Mirror Mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all

When I look at pictures of my parents, there is no doubt where I came from. I am the spitting image of the both of them!

But that's where the similarity used to end. Yes, I'm a lawyer, just like my dad. And even briefly followed in his footsteps by being a prosecutor. But he told me I shouldn't be a lawyer. Yes, I'm pretty music. Which comes from both parents. Mom can sing and play the piano. Dad is pretty good on percussion and used to play the accordion. No- I do not lie. The accordion. But then we have the differences. Both of them enjoy sports (tennis, golf, other sports when they were younger). I detest playing sports. I was a dancer and cheerleader growing up. I think you would have had to threaten my parents with death for either of them to dance or cheer.

The older I get, the more I become my mother.

I worry about pleasing everyone.

If I wake up at night, I obsess about things until I can't sleep anymore.

I won't actually confront people who piss me off, but I will talk about it with a friend.

Don't get me wrong- there are still some major differences. But with every passing year, I become more like this amazing woman. And I hope that makes her proud.

Never trust a person who doesn't have a nickname

A few days ago, I was discussing nicknames with a friend of mine.

Nicknames make me happy.

One of my friends, The Fourth (for those of you who read Eat Drink and Be Mary...Douglass, you know who he is), is the KING of creating nicknames. He has two for me: Roush and Guy la Roush. Both stem from an incorrect pronunciation of my last name. But he nicknames everyone.

Then I starting thinking about all the nicknames I've accumulated in my life.

JR
Junior
Punkin
Olive (as in Oyl)
Janer
Jane Fish
Janathan

The list goes on. It made me start thinking though. Of all of these nicknames, very few people use more than one of them. Pops calls me Punkin. Little Mommy calls me JR. They don't call me any of those other nicknames.

Then I was talking to my cat this morning while I was getting ready. Don't judge. She talks back.

Her name is Lalita. She was named for a Hindu goddess. "Lalita is a woman-child Goddess. She delights in all play and pleasure. The universe is a great toy to Her, created for Her enjoyment." I figured nothing described a cat better than that! But I call her Lali.

Anyway, this morning, she decided to peek in on my shower. I saw her little paw on the glass and started talking to her, calling her Buggie. I nicknamed her Lali-bug, which eventually got shortened to Bug, which then became Buggie. Amongst her other nicknames:

Doodle-bug
Doodle
Doods
Princess Fluffernutter
Stinker (a nickname I have also given my parents' cat)
Bugalicious
Stinker-doodle

I'm sure there are others I have forgotten. But it made me realize something. My cat has more nicknames just from me than I have been given by all the people I've ever gotten a nickname from. And to be honest, I think most people probably nickname their pets more than anyone else. Sad. But true.

I dreamed a dream

Lately I have been having some crazy weird dreams. They have made me anxious, they have left me confused, they have woken me up early.

They have, in fact, been so strange that I have decided to start a new blog just of my dreams. Every morning I'll write a little about my dreams. If for no other reason than it will be really cool to read them back. And maybe, just maybe, some of my loyal readers are blessed with the gift of dream interpretation and can help me out here. It would be most appreciated. I actually have a dreamer's dictionary (a gift from my wonderful Davidson roomie because of my weird dreams) and I use it quite frequently. Of course, if you don't care to read my new blog, that's cool. I'm really more excited about doing it for me anyway!

http://jane-dreamalittledreamofme.blogspot.com/

So there you go, beloved readers. There's nothing up there yet. But it's coming. I might even back track and discuss some crazy past dreams. You never can tell what's going to happen in Jane's little dream world.

It's about how you see yourself

Body dysmorphic disorder is a type of chronic mental illness in which you can't stop thinking about a flaw with your appearance — a flaw either that is minor or that you imagine. But to you, your appearance seems so shameful and distressing that you don't want to be seen by anyone. Body dysmorphic disorder has sometimes been called "imagined ugliness." When you have body dysmorphic disorder, you intensely obsess over your appearance and body image, often for many hours a day. You may seek out numerous cosmetic procedures to try to "fix" your perceived flaws but never are satisfied. Body dysmorphic disorder is also known as dysmorphophobia, or the fear of having a deformity.



I once saw a talk show about body dysmorphia. I can't remember if it was something legit, like Oprah, or crap, like Tyra. Either way, I came to the conclusion that some of the people who suffer from it are crazy. Because there was nothing wrong with them, at least physically. The others truly did have a problem. Extreme eating disorders are a form of dysmorphia and I've always wondered how an anorexic cannot see that at 80 pounds, they are too skinny.


Then I realized that almost everyone I know has some form of body dysmorphia, even if it's not an extreme form.


I was talking to a friend of mine a few weeks ago. She is absolutely GORGEOUS. But she sees a flaw in herself that no one else sees. Something that I didn't even notice when she pointed it out to me. But it is something that bothers her.


But I really started thinking about it in terms of myself. In the past year, I have lost 10 pounds (not by choice, I'll have you know). EVERYONE comments on how skinny I am. Yet I still see areas where I could lose weight. Even after getting on the scale and seeing what I weight. Even after trying on clothes that used to fit perfectly and now fall off of me. I still don't see myself as others see me. And I guess that's what body dysmorphia is really all about.

The first step is admitting you have a problem

I'm going to go ahead and admit it.

My name is NotSoPlainJane and I'm addicted to (so bad that it's good) reality TV. Originally, it was Real World and Road Rules. Now I can't be bothered with the new episodes of Real World. But I still find myself drug into the Real World/Road Rules Challenges. Only because they truly seem to bring back the crazies I loved so long ago.

My love affair with reality TV hit a new high this fall. That's right- MTV introduced us to Ronnie, Sammi Sweetheart, the Situation, Pauly D, J Woww, Snooki and Vinny. AKA The Jersey Shore cast. Life will never be the same. I watched every new episode. I watched marathons on the weekends (you know, in case I missed something funny the first time around). My BFF and her hubby threw a Jersey Shore joint birthday party- my costume was Jersey-tastic!



My new guilty pleasure has become the girls of Pretty Wild on E!

These "sisters" (the 2 youngest are full sisters, I think the oldest is a half-sister. Or maybe adopted. I'm not sure) are famous for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Okay, so the middle one got arrested in connection to all the robberies from celebrities' homes that were going on in LA. But they are hysterically funny. One of them becomes upset that Ryan Cabrerra (yep, that retard with the dumb hair who dated Ashlee Simpson back in the day) doesn't want to date her. They have no brains, very little ambition, but wow! are they amusing! The only thing I don't get is why the entire family constantly says "And so it is." What does that even mean?

Anyway, I just thought I'd share my love affair with reality TV. I ain't ashamed. No seriously- I'm not at all ashamed. They have rehab for this, right?