is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Making my way through the panic. This time through sausage and shopping
Tuesday, March 10, 2009 I am better. Not completely, not calm. Not writing any love letters to my boobs. Not sitting in the Zen garden with my shoes off and my head resting lightly in a bed of flower petals, but better. When the scary thoughts come, a thousand "I'm OK" thoughts greet them and kindly escort them out of my brain in what I am choosing to believe is the best way to be Eckhart Tolle-ish without actually reading Eckhart Tolle. And when that doesn't work, I am stuffing it all down with cured meat and retail gorging.
You know what? It's working miracles.
First of all, salt is really good for you. And by that, I don't mean that crazy stuff about how the salt air (as my dad says) is "nature's neti pot" or how it boosts your immunity or is the cosmic parallel to painting a school classroom pale blue. I mean, sucking the salt off of a pretzel must have some tangible healing powers. Or at least distracts you Kosher crystal by crystal until all that anxiety is lost in the puffiness under your eyes or how desperately you need to unbutton your jeans.
Today, I'm taking my salt in the form of this delicious Pinot Grigio salami I picked up this weekend. I originally got it because I was having a friend over and thought it would be perfect to put out with herbed mozzarella and something dry, white and drinkable from Oregon.Instead, we had a few beers and called it a night, giving me the opportunity to "snack" on this salami for the following two days. You know what I've found it is best paired with (for healing purposes, of course)? Why yes, flat bread crackers generously slathered in sea salt.
Second, I am quieting my mind by centering on the meditative cha-ching cha-ching cha-ching of the cash register at Anthropologie. This store, this ridiculously expensive and sweetly retro/peasant blousy store, is where I am pretty sure I am meant to balance my closet full of J. Crew preppy-flair pieces, Ann Taylor "investment" items and Target clearance clothing. Oh, how I love their flirty dresses and perfectly-fitting pencil skirts, especially when they are crammed into the sale room at the back of the store. I also got these snug and sassy jeans that were spendy, even on sale, and worth every single penny and sanity point. Believe me, a lot of fear is forgotten when you see your own ass in a pair of designer denim. (Let's just pretend for the sake of further healing that the picture to the left is, in fact, of my ass. After eating all that salami).
I am not sure what's next for my on my journey to wholeness and sweet relief. Possibly a marathon of The City, maybe a prank phone calls to my irritating downstairs neighbor with the clicky shoes and kids who run like wild horses up and down the hallway until midnight. Maybe it will be shaking all that ass to Carme Electra's strip-tease workout (if you can ignore the knee socks and pigtails, it's really quite good...honest). Perhaps I will just buy more tight jeans and snacks I pretend to serve to other people. Whatever it is, as long as it feels good, I'm doing it.
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