I ran in the Monster Dash in St. Paul, Minnesota last weekend. It was fun and want to find a Halloween themed race each year going forward. I am not a person who dresses up or even decorates in the most basic way now that my children have grown. Though I DO still give out full size candy bars to trick or treaters. It surprised me how much I genuinely enjoyed picking out a funky monster headband, matching mittens and a multi-color tutu to run in with my very bright running attire.
Because of the way the course was set up, there were fewer spectators and cheering groups on both sides of the road, which have been a part of each race I've participated in prior to this one. I mostly had people on the direct right and very few who were actively high fiving along the way as so many runners tossed candy to the spectators and they were in a dive mode for the goodies.
I had my timing bracelet next to my watch and could see that I was running my best half to date. I was really excited and wondering what had played into it. My preparation? My sleep the night before? My nutrition in the week leading up to the run? The weather-which was spectacularly fantastic, the same race was cancelled last year for snow and ice conditions but this particular day was as gorgeous as they come! I have a goal to do the race in the time of the bracelet, and I'm not there yet, but I got closer on that day than any other.
When I realized, in sight of the finish line, that I was going to PR and by several minutes I became elated. I was so happy, I checked my watch pretty repeatedly because I was sure I was missing something, but sure enough, crossed that line and voila, I had finished in my best time yet!
YAY!
So when I had eaten my banana, heart rate was back to normal, and I was walking the 1.5 miles back to the light rail to ride back to my hotel in Minneapolis I thought I'd compare the race splits and where I'd done better and where I had remained flat. And pretty immediately I noticed something. In Minneapolis, I had run 13.2 miles. In my Hartford race, I'd run 13.85 miles. In the race prior I had run 13.78 miles.
And it hit me!
I always cross over in zig zag fashion to high five any kid who has come out to cheer. I cross over to the drink tables where kids are handing out the water or sports drink. I feel compelled to recognize and encourage the children who are out there banging the cowbells, holding signs and cheering me on and so I go back and forth to them as they pepper the route. And I'm running 3/4 of a mile more than i need to!
So I deducted the average of my time for that much distance over the course of a half and guess what, I really didn't PR in MN....I PR'd in Hartford in the freezing cold and grey skies and numb fingers and dead shoes!
Going forward I'm going to pick a side and smack palms of those kids and wave happily to those on the other side. I am going to see what I can do in the next few races, time-wise, by not adding extra mileage to my half!
I sure do love the joyous faces and I'll just have to be sure to smile back and maybe fist pump for the most boisterous of the 'other side' cheering crowd. And who knows, my recognized PR may be just around the corner.
Here I come Richmond!!
Friday, October 31, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Realizations of self, not always fun or easy!
I went to a running clinic at a store about an hour from my house earlier this year. I had been in my running gear since I pretty much lived in it while running twice a day in preparation for the 200+ mile relay race in September. Eeeeck, that was scary to even think about at one point!
Anyway, I took the time to shower, blow-dry, 'put on my face', a fabulous outfit and jewelry galore! Heck...I even wore my gold coin belt! Arrived and the other people were in workout gear. I told the woman I had called when I made my reservation to ask how to dress...from work or from gym and had been told 'from work'. So effort...I made!
She could have just said she was sorry and let it go. But then she made a comment that ALMOST made me walk out. She said "I thought it was sort of a no-brainer to come to a running class dressed to run. I mean, how difficult is that?" Ummmm, WHAT!? Excuse me? I must admit, 5 years ago she'd have gotten dressed down in a way I practically specialize in but the kinder, gentler, more mature version of me simply imagine slapping her silly instead of doing it.
And I spent the first half of the class stewing on her bitchiness. I did get some good information and realized that 90% of what she was sharing, I do already so I was feeling good about myself. But it was REALLY clear that she considered herself the smartest person in the room and that she knew everything.
Then it hit me, almost with a physical force. I AM THAT PERSON! I really do suffer from know-it-all-itis at times. And when someone WANTS to know what I know...that is fine. But I am aware and realizing that there are times I need to zip it and let others speak. That if I am highly confident in my statements, someone who is thinking through and not fully confident might feel shut down by my 'disease' and then it is not just ME that suffers from it...the conversations around me suffer from it as well.
She might have been a self-important alpha girl and I could just be annoyed by this, but truthfully, I'd rather learn from her and follow the old saw of...if you cannot be a good example, at least be a good warning! :)
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Simple, basic, delish!
I have noticed something interesting when I talk to others about food ideas for meals, snacks or potlucks.
There seems to be two groups of people going into kitchens. Those that rely heavily upon cookbooks and follow the instructions, ingredient list and steps as if it was the holy grail of all that is right and those that tend to play loose and fast with a concept and make it fully their own.
I fall squarely into that second group. I actually feel terribly restricted by an actual recipe and find it as more of a guideline, a flavor profile idea an 'ah-ha' when I see a spice listed that I had not thought to use previously. But when I make something and share it with a recipe follower, they are not happy to hear me say I used some of this and a little of that and voila...finished product!
My husband recently told me that one of his favorite things about me is that I can go into a kitchen and come out half an hour later with a great meal and seemingly no effort. And he's right, I don't typically see making things to eat as an effort. For so many years I equated food (and feeding) with love that I truly did build a strong and rich repertoire of ingredients, techniques, approaches and flavor profiles that I can draw from without any real thought.
Last night I was craving seafood, crab specifically, but it literally makes my husband ill to watch me crack crab legs, so I chose something else when we went out to dinner.
I knew, however, that craving was not going to just go away. So I came home and made some crab salad to enjoy away from him today. But before I made it, I thought about what it really was I craved. I could have simply defrosted some lump crab meat I had and eaten it, but I wanted that dill and garlic kick as well, it was an underlying craving to the crab. So into the bowl went both of those ingredients. I did not want it hot, I wanted it cold, so I added a bit of homemade mayonnaise (easy to make and you'll NEVER buy a jar of that 'white stuff' as we refer to it, again once you make your own!) and because I think everything is better with a hit of cheese, a bit of freshly shaved (not grated!) asiago cheese. I mixed it well and put it in the fridge to let all the flavors mingle and mix and I'll enjoy it today.
My two favorite ways to eat any protein salad is on a slice of bread and butter pickle or a slice of tomato. I have really gotten away from bread, crackers and other carb intense foods as a mechanism for getting protein into me. Which is not to say I never enjoy those items, but I want to enjoy THEM, not just have them being a vehicle to put protein in my mouth.
What is your favorite protein salad and on what do you eat it, or do you just have it by the spoonful...which is pretty good, too...I'd love to hear your favorite flavors and ideas for a simple and delicious protein salad!
There seems to be two groups of people going into kitchens. Those that rely heavily upon cookbooks and follow the instructions, ingredient list and steps as if it was the holy grail of all that is right and those that tend to play loose and fast with a concept and make it fully their own.
I fall squarely into that second group. I actually feel terribly restricted by an actual recipe and find it as more of a guideline, a flavor profile idea an 'ah-ha' when I see a spice listed that I had not thought to use previously. But when I make something and share it with a recipe follower, they are not happy to hear me say I used some of this and a little of that and voila...finished product!
My husband recently told me that one of his favorite things about me is that I can go into a kitchen and come out half an hour later with a great meal and seemingly no effort. And he's right, I don't typically see making things to eat as an effort. For so many years I equated food (and feeding) with love that I truly did build a strong and rich repertoire of ingredients, techniques, approaches and flavor profiles that I can draw from without any real thought.
Last night I was craving seafood, crab specifically, but it literally makes my husband ill to watch me crack crab legs, so I chose something else when we went out to dinner.
I knew, however, that craving was not going to just go away. So I came home and made some crab salad to enjoy away from him today. But before I made it, I thought about what it really was I craved. I could have simply defrosted some lump crab meat I had and eaten it, but I wanted that dill and garlic kick as well, it was an underlying craving to the crab. So into the bowl went both of those ingredients. I did not want it hot, I wanted it cold, so I added a bit of homemade mayonnaise (easy to make and you'll NEVER buy a jar of that 'white stuff' as we refer to it, again once you make your own!) and because I think everything is better with a hit of cheese, a bit of freshly shaved (not grated!) asiago cheese. I mixed it well and put it in the fridge to let all the flavors mingle and mix and I'll enjoy it today.
My two favorite ways to eat any protein salad is on a slice of bread and butter pickle or a slice of tomato. I have really gotten away from bread, crackers and other carb intense foods as a mechanism for getting protein into me. Which is not to say I never enjoy those items, but I want to enjoy THEM, not just have them being a vehicle to put protein in my mouth.
What is your favorite protein salad and on what do you eat it, or do you just have it by the spoonful...which is pretty good, too...I'd love to hear your favorite flavors and ideas for a simple and delicious protein salad!
Friday, October 17, 2014
25 years ago. A moment, a lifetime.
I was finishing up my second day at a new job. One that I had been so thrilled to be offered and has had a lasting impact on my career and who I am 25 years later. It was the first big job of my career and I was relishing the role and all the promise it held.
A nip in the fall air and the sun already hanging heavy, less than two hours from slipping below the horizon I chose to pull my coat on before heading out the door, my day was ending at 5:00p. I had heels on, which are not typical and as I put my second arm into the sleeve I felt a little off balance and stumbled. I was embarrassed for a split second and then I saw the asphalt in a wave, as if the ocean had moved a mile inland and I dove under the nearest table as I had been taught most of my life living in California.
The big one was hitting as I'd always been promised it would during many earthquake drills in school from Kindergarten through graduation.
5:04p Tuesday October 17, 1989.
It seemed like many minutes passed, but it was just a few seconds. The duration was 8 to 15 seconds depending on where you were. It was 6.9 magnitude, however it was reported as great as 7.4 at time.
63 people lost their lives.
Nearly 4,000 people were injured.
Buildings that had stood since before the Civil War crumbled. Buildings that withstood the 1906 quake fell to the streets.
Water did not flow through the pipes. Electricity was spotty. Natural gas lines ruptured and were shut off at the mains. Traffic signals ceased to work. Phone connection from my town was nearly non existent. Gasoline could not flow from the pumps without electricity.
And with limited exceptions there was no price gouging. There was no hogging resources. There was a great sense of community and help, assistance and support.
I drove to the home of my roommate, my grandma, my grandpa and found my own home had been blocked to entry due to a ruptured gas line. When I did get to return a few days later, I found my home in disarray with dishes broken on the floor, the fridge reeking to high heaven with rotting food, my poor hamster dead. She was standing upright, arms flung up and clearly died of fear. That broke my heart so much. It still breaks my heart to think of it.
I found one working pay phone. For those under 30, those were land lines that anyone could use if they had coins to drop in or someone would accept an incoming collect call. I made a call to a family member on the east coast. I heard what was being reported and how far the quake had gone to the north, east and south. Someone driving by saw me on the phone and quietly queued up behind me, waiting to use the phone presumably to do the same thing--call family and hear about what was going on beyond the Santa Cruz Mountains. I knew I'd not have wanted to wait much to make sure people knew I was okay so I let them know I had to go and hung up. The person behind me picked up the phone and before dialing asked what I had heard. The line had grown to about a dozen people and we all shared where we were, what we'd been doing and quietly stood in line. People who had rolls of quarters offered them to people in line who were in need. No one greedily grabbed, just took a few to place the calls they needed.
Pages and pages and pages I could write about the rest of that evening and the days that followed, but the basic theme is this...
Santa Cruz, California came together as a true community.
We cleared rubble.
Helped neighbors.
Found ways to make life work when things in everyday life were not accessible.
Did not loot or steal.
Shared our limited resources.
Helped board broken windows and secured homes that were structurally harmed.
Opened our homes to those that lost theirs.
I remember that date, that moment of the quake not with fear or anger or upset, but with a bit of pride. That with no true notice, yes there had been two foreshocks in June of 1988 and August 1989, but you did not know where or when 'it' was going to strike. No notice or exceptional preparation and in a highly reactionary situation we reacted beautifully. We reacted with care and compassion.
I won't say I recall the Loma Prieta quake fondly, but I do recall the true after effects with great fondness. Made me incredibly proud not only to call myself a Californian, but a Santa Cruz native as well.
The earth may have cracked, but it didn't shake us!
A nip in the fall air and the sun already hanging heavy, less than two hours from slipping below the horizon I chose to pull my coat on before heading out the door, my day was ending at 5:00p. I had heels on, which are not typical and as I put my second arm into the sleeve I felt a little off balance and stumbled. I was embarrassed for a split second and then I saw the asphalt in a wave, as if the ocean had moved a mile inland and I dove under the nearest table as I had been taught most of my life living in California.
The big one was hitting as I'd always been promised it would during many earthquake drills in school from Kindergarten through graduation.
5:04p Tuesday October 17, 1989.
It seemed like many minutes passed, but it was just a few seconds. The duration was 8 to 15 seconds depending on where you were. It was 6.9 magnitude, however it was reported as great as 7.4 at time.
63 people lost their lives.
Nearly 4,000 people were injured.
Buildings that had stood since before the Civil War crumbled. Buildings that withstood the 1906 quake fell to the streets.
Water did not flow through the pipes. Electricity was spotty. Natural gas lines ruptured and were shut off at the mains. Traffic signals ceased to work. Phone connection from my town was nearly non existent. Gasoline could not flow from the pumps without electricity.
And with limited exceptions there was no price gouging. There was no hogging resources. There was a great sense of community and help, assistance and support.
I drove to the home of my roommate, my grandma, my grandpa and found my own home had been blocked to entry due to a ruptured gas line. When I did get to return a few days later, I found my home in disarray with dishes broken on the floor, the fridge reeking to high heaven with rotting food, my poor hamster dead. She was standing upright, arms flung up and clearly died of fear. That broke my heart so much. It still breaks my heart to think of it.
I found one working pay phone. For those under 30, those were land lines that anyone could use if they had coins to drop in or someone would accept an incoming collect call. I made a call to a family member on the east coast. I heard what was being reported and how far the quake had gone to the north, east and south. Someone driving by saw me on the phone and quietly queued up behind me, waiting to use the phone presumably to do the same thing--call family and hear about what was going on beyond the Santa Cruz Mountains. I knew I'd not have wanted to wait much to make sure people knew I was okay so I let them know I had to go and hung up. The person behind me picked up the phone and before dialing asked what I had heard. The line had grown to about a dozen people and we all shared where we were, what we'd been doing and quietly stood in line. People who had rolls of quarters offered them to people in line who were in need. No one greedily grabbed, just took a few to place the calls they needed.
Pages and pages and pages I could write about the rest of that evening and the days that followed, but the basic theme is this...
Santa Cruz, California came together as a true community.
We cleared rubble.
Helped neighbors.
Found ways to make life work when things in everyday life were not accessible.
Did not loot or steal.
Shared our limited resources.
Helped board broken windows and secured homes that were structurally harmed.
Opened our homes to those that lost theirs.
I remember that date, that moment of the quake not with fear or anger or upset, but with a bit of pride. That with no true notice, yes there had been two foreshocks in June of 1988 and August 1989, but you did not know where or when 'it' was going to strike. No notice or exceptional preparation and in a highly reactionary situation we reacted beautifully. We reacted with care and compassion.
I won't say I recall the Loma Prieta quake fondly, but I do recall the true after effects with great fondness. Made me incredibly proud not only to call myself a Californian, but a Santa Cruz native as well.
The earth may have cracked, but it didn't shake us!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Where are you from?
Seems like a pretty simple question on the face of it. And, I am sure, there are people who were born in one place and lived there all their lives until they got married or went to school, or even remained there after those milestone events.
But then there is me.
Born in one town, moved to another by the time I was two, then another and another and even two states in Kindergarten and first grade, then back to my birth state and from one extreme end to the other of California.
As I meet new people and they ask where I am from I have started sharing less and less that I am originally from the Golden State and tend to say how long I have lived in the Tar Heel state. Because I have now lived here longer than the state 'I grew up in', even though I had two detours as a child and another as a young adult in college. I am not being evasive, it's just so much simpler to say I've been here 22 years than the typical conversation which goes something like this.
Q: Where are you from?
A: California, originally.
Q: Oh, really? What part?
A: Bay Area mostly?
Q: Which city?
A: Santa Cruz was where I was born, I lived in five zip codes in and around there before moving to Illinois
Q: What part?
And so it goes....Michigan back to California, then Utah for college, back to California and finally to North Carolina. Which having called home for 22 years is where I am thinking I 'come from'. It is where I have developed my adult self, raised my children, made key decisions and really become who I am here. Which is not to say that I did not bring key elements of the areas in which I was raised and those experiences did not help shape me, but where do I (bright red, bold, capitalized) come from?
I come from the decision tree of each crossroads in my life, of the choices I have made and the way I have dealt with the not so pleasant aspects and recognized the wonder and gifts of each day. I come from the choice to get up and do this thing call life day after day and not thinking that anything is being done 'to me' but rather that I have the choice to find the bliss in situations or to be bogged down in difficulties. I come from a place of happiness, of joy, of ME.
So now I must ask...where are you from?
But then there is me.
Born in one town, moved to another by the time I was two, then another and another and even two states in Kindergarten and first grade, then back to my birth state and from one extreme end to the other of California.
As I meet new people and they ask where I am from I have started sharing less and less that I am originally from the Golden State and tend to say how long I have lived in the Tar Heel state. Because I have now lived here longer than the state 'I grew up in', even though I had two detours as a child and another as a young adult in college. I am not being evasive, it's just so much simpler to say I've been here 22 years than the typical conversation which goes something like this.
Q: Where are you from?
A: California, originally.
Q: Oh, really? What part?
A: Bay Area mostly?
Q: Which city?
A: Santa Cruz was where I was born, I lived in five zip codes in and around there before moving to Illinois
Q: What part?
And so it goes....Michigan back to California, then Utah for college, back to California and finally to North Carolina. Which having called home for 22 years is where I am thinking I 'come from'. It is where I have developed my adult self, raised my children, made key decisions and really become who I am here. Which is not to say that I did not bring key elements of the areas in which I was raised and those experiences did not help shape me, but where do I (bright red, bold, capitalized) come from?
I come from the decision tree of each crossroads in my life, of the choices I have made and the way I have dealt with the not so pleasant aspects and recognized the wonder and gifts of each day. I come from the choice to get up and do this thing call life day after day and not thinking that anything is being done 'to me' but rather that I have the choice to find the bliss in situations or to be bogged down in difficulties. I come from a place of happiness, of joy, of ME.
So now I must ask...where are you from?
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
I'm a fraud, a fake, a phony
These are the self doubts and statements I seem to fill my mind with before a race. In fact, I spent the first two miles of my most recent half marathon asking myself what on earth I was doing there. Then I hit my stride at the third mile marker and got down to business.
In a twist of irony, my two best miles (splits) were the first two, so as I was badgering myself of not being race worthy, I was doing my fastest running! Maybe I should doubt myself the entire 13.1 mile trek and really kick an awesome time in!
But seriously, why is this? And when I shared with some running friends, they said they usually have similar feelings and the times they go into races thinking they have it in the bag and it's going to be a best ever event, it tends to be horrible--experience, time, heavy legs...you name it. But when they are fretting at the start, or even a few miles into the start, they tend to do better and FEEL better. So is there some physiological benefit to questioning yourself? To worrying about the worthiness of your participation in a race. And beyond that...participating in life's events.
I recall being incredibly nervous right until I walked down the aisle to marry my husband.
The day I went into labor with each of my boys I thought that I wasn't ready/worthy/able to be a mother (first son) and mom of two when his brother arrived 3 years, 3 months and 10 days later.
My first 'big' job, I thought they'd meet me at the door and tell me to get lost the day I reported for work.
Perhaps that self doubt gives us a moment, a heartbeat of time, to think about what we are doing, how we're going to do it and then the surge of YES I CAN carries us through the tough times.
Let's face it, marriage is not a party 24/7. Neither is parenting, the teens years took several off my life. Nor is even the very best job a cakewalk of joy day in and day out. And so when I blew out my soaking wet shoe with the 10 mile marker sign in sight, I was able to say I'VE GOT THIS and power through. I told myself I had less than a 5K to go and reminded myself that a 5K is now my easy run to 'shake things out' and there wasn't a 5K I couldn't do at this point!
Perhaps the greatest value in the self doubt at the starting line is the huge HOORAH at the finish line. That seeing the banner, feeling the surge from within and the roar of the crowd in my ears is all the sweeter when the start was certainly less than celebratory.
Now, reviling in the glory of a PR in my last race, I am amped for the next, but I am thinking that I might again have those voices in my head telling me I am a fraud, a fake, a phony for a few miles...and then convert to a keen desire to not only finish, but flourish!!
In a twist of irony, my two best miles (splits) were the first two, so as I was badgering myself of not being race worthy, I was doing my fastest running! Maybe I should doubt myself the entire 13.1 mile trek and really kick an awesome time in!
But seriously, why is this? And when I shared with some running friends, they said they usually have similar feelings and the times they go into races thinking they have it in the bag and it's going to be a best ever event, it tends to be horrible--experience, time, heavy legs...you name it. But when they are fretting at the start, or even a few miles into the start, they tend to do better and FEEL better. So is there some physiological benefit to questioning yourself? To worrying about the worthiness of your participation in a race. And beyond that...participating in life's events.
I recall being incredibly nervous right until I walked down the aisle to marry my husband.
The day I went into labor with each of my boys I thought that I wasn't ready/worthy/able to be a mother (first son) and mom of two when his brother arrived 3 years, 3 months and 10 days later.
My first 'big' job, I thought they'd meet me at the door and tell me to get lost the day I reported for work.
Perhaps that self doubt gives us a moment, a heartbeat of time, to think about what we are doing, how we're going to do it and then the surge of YES I CAN carries us through the tough times.
Let's face it, marriage is not a party 24/7. Neither is parenting, the teens years took several off my life. Nor is even the very best job a cakewalk of joy day in and day out. And so when I blew out my soaking wet shoe with the 10 mile marker sign in sight, I was able to say I'VE GOT THIS and power through. I told myself I had less than a 5K to go and reminded myself that a 5K is now my easy run to 'shake things out' and there wasn't a 5K I couldn't do at this point!
Perhaps the greatest value in the self doubt at the starting line is the huge HOORAH at the finish line. That seeing the banner, feeling the surge from within and the roar of the crowd in my ears is all the sweeter when the start was certainly less than celebratory.
Now, reviling in the glory of a PR in my last race, I am amped for the next, but I am thinking that I might again have those voices in my head telling me I am a fraud, a fake, a phony for a few miles...and then convert to a keen desire to not only finish, but flourish!!
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
When your favorite lipstick is discontinued, you need someone to commiserate with you!
I am very conscientious about the products I use, the food I buy, the way we dispose of items after we are done with them. When I find a company that meets my criteria for make up--with a minimum of Leaping Bunny certification, and products that I like, colors that work for me and a reasonable price, I become exceptionally loyal.
Loyalty is not a two way street!
The last tube of my beloved Jane Iredale lipstick in Carmen was getting low, so I logged onto the site to order another. No longer made. Not only no longer made, but the entire formulation and lipstick tube style changed. No bueno!
So the search began! Luckily, I found a local retailer who carried the product and had not one, but two tubes on hand! I am a lipstick wearer. It is pretty rare to see me without it unless I am in a grueling workout...and even then, I sometimes will glide some on for a bit of cheer to myself! The list of Leaping Bunny makers helps narrow things down, but then finding the color, the quality, the product I love...now that is a trick to be sure!
The Body Shop came up in several searches and I will admit that the price being a third of what I used to pay made me suspect it was not going to be what I was looking for from a quality perspective. Online, colors are tough to determine. I was fortunate enough to have a store in a city where I recently traveled for a race and on the day prior when I had to burn off some fidgeting energy, I went to the mall and visited my new favorite make up destination!
When I walked in the salesperson asked what she could help me find. I babbled that my favorite lipstick had been discontinued and that I was down to a sliver in my final tube and that I was desperately seeking a new lip color. She reached out to me, touched my forearm, looked me in the eye and said "Oh, a discontinued lip color is awful. I know just how hard it is to find a favorite!" I wanted to hug her. She really did understand and having that commiseration was such a welcome treat.
So I walked over to the display and used a small strip of color from my scarce supply and then we painted sample colors perpendicular to the beloved Carmen. And we found a fairly close match in 125. No name, just a number. I tried it on, loved it, looked great in it and the wearability is even better than what I had before!
After buying many, many tubes I returned to my hotel with a huge crimson smile on my face. There is nothing quite like that favorite lip color being back in your handbag and plenty back up stock...and I'll be stalking The Body Shop website, if they ever show 125 being discontinued, I will be buying a case of it!
Loyalty is not a two way street!
The last tube of my beloved Jane Iredale lipstick in Carmen was getting low, so I logged onto the site to order another. No longer made. Not only no longer made, but the entire formulation and lipstick tube style changed. No bueno!
So the search began! Luckily, I found a local retailer who carried the product and had not one, but two tubes on hand! I am a lipstick wearer. It is pretty rare to see me without it unless I am in a grueling workout...and even then, I sometimes will glide some on for a bit of cheer to myself! The list of Leaping Bunny makers helps narrow things down, but then finding the color, the quality, the product I love...now that is a trick to be sure!
The Body Shop came up in several searches and I will admit that the price being a third of what I used to pay made me suspect it was not going to be what I was looking for from a quality perspective. Online, colors are tough to determine. I was fortunate enough to have a store in a city where I recently traveled for a race and on the day prior when I had to burn off some fidgeting energy, I went to the mall and visited my new favorite make up destination!
When I walked in the salesperson asked what she could help me find. I babbled that my favorite lipstick had been discontinued and that I was down to a sliver in my final tube and that I was desperately seeking a new lip color. She reached out to me, touched my forearm, looked me in the eye and said "Oh, a discontinued lip color is awful. I know just how hard it is to find a favorite!" I wanted to hug her. She really did understand and having that commiseration was such a welcome treat.
So I walked over to the display and used a small strip of color from my scarce supply and then we painted sample colors perpendicular to the beloved Carmen. And we found a fairly close match in 125. No name, just a number. I tried it on, loved it, looked great in it and the wearability is even better than what I had before!
After buying many, many tubes I returned to my hotel with a huge crimson smile on my face. There is nothing quite like that favorite lip color being back in your handbag and plenty back up stock...and I'll be stalking The Body Shop website, if they ever show 125 being discontinued, I will be buying a case of it!
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