Okay, so you mentioned Fabletics in your last post and I keep getting facebook ads for them. I've been resisting, but what is your opinion of their products? Worth it?
I really like Fabletics. First of all, they are substantially cheaper than a lot of other ~*~specialty fitness clothing*~* especially if you buy them together as an outfit. Second, the quality is really good overall. Some of the styles are sort of insane, like:
Oh my god what no.
So I tend to stick with the more standard options. For example, I love the Lima capri. It is TOTALLY not see through, has good compression without feeling like a sausage casing, and is really well made. Unfortunately, it only comes in one inseam (20”), which, because of my incredibly short legs, sort of makes me look like this:
But I don’t even care. Do you know how hard it is to find a not-see-through legging that will hold up through many, many washes AND costs $31.95? HARD. VERY HARD. Certainly worth looking like a Shetland pony.
Anyway, I also really like the Aventura tank for Bar Method classes and the Oula tank for running. I have both of them in a couple of colors. I’ve machine washed and dried all of them a zillion times and they still look good. (Do you know some exercise clothing designers expect you to HAND WASH their shit? That is a moral outrage.) Also they each cost under $20 which you can’t really beat.
So if you are interested, here is a referral link to sign up. OOOOH A REFERRAL LINK! I’M A REAL BLOGGER NOW! <dives into a pool filled with money a la Scrooge McDuck>
Do you have any advice for someone who has semi-recently started dating a lawyer with a demanding schedule? How does the significant other cope with the grueling schedule of a corporate litigator - especially during a trial (i.e. will life ever be "normal")? Kind of related, is the Big Law world anything like an episode of Suits or is that entire series just a gross exaggeration of reality? I mean, does anyone really dress like Rachel Zane or Donna Paulsen? Asking for a friend...
First of all, even the longest trials don’t last forever. The Dude’s has been LONG — about 6 weeks — and even it is ending and soon he will return to the land of the living. Life will be normal again, and you just have to keep on reminding yourself that.
But dating a corporate lawyer, especially when you yourself are not a lawyer, is hard. Basically, we have no control over our own schedules. We can plan things, yes, and we often do. But if we get an email that says we need to work on something rightthisminute, then, well, we just have to do it. And whatever we had planned, be it a dinner, a concert, or even a vacation, has to be cancelled. So the best piece of advice I can give you is to be understanding. It is HARD, I know — there are lots of times when even I have gotten angry when The Dude cancelled our plans because of work, and we basically have the same job. But try not to take it personally, and know that if he had a choice, he would be sitting with you rather than ordering his 9th dinner in a row from Seamless at his desk.
I’ve never watched Suits, but I understand it to be about a person who wanted to be a corporate lawyer SO BADLY that he lied about attending law school and passing the bar. Given the rest of my answer to your question, I would have to say that no, it is not realistic in the least.
The Dude is in trial right now on a huge case that he’s been working on for the past several years. And it’s been insane — he’s worked every day, averaging 15 hours a day, since at least his sister’s wedding at the beginning of August (and probably before that, too). He told me on Friday night that he literally doesn’t remember the last time he went to sleep on purpose. Luckily, it’s almost over. But meanwhile, I am interviewing all of these law students for summer associate jobs next year, and they keep on telling me that they want in-court, trial experience. And although I nod and say, “Oh that’s great!” this is, in my head, my actual response:
Because I knew The Dude was going to be out-of-his-mind busy over my birthday, Work BFF and I booked a night at a spa in the Catskills. It was just a modest place, really:
LOL JK it was awesome. We hiked, canoed, went stand up paddleboarding, and got massages. Oh and ate a ridiculous amount of food in the 1950s summer camp style dining room. Honestly, being up there sort of reminded me of Dirty Dancing. Except, given the birthday that I was celebrating, I think I would be playing Jerry Orbach’s part.
Bonus picture of me being super excited about all of the waffles I was about to eat at the breakfast buffet.
On Sunday, I’m going to Philadelphia to run my second half marathon. My dad and my stepmom are coming to cheer me on, which is really nice, but they asked if they could bring their dog, a giant rescue greyhound named Luna, to the race. Now, don’t get me wrong, Luna is really sweet and well behaved. But I can’t think of a worse place to bring an animal that can run very fast and that spent its formative years chasing after bright and shiny objects that move quickly in front of it than a half marathon. Luckily, I will not be moving quickly, so personally this will not pose any sort of problem.
Over the weekend, The Dude gave me a belated birthday gift—the Cuyana leather tote in caramel. It is gorgeous and buttery and GIANT and is basically perfect in every way. So obviously I’m bringing it to Philly this weekend. With my Cuyana tote, my J. Crew field jacket, my oversized Acacia scarf, and my Lululemon/Fabletics running outfit, I will be everything you hate about the Internet. Good day.
“Hey, I’m having a lot of *~*feelings*~* at work today, why don’t I listen to the new Ryan Adams album to try to snap myself out of it?”—Me, having possibly the worst idea in the history of human existence
I went to the dentist yesterday. After the hygienist finished the cleaning, the dentist—who I’ve been seeing since I moved to NYC, and who The Dude started going to in 2012—came in for my exam. We chatted while he performed the exam, which ended, as it always does, with him palpating my neck and throat to check for oral cancer, TMJ, etc. Yesterday, though, he said, “Hang on, I just need to check one more thing,” and he took my left hand and started doing the same palpating motion on my left ring finger. “Nope, still negative. We’ll have to discuss that at The Dude’s next appointment.” Because I am physically unable to melt into a puddle, Alex Mack-style, I let out some sort of snort-laugh-eye roll combination that likely came across as simultaneously defensive and pathetic. Meanwhile, my dentist grinned as he walked out of the room, INCREDIBLY pleased with his HILARIOUS joke.
On my way back to the office, I checked Facebook on my phone. I saw that a family friend’s daughter had given birth to her third kid, and the friend posted pictures of herself with her new grandchild. Scrolling through the pictures, I noticed that my mother had commented, “You are so lucky! I CAN’T WAIT to be a grandmother!!!!”
Is there a female equivalent for the phrase “get off my dick”? Because, if so, I would like to have that in my arsenal for the foreseeable future.
“It’s never, never, never the woman’s fault. No man has a right to raise a hand to a woman. No means no. […] The one regret I have is we call it domestic violence as if it’s a domesticated cat. It is the most vicious form of violence there is, because not only the physical scars are left, the psychological scars that are left. This whole culture for so long has put the onus on the woman. What were you wearing? What did you say? What did you do to provoke? That is never the appropriate question.”—
i don’t have an issue with the ice bucket challenge, the awareness and donations are wonderful for ALS.
i do however, have an issue that it seems all white people of privilege are falling all over themselves to dump water over their heads while sitting on their hands when to comes to what is happening in ferguson.
that juxtaposition is what is so incredibly upsetting.
i know it’s very hard to write about the horrors occurring in ferguson. i have mostly relied on other’s words, and spoken with my wallet.
but just because something is hard, doesn’t mean it’s not worthy of our time and attention. this is our country, our history, our future. if we can make time to fill a bucket with ice, we can speak up for our fellow americans and their rights.
call it poor timing, or call it an indication of this country’s ability to look the other way while still patting itself on the back for a cause it deems worthy.
How to Catch the Bouquet at Your Boyfriend's Sister's Wedding
Hear the opening refrain of “Single Ladies.” Immediately take this as your cue to start heading towards the bathroom.
Be intercepted on the way to the bathroom by your boyfriend’s mother, who instructs you to “get your booty on that dance floor!”
Respond, “But I’m not single! We have two cats! In New York that means we are basically common law married!” Receive a negative response.
Begrudgingly walk onto the dance floor while being pulled by one of your boyfriend’s cousins. Make sure one hand is firmly clenched around your drink.
Find the tallest woman on the dance floor. Stand directly behind her.
Shift your hiding position in order to avoid your boyfriend’s sister’s gaze. Be thankful, for once, that you are very short.
As the DJ counts down to the bouquet toss, look directly at the ground.
Realize, after a moment, that your boyfriend’s sister has not actually thrown the bouquet, but rather is running directly towards you with a maniacal smile on her face.
When your boyfriend’s sister runs into you and tries to wrestle the bouquet into your non-drink-holding hand, regret your earlier decision not to double fist.
Struggle for a moment. Realize that despite all of her pre-wedding bridal workouts, you are significantly stronger than her. Know in your heart that if this was a trial by combat, you would emerge victorious.
Notice a light shining on you. Look up to see the videographer approximately 10 feet away, catching all of this on film.
Try to force a smile at the multiple professional cameras and smart phones pointed at you as the bride announces, “Now we’re sisters!”
Walk off the dance floor, avoiding the angry glares of all of the female plus ones.
Give the bouquet to the groom’s 10 year old niece.
Immediately remedy your earlier decision regarding double fisting.