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This space is all about seeking
EXCITED CHILLS and creating a
simple, authentic, beautiful life.
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Today’s post is a little off my normally beaten path since I’m certainly not a beauty blogger. However, in an effort to stay real and keep you informed, I’m sharing a recent personal maintenance experience.
Maybe you’ve already heard of this somewhat unusual treatment. Seems the inside of the nose is enjoying a hair removal moment right now.
If you have your eyebrows and/or lip professionally waxed, expect that your gal might mention nostril waxing (if she hasn't already) while she has you on her table. After all, she can see right up your nose!
Clear view of those lovely nasal hairs.
This was the situation for me about 4 years ago. My long-time, trusted waxer was putting the finishing touches on my brows, when she asked if she could do my nostrils.
I said a tentative, ‘Sure’.
Mainly, because when your waxer suggests that you try something, it’s easy to feel self-conscious and begin obsessing over how long you’ve been walking around with errant, unsightly nose hair!
If you’re brave (or simply prefer the visual) you can skip my description and just watch the video linked below.
The technique seems fairly straightforward. Dip a skewer-like stick into warm wax to create a small lollipop. Gently insert the waxed end into the nostril. Hold the stick until the wax begins to set.
Some waxers choose to insert both sticks at once (for me this creates a bit of breathing panic, but it does ensure that you’ll actually go through with both sides...much like simultaneous ear-piercing:-)
After giving a thumbs-up sign indicating that you’re as ready as you’ll ever be...the waxer gives a swift tug and out comes the the stick, the wax and your nose hair. Here's the video version on Instagram...@makeupbysepi.
You might see stars.
Wow! I’ve had this treatment twice and I'm still not sure it's for me.
After my first nostril waxing four years ago, I thought the results were nice. I don’t recall the pain being too terrible. It felt clean and smooth.
She only removed the hairs just inside my nostrils. It looked nice. Well maintained.
I felt a bit like I’d done something naughty and secret.
The last time, which was about 4 weeks ago, was rather unpleasant.
I was at a very popular, highly regarded, spa-type salon. I’m not mentioning the shop because I think they’re awesome and do amazing work...I just didn't love my nostril wax experience.
I believe the problem was that my gal truly cleaned out my entire nasal canal (if that’s even a thing).
Like baby’s bottom clean.
Too thorough for me. And way too painful.
And even two weeks later, it still felt odd.
So, for now...when necessary, I’m sticking with a battery-operated nose hair trimmer. It does the job just fine for me.
I’m thankful to cross one personal maintenance appointment off of my list.
Okay, your turn...
Have you tried nasal waxing?
Do you like it?
If you haven't tried it, would you?
Please share your thoughts...
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I hope you're having a fantastic summer!
Stay present and breathe...maybe through freshly waxed nostrils:-)
Four years, tomorrow. July 22, 2013, my family and I closed the door on an empty house in Pennsylvania and opened the door of an empty house in Colorado. The biggest leap of faith we’d ever taken. Hands down.
We relocated 1,700 miles from the edge of our comfort zone…and looking back, we’d do it again in a minute.
Before we moved, I saw myself as someone who would most certainly live somewhere other than where I’d grown up. I pictured myself living in a place that would truly feed my soul. In the meantime, I grumbled about my surroundings and I waited for an outside force to change my situation.
I figured that someday, life’s circumstances would push me beyond the boundaries of the only life I’d known...and I’d end up in a land with abundant sunshine.
I wasn’t taking any action to create a new life in a different location.
I’m not a risk taker. I’m not an early adopter.
I’m slow to change.
So how did we end up taking the leap?
Looking back on it now, I believe the Universe decided merely to force our hand a bit.
It basically came down to three things…
1, Our first family visit to Colorado. August, 2012. Sunny, dry and 80 degrees. My eyes were opened to an alternate summer. There was indeed a climate other than "hazy, hot and humid".
2, We endured yet another late winter filled with sleet, freezing rain and endless gray skies. 40+ days. Our moods were dark and our spirits low.
3, Greta was finishing 8th grade. High school was only months away. Our three kids are just 42 months apart in age...we knew we needed to jump or stay put for another seven years.
We held family meetings, considered our options, worried, researched, cried, talked, voted, explored and ultimately...
We made an enormous decision to make an enormous change.
It was the very best choice we’ve ever made. Period.
If you dream of a change...
a new job, a new spouse, a new body, new friendships, a new business, a new house, a new city…
Decide what you want and commit to the change you envision.
Begin by taking the necessary steps to get things rolling. Baby steps are fine.
Hold on tight...it might be a bumpy, unfamiliar ride. That’s okay. The road is smoother on the other side.
Expect some panic. Breathe. Keep breathing...right through the anxiety.
Trust that you’ve made the right choice and allow yourself to settle in to the terrifying, but exquisite newness of a fresh chapter.
For me, it was moving to a place with more sunshine. What's your dream change? Please share!
If you don't feel you can write it in the comments, feel free to email me at email@example.com
I firmly believe that the simple act of putting your dreams out there is often just enough for the Universe to take notice...and begin shifting your story.
Change is all there is.
This summer, I'm reminding myself of this daily. (sometimes hourly:-)
Big changes happening again for us in the next five weeks or so. Greta is finished high school and heading back across that 1,700 miles to attend university.
Feeling stuck can seem safe, but it rarely allows for anything amazing to unfold.
Test your limits. Stretch yourself.
Don’t wait. Start today.
Just imagine who you could be when July 21, 2021 arrives...
Thank you for being here and sharing this journey with me. As always, I welcome your comments and questions.
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Have a fantastic week!
“The days are long, but the years are short.” Whoever first said those wise words was certainly wise to the reality of raising children. A new adult arrived at my house this week. Greta turned 18 yesterday. As I reread that sentence, my breath catches and a lump forms in my throat. Huh? There must be some mistake. My first born child has just wrapped up her childhood? Incredible and impossible at the same time.
In honor of Greta’s big birthday, this post is about her.
Recently, as one might expect, my mind has been flooded with memories of Greta as a child. Much as it seems like a ‘blink’, the giant bank of memories tells me that she has been around for quite a while:-)
I guess it is time for her to be eighteen.
Whenever I pause to sift through the 'Greta moments' , one always stands out. This specific event highlights her very essence. Greta's giant, thoughtful, loving heart was especially evident on this particular day.
I’m a little blurry on the exact timing, but Greta was around six years old.
In our basement, I kept a container of ‘special’ gift wrapping supplies. The container held a collection of beautiful ribbons, ties and tags reserved for embellishing very important gifts.
One afternoon, Greta decided to do some type of ‘craft project’.
For the record...I come from the craft-projects-are-almost-always-too-much-trouble camp. My own mother, however, comes from the complete other camp...the-bigger-the-mess-the-more-fabulous-the-project! Thus, Grandma was always in charge of making things like Valentines and granola:-)
Anyway, Greta was busying herself with her project...while I was most certainly in the weeds with whatever her two little brothers were up to.
Greta was always incredibly well-behaved and mature. I knew I could count on her to ‘play nicely’ while I tended to the needs of the boys.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I have no recollection of the finished product.
I only remember that she helped herself to one of the ‘special’ ribbons.
She had chosen a piece of wine-colored organza ribbon.
She cut it in half.
For some reason, this sent me over the edge of parenting that day.
I freaked out.
Irrationally and loudly and cruelly.
I’m not sure if it was because she hadn’t asked. Or if I’d had an especially tough day with three kids under six. Or I had important plans for that exact strip of ribbon. Doesn't matter.
No excuses. I really messed up.
A while later, Greta appeared with the ribbon.
With pride and pure love, she presented it to me.
She had hand-sewed the two pieces back together to again form one long length of ribbon.
Revisiting this memory is painful. Heart-wrenchingly painful.
I’m still embarrassed by how terribly I’d reacted.
I hurt Greta and crushed her sweet spirit.
And in return, she worked to secretly repair the damage with small, sweet stitches.
The love in her gesture has blown me away ever since. I’m humbled by her kindness, which I surely didn’t deserve. With five deliberately placed stitches, she showed me that our teachers can be tiny.
Greta shared with me the incredible power of love...and it’s ability to heal.
I kept the ribbon tied softly around the rod in my closet for years. Seeing it was a reminder to choose kindness first.
I still have the ribbon. It’s tucked away in a box of treasures. It’s one of the trinkets that will survive every KonMari Method clean-out I ever perform.
This small strand of ribbon is a keeper.
Before I pulled the ribbon out to take a photo for this post, I casually (and cautiously) asked Greta what she remembered about the incident. I was afraid to hear her thoughts. I feared it would upset her to relive that day.
She smiled and looked a bit blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t remember that at all”.
She went on to mention that she believed I was ‘making it up’.
I thought of the repaired ribbon safely tucked away downstairs.
And silently thanked the Universe for such grace.
I was sure Greta still wore the scars of that day. Thankfully, it seems I was wrong.
I’m blessed beyond belief to have this amazing human in my life. Being Greta’s mom is a true pleasure. I’m thrilled to be soaking it all in before it’s time to move her across the country for the next chapter.
Mamas...hug your babies close.
It. Goes. So. Fast.
Just for fun, here are a few more bits about Greta…
She loves stripes as much as I do, possibly more.
She dislikes Auntie Anne’s pretzels.
She speaks French.
She’s had Scarlet Fever.
She hated Paris on her visit. (Thankfully, that’s changed)
Her bedroom is always straightened up.
She spent years galloping instead of walking.
She was breech and born by Cesarean...12 days late!
For a few hours, her name was Amelia.
And here’s a link to my interview with Greta about fashion and style. It was part of a writing challenge posted while back. Missed it all? You can check out the entire series, 31 Days of Simple Style here.
Weekly Updates, here.
I hope this phase of your summer is lazy and lovely.
Thank you for following along and for letting me bask in all things Greta this week. I know my recent posts have been a bit more personal as a result of the current season of my life. Your continued support is the best. Sending you love.
I don’t know exactly what I expected from my 50’s, but I’m finding this season of my life to be very interesting and eye-opening. I’ve been doing some intense work on myself lately. As many of you know, this work began in earnest last October with a 31 day writing challenge (Simply 50 - refining life for the next decade). Since then, I’ve been in the thick of it as I try to really live the words I chose for that challenge. I've discovered this work is fascinating and difficult.
I’m realizing a lot about myself...
I have changes to make.
I have habits to break.
I have limiting beliefs to release.
I want things to happen faster.
I want things to slow down.
Recently, I was becoming lost in the minutia. The details of the journey were bogging me down.
I was completely overwhelmed by the entire process and by the urgency I was feeling to fix myself!
Then, right on cue, the Universe stepped in with trio of wake-up calls.
I’ll quickly share the recent events that have led me to reevaluate my Project Fix Kristen timetable and some of my methods…
Most of us vividly remember our first best friend. Mine was a neighbor in the suburbs of Philadelphia...and later a school-mate. We were about four years old when we met. Her name was Susie.
Ours was my intro into the world of friendship. I’m smiling as I type, recalling our easy joy and shared laughter.
Decades ago, we lost touch. While I think of Susie fondly from time to time, I haven’t connected with her in ages. I learned recently that she died several years ago at age 45. I had no idea. The news stopped me cold. My heart aches knowing that she’s gone. (Update below)
At a family wedding, my father-in-law collapsed just as the bride was about to walk down the aisle. Out cold. Chest compressions. Ambulance. Overnight hospital stay.
He’s only 68 years old. Thankfully, it was diagnosed as dehydration and he was released the next day. He’s feeling fine. What a frightening 15 hours.
My daughter’s boyfriend left our house around 10 pm. He drove literally one block and in a freak accident, rolled his small convertible car. Miraculously, he walked away uninjured. Shaken and scared, we waited for his parents to arrive. Surrounded by a fire truck, police cars and a dozen neighbors... I tried to shut off the ‘what if’ game in my head. Thankfully, everyone was safe.
Once I moved past feeling completely rattled, I witnessed the true wake-up call potential of these events that occurred within the span of one week.
Crisis has a remarkable way of slamming us into the present moment.
Everything else falls away and we are here. Now.
The little shit no longer matters.
We’re left with compassion.
It’s how we deal with what happens that determines our happiness. How we perceive our circumstances really is our choice. Every moment of every day.
Half-empty or half-full.
Some days my commitment to choosing happiness always is strong and other days the work of finding even a sliver of happy seems daunting.
But...I’m all in.
I’m fully committed to this journey of self-improvement.
There are times when I’m so excited about the changes I see in myself that I’m positively giddy.
But, there are also moments when it feels like I’ve opened a can of worms that I’ll never control.
Two steps forward, one step back.
I'll take it.
All this to say, a trio of wake-up calls has put me back on course. Moving forward (with more patience) towards the changes I'd like to make. And the person I'd like to be. At the very least, I owe it to Susie to continually strive to live my absolute best life.
What changes are you making?
Are you gentle with yourself during the process of changing? (If so, please share your tips:-)
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Thank you for reading. And commenting...my replies might be slow, but I always read every single comment and smile:-)
Have a super week!
P.S. Regarding my friend Susie...
The Universe is truly amazing!
Okay, here's the brief update...
After I learned of Susan's death, I spent some time searching for her mom and brother online. I haven't had any contact with them in 30+ years, but I hoped to locate them and offer my condolences.
Through Facebook, I found someone I believed could be Susan's brother's wife.
As I was sharing this experience with my family, my daughter mentioned a boy with the same (unusual) last name who'd been in one of her classes her sophomore year. '
We did a bit more research online...
The world is incredibly small:-)
A week ago, I had the pure pleasure of sitting down with Susan's brother, sister-in-law and mother at her brother's home. Less than three miles from where I currently live! Over 1,700 miles from where we first met. Neighbors again and we didn't even know it.
I'm blown away by the workings of the Universe. It was such a full-circle moment that I'm still breathless when I think about all of us sharing stories and remembering Susan. And missing her.
Gotta love the Milky Way!
Top photo credit: Peter Cain
Loveland Pass. August 2016. Family 14er Adventure.