hayleythrills: Love Lounge

Showing posts with label Love Lounge. Show all posts

Love Lounge: How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any pressure to tie the knot?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p2SFy2R1lanT0m-5SSPTCRCTgkykIgjIl5AtmQ7QHkm8rEfVD9BxQ6Gs9V-mDSYnvEufqR5LeSbne24OBm6gFv1PmwTtK9xGxCrPhVvcdqMI54zKvqj5xEAcwAW1cAl9Y73LvhGP1tI/s1600/marry2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735026557417471186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p2SFy2R1lanT0m-5SSPTCRCTgkykIgjIl5AtmQ7QHkm8rEfVD9BxQ6Gs9V-mDSYnvEufqR5LeSbne24OBm6gFv1PmwTtK9xGxCrPhVvcdqMI54zKvqj5xEAcwAW1cAl9Y73LvhGP1tI/s400/marry2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" /></a>It's sort of an odd coincidence: Most everyone in my mom's family (her mom, her sisters...) got married when they were 22. And although I haven't given much thought to is the age I'd like to be when I tie that knot, I did find myself going though a bit of self-doubt when I turned 22. Then, when my best friend got married a few years ago, I found myself bringing out the old metaphorical yardstick yet again. It's not that I actually wanted to get married right then; I just wondered if I should be. With so many of my peers marrying in their mid- and late-20s, the whole subject of marriage was hard to ignore. "The peer pressure to marry doesn’t necessarily suggest a problem with marriage itself, but a lack of other cultural models," says <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/23/reasons-to-get-married_n_1447389.html?ref=weddings&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000008">psychologist Lyla Cicero</a>. "This results in a lot of people choosing marital and family structures by default rather than by intention -- a kind of compulsory monogamy." <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFzK8i5v6Sq3ggmvgbNo_dOgSjv5670w-dqjsWZQXryzaGZ1zXOm23JVzjgPN-O6BmQAy3Aw_V_uI8a1iUx54YK-z9kg83gXIh1E55CnwNAgRGmMiUhzrFrJ9Vd7BFsqkDWXEOcD_aSk/s1600/marry.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5735026566722403106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFzK8i5v6Sq3ggmvgbNo_dOgSjv5670w-dqjsWZQXryzaGZ1zXOm23JVzjgPN-O6BmQAy3Aw_V_uI8a1iUx54YK-z9kg83gXIh1E55CnwNAgRGmMiUhzrFrJ9Vd7BFsqkDWXEOcD_aSk/s400/marry.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 227px;" /></a>And, as it turns out, the mid-20s is the perfect time to get married, at least according to <a href="http://www.cosmopolitan.com/celebrity/exclusive/marriage-age?hootPostID=ee8d539df8da463f0806b035a2b7c824">new research</a>. Having higher education, financial security and a firm sense of your goals and values in your mid-20s make for a perfect marriage recipe -- and lower the chances of going down the divorce path. But honestly? I don't want to get married until I'm ready, not when my peers or society think I should be ready. I think a lot of women -- and men -- feel this way too. Marriage, at the core, is such an individual thing. It can't be placed on some sort of arbitrary time table, full of neat little boxes of steps to check off. It's something you have to feel in your heart instead of calculate in your head. So, I'm curious, friends: Are you married? How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any of that peer pressure? Would you do things differently now if you had the chance? If you're not married, do you envision yourself being married by a certain age? xoxo [Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/superbomba/">superbomba</a> and <a href="http://www.rachelthurston.com/">Rachel Thurston</a>]

Love Lounge: How old were you when you got married? Did you feel any pressure to tie the knot?

It's sort of an odd coincidence: Most everyone in my mom's family ( her mom, her sisters... ) got married when they were 22. And alt...

12:43 PM

Love Lounge: What if you don't want to have children?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pxMVN6-dPE4Qk2ALjpj-Cog4hClDOsPfDqEbIaH5LieWN0JwMsKcSGDW1rV-D7a12LdbGWva8T0mQR3NthFfSsiOA4nx0Ecn5dks268diPN0kQefRjNu5b1CDFNxCZdNvJMYQ9_NhPk/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732845575509594690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pxMVN6-dPE4Qk2ALjpj-Cog4hClDOsPfDqEbIaH5LieWN0JwMsKcSGDW1rV-D7a12LdbGWva8T0mQR3NthFfSsiOA4nx0Ecn5dks268diPN0kQefRjNu5b1CDFNxCZdNvJMYQ9_NhPk/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" /></a>On Monday, to kick off <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/baby%20week">Baby Week</a>, we shared our <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/its-baby-week.html">baby fever stories</a>, and I reminisced about three little boys who had a not-so-little effect on me and made me begin to rethink my future, if only just a little bit. But let's turn the table today because, well, despite my story on Monday, my heart didn't always swell every time I'd see a new mother with her newborn in tow or see a toddler's face light up as he pointed to animals from a colorful picture book. In fact, I was a metaphorical card-carrying member of that group at one time. I didn't want kids. It's not that I don't necessarily like kids or that I've never been around them; I'm one of the oldest cousins on my father's side of the family. The simple fact was that I just never envisioned having children of my own. Even now, I sort of cringe when I look at those words. A simple four-word sentence, and yet, it holds so much power. Think about this: We as humans are hardwired to want kids. It's supposed to come naturally -- this instinctual desire to have kids, have a family, have the the white-picket fence and everything wrapped up in the American dream. Don't get me wrong: Sometimes I do want that. And then other times? Well, it just terrifies me. Something tells me I'm not alone here. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkoyjMIBzBp7l6i_HtoLbO5OWEiMmciaXSQMEXpwdoQC2ztee4rn7Svr14Rch-pxqBcpf4Kd4rs5RQH4kJ3x7OReUaUI8fXkH5Mabv-18_wrhFGKXOnv6b64i0AHHdxB-qDP6KoJBZ5s/s1600/02.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732845786762757410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkoyjMIBzBp7l6i_HtoLbO5OWEiMmciaXSQMEXpwdoQC2ztee4rn7Svr14Rch-pxqBcpf4Kd4rs5RQH4kJ3x7OReUaUI8fXkH5Mabv-18_wrhFGKXOnv6b64i0AHHdxB-qDP6KoJBZ5s/s400/02.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" /></a>Of course, I can't discount the role my disability plays in all of this. Maybe that's what's making me so fearful and unsure? There is a very high probability that my child would also have Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome, and part of me doesn't want that for my child. As hard as I've worked to thrive despite my disability, I don't think anyone would ever want that for their children. That's sort of like saying, "Yes, I want my child to have lots of hospitalizations and have more than 20 surgeries." It just doesn't sound right. Does that make sense? So what happens if you're wired a bit differently? What does that say about you if you're never bit with the baby-fever bug? What kind of person does that make you? Are you any less useful or valuable to society? Do you think society judges women who don't want children differently than they judge men who don't want children? Does your desire to remain childless make you any less of a woman? Did your womanhood somehow get tossed aside? And, does not wanting kids mean you lack a maternal side and instead have a heart of ice and stone? **Don't forget to enter the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/04/shopbop-100-gift-card-giveaway.html">Shopbop giveaway</a> for your chance to win a $100 shopping spree!** [Photos by <a href="http://charlesgullung.com/">Charles Gullung</a>]

Love Lounge: What if you don't want to have children?

On Monday, to kick off Baby Week , we shared our baby fever stories , and I reminisced about three little boys who had a not-so-little effec...

1:55 PM

Love Lounge: Who are you?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2RDwZulnzF7D9gnVwtBDdaiZ0481n6m0cJq99diudhUUQUFYsT9dcBJccWSfkgOQgTv3hH1EqV14MWySj3b7Ua-MBmyPSMGOscXx5vF6hs0MLrxdFGjJYyslgV_sU2n_LerZCHltkco/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729488410010606498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2RDwZulnzF7D9gnVwtBDdaiZ0481n6m0cJq99diudhUUQUFYsT9dcBJccWSfkgOQgTv3hH1EqV14MWySj3b7Ua-MBmyPSMGOscXx5vF6hs0MLrxdFGjJYyslgV_sU2n_LerZCHltkco/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" /></a>I'm many things to many people: daughter, sister, friend, coworker, writer, quirky comedian. All these parts of me harmoniously exist together; in fact, people are amazed at the sheer fact that I don’t topple over from wearing all these different hats. But sometimes, two pieces of me -- my womanhood and my physical disability -- don't fit into the puzzle so easily. Sometimes, I feel like I can be one or the other, apparently, but never both. I can be a woman. I can be someone with a physical disability. But I can never be a woman with a physical disability. Now, maybe this is how I've built it up in my head, but nonetheless, these sorts of thoughts of creep in. But why? You wouldn't think it would be so hard to have the two coexist. Yet sometimes I picture them in this battle with each other -- each trying to be "top dog" and shine brighter than the other. That's why I've always been a huge proponent of people-first language. I'm not a disabled woman. I am a woman with a disability. It looks like a small thing, those two ways of identifying someone with a disability, but the latter does something with first one does: Emphasizes the person. It doesn't mean you're negating the person's disability. It doesn't mean you're pretending said disability doesn't exist. I suppose it just means that I'm embracing all of me. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwaCa26rgiejEz4Koqd4AGACAzst9K8-VoJuyi1HHkLtXtwXF21KRJcqCl1G_7S_eHI3qC5cdmLxi5B1JaiL_Z8jLgC_HYUA0TcRTzIK4AtIfbWwbA8JNtcPdUCisFEDelytlK2AaUQ/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729488405163885986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwaCa26rgiejEz4Koqd4AGACAzst9K8-VoJuyi1HHkLtXtwXF21KRJcqCl1G_7S_eHI3qC5cdmLxi5B1JaiL_Z8jLgC_HYUA0TcRTzIK4AtIfbWwbA8JNtcPdUCisFEDelytlK2AaUQ/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>In conversations with people, and in posts on my blog, I’ve begun trying to reconcile the two. I know they can peacefully coexist, but I can't wrap my head around it sometimes. Or maybe I don't want to? I'm not so sure. But I do know that I am a woman with a disability. The truth is, this womanhood is something that is mine. And my disability is something that is mine too. I own them. Both of them. So, friends, tell me: Who are you? What hats do you wear in your family? Among your friends? At work? Do you ever find that you have competing hats? Are there parts of you that sometimes don't go too well together? How do you deal with that when it happens? xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: Who are you?

I'm many things to many people: daughter, sister, friend, coworker, writer, quirky comedian. All these parts of me harmoniously exist to...

12:45 PM

Love Lounge: Did you have a quarter-life crisis?

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7084/6871697730_314b1fc5d1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7084/6871697730_314b1fc5d1.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 481px;" /></a>Did you have a quarter-life crisis, friends? I was reminded of my own little mid-'20s, post-college, what-the-heck-am-I-doing? meltdown when I discovered Lizzy Stewart's <a href="http://lizzystewartdiary.tumblr.com/">illustrations</a>. Her sentiments are spot-on -- all that wondering where your life is going, wondering why things aren't magically falling into place after graduation and seeing your late '20s looming on the horizon. <div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7244/6871710382_c680857261_z.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7244/6871710382_c680857261_z.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 510px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7017824963_98760940c7.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7017824963_98760940c7.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 488px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7119/6871728656_36ca955e00_b.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7119/6871728656_36ca955e00_b.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 735px;" /></a>It happened to me a few years after I graduated from college. It was one of those moments that sticks in your head like a movie you know you'll never forget. I was shopping, and as I was checking out, the cashier said, "Thank you, ma''am." Ma'am. What happened after that is sort of a blur. I probably just mumbled a thank you in return and got out of there as fast as I could. When did I become a ma'am? How did I go from a youthful young lady to a ma'am, I thought? -- a term reserved for, well, lack of a better word, not me. Ma'ams were the sort of women you'd see playing afternoon Bingo and telling "In my day" stories. The fact was that I didn't feel like an adult. At all. So when had I become one? Somewhere along the way, I got to thinking that once I got that coveted college degree in my hands, everything would fall into place as if the stars were aligned just for me. I'd have everything figured out. The real truth? I was actually left more confused. Who was I? What did I want in life? Where was I going? For the first time since kindergarten, my "life canvas" was blank. It was time for me to forge my own path, for me to make my own to-do list and for me to paint that canvas. Did you feel like this when you were 25, friends? Do you know anyone who went through this? What has helped you deal with those growing pains the most? If you're not 25 yet, do you think you'll grapple with these issues when you hit the milestone birthday? xoxo

Love Lounge: Did you have a quarter-life crisis?

Did you have a quarter-life crisis, friends? I was reminded of my own little mid-'20s, post-college, what-the-heck-am-I-doing? meltdown...

10:25 AM

Love Lounge: Let's talk high school

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXm6pkFgE2wnXKzOawaFRNAYixNAAY1GlfV8lzbuJ-gEbSk2LvVDqvktLZDct1tmpC2eY9uE51mJZ1iJ8g9EjRvciP0JVcIr5LYjGAvuiTlhUJeKh3aP0PGFtxxTqjii3HVjqLd-TYU8/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376916488423378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXm6pkFgE2wnXKzOawaFRNAYixNAAY1GlfV8lzbuJ-gEbSk2LvVDqvktLZDct1tmpC2eY9uE51mJZ1iJ8g9EjRvciP0JVcIr5LYjGAvuiTlhUJeKh3aP0PGFtxxTqjii3HVjqLd-TYU8/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>The shadow of your high school self stays with you, doesn't it? Awkward first kisses. SAT nightmares. Embarrassingly puffy prom dresses. It’s all there, in the back of our minds, like a hauntingly beautiful oxymoron. We somehow think we’ve moved beyond high school, that we’re adults in this big bad world. Even I thought that, but then I stepped back inside my high school a couple years ago. For the first time since I threw my cap in the air at graduation. High school is the ultimate encapsulated time capsule. We check our adulthood at the front door when we enter those hallowed halls for the first time since graduation. We are that 18-year-old once again, even if we're really 26, 56 or even 86. The smells – the gym, the freshly mopped linoleum floors, the cafeteria. The sights – my old classrooms, my old locker. The sounds – the frenzied hustle of the teenage crowd, the basketballs bouncing in the gym, the whispers of gossip. It all takes you back because whether we like it or not, we were all someone in high school. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGbhsZ89BlqCiLsKa-M9RsfcBrrMqpFQYzuzquOszocRgpCHj8F3SuhijK74HCSNQHpCRd9TbqL8qeaFEIpLsY1I-jq4VAPpVKL2INqcMVW2AEmCUQqE2p8-cqhYvq7Fc-4HoI11y3w/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376912522285858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGbhsZ89BlqCiLsKa-M9RsfcBrrMqpFQYzuzquOszocRgpCHj8F3SuhijK74HCSNQHpCRd9TbqL8qeaFEIpLsY1I-jq4VAPpVKL2INqcMVW2AEmCUQqE2p8-cqhYvq7Fc-4HoI11y3w/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>So who was I? Well, I had to dust off my old yearbooks for inspiration. I wasn’t on Student Council like the popular girls. I wasn’t the introspective poet like the theater dudes and dudettes. And I certainly wasn’t the star athlete like the football quarterback. No, I was the wallflower. The quiet one. That girl daydreaming in the corner, her head and nose always in a book or a pen in her hand. I suppose I hadn't grown into my larger-than-life personality just yet. So when we come back, it’s almost as if we’d never left. I got those same insecurities and fears the second I set foot in my old high school for the first time a few years ago. Apparently, parts of that high-school dreamer were still walking right beside me, and I suppose part of me couldn't deny how much being in that building affected me -- the building where I spent four of my most formative years. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9MfBV0Z5i6QEQIG-5M_48i3ei_S5nnQDCTD3H66v28JcFipaN31o1ySNcozUV81ZPMv_c3V4g5mneE4rynj003eEHnV4nqkuEmvPSRbmMTLad1G9GCynxKxGt8iYsdY4QPfplZW2r4A/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376906391177810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9MfBV0Z5i6QEQIG-5M_48i3ei_S5nnQDCTD3H66v28JcFipaN31o1ySNcozUV81ZPMv_c3V4g5mneE4rynj003eEHnV4nqkuEmvPSRbmMTLad1G9GCynxKxGt8iYsdY4QPfplZW2r4A/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>Are our adult selves mere outgrowths of our 18-year-old innocence? Are we forever our high-school selves? Or do we mature with age and time? Let's chat, friends! xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: Let's talk high school

The shadow of your high school self stays with you, doesn't it? Awkward first kisses. SAT nightmares. Embarrassingly puffy prom dresses....

11:35 AM

Love Lounge: What's your secret to confidence?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUVJ76RXKipQ_tT2-0_zUNakVDuIkN4mwJskdN3xsGfADmXcOeGKNGOjH3dW-92NXyf1irZV-yTTISDyCYcfr0B_TEk0xPjJVyPwCBp6Ns_xMsJqkz8atJRnq00OkE9MK4SNdhAfpfvc/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717201602473185362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUVJ76RXKipQ_tT2-0_zUNakVDuIkN4mwJskdN3xsGfADmXcOeGKNGOjH3dW-92NXyf1irZV-yTTISDyCYcfr0B_TEk0xPjJVyPwCBp6Ns_xMsJqkz8atJRnq00OkE9MK4SNdhAfpfvc/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>I'm never shy about telling people I think I'm beautiful. I'm never shy about telling people I'm going to be a star one day (I even practice my autograph from time to time, but that's probably more than you ever needed to know). And of course, I'm not at all shy about telling people that I know what's right for them. All the time. Yet the scary truth: Sometimes, I don't know if I believe those statements. They say a confident, bold outer you will produce a glowing, radiant inner you. I've been thinking a lot about that lately. Some people, like my father, for instance, are confident. And that confidence is genuine. You can just tell by the way they walk, talk and generally carry themselves. It really is a sight to behold, actually. It's not arrogance, the things they say about themselves; it's just a quiet, ever-humble assertion that they are content and happy with who they are and where they are in life. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2u5s6idgx3i7VO_ysr5b3lsr_ZWYkIeDPSCLDVFDitAQdt_z1E9UGuJDMggpGckcbEM6CacgbqZ_RboaQSySQ0TrO1dgsNYBTokYldOiFlolPAyq02O7adgdkU-2YOjnodK0uPGbnd0/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717205742410556322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2u5s6idgx3i7VO_ysr5b3lsr_ZWYkIeDPSCLDVFDitAQdt_z1E9UGuJDMggpGckcbEM6CacgbqZ_RboaQSySQ0TrO1dgsNYBTokYldOiFlolPAyq02O7adgdkU-2YOjnodK0uPGbnd0/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>Confidence can be a tricky thing, can't it? As easy as it can be to get it, it can just as easy blow away like the wind. And sometimes, we can feel ourselves getting scared that it will never come back. So maybe we should just all stop looking for that key of confidence. Let it come to us naturally, in its own time and in its own special form? What do you think, friends? What are you secrets to killer confidence? What do you do when you need a dose of I Am Awesome? xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: What's your secret to confidence?

I'm never shy about telling people I think I'm beautiful. I'm never shy about telling people I'm going to be a star one day ...

11:30 AM

Love Lounge: Let's talk Leap Day!

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDcExKnMQCKhg5wiDqGTawgCfI5rp6LGnHxF-DDS7cDbjJhqaTYPxw6otaJ9TrMEC9Jv1dy9uqd1r-_LTc-W0slAtIIm1FwnyHGrRQOdJqNz6atcg7M-BJLOUMoRNAlwgcZCvXIUCEU/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714655886380895122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDcExKnMQCKhg5wiDqGTawgCfI5rp6LGnHxF-DDS7cDbjJhqaTYPxw6otaJ9TrMEC9Jv1dy9uqd1r-_LTc-W0slAtIIm1FwnyHGrRQOdJqNz6atcg7M-BJLOUMoRNAlwgcZCvXIUCEU/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>Leaping lizards. Leaps and bounds. Leaps of faith. Leap frogs. Life offers hurdles and hurdles of leaps. There’s the literal leap you take when you’re 6-years-old and realize jumping into the puddle of mud is fun. There’s the leap you take when you get your first job – you’re not too sure what to expect or if you’re up to the challenge, but you take the leap anyway. There’s the leap you take when you move across the country in search of your dream job, dream love or even your dream house. There’s the leap you take when, on a whim, you tell that guy how you feel, because you know if you don’t do it now, you’ll lose your cool. And then there are leaps that somehow just find themselves in your lap. It isn’t important how it got there. It’s a free gift waiting to be opened by you. People the world over are celebrating an extra day today so special that it only graces us with its presence once every four years. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkXiii6gWurkJ-pHb7WCAgIO6BNTWTGvJiGipmywqXrRFoIDZAp208xinrqKJCtRNyjCyrcC6cEsgH1-M7ZXzI8DRyXWKrP16WMDVZS1YMcH47k7RctIBR5abHcEMNH56L3FynIN_zQg/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714655889299052162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkXiii6gWurkJ-pHb7WCAgIO6BNTWTGvJiGipmywqXrRFoIDZAp208xinrqKJCtRNyjCyrcC6cEsgH1-M7ZXzI8DRyXWKrP16WMDVZS1YMcH47k7RctIBR5abHcEMNH56L3FynIN_zQg/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>I’ve been thinking about leaps a lot lately. When does a leap become a foolish plunge? And can we ever really know the difference between the two, or are we destined to repeat our mistakes over and over until we get it right? Isn’t life really just one giant leap after another? A chance taken. A question asked. A moment lived. A tear shed. A laugh chuckled. A risk, well, risked? It takes a certain type of person to take the plunge. Because let’s face it: Leaping off the edge is a scary proposition. Will there be a safety net down below to catch us? It’d be so easy to back away from the fire down below, but the risk there? You’ll never feel the warm flame. And worse yet, you’ll be forever wondering, “What if?” What if I’d taken the chance and put myself out there? What if I’d actually, shock, lived a little? What will you be doing, friends? **Special Offer: Stephanie of <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/LuxeBoulevard">Luxe Boulevard</a> is offering readers a special 29% off their order in honor of Leap Year! Just enter LEAPYEAR2012 at checkout.** [Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: Let's talk Leap Day!

Leaping lizards. Leaps and bounds. Leaps of faith. Leap frogs. Life offers hurdles and hurdles of leaps. There’s the literal leap you take w...

12:45 PM

Love Lounge: What does the blogosphere mean to you?

Last week, I had the opportunity to guest blog on the <a href="http://www.thegirlieblog.com/">Girlie Blog Seattle</a>, where I wrote about the power of blogging. And it got me thinking, friends: The blogosphere is one awesome force. So, I'd love to share my thoughts -- and hear from you, too! <div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7193/6911924331_0984286cfb_z.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7193/6911924331_0984286cfb_z.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 590px;" /></a>As a writer and journalist, words have always been my passion. In fact, it's hard to remember a time when I wasn't writing, whether it be for my college's newspaper or for a magazine article after I graduated. I was, am and will always be a writer -- plain and simple. So, it only seemed natural when I found myself starting a blog 3 years ago. All writers should have blogs, I thought. At the very least, it will keep me writing and help me stay focused since freelancers don't have typical 9-to-5 jobs and it's easy to get distracted sometimes. When I started blogging, I knew I wanted to write about love and my physical disability. But what I didn't know? How much I'd grow over the next 3 years and how much my blog would grow with me and help shape the person I am today. Because truthfully, I had virtually no idea where it would all take me or the lessons I would learn along the way. Here are my Top 3 (Unexpected) Blogging Lessons of the last 3 years... Blogging gives you a sense of community Ask any blogger and they'll tell you that the sense of community in the blogging world is unlike anything that you could ever imagine. I've gotten to know people I never would have had the opportunity to meet. It's such a supportive community, and everyone genuinely cares about each other. We've laughed, cried and even shared our dreams with each other. Blogging gives you insight into yourself Not only does it give you the chance to get to know other bloggers, but blogging gives you a glimpse inside yourself. For me, blogging has forced me to write truthfully and honestly -- sometimes about painful things like my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/01/living-in-wake-of-suicide.html">father's suicide</a> and my struggles with <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Tuesday%20Update">depression</a> last year -- in a very candid way that I'm not sure I'd be able to do in real life. Blogging was just the outlet I needed to help me get through a very painful time. And, I was glad that readers could identify with what I was writing about; it's good to know I may have helped someone else going through the same thing. Blogging helps relieve stress For some people, chocolate is their go-to when they're stressed and overwhelmed. For me, it's blogging. Any time I need to relax and unwind, all I have to do is start writing a blog post. My favorites have always been my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Letters%20to%20my%20future%20husband">Letters To My Future Husband</a> since I'm a hopeless romantic. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSUg0r6bePmv5lKLq32cPxiHX6mPlufMF5Lvslh6KbUxoIMxMxTdGaVRMxGwA8fC_5hQ5KS1WgnUZ2O4ymSFAo84qTq8-gEDcabMidBxQDOEsDA1hpwCuHzg15Sh-TYp9a4Ss_L11c_Y/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711328530070137906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSUg0r6bePmv5lKLq32cPxiHX6mPlufMF5Lvslh6KbUxoIMxMxTdGaVRMxGwA8fC_5hQ5KS1WgnUZ2O4ymSFAo84qTq8-gEDcabMidBxQDOEsDA1hpwCuHzg15Sh-TYp9a4Ss_L11c_Y/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>What about you, friends? What has surprised you the most about blogging? How has it changed you for the better? I'd love to hear from you! xoxo [Bottom photo via <a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/1685530">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: What does the blogosphere mean to you?

Last week, I had the opportunity to guest blog on the Girlie Blog Seattle , where I wrote about the power of blogging. And it got me thinkin...

1:20 PM

Love Lounge: What's your favorite (imperfect) body part?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmr7Ie7QttHwOBxS9H41gHtPnsIR6UjsHitknWV72SLH7gU_NoGKs6LKCwpVHcNJO8eWEAAMYkXVELk_QQyoeJ-TmNh6HtQ-I_p30RTHoy5Z3paFjA6y3AoqvyxfWu3tF2eFCrq4wzWq0/s1600/as.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708744539325999378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmr7Ie7QttHwOBxS9H41gHtPnsIR6UjsHitknWV72SLH7gU_NoGKs6LKCwpVHcNJO8eWEAAMYkXVELk_QQyoeJ-TmNh6HtQ-I_p30RTHoy5Z3paFjA6y3AoqvyxfWu3tF2eFCrq4wzWq0/s400/as.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" /></a>Friends, did I ever tell you about the affectionate name my sister and I bestowed upon my right wrist years ago? I know, you're probably thinking something along the lines of, "Who in their right minds names their wrists?" My sister and me, naturally. Truthfully, the name just sort of fell into place. Besides an inability to swallow food, another side effect of my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-about-that-surgery-on-my-sexy-brain.html">spine growing up into my brain stem</a> was my right wrist suddenly drooping. So the only logical name? The Swan. If I hold up my wrist, it literally looks like a swan. And this swan-like hand? It's not perfect. Yes, it has its flaws. Yes, it has its shortcomings. And yes, it would probably pale in comparison when held up to other wrists, but maybe those are all the exact reasons it's become one of my favorite body parts. Maybe, too, it's why my freckles, oddly shaped nose and surgical scars are also my favorite parts about my body. They're imperfect, but when you think about it, that's what makes them real. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPj5CRzTtcsr6T6Xp3130Y7GYyz9k5E-tmp63mVzUWOOH55R4vFHFLqFDugqi3I0IYumw9AR3dMYsZl0gjf2reyOZ0n_kKOfrItL23v6KSGssSuqzG4EcRsfT0rAzSgN4Kp9tpVS9pUvU/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708651087355157378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPj5CRzTtcsr6T6Xp3130Y7GYyz9k5E-tmp63mVzUWOOH55R4vFHFLqFDugqi3I0IYumw9AR3dMYsZl0gjf2reyOZ0n_kKOfrItL23v6KSGssSuqzG4EcRsfT0rAzSgN4Kp9tpVS9pUvU/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>So, friends, what about you? What supposed imperfections are perfect to you? Your feet? Your ears? That beauty mark on your arm? What makes you perfectly imperfect? xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: What's your favorite (imperfect) body part?

Friends, did I ever tell you about the affectionate name my sister and I bestowed upon my right wrist years ago? I know, you're probably...

12:36 PM

Love Lounge: What would you include in your relationship agreement?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUAltCEww7Fe1IASXuRSg6U1877aXGltLhZab5-3oc6yfFZbMPszyRFzh-Y0_hikZekMzgOFG7_opQ5Io9LGutgEnDefE2OtZ9q-Fq95Tp4lRwhp3UouGpOL9L3BO5mW-XyXZx7-ZyUM/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707179948724701954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUAltCEww7Fe1IASXuRSg6U1877aXGltLhZab5-3oc6yfFZbMPszyRFzh-Y0_hikZekMzgOFG7_opQ5Io9LGutgEnDefE2OtZ9q-Fq95Tp4lRwhp3UouGpOL9L3BO5mW-XyXZx7-ZyUM/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Confession: I'm not very good at spontaneity, though you've probably already figured that out by now. Frankly, flying by the seat of my pants, especially when it comes to falling in love, terrifies me. Maybe that's why I can identify so much with new lovebird Amy and Sheldon from <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/09/fall-tv-shows.html">The Big Bang Theory</a>. They, like me, have no idea what they're doing, so they draft a little Relationship Agreement to help them navigate these new dating waters -- some <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/07/love-lounge-what-are-your-dating-dos.html">relationship dos and don'ts</a>, if you will. A job description with a romantic twist. They define, on paper, their relationship, so that both are on the same page (pun intended...). It got me thinking: Would that really translate to real life? Could you really take something so intangible like love and put neat little parameters around it? I'm not quite sure, but there are some things I'm certain would go on my Relationship Agreement... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKvThpN-qNC0-MaladqQ6X5MG9IZ16fNih6fPnjriC2RAcVAxDyQye6SVxFaJus0dWr1BkXjqSH90Jaz7HU8TO0dfsAFkdivGYB269YJoe4nuOUtNqlI_rRH_voqB74zWIGVMWlcO_7o/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707178638528173282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKvThpN-qNC0-MaladqQ6X5MG9IZ16fNih6fPnjriC2RAcVAxDyQye6SVxFaJus0dWr1BkXjqSH90Jaz7HU8TO0dfsAFkdivGYB269YJoe4nuOUtNqlI_rRH_voqB74zWIGVMWlcO_7o/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>*Neither party shall go to bed angry. *Hand holding is discouraged in public. *All date cancellations must be made at least one day before date was supposed to take place. *All dates must be made at least a week in advance. Time, location and date activity must be agreed upon by both parties. *When either party falls ill, he/she shall be showered with chicken soup and the movie of his/her choice. Bottom line: Planning is romantic in its own way. It shows you care enough about the other person to invest a large part of yourself into making the relationship work. After all, you wouldn't make a Relationship Agreement with just anyone. It's reserved for those special people who you really feel a connection with -- those people you can see yourself with in the future. And that's a pretty special thing, if you ask me. When I find myself in that first relationship someday, like Sheldon, I may not know what I'm doing, but I do know one thing. I'll be armed with my own version of a Relationship Agreement. Pen included. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMovky41nnonfX8InM-R7uWEGLdF4IaxmqWphD-rhCfK0zqpSxpnf0wmzZwOeU1yybx-PiDDEZ7Mc-dl097rlan0vlLULxooFJJe2g49Yvy9G-WGcNQc-vZanTJwv0QUR5oMlwPrZ99g/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707178633773280418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMovky41nnonfX8InM-R7uWEGLdF4IaxmqWphD-rhCfK0zqpSxpnf0wmzZwOeU1yybx-PiDDEZ7Mc-dl097rlan0vlLULxooFJJe2g49Yvy9G-WGcNQc-vZanTJwv0QUR5oMlwPrZ99g/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>So, tell me, friends, do you think a Relationship Agreement is unrealistic in real life? Would it even work? What sorts of things would you include in your list? Do you think men and women would put different things at the top of their lists? And for fun, what TV couple do you identify with the most? xoxo

Love Lounge: What would you include in your relationship agreement?

Confession: I'm not very good at spontaneity, though you've probably already figured that out by now. Frankly, flying by the seat of...

9:10 AM

Love Lounge: What does love mean to you?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGLQEgSCkMpcQjBijirf692i8NBx7uhqkmZUBfMtTULxBXbryv5W418RoTK0adRUkkLuOQj2_AwerWa7uHxUdFFkR-as1W0tgbITjDbklSO5116fqEV9qNO4S4awDjHR7gW61Z00Hths/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704599218167571218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGLQEgSCkMpcQjBijirf692i8NBx7uhqkmZUBfMtTULxBXbryv5W418RoTK0adRUkkLuOQj2_AwerWa7uHxUdFFkR-as1W0tgbITjDbklSO5116fqEV9qNO4S4awDjHR7gW61Z00Hths/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 223px;" /></a>Love. It's probably the most powerful four-letter word in the English language -- well, aside from some other choice words, which I won't go into since <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-confession-i-am-prude.html">I'm such a prude</a>, remember? But love...it's talked about. It's sung about. It's felt. It angers us. It makes us smile. It frustrates it. It confuses us. And sometimes, it even makes us just want to throw our hands up in the air and scream, " I give up!" But for some reason, we never give up. On love, I mean. It's the one thing we always keep running back to. Maybe because we know that as miserable as it makes us sometimes, the thought of being completely without love makes us even more miserable. Maybe we know that we wouldn't be the people we are without love in our lives. Maybe because, like oxygen, love is something we need if we're ever going to survive in this crazy, unpredictable world. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6paGur8eHmf4F0GhMlpycrPZHSKKirT77CnjMQHy6dFsK3lq8uDXrae4w3bSmv6D9LNCXQU6FXlDlegybfAJhd8wOWcc_BC7xmecfz08_hiUS_wS4cSln-a0lHUD88e0MOFphEmPrl6A/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704599217606596594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6paGur8eHmf4F0GhMlpycrPZHSKKirT77CnjMQHy6dFsK3lq8uDXrae4w3bSmv6D9LNCXQU6FXlDlegybfAJhd8wOWcc_BC7xmecfz08_hiUS_wS4cSln-a0lHUD88e0MOFphEmPrl6A/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>With Valentine's Day coming up, I've been thinking even more about love lately -- what it means, why we need it, the different types of love -- and I think I've figured something out: I'll never figure love out. But that's OK because I'm sort of enjoying just seeing where it takes me. But I do know one thing: Love means the world to me. So, tell me, friends, what does love mean to you? What does it mean to love your mother? Sister? Husband? Best friend? Let's chat about all things lovey-dovey! xoxo P.S. And speaking of love, I've got lots of Valentine's Day-themed posts planned for next week. I'm so excited to share them with you, friends!! :) [Top graphic via <a href="http://www.someecards.com/valentines-day-cards/be-my-valentine-if-were-still-dating-then">Someecards</a>, bottom photo via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/2012/02/happiness-of-present.html">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: What does love mean to you?

Love. It's probably the most powerful four-letter word in the English language -- well, aside from some other choice words, which I won...

12:35 PM

Love Lounge: Perils of pressure

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqWnZ_0iq64fwTmtVUPLzwR_83J77oFYxQlYkg228qrCfpyZIQ-BlnPcsA3MG0frMQPEnI_2aN5dlxDin3k58iQWpxbh7HTn6mnvhiS0QlTBLPGkQS2H5egQalP4-LrEPC-lpAv5Gq74/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701619771623407794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqWnZ_0iq64fwTmtVUPLzwR_83J77oFYxQlYkg228qrCfpyZIQ-BlnPcsA3MG0frMQPEnI_2aN5dlxDin3k58iQWpxbh7HTn6mnvhiS0QlTBLPGkQS2H5egQalP4-LrEPC-lpAv5Gq74/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 295px;" /></a>Let's talk pressure today, friends. You know, the kind that bears down on your shoulders and tries to get the best of you? It's an evil little monster, isn't it? And after some comments in yesterday's <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/01/memo-to-men-girlfriend-vs-girl-friend.html">MEMO TO MEN</a>, I got to thinking about all the pressure that comes with Cupid's arrow -- or lack of Cupid's arrow. The vicious cycle starts when we're teenagers. We see our friends having all these new experiences -- seeking out with boys, stealing secret kisses -- and we start to panic. We can't be the last of our friends to have these experiences, we think. So we sometimes just jump in head-without-heart to simply get it over with. Another item checked off our romantic to-do list. Done. Easy as that. But somewhere down the line, we realize just what a mistake we've made. Maybe things don't feel the way they should. We don't feel those butterflies. We don't feel that giddy, school-girl glow coming over us. We feel, well, nothing. And it's the worst none-feeling feeling in the whole world. And that's when, sometimes, we realize that we let all that pressure get the better of us. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAX1h0aptNCjJUEB28GFjOccLFyoZEDI1FEQLnw3Xd1SgTUqpE8SKIGq7Xe1vp2vT5KbR26wlhFn72JZY66SgQHh3KlVCZFwF50q4wnOqsGuSfbIIiSTyyo6ORVfZLunScwnodDNzSp_g/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701619770500733010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAX1h0aptNCjJUEB28GFjOccLFyoZEDI1FEQLnw3Xd1SgTUqpE8SKIGq7Xe1vp2vT5KbR26wlhFn72JZY66SgQHh3KlVCZFwF50q4wnOqsGuSfbIIiSTyyo6ORVfZLunScwnodDNzSp_g/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>Well, me? I don't want to just do it. First kiss. First date. I don't want to just get them over with. Because that's not what any of them mean to me. They all mean something to me -- every first kiss, every first date, even every first fight -- and I don't want to be left feeling like I let someone else's pressure lead my heart into making the wrong decision. I'm starting to believe that things will naturally happen when they're supposed to, so I'm not going to rush things along. If I do, I'll miss the beauty of the scenery along the way. And something tells me I don't want to miss out on even one second of that beauty. Do you ever feel that sort of pressure, friends? Are there certain things you've done just to get them over with? Was it worth it? Have your views changed as you've gotten older? xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: Perils of pressure

Let's talk pressure today, friends. You know, the kind that bears down on your shoulders and tries to get the best of you? It's an e...

12:44 PM

Love Lounge: Let's talk first dates!

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZ2_z31sZJvQB36CWKoxBQ4hvQY_0RJixQLp6Paj145TgTGERLYYaMqFUkuCr2JTfic02isCXiQsXwPAQ4gmZs4dEw8LBaD0AfxC2B8E6PwRZQD6M74MmF1kaDR_aDit_PfqZOSHZt5E/s1600/chart.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698984967946062818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFZ2_z31sZJvQB36CWKoxBQ4hvQY_0RJixQLp6Paj145TgTGERLYYaMqFUkuCr2JTfic02isCXiQsXwPAQ4gmZs4dEw8LBaD0AfxC2B8E6PwRZQD6M74MmF1kaDR_aDit_PfqZOSHZt5E/s400/chart.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 181px;" /></a>Let's just get this out of the way right now: I've never been on a date., let alone a first date. We've established that before, but I thought it best to keep you informed of any changes -- or lack thereof. I'm learning to be OK with it too -- this whole no-table-for-two-experience. I mean, it's not like it comes up very often in everyday conversation; it's not the kind of tidbit you slip into the office conversation, saying, "Hey, I've never been on a date," between a deep discussion of last night's episode of the Bachelor and gossip about the new intern. It's just not not the sort of thing that comes up. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hYhzw5Q-VmsKTHYRFTFFs8Wq5ms1JvMfnMSVzwKmC9SZvwrM6nYIcae5-Oio_GdZud9EKSyBr-KMJ-iBpNoklrCnG78tud8_5SjPF06EA94Vlhyic1OZfRYnwxikQP2MIGgzrx9hoHs/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698984974118774914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hYhzw5Q-VmsKTHYRFTFFs8Wq5ms1JvMfnMSVzwKmC9SZvwrM6nYIcae5-Oio_GdZud9EKSyBr-KMJ-iBpNoklrCnG78tud8_5SjPF06EA94Vlhyic1OZfRYnwxikQP2MIGgzrx9hoHs/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>I never used to feel this way, though. Maybe I was even ashamed of it, as if it was something I had to work so desperately hard to hide. No one could ever find out my secret. I even thought that everything would be perfect if I could just go on that first date -- then, I'd know those feelings I'd heard people talk about. You know, those awkward butterflies. The stolen glances. The accidental arm brush. But you see, that's the beauty of the whole thing, I think. Not having been on a first date yet gives me a sort of clean slate. It can be anything I want it to be. And when I think about it like that, I know those butterflies, glances and arm brushes will happen for me. Eventually. When the time is right. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwNI1wK5Mw7y-fQEvoMzKbF-Iuhgx0_j_45oS14jtrb0eaJM-IYzOtDjpA7bevlaGjFhyphenhyphen23I_7p6BdgkCK6_L4-dQuiSZZs09uTbj4YjwzWy1PSb80Y3HzPfmtGxwFXKOIp5wlryG39Q/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698984589470831602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwNI1wK5Mw7y-fQEvoMzKbF-Iuhgx0_j_45oS14jtrb0eaJM-IYzOtDjpA7bevlaGjFhyphenhyphen23I_7p6BdgkCK6_L4-dQuiSZZs09uTbj4YjwzWy1PSb80Y3HzPfmtGxwFXKOIp5wlryG39Q/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a>And when you think about it, maybe it's not so much about the date itself than it is about the person you're with. You could be eating atop the Eiffel Tower, but if the person is a rude, conversation hog, the date is just going to be plain awful. But if you're with someone who makes you feel relaxed and wants to get to know you, even if you're stuvk at the movie theater because of a blizzard, chances are that the hours won't seem to tick by so slowly. So, friends, I'd love to know: What was your first date like? How old were you? What's your idea of a perfect date now? What was the best date you've ever been on? What made it so special? Did you learn anything about yourself from the date? Let's chat! xoxo P.S. Have you heard of the <a href="http://www.howaboutwe.com/date-report/1339-rate-the-date-advice-the-3-hour-rule">3-hour rule</a>? Thoughts? :) [Top chart via <a href="http://ilovecharts.tumblr.com/post/10807326585/the-first-date-bell-curve-via-dglsplsblg">I Love Charts</a>, other photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: Let's talk first dates!

Let's just get this out of the way right now: I've never been on a date., let alone a first date. We've established that before...

12:03 PM

Love Lounge: Who's on your Google list?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXG5F9aqn2ghrezu-ShfJBzhv7y_ZyILrLzvonu7i6OenjAEWKfvNiELbA1qxUO2pC3Hxa3vyfrpuNzJ0HLsztXlwlTzwDcIWyy1-OM2ukjyE1k_qqtjsiqHxqQ_s3W8bmb6hj-uIaJM/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695669255930288146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXG5F9aqn2ghrezu-ShfJBzhv7y_ZyILrLzvonu7i6OenjAEWKfvNiELbA1qxUO2pC3Hxa3vyfrpuNzJ0HLsztXlwlTzwDcIWyy1-OM2ukjyE1k_qqtjsiqHxqQ_s3W8bmb6hj-uIaJM/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Here's a 21st-Century question, friends: Do you burn the midnight oil typing people's names into that handy-dandy little thing called Google, staring for hours at the glowing light of the computer screen "oooohing" and "ahhhhing" over each new discovery? Maybe you do. Maybe you don't. Maybe you don't want to admit it either way. But one thing is clear: Google has permanently etched its way into the English lexicon. It's no longer a Web site. It's a verb. People Google. And usually, people are googling other people. Now, I'll admit that I'm a pretty big fan of Google when it comes to love. Googling is like watching preview before a movie. The previews don’t necessarily give anything away, but it also doesn’t leave you completely in the dark either. At the very least, it’s an efficient way to weed out the good from the bad. And while you probably won’t discover the guy’s entire life story with a few clicks of the mouse, you’ll find out the important parts (read: the OMG red flags) – depending on your level of Googling skills and your understanding of synonyms and word permutations. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEe809jEsI5YVOamqISTNUIzpk5sil2TGn1d3Pxi6BtKGHbkCynXgbk5TJHWFTKJrkaOPolB6vAAQNHvAdo9Nx9PN8lY23KhaW5enRJlj-BXLhUEClr0qKv1WrLB7bCeWnRjT0zJQ6zWk/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695669254258185442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEe809jEsI5YVOamqISTNUIzpk5sil2TGn1d3Pxi6BtKGHbkCynXgbk5TJHWFTKJrkaOPolB6vAAQNHvAdo9Nx9PN8lY23KhaW5enRJlj-BXLhUEClr0qKv1WrLB7bCeWnRjT0zJQ6zWk/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" /></a>Translation: you’ll get the perfect snapshot, like whether he has a criminal record, is wanted in another state (or country), whether he’s married or even whether he was once a she. Consider it the best form of pre-date contraception, a way to ward off the unwanted consequences of a not-so-great guy. So, friends, tell me: Who do you Google the most? Your boyfriend? Your best friend? Your coworker? Yourself? [Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>

Love Lounge: Who's on your Google list?

Here's a 21st-Century question, friends: Do you burn the midnight oil typing people's names into that handy-dandy little thing calle...

12:00 PM

Love Lounge: When was the last time you cried?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0-cOlbLmiS_-NkHF_m2A3itDBFQEuoChL5YDrzbhhFGqATRRliW43j36Vk_J_rMEcJmsNYrmz3ezkEIy18eN14JqGJWbMY1_qqFMpw6pvkkw6fB_T2gjNGM7lC0T5XDD0RUvysFnYjM/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693500469729414882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0-cOlbLmiS_-NkHF_m2A3itDBFQEuoChL5YDrzbhhFGqATRRliW43j36Vk_J_rMEcJmsNYrmz3ezkEIy18eN14JqGJWbMY1_qqFMpw6pvkkw6fB_T2gjNGM7lC0T5XDD0RUvysFnYjM/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Crying. That taboo "C" word that people usually say quietly under their breath or hang their head just a bit lower so people won't see them uttering such a socially unacceptable word. The act itself is best done alone, or at least in the privacy of one's home, say most people. Take it to the streets and a national -- if not global -- epidemic is sure to develop. Now, I'm obviously exaggerating here, friends, but I've been thinking about crying a lot these last few days. Maybe the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Holidays%202011">holidays</a> have tugged at my heartstrings one too many times this year. Maybe it's because it's hitting me that <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/12/do-you-make-new-years-resolutions.html">another year is dawning</a> without my father. Who knows the reason, but I do know one thing: I'm not the sort of person who is ashamed to cry. At all, which is funny because my sister is the opposite. Growing up, I made my peace with crying at an early age. It was simply one way of expressing emotion for me. Sure, I suppose those trips to the hospital had something to do with it too, but I can't help but feel like crying quickly became my security blanket -- something to help me make sense of all that confusion. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eCQ48ZFC2hWoUikTkZIiA-W5Sc6ZNm7cgddYCKAh53Sz8c9GA2vhVc_gWmoPp6ya570ZnS4XOUgq81sP9v3yYBo1sa9wJKSM-dBdGTF-lf_qpTbb6-jjkZ9aripxMXabK5JVSPwpug4/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693500472100558290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eCQ48ZFC2hWoUikTkZIiA-W5Sc6ZNm7cgddYCKAh53Sz8c9GA2vhVc_gWmoPp6ya570ZnS4XOUgq81sP9v3yYBo1sa9wJKSM-dBdGTF-lf_qpTbb6-jjkZ9aripxMXabK5JVSPwpug4/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" /></a>Crying and I met again after my <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/01/living-in-wake-of-suicide.html">father died</a>. I cried the most on the day he died; I suppose part of me didn't know what else to do. There were people surrounding me the whole day, family and friends streaming in and out of our tiny apartment, but I didn't care one bit if they saw tears rolling down my cheeks. In fact, it never even occurred to me to "put on a stoic face" for them. In the tug-of-war between modesty and emotional release, the latter won out. And then when I <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Tuesday%20Update">struggled with depression</a>, crying became almost like a reflex. It seemed like I cried over everything, and the littlest thing (like not being able to concentrate for very long) would just set me off. I felt utterly lost. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1BR546zNLFeVYJuU_N6rRV85BcCNhBNE72FvY4Ambej1YM8PRLqBR8X-TgaSoK5c1QtqdnI881Zwj1yT6KF41t4dkNKOX9F5eJHrzc8q1JWWDtQzFxC9lGcQB7j8NpV2FOm1uhyphenhyphen6FGc/s1600/aa3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693500468948598866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1BR546zNLFeVYJuU_N6rRV85BcCNhBNE72FvY4Ambej1YM8PRLqBR8X-TgaSoK5c1QtqdnI881Zwj1yT6KF41t4dkNKOX9F5eJHrzc8q1JWWDtQzFxC9lGcQB7j8NpV2FOm1uhyphenhyphen6FGc/s400/aa3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>But crying, I soon found, had a hand in helping me find my way. A pretty big hand, actually. Because we all need to know that it's OK to cry, don't we? We need that reassurance that crying is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength. Because sometimes, really, we just need to cry. No judgment. No questions. Just some time to cry...and a box of tissues and a spare shoulder. How cool would it be if there was an advertising campaign encouraging you to cry? I imagine a giant Kleenex box with a tissue peeking out of it and the words, "Go ahead...cry" written on the tissue. Would that be awesome? So, friends, I'd love to know: When was the last time you cried? Do you remember what it was about? What makes you cry? Do you find yourself crying a lot? Do you cry more or less as you get older? xoxo P.S. <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/07/memo-to-men-crying-game.html">Men and crying</a>. [Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: When was the last time you cried?

Crying. That taboo "C" word that people usually say quietly under their breath or hang their head just a bit lower so people won...

1:15 PM

Love Lounge: Do you know your parents' engagement story?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT4nbbHP5BtWIrSF5wkqiMU0y9n878aoNY2WE_Er59joC7aEqUirQDP7p0BgPZgtBIM1kch2urjNvbuSqN5LfTkhOfbC_BDNB0bqu8cV1baa83TscD3ScMcEzn2qrd5hEpMzfkv4jSaXG/s1600/aa.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688286931382098850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT4nbbHP5BtWIrSF5wkqiMU0y9n878aoNY2WE_Er59joC7aEqUirQDP7p0BgPZgtBIM1kch2urjNvbuSqN5LfTkhOfbC_BDNB0bqu8cV1baa83TscD3ScMcEzn2qrd5hEpMzfkv4jSaXG/s400/aa.bmp" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 316px;" /></a><a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/06/wedding-week-my-parents-anniversary.html">My parents</a> got engaged 34 years ago this week -- yesterday, in fact, to be more precise. I was talking about it with my mom last night when I realized that I didn't know very much of the story behind their E Day. So being the curious person that I am, I began to subtly interrogate her with questions. Who proposed? Where did the romantic moment take place? Was a sparkler presented? I was expecting an elaborately detailed and romantic proposal, complete with a string quartet. I'd always imagined my father having memorized his speech, with a copy of it in his shirt pocket in case he got nervous and forgot his lines. I pictured my mother sitting next to him after he proposed, looking down at her ring, and then both of them dreaming up plans for their perfect wedding. Surprisingly, though, my mom told me the entire affair was actually pretty low-key. My father proposed to her in his parents' house. He was 26, and my mom was 21. He didn't have a ring at the time, so they went and picked one out together. I'd always thought I'd wanted that fairytale, romantic proposal full of "I love yous" and "forevers" and "soul mate." But maybe you can still have that even with a not-so-traditional proposal. My parents did, and they were the most in-love couple I've ever met. So maybe in the end, that whole grand, over-the-top proposal isn't really all that important. It's romantic, sure, but it's what comes days, months and even years after saying "Yes" that matters the most. So, friends, I'd love to know: Do you know your parents' engagement story? Was it traditional or more unique? Does your mom still have her engagement ring (that's one question I forgot to ask my mom!)? Are you currently engaged? Are you planning to pop the question soon? Do you think a beau is planning to pop the question to you soon? Let's talk all things engagement, friends... xoxo P.S. <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/02/inspiration-romantic-relaxing.html">Four</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/03/inspiration-travel-themed-engagement.html">romantic</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/11/up-inspired-engagement.html">engagement</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/12/camping-engagement-shoot.html">shoots</a>.

Love Lounge: Do you know your parents' engagement story?

My parents got engaged 34 years ago this week -- yesterday, in fact, to be more precise. I was talking about it with my mom last night when...

12:29 PM

Love Lounge: How has love changed you?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUq4DcudJDwsVyhIdLjhks-r47Ez0rND52OFpcq8GEWm1hLnFVaWcklV3XsFjJPgPW2FMfAx6CukfA9we3WY14sGV7ObPsQHNMpUj1OYc8D-MAn6tUABluQyTZ74Qy1rOJv4WnUqxgvSN/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685997413965823730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUq4DcudJDwsVyhIdLjhks-r47Ez0rND52OFpcq8GEWm1hLnFVaWcklV3XsFjJPgPW2FMfAx6CukfA9we3WY14sGV7ObPsQHNMpUj1OYc8D-MAn6tUABluQyTZ74Qy1rOJv4WnUqxgvSN/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>As the ever-quotable Huey Lewis and the News once quipped: The power of love, it's a curious thing. And indeed, they were right. Those words are as true today in 2011 as they were when Huey (probably clad in neon parachute pants) sang them in the '80s. Love is an awesome force, isn't it? Perhaps the most powerful feeling we'll ever experience. It shapes us. It changes us. It courses through the veins of the person we become. We wouldn't be who we are without love. And I'm not talking solely about romantic love here. The love we have for our parents, siblings, aunts, grandparents, best friends, the mail man -- and the love they have for us? It all contributes to who we are. Love has made me strong. It's made me appreciate life. And it's given me a pretty big dose of confidence and self-assurance. <div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7011/6510831105_6c45c6270a_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7011/6510831105_6c45c6270a_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" /></a>Now, this isn't to say that all our encounters with love are the red-roses, Hallmark-card kind. Yes, love can make us sad. Yes, love can leave us empty and broken and unsure. Yes, love can leave us bitter and jaded. Maybe those feelings aren't so bad, though. We're taught to fear them, to ward them off at the first hint of negativity. If we do this, then maybe, just maybe, we'll eventually discover that they don't exist, and we can go on pretending they never came knocking at the door to our hearts in the first place. Do we have to take the good with the bad (another '80s reference -- can you guess?? I'm pretty sure we do. Because we wouldn't be who we are without the balance of the two. So, friends, I'd love to know: How has love changed you? Do you think that love is one of the most powerful forces out there? xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://www.weheartit.com">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: How has love changed you?

As the ever-quotable Huey Lewis and the News once quipped: The power of love, it's a curious thing. And indeed, they were right. Those w...

12:15 PM

Love Lounge: Is monogamy negotiable?

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7033/6419617913_514924fcdb_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7033/6419617913_514924fcdb_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 600px;" /></a><a href="https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/SRZP9YS">Women's Heath</a> magazine recently asked this question on its Web site: Is monogamy negotiable? Honestly, monogamy and negotiable don't even belong in the same sentence. They're like magnets that repel each other. There are certain things in life that lend themselves easily to negotiation. Shopping at flea markets. Buying a car. Choosing a restaurant for dinner. Making plans for the weekend. Those things are negotiable. Love is most definitely not one of those things. Because love isn't something you can negotiate. You can't turn it off and on whenever you please like a light switch, your feelings magically disappearing and reappearing at regularly timed intervals. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvOrhHA_4NZjrmaQz25mwqOkZYOf4PZwm6LH0HUpcru1lPXpAabGQAFNAKQXMd8t291nxWQk_GAT_ddR_KRfgoZgAT47vb55_uIyr_IFExpyeva6O02q30sh6UMyHCcmBOKZu_pBrL5iz/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680101933819606306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvOrhHA_4NZjrmaQz25mwqOkZYOf4PZwm6LH0HUpcru1lPXpAabGQAFNAKQXMd8t291nxWQk_GAT_ddR_KRfgoZgAT47vb55_uIyr_IFExpyeva6O02q30sh6UMyHCcmBOKZu_pBrL5iz/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>Besides, if you're allowing room for negotiation in relationships, isn't that really just the same thing as a no-string-attached love affair? We all know how well those turn out (cue sarcasm....). Someone always ends up getting emotionally attached (that would probably be me). Someone always ends up falling for the other (that would most likely be me). And someone always has trouble admitting their feelings to the other person (that would most definitely be me). You can't choose to be monogamous when it suits you. It's one of those refreshingly black-and-white things: Either you commit to another person or you don't. It's as easy as that. In love - and in life - you should never stand for anything less than you deserve. Do you really think you deserve to be someone's sloppy seconds? <div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6228/6419618147_439f9002e9_o.jpg"""><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6228/6419618147_439f9002e9_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 437px;" /></a>What about you, friends? Is monogamy something you'd ever negotiate? How do you feel about couples who do? How would you define negotiate? What does it mean to you? Let's chat! xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/">Le Love</a>]

Love Lounge: Is monogamy negotiable?

Women's Heath magazine recently asked this question on its Web site: Is monogamy negotiable? Honestly, monogamy and negotiable don...

12:31 PM

Love Lounge: What is your story?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8b8PP7P8uYILMJRMJNYK0dBpdoq-Nr0FI7RWYeNtg4OUkbn41qTcZqiAiDSVdL38PQw0Zbw_w3GK_Ni7b6zDuhshmTtn-i69TdN36bMrKj02iqXs6cpQeoTAwrI7_840IfFCeQBc5NKU/s1600/aa"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672663566371765122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8b8PP7P8uYILMJRMJNYK0dBpdoq-Nr0FI7RWYeNtg4OUkbn41qTcZqiAiDSVdL38PQw0Zbw_w3GK_Ni7b6zDuhshmTtn-i69TdN36bMrKj02iqXs6cpQeoTAwrI7_840IfFCeQBc5NKU/s400/aa" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" /></a>Glamour's <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/11/glamours-women-of-year.html">Women of the Year</a> really got me thinking. We all have a story, don't we, friends? This was one of the first lessons I learned in my journalism classes in college. From the seemingly mundane activities of your retired neighbor to a high-powered, jet-flying executive, it is our stories that make us who we are. It's our joys, our struggles, our laughter and our tears that bring those stories alive. And in love, of course, you bring your story with you. You learn about the other persons's story and they learn about yours. Maybe it comes from being a writer, but that, more than anything else, excites me about my future relationships. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMkwYERRhN9HwfLh0ye_ZiIMYhP8-BHuHOWs8G7TdVAgEDUch8ExHF0QczdNzUjJjnDP8Fd48gR9qiWA8Dnp7_9cPr1-Rw5oO2O_Xq-lOgAhQml4T6yEmaDdVocRLlyMw4lOZj8jdGzKz/s1600/aa2"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672663564557589138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMkwYERRhN9HwfLh0ye_ZiIMYhP8-BHuHOWs8G7TdVAgEDUch8ExHF0QczdNzUjJjnDP8Fd48gR9qiWA8Dnp7_9cPr1-Rw5oO2O_Xq-lOgAhQml4T6yEmaDdVocRLlyMw4lOZj8jdGzKz/s400/aa2" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a>Sharing the story of what's made us who we are - and not being ashamed of any of it - sounds incredibly freeing, doesn't it, friends? You don't habe to be afraid; this isn't the sort of love test you could fail. There's no right or wrong answer. There's no pressure to be better or smarter or prettier than anyone else. There's absolutely no way you could mess this up, which, as you know, friends, is a very big plus for me. So what would you include in your story? In looking back on your life, what are you proud of? What impacted you the most? Would you be comfortable sharing this with another person? I'd love to hear, friends! xoxo [Photos via <a href="http://audreyhepburncomplex.tumblr.com/">Audrey Hepburn Complex</a>]

Love Lounge: What is your story?

Glamour's Women of the Year really got me thinking. We all have a story, don't we, friends? This was one of the first lessons I lea...

10:30 AM

Love Lounge: What do you love about yourself today?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2krRK6ncvXaWdpJ-RTtV8u5i7pfh5X6NUMFSZj8e02yXx1UgXSzWeBhhXlB4TBrbnThXbWYy0SlJNl2-G7LHmNQGgGSKZAazXer_yeQxPg3jJ-h7SUqSN-ShVAfxwETdJ-_xyNKfYJTF/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670856456343681282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2krRK6ncvXaWdpJ-RTtV8u5i7pfh5X6NUMFSZj8e02yXx1UgXSzWeBhhXlB4TBrbnThXbWYy0SlJNl2-G7LHmNQGgGSKZAazXer_yeQxPg3jJ-h7SUqSN-ShVAfxwETdJ-_xyNKfYJTF/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 346px;" /></a>Today really feels like fall, with gusts of wind and rain trickling down the windows, so let's bring a bit of sunshine and cheer to the afternoon, shall we? What do you love about yourself today? Care to share? Just a few of mine... *Being able to laugh. *My sexy brain. *The fact that it doesn't take much to make me happy. Seriously, I'll smile over a <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/12/holiday-woo-me-wish-list-item-1-vintage.html">PEZ dispenser</a>. *My honesty...it hasn't gotten me into too much trouble yet. *The fact that I'll never give up on love. What about you, friends? Have you celebrated you today? xoxo [Photo via <a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/15923941">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: What do you love about yourself today?

Today really feels like fall, with gusts of wind and rain trickling down the windows, so let's bring a bit of sunshine and cheer to the ...

12:40 PM

hayleythrills