any of the contestants even see the judges. The first part involves small groups of people standing in front of a "scout" together, taking turns singing maybe 8 bars of their song. Maybe. Some of them are chosen because they are "good" and some of them are chosen because they are "bad." No joke.
Be honest..........if they only chose truly good people, you wouldn't watch the show. It'd be boring. "Pants on the Ground" is WAY more entertaining.

The second part of the screening process is for the chosen people to sing in front of a "producer." This is where they see if you "have what it takes to be on TV." Looks and talent play a small part in this, but a VERY small part. They don't want people who have trained for years and studied music in college. They want someone who maybe owns a guitar and sang at their grandma's church once.
It also helps quite a bit if you have a sob story for them to dramatize. For real.
If you are chosen, only THEN do you actually go in front of the celebrity judges. 

Side note:
When Harry Connick Jr. had to explain pentatonics to Jennifer Lopez I about lost my shit. Unfortunately she was not acting. She's just that dumb. You have no business judging music if you don't know basic music terminology.
And no, I don't mean "Pentatonix" the goup. Ick.
I could go on and on, but to be clear..............this is a reality TV show.
(Pssst.........I hate to break it to you, but The Voice isn't much better. Their "cattle calls" are to fill the holes that haven't been pre-cast.)

I'd also like to point out that Nicki Minaj has been a judge on American Idol.
NICKI MINAJ WAS ON A SHOW ABOUT SINGING!!!!
Nothing about that makes sense. That alone makes the show a bunch of hooey.
Hooey I tell you!!!

I digress.............I actually have auditioned for American Idol, just not in the traditional sense. Let me explain................


5+ years ago
My mom had been trying to talk me into auditioning for American Idol for awhile. We went on a family vacation to Disney World in 2011, and at the time there was still an American Idol "simulation," if you will. The deal was that they did one "competition" per day, and the winner would get a "fast pass" ticket to the front of the "real" American Idol audition line. Mom kept pushing the issue and talking about how much fun it would be.
Fun is a strong word................
I really did not want to audition for the show, let alone a fake version of an already fake show. 

I'm putting the word real in quotations to emphasize that the "real" show is super fake in itself, on the off chance that my hostility towards the show wasn't glaring enough. 

Now, Mom had good intentions. She believed in me and truly thought I had a shot.
A couple fruity drinks later at the hotel pool bar........she somehow talked me into doing it.
She clearly waited until the perfect moment to strike............damn mai tais..............
The deal was that I would do the "simulation" of American Idol, ONLY if she'd stop bugging me about auditioning for the "real" thing. Her caveat was that she'd stop bugging me if I didn't win. But if I won and got that "golden ticket," I had to audition for the "real" thing. 


And so it begins........
They only took so many people per day, and the "studio" was a decent hike from the entrance of the park. I've never seen my mom walk so fast -- we were among the first people to get there. The first line of defense, the "scout," listened to me sing a little bit of Bill Withers' "Use Me," and sent me onto the next stage.

Mom was pleased.

They sat me down with a weird looking mp3 player, head phones, and a list of songs --
I was supposed to pick two songs from the list. I was holding what was practically a portable karaoke machine.
I ended up picking "I Feel the Earth Move" and "Midnight Train to Georgia" as my two songs. I sang both of them in front of a "producer," who kept telling me that my interpretation of the songs needed to be more dramatic. I remember staring at him and thinking, "Look dude, this is not Broadway. Calm your sh*t."
Both songs are about being in love with some dude -- one just happens to be more sexually charged than the other. And of course that's the one we decided on. What was I supposed to do? Pelvic thrust while I sing? 
​Regardless of how he felt about my acting skills, he sent me onto the next stage.

Mom was very pleased.

I can't remember how many people were chosen total, but there were 4 separate preliminary shows with somewhere between 4 and 6 contestants each. The winners of those shows would move on to the finale that night. So if you ended up winning a preliminary show this was an all day event. All. Day.


The Preliminary Show
We each had a 15-minute rehearsal with some dude, in a small room, with a karaoke machine and a keyboard. I'm still not sure why there was a keyboard. It's not like anyone was playing an actual instrument for this thing, and it wasn't a freaking voice lesson. We just rehearsed with the damn karaoke track.

I sang through "I Feel the Earth Move" twice, mostly so he could teach me the weird ending that cut the song short. Every song choice had a really awkward ending. You could tell that they cared more about how long the song was as opposed to it making sense. Whoever got paid to edit the songs seemed to just arbitrarily cut and paste.
Hopefully they did it for free, because woof.

We were done "rehearsing" in about 5 minutes. Since we had 10 minutes left we started talking, and before I knew it he had me playing and singing one of my original tunes on the keyboard. I was also transcribing for Tony Monaco at the time, and he apparently was a big fan, so he geeked out about it hard core. Not gonna lie, it was pretty cool. 

We went to "makeup," and were sent out on stage to practice entrances, where we were supposed to stand, the order we were in, etc. Shortly after, the preliminary rounds started, and I was in the first round. They had 3 actors pretending to be some semblance of the original American Idol judges (so you had a Simon, of course). I ended up winning, which was kind of cool, but it also meant the rest of my day was shot. The finale wasn't going to start for another...........oh...........5 hours or so? 

Mom was VERY pleased. She had such a smug look on her face...............she knew what she had done. Not cool, Mom. Not cool.

You know how the contestants of the "real" show come running out to meet their families............hugging them and jumping up and down like a crazy person because they made it onto the show? Well they made me fake that. They even rounded up my family while I was still back stage and told them where to stand when I came out.

Then they dragged me into a nearby coffee shop and made me sing in front of all these poor people, who really just wanted to enjoy their coffee, not listen to some random girl from Ohio sing Carole King acapella. This was all so they could put together a video promo for the finale. SUPER cheezy.
Trust me coffee shop people..........it was WAY weirder for me than it was for you. 

I walked around all day with a dumb lanyard around my neck saying, "Vote for me!," and I kept getting yelled at by people who had either sat in the audience or watched my preliminary round on the big screen outside.
"Hey, you're that girl that won!!!"
Congratulations, you were able to spot my crazy, curly red hair. It's SO hard to do. 
Or, "I voted for you!!!" Or "You have such a cool voice!!!"
Okay............thanks.............that's actually very nice of you.
I'd be lying if I said that parts of it weren't kind of fun, but the whole thing was so manufactured that it was difficult to truly enjoy it. But I guess that's how the "real" thing is.

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The Finale
It came down to 4 of us: some girl I can't remember, a school teacher that sang "I'm Proud to be an American," a guy that sang "Pretty Young Thing" (and could dance like Michael Jackson), and me. The place was packed, and the people in the audience were so enthusiastic you would've thought we were on the "real" show. I sang my song, and the judges started gushing about my "sultry voice," and how I sound like a jazz singer (duh), yaddah, yaddah...........

The one judge who was playing the role of Simon, however, got a little frisky. He got REALLY excited. Beyond talking about my voice, he said I looked like a "pixie amazon." Uh............what did you call me?
He then said, and I quote, "Knock me out and drag me back to your cave!" 
My response was, "My parents are out in the audience you know.,,,,,,,," 
Ew.

The Michael Jackson guy and I were the last ones standing. They had told us not to look up when the winner was announced, because these giant pieces of confetti would be falling right onto our faces. Part of me wanted to win, because I'm competitive. But the other part of me thought, "Oh hell, if I win, I have to go do the 'real' thing. I promised Mom. Dammit.............this isn't good." 
They announced that I was second, and I felt a HUGE wave of relief wash over me. I hugged the guy and started thanking him profusely. Then at the same moment we both said to each other, "Don't look up! Confetti!!!!!" They were not playing around with that stuff.................There was SO much of it. 

As we were leaving the building, people attacked both of us, wanting pictures and autographs. It's amazing how nutty people can get if they think you "might be famous someday." I just kept laughing as I was signing random pieces of paper (even those character autograph books), thinking, "This is one of the dumbest things that has ever happened to me."

So I got second, which was the best thing that could've happened, in my opinion anyway.
I did as well as I possibly could have, without actually winning and having to truly audition. I think Mom was a little disappointed, but she can't say that I didn't try.  It's not like I threw the competition. Boy had charisma and could dance like Michael Jackson!  
I can't compete with that sh*t!!!

All in all I'm glad I can say that I had the experience. It was goofy and "fake," and essentially glorified karaoke, but it was fun and actually kind of a confidence booster.
Especially since I was the favorite with high school and college boys in the audience. ;)
And apparently that one judge.........................ew.
If nothing else, it's a story, and one that includes my loving family -- my biggest fans. 

Love you, Mom. Even though now you've "not so jokingly" moved on to wanting me to do The Voice.
​Oy vey..........

 Two of the many things I've learned as I adult:
1) I have some great genes that have been passed down to me, and I'm very lucky.
For example, the people in my family tend to age extremely well.
Awesome.
I'm also the only sibling out of 3 that inherited my Dad's curly hair. I used to hate it, but as I've gotten older I have come to embrace it. It's fun. 

2) I have some not-so-great genes, like dark circles (thanks Dad), the "fat gene" (thanks Dad), and an affinity for alcohol (thanks Mom).
​I'll explain the fat gene momentarily.

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I'm 5'8" and have always been fairly muscular. I'm "dense," if you will.
"Dense" as in closely compacted in substance, not "dense" as in stupid. I know some of you laughed when you read that. You're a bunch of a-holes.
But the combination of my height and being muscular has always made me weigh more than I look like I do. This is a fantastic genetic thing, However, I also have a not so fantastic genetic thing that my family calls the "fat gene." Basically, we love eating, and we don't have that little voice that says, "Hey, you're full now. Stop eating." We probably actually do have that voice, but we can't hear it over our own chewing. 

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This is a prime example of the "fat gene."





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I was incredibly active throughout high school. I started lifting weights when I was in 6th grade, I played varsity volleyball for 4 years, and I danced in show choir and musicals. 
Well, "dance" may be a strong word...........I moved.​ Box steps and blades, baby!!!
Fresh out of high school I weighed 120 lbs., which looking back was WAY too skinny. I see pictures of myself from that time and I kind of look like Skeletor -- oddly buff, but still a skeleton. Will calls it my "pointy chin" phase. I was a stick figure (yet somehow I still had a big butt. Another genetic thing I suppose). My metabolism was insane. The "fat gene" had been lying dormant, and was apparently waiting until the perfect moment to pounce and wreck my sh*t. 

I gained the freshman 15, and most of someone else's freshman 15. I was upset when I couldn't fit into my size 4 jeans anymore.
Talk about 1st world problems...........................
I cried, like a little b*tch, because I was finally filling out and becoming the curvy woman I'm supposed to be. I didn't see it like that at the time though. I thought I was getting fat. And no one could tell me any different. 

SOOOOOOOO dumb.

​I had NO business weighing 120 lbs. or wearing size 4 jeans. According to the old height/weight chart that says a 5 ft. tall woman should be right around 100 lbs, and you add 5 lbs. per inch over 5 ft., I was 20 lbs. under the ideal weight. Granted, that chart is completely antiquated, and I would even look sickly at 140 at this point.

By the way..........a lot of people -- mostly men -- have absolutely no concept of weight. Whatever you think I look like I weigh, chances are you need to add 20-30 lbs. to that. So when you guess my weight at 140 or whatever (happens a lot -- it amazes me),
I find that to be very flattering, but I also just want to pat you on the head and say,"Awww......you're real cute."

I'm going to let you in on a secret that is actually not so secret:
MOST WOMEN DO NOT WEIGH 120 POUNDS!!!!!! Many of us, especially those of us that are curvy and/or muscular, more realistically weigh anywhere between 140 and 190. 
Just sayin'. 

Even though it's extremely flattering to have someone guess that I weigh a lot less than I do, that kind of thing unfortunately adds to the body image problem that our culture has. Because of the impossible standards of beauty our society has set (which the older I get, the more I realize there's nothing beautiful about those standards), it's incredibly difficult for young women to be comfortable in their own skin, which is a shame.


​I finally started becoming comfortable in my own skin around sophomore year of college. I was still relatively thin, but I was curvy, healthy, and happy. I started not caring about my weight because I was getting validation pretty regularly, especially from men. Come to think of it, I got a lot of attention from gay men and lesbians too................it was confusing. But hey, a compliment is a compliment, and it boosted my confidence quite a bit. 

May of 2009: FINALLY broke up with my boyfriend at the time (that like a bad habit was hard to kick) and simultaneously turned 21. I was upset, single with a vengeance, and had the ability to purchase alcohol. That Summer was the beginning of some hard core debauchery. 

Fall of 2009 -- NYC internship: Bars were open until 4am, I was single, I didn't have to be at work until 12pm, and SO many restaurants delivered it was stupid. Recipe for disaster.
Meanwhile, my inner fat kid was loving everything about this. I probably gained 20 lbs. from June to December. 
Unlike my freshman year when I was whining about not being a size 4 anymore, this was more serious. I wasn't what you would consider big by any means, but I was starting down a dangerous path. I got serious about my health and dropped at least 25 lbs. by the time I graduated college. I looked like myself again and I felt good.

Unfortunately some bad habits started sneaking back in about a year and a half later. I can't blame my weight gain on my boyfriend, but you know the weight people tend to gain when they get married? We gained that, and then some. We were both working weird hours and would eat and drink at bars several nights a week. We were happy and having fun. But then we both went through grad school, back to back, and dealt with some pretty stressful times financially. I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. I woke up one day and didn't recognize the face I saw in the mirror. I was really angry at myself.

It was then that it truly dawned on me how stupid I was as a freshman in college. I had no desire to be Skeletor again, but I certainly would've killed to get back to the weight I was when I thought I was fat. It's amazing how skewed our perception of things can be, especially when it comes to ourselves. Yet we seem to be able to see each other so clearly when it comes to the physical...............ironic.

The journey back to my "happy weight" began in May of 2014. It's been a long process, and I'm still not exactly where I want to be, but I'm a hell of a lot closer. I'm at that point where I look like myself and I'm becoming comfortable in my own skin again. It's a wonderful feeling. After having struggled with my weight more than once, and feeling like I hit rock bottom the most recent time, I can never go back to that place. I won't go back to that place.


The hardest lessons I learned through all of this:
1) There is no quick fix. I had to make lifestyle changes in order to be successful. Lifestyle changes are hard. REALLY hard. But the key for me has been moderation and balance. I still drink beer and bourbon, but not like I used to -- like an idiot. I still eat "bad" foods, but I limit it to weekends and/or special occasions. You can't stop living your life. 

2) You cannot compare yourself to other people. This one is tough, but you just can't do it. It doesn't do you any good. The only thing you can do is maximize what you've been given genetically. I will always have a big butt, crazy curly hair, and a voice that is deeper than pretty much most women (and a lot of men too). I've learned to embrace those things. You know what those things all happen to fit perfectly? My personality. 


And yes...........I realize that those of you that can math and connect the dots have probably figured out roughly how much I weigh. And I don't care.
I'm a sexy M.F. dammit.

As I was walking into work today, it dawned on me that my life was very different around this time last year. My family and I were dealing with something that no one could've predicted. I immediately welled up with tears just thinking about it. My brain likes to do that to me sometimes.............think of something terrible and make me cry in public. It's SUPER fun. It also makes me look like a crazy person. But sometimes..............my face leaks.

This may sound odd, but I've never experienced death in a real way. I was either too young when it happened, or I wasn't close enough to the person for it to affect me in an extreme way. I'm lucky. All of my grandparents are still alive, and I haven't even really experienced the death of a childhood pet. Pug is 14 and still going. I realize I just discussed the mortality of my grandparents and my dog in the same sentence, which is probably weird, but you get the point. I mean, I do love that dog quite a bit though............





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Look at that face!!!!!!!










So back to why I started crying right before I walked into my office. Thank God I was the first one there so I had time to compose myself. I'm such a big baby. I cry at Disney movies....................like, pretty much every Disney movie.................

I apologize if this post gets a little too serious and/or emotional for you, but this is what's on my mind today. Plus, it's my freaking blog. I do what I want. (But for real, I won't be so serious next time. Don't hate me!!!)

About a year ago
Mom texted me, my younger sister, and my older brother, telling us that there was something really important her and Dad needed to talk to us about. It had to happen and it had to happen that night. HUGE red flag. We don't really do "family meetings."
Well this can't be good..........

My sister and I had rehearsal for a musical that night, so we were completely distracted the entire time, dreading whatever it was that we were going to be informed of later.
Let me tell you...............there's nothing quite like having to sing and jump rope at the same time (we were doing Legally Blonde and I was the "fitness queen," Brooke Wyndham), let alone sing and jump rope while you're completely distracted. You know how many times I ended up whipping myself with that thing? I literally had lashes on my back...........from my own damn jump rope.

We meet at my parents' house that night -- Mom and Dad are waiting for us. Mom immediately hands me a glass of wine. It wasn't a question. She apparently knew I would need it. 
Oh hell, this must be REALLY bad.
​I was frantically trying to figure out what it might be so I could brace myself.
Were they getting a divorce? Was one of my grandparents sick? Did Pug die???!!!
Oh, just kidding. Hi Pug (he was sniffing my pant leg at the time).

I don't remember exactly what was said, but it went something like this:
Mom: "Your dad has something to tell you."
Dad: "I recently participated in a fitness test, and had a chest X-ray taken in the process. They saw something that they wanted to look into. It turns out that I have something called a Thymoma, which is a very rare tumor."
(I heard tumor and I started drinking my wine faster.)
Dad: "It's a form of cancer, and because of the size of the tumor, it's past stage one............................"

I don't remember much of what was said at this point, because I felt like I was drowning. I refilled my wine glass, drank most of it, then refilled it again. Trying really hard to fight back the tears, which I failed miserably at, I probed for more information and what the next steps would be. I think I asked something about treatment options and what the survival rate was. Due to the nerf ball sized tumor attempting to crush one of his lungs, the surgery needed to remove it did not guarantee that all of the cancer would be removed. They wouldn't know what they were dealing with until they got in there. And even if they were able to remove it, the recurrence rate was something like 50%. 

How do you respond to something like that? My dad is one of the most important people in my life. He's young, he's always been healthy, he's a family physician whose patients adore him, he's an amazing dad, and he has one of the most amazing souls I've ever known. For real? That guy gets a rare tumor? A tumor that is about as rare as getting struck by lightning? COME ON!!!!!!

Things moved incredibly fast. Before we knew it he was scheduled for surgery, and they were going to be cracking his chest open in order to remove the tumor. I know he was scared, but I'm still amazed at how strong he was leading up to the surgery. He was strong because he felt he had to be...........for us..........his family who couldn't imagine a life without him. 

The day of his surgery was the most nervous I've ever been for anything in my entire life. Mom was at the hospital waiting, and the rest of us were trying everything we could to distract ourselves until we had an update. And this was a long surgery. I was a long-term sub at my sister's high school at the time, so she would come in and visit me most days. That day she came in and sat in silence by my desk. I wish I could've offered her more comfort, but I'm the more emotional of the two, and at that moment I was no stronger than she was. In fact, she was probably stronger. 

We finally heard from Mom. The surgery had gone extremely well and the surgeon was fairly certain he had been able to remove the entire tumor. I didn't know whether to yell, cry, dance, flip the desk, or all of the above.
I definitely cried -- because I'm a giant baby.
It seemed as though everything was going to be okay, but what a freaking roller coaster.......................

Dad left the hospital earlier than expected, and was walking 4-5 miles with me within about a week or so of being home. We're not talking just leisurely walking..........we're talking like a 4-5 mph pace. Freaking serious power walking. He wore me out and I'm half his age. Plus, I didn't just undergo an insanely invasive surgery where they removed a freaking nerf football sized tumor from my body. The man is insane. 
I do miss those walks though....................I happened to be living in the area when all of this was happening, so we would walk most days of the week. Even though I was out of breath for most of it, we had hours upon hours of conversation. We talked about anything and everything. It was really special. 

The next thing was prepping for radiation. He was supposed to have about 5 weeks of radiation treatment. He even got marked for where the radiation would be focused, but after a checkup it turned out that he wasn't going to need any radiation after all. It didn't seem real. 

Within a few months time, everything went from a scenario where it was quite possible that my dad would not make it, to him being seemingly back to normal. It was a blur of emotion, and until my brain forced me to remember those emotions this morning, it almost seemed like it had never happened. I've been randomly tearing up off and on all day, which has been a little frustrating, but at the same time I'm grateful for the reminder. 

​It shouldn't take a rare, cancerous tumor to remind us................but time is fleeting, and we only get so much of that time with the people we love. Even though my eyes are kind of puffy, and my makeup has undoubtedly been messed up, I don't care. I needed the reminder, even if it did cause my face to leak. It's so easy to get caught up in what we're doing that we lose sight of the important things. 
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Thanks for listening. Now go and love on your people dammit!!!!!