"When I have..."

Wandering home from my local LCBO (that just so happens to be the huge & beautiful Summerhill location), I got to thinking, and thus, decided what my newest blog post should be about.

As I walked up the long sloping hill of Yonge street, between Alcorn Avenue and Balmoral, I reflected on what an amazing stroll it was, through such a pleasant and welcoming neighbourhood.  Not only is the Summerhill LCBO only an eight minute walk from my new apartment, but there is also an abundance of fancy foodie shops, grand restaurants, superb home decor stores, and plenty of coffee houses nearby to cozy up in for tea.  My hot yoga studio is around the corner, there are two grocery stores within a stone's throw, I can see the subway station from my balcony, and I can walk to my workplace in under 25 minutes!  For the first  time in all my years living in Toronto, I am one hundred and fifty percent completely and utterly happy with where I live.  Not only do I adore the 'hood, but I just plain love my new flat and all that I have furnished and designed within it.  Sure, there is a lot I could still do to make it "homier", but it is perfect as is, and I love it right now.  I have moved a total of 13 times in my 11 years in Toronto.  Consistently, I would move and then soon begin to long for something a wee bit better, bigger, cooler....I figured that "only when I have" a better flat, my life will be perfect.  I had developed a bad case of the habitat "when I have's".

I have also come to realize that I am really into my job.  Like, really.  I have been plugging away at my career in TV for years, and almost from day one I was already striving to do the next thing.  Once I got comfy in one role, I became unhappy, needed change, got miserable, and looked for new work.  Once I nailed that perfect gig somewhere else, the cycle would begin again...get good, get sad, get resentful, leave.  Eventually I worked my way to the "top" as far as I was concerned, as a director in live TV news at the ripe old age of 27.  Pretty great, right?  Well it didn't take long for my high about that position to wear off either, and I quit that too.  Once again, it was my "phoenix years" rolling around and kicking my butt that finally snapped me out of it.  After dabbling in various fields outside of TV in 2010, and taking on only freelance and contract work for most of this year, I finally landed the role that saved me.  In September I started a full time job on a new show that launched in October.  The team is outstanding, the hours are great (if you like getting up at 4am), and I get the pleasure of working alongside a few colleagues that I met way back at the start of my career; back before my yuck cycles had even began.  I now go into work with a huge smile on my face everyday.  The role itself is a bit of a step back from what I am truly capable of, but it is FUN.  Stressfree.  With people I love, on a show that makes me laugh out loud.  Every. Single. Day.  It's pretty great.  I love it just fine, right now, because I have it right now. And I don't need anything but this moment.

I have lived for my "when I have's" for thirty years.  I have been in a perpetual state of anxiety about the future.  When I get those jeans, nab that boyfriend, lose those ten pounds, learn that dance move...I will be happy...

I have always had this sinking feeling that I was waiting for something.  Something to happen, something to change, something to make my life perfect.  But my life IS perfect.  I have a life after all,  and every single second is beautiful and precious and needs to be acknowledged and given great attention.  

Wow, I wish I had known this when I moved to this city at the age of 20.  I'd have had a lot more compelling stories to tell I am sure.  Living with tunnel vision really wasn't much fun.

Just another perk that comes with my new job; cute celebrity chef encounters!

Feeling pretty

If you know me well, you may have at some point noticed a razor thin scar that runs horizontally across the upper bridge of my nose, right between my eyes.  And even if you don’t know me very well, I am sure that you have certainly noticed the space between my two front teeth.  These are part of who I am, things I am proud of, things that I feel no shame about.  Now.

I think that through my previous posts, it is clear that I have maybe had more than a few issues with self esteem throughout my life.  As a teen I was overly concerned with appearances, obsessed with my weight (I could never be too thin), and was determined to “fit in” at any cost.  I wanted to live up to that image that bombarded us as teenage girls, printed in YM magazine, shown dancing on MTV music videos, embodied in the "cool" girls in school.  It was that Kate Moss model-waif thin, gorgeous to the max, IDEAL.  All teen girls strive to that image of perfection at some point I think….and quite a few of us take it over the edge; to the extreme; will do anything to be pretty.

I was a cute kid.  With my bright blonde hair and big green eyes, I was a stress-free, giggly, happy little gal. As I got older however, I began to notice things about my appearance that were less than desirable in my quest for excellence.  Some might have just called them quirks, but I started to resent these physical traits.  These traits had been lovingly passed down to me through my genetic bloodline, and helped make me who I am – a Pearson and a Donkers. 

But as I saw it, the big gross mole smack dab between my eyes and the massive space between my two front teeth were mistakes.  Ugly.  If I wanted any chance in hell to be beautiful, we needed to take some serious action.  I think I was only in the tenth grade when I had cosmetic surgery to have that hideous mole removed.  It was an in and out procedure, with a plastic surgeon in London Ontario.  His name was Waldo.  And, I think it was about the same time that I underwent a dental frenectomy operation with my dentist, that involved removing a bunch of gum tissue from my upper jaw in hopes to bring my front teeth together.   

Well, now I have a scar, and a space.  No mole, but the  frenectomy clearly did not "take".  And for that I am now grateful.  I embrace my space, as it pays homage to my roots.  And heck, people even tell me they like it.  :-)  And you know what else?  I am finally beginning to think that I am pretty darn great.  I love my body and all that is does for me.  I love that my legs and lungs can run 5K with ease.  I love my stretchy yoga limbs, that sometimes don't want to bend as far as they did the day before.  That's cool.  I love that some days I am tired and don't feel like wearing make-up.  I am just fine with my sun spots,  and I recognize all of my various scars from cooking, working, skating, and just plain being a klutz (I come from a long line of fantastic clumsy folks!) as signs of a life lived.  I adore my intense emotions, sometimes introverted tendencies, and new found need for spontaneous cries.  I feel how I feel, and am learning to BE ok with all of it.  And you know what else?  I finally feel real pretty.  

A while back I had a photographer friend take some sassy pics of me.  I was 29 and feeling almost awesome enough.  So, now that I really do feel the love, I want to share them.  These are a couple of my faves.