Me: A Rewrite Update After 10 Years — I’ve Changed (But Not Dressed)

10 Years & Still Exposing Myself In Public (Me: A Rewrite Update)

It’s actually been over 10 years since the events I wrote about in my memoir.

I was just turning 40 at that time and as of this writing, I’m 52.

Fifty-two! When did that happen? Where did all those years go?

Why do I still act like a goofy pre-teen when no one is looking (and often when they are)?

I figure it’s time to give an account of the major changes since the silly days of Seattle escapism.

Bear with me—or bare with me, if you prefer—this will be a random ramble.

Things I’d particularly like to note…

1. Be careful what you put in print. It will manifest.

When I published my memoir I was worried that if I gave up my high-income sales career I’d become a pauper living in my expensive shoes and jetting around on a Vespa with an Hermes scarf willowing behind me.

Now, I only wish I had a Vespa!

Alas, I don’t have a car, anymore.

And, what’s worse, I don’t even want the scarf!

What has become of chic me?

This brings us to #2.

2. I’m no longer interested in pricey shoes or fancy clothes.

I’ve sold or given away most of my clothes and Louboutins. Hence, the bare option.

Just kidding. I’m not a nudist. In fact, I’m writing this in my PJs!

I’ve downsized my wardrobe so much it almost fits in a suitcase. A very large suitcase, but still.

Minimizing!

Purging!

Purging possessions, people (not you), old ideas, shallow ideals, everything unnecessary or burdensome.

This is a good thing because every time I relocate, which is frequently, I move into a smaller place.

I could write about living in a shopping cart but I don’t dare! (See #1. I always have more than enough I always have more than enough I always have more than enough! In Jesus’ name, Amen.)

3. I love my new, old wee abode.

In my memoir, I was all, “Ohh, my big new house, how will I survive without it…” (It wasn’t really that grand, but compared to where I am now…well.)

The place I’m currently in reminds me of my cozy apartment in Seattle before the “Summer of Love.”

The old Seattle will always have a happy place in my heart and the heart of Elaine Kauffman, my alter ego. (Why didn’t I choose a name like Ashley or Natasha?? My story would’ve had a different ending! Maybe a happy ending, wink wink nudge nudge.)

Anyway, I think I like tiny, old buildings because they remind me of my earliest childhood days when I felt safe.

Who knows how long I’ll stay here—certainly, not I—but for now, it feels like a good landing pad.

I’m starting to believe we only feel at home when we’re with the right person. Our person.

Speaking of feeling at home…

4. I’m over The Gerry!

If you don’t know, The Gerry is Gerard Butler. He was my celebrity crush for 10 years, the longest run any celebrity got. High five, GB!

Now, I have a crush on a popular neurobiologist.

What a dork! (Me, not him.)

Apparently, there’s a name for having crushes on celebrities: Limerence.

The term only applies if you’re super OCD-stalker-y and I only hung out once in Malibu in the hopes of seeing Mr. Butler. Plus, there’s an amazing sammich place there, I totally promise.

Note: I will not limerate (new word) on the brain doc. (That was for me.) Very much. 👀

I’m happy for Gerard and his long-time leggy girlfriend, Morgan for figuring out how to stick it out together. (We were so not right for each other, anyway! Um, hello, he’s all “Let’s go to the beach” and I’m all “Um, sand, no.”)

And speaking of Leggy…

5. The funny thing about memories… they’re not always correct.

In my memoir, I mentioned I have long legs (though not as long as Leggy Blonde), but I do not.

My legs may even be short in proportion to my long, gangly arms!

What?!

Turns out my memories of being a skinny kid with spindly legs carried on into adulthood.

I did have disproportionately long legs in my preteen single-digit years but grew into them.

This goes to show that whether our memories are relatively positive or negative to us, they’re often inaccurate.

This means we can re-interpret old memories into new stories that better serve us and those around us!

Go figure.

6. Vanity insanity has been replaced with au natural. Well, mostly.

Since I wrote my memoir, I tried Botox and filler and facials and fake eyelashes (the lashes recently) and then abandoned all cosmetic enhancement except minimal makeup and occasional nail polish.

I have come full circle.

I:

1. Have not had any cosmetic procedures or plastic surgery other than to remove breast implants (they may have added to my health issues). (My. Never “own” something you don’t want to keep.)
2. Don’t use Botox or fillers or anything of that nature.
3. Don’t use any skin care products. No cleansers, lotions, potions, serums, sunscreen, or even shampoo! (I use water and a face cloth for my face; water, baking soda, and apple cider vinegar for my hair, etc.)
   

   Eau de chip

Who is this 52-year-young-at-heart woman-child??

Don’t get me wrong, I still believe in “polishing the stone” as My Little Mom used to say, but now I’d like to focus more on polishing my character. (Subject to change without notice!)

7. This “girl” is no longer shy. (But still an introvert.)

If you read my memoir, you may remember I put myself through what I now know to be called “exposure therapy” to get over what felt like crippling shyness.

Exposure therapy is exactly what it sounds like… exposing thyself (to thy fears).

(I warned you we were going to get to the “naked self” part…but it’s not what you may be thinking. If you’re new here, it’s more about revealing the real me, myself, and I in public. My vulnerable self. Kinda like this blog.)

I challenged myself to get out of my comfort zone to get over my shyness. (See how sneaky “my” is!)

I started in Seattle with a screenwriting course that included an acting class (terrifying) and going on to do challenges like approaching strangers in public to start conversations (also terrifying at the time).

After the events in my memoir, I ended up joining acting and improv classes in L.A. (Terri-fricken-fying.)

Side note: I am a terrible actor. No, I’m not being modest, I’m truly untalented on the stage and even worse on camera. (But I do a bang-up job of being me in my Wingmam videos and real life!)

Bottom line: I’m no longer shy but still have stage fright. Meh, I’ll take it. Progress, not perfection.

What else?

Me: A Rewrite Update on Ideal Mate Dealmaker List

Here are a few changes to my shallow and extensive alphabetized must-have list from my memoir…

1. I now prefer a rugged and masculine SUV that is not a Landrover. Though, if he has clean, reliable wheels that’s good enough!
2. My new ideal height for a man is <6’ though there is wiggle room. (I’m 5’6” and rarely wear heels now.)
3. He’s proud to be with me despite my book, this blog, and my work. (I promise not to write about us.)
4. He accepts I’m an introvert and need a lot of solitude. He doesn’t push, pressure, or persuade me into socializing more than I want to.
5. He’s not an actor (including a politician!) and is okay with a lady whose hair smells like potato chips. 😉

I know what you’re thinking. Cat Lady. Or: Cats, lady, get some!

You may be right, but let’s see if I can keep these houseplants alive, first.

Also, I’m still dealing with my health. I need more energy to enter the dating world. <–I rewrote that because of #1: Be careful what you put in writing!

(Memo to God: Every day in every way I’m getting healthier and healthier, and every day in every way I have more energy… thank You in advance, in JC’s name, Amen.)

One of my other love blocks: After reading thousands of YouTube comments about how much men fear and are affected by rejection from women, I’m terri-fricken-fied of potentially being the cause of such strife. YouTube-comments-PTSD people, P-T-S-D! (God, I accept express Heaven-to-door delivery. 🙏)

I’m tired after writing this.

What have I re-learned:

1. Words are powerful.
2. The only constant is change.
3. Don’t believe everything you think.
4. God doesn’t make junk.
5. Love is the answer!

Homework:

Use words wisely, get out of my comfort zone, question my biases, love my “naked” self, and trust that others love themselves enough, too.

Nap time!