One tat-too many

I'm a highly addictive individual. I go through periods of addiction, with a few constants like my good pal coffee. (speaking of which- I'm going to go make a cup, be right back)

In middle school it was hair dye. In sixth grade my young, fun aunt snuck me into our upstairs bathroom and helped me dye a streak of my hair purple. Being that I have nearly black hair, the purple didn't show up but I don't think I ever realized that. From there I had nearly a dozen failed attempts at going blond (the end results ranged from copper to bluish green). I tried highlights, low lights, chestnut, red, jet black and so on.

Quickly my hair grew weak from all the chemicals. It was crying for me to leave it alone. At that time nothing in my life seamed stable, I longed for something permanent. I went through a harsh period of "cutting", leaving unfortunate scars all over my body. (A large "WHY" still shows on my upper thigh- a constant reminder to be kind to myself and respect my body. ) From there I took what seemed like the next step in my mind- I got my first tattoo. I was sixteen and in the middle stages of my eating disorder. I wanted to be free from the nonstop pain I was feeling. I wanted to be myself again, so I got a dove ( my last name- Coulombe- is french for Dove) with the word FREE under it on my wrist. Simple, elegant and still my favorite. From the minute I got attention for having one of the only tattoos in my grade I was hooked. I began writing lists of all the tattoos I wanted during class. At night I scoured the Internet for ideas.

Only a few months later I go my next tattoo- A "life tree" and moon on my upper back with the word BREATH underneath. Again, simple and elegant. Soon after I got a paw print on my leg with a "B" for all of my dogs (Boomer, Bandit, Buster, Beast, Bug). My parents were growing worried of my need for ink, and set down the rules. No more tattoos or I'd be in trouble. Trouble was not exactly in my vocabulary. I had never been grounded, never gotten my allowance taken away, never had my car privileges threatened. So I got another one, for all the wrong reasons. I found the entry in my diary a few years later from the day I got it.

"Today fucking sucks. I'm the most awkward person in the caf. When is the fucking bell going to ring? I don't know what I'm going to do when I get out, I'm in the worst mood. Maybe go to Borders? Ryan's hanging out with Jon. I should just get that tattoo. The rose. yeah. Good. And maybe get my nails done next door."

I didn't get this tattoo for any significant value it held. I got it because I couldn't stand to sit with myself for even one afternoon. I did just what I said I would and left school to get a rose on my foot. For weeks I hid it from my parents, probably more ashamed than worried about punishment. When it was finally noticed my parents were furious. They said they would sell my car if I ever got another tattoo before turning 21. I didn't listen. On another bad day I added another rose, connected to the vines from the previous, in the middle of my shin.

Without a doubt that tattoo is one of my largest regrets from those dark times. It is a constant reminder of how much I hated myself, and how little respect I had for my body. I remember changing my mind about the rose while I was sitting on the tattoo table, but being too scared to tell the guy. I remember how disappointed Ryan was. How sad my parents were. It wasn't what I expected. Angry, sure, but not sad. Now I realize that they could see what I couldn't. They could see that these tattoos were a permanent sign of how hurt I was. I didn't care about the future, I couldn't even handle the present.

Last month I ordered a tattoo cover up, which to my surprise worked pretty well. I had to throw it out because it only made me sad. Seeing my leg so clean and free from the tints of a dark past was so beautiful, but unlike the tattoo itself I knew it wasn't permanent. I hope that teens can try to take their future into consideration more. My new rule of thumb is to wait a year. If you think you want a tattoo wait a year- if you still want it, than maybe it's worth considering. At the time "It's permanent" was nothing more than an expression. I still have a hard time imagining myself growing old with this awful rose. I'm hopeful for better removal technologies. Whether I remove it someday or not, the lesson I've learned is definitely permanent.

Happy(er)Cow Update!

http://tv.yahoo.com/daytime

The Magnificent Pita Pizza!

Mmm..Pita Pizza

Being from NY, pizza is an important part of my life. Every time I go back to NY I make it my number one priority to have a pizza night. To curb my cravings while I'm living in NH I created a substitute- Pita Pizza. It's cheap, fast and easy. It's also healthy, and requires no blotting. ( My boyfriend always yells at me when I blot my pizza for oil, but did you know just a few dabs can remove 1/4 the fat off your slice!? So worth it) My favorite combination is shown in the picture above. Here's what to do:

*Preheat your oven to roughly 400 degrees, or turn on the broiler. (my kitchen in NH has no digital thermometer, so the temp. is never exact)

Ingredients (per person):

• 1 Pita bread
• 3-4 T pasta sauce of choice (I like Butoni's Tomato Basil)
• 1/4 cup Italian blend cheese (light is fine.)
• 1/4 of an avocado
• fake peperoni (or real if you eat meat!)

Steps:

• spoon on sauce
• cover in cheese
• dice avocado and spread on pita
• layer on the peperoni
• pop it in the oven/broiler for about 1o minutes

Since I'm on a grocery budget I often make this dish to use up the scraps in my fridge. I've tried all kinds of variations. It works well with any cheese if you don't have any Italian cheeses on hand. I've done it with American, Gouda, Swiss...it always turns out well. Play with this dish, nothing needs to be measured. Today I made one with tuna and BBQ sauce!

Let me know how it turns out- happy eating!

Dunkin Doggie

Who doesn't love a ball of dough that is sunk into an ocean of boiling, spitting oil until it forms a golden hue only to than be delicately laden in some sort of sugary concoction and placed on display until it reaches your watering mouth! Oh Donuts!! I love them all. French Crullers never fail me with their dainty texture. On the other hand I also like the heavy, guilt ridden Boston Creme donuts that are an absolute favorite of my boyfriend Ryan. I had never dared indulge in such a donut before him. Now we share them on a regular occasion because they are just so beautiful. You get the best of everything; quintessential donut dough with a dense velvety creme filling and a blanket of chocolate falling over the top. These donuts mean business. I also enjoy the more "regular donuts" such as the simplistic chocolate glazed (seemingly a favorite among kids-used to be my go to when I was little) or even the plain ("old fashion") donut if it is accompanied by milk or coffee.

Just about every week Ryan (bf) and I hit up the local drive thu Dunkin' Donuts for our fix. In NY we don't have such an anomaly. We have to leave our cars and enter a building to get our donuts. But here in NH where people drive long distances to work during negative degree winters just about every business has a drive through. Until coming to NH I had never thought of Dunkin' Donuts to be particularly dog friendly. But every time we have the dogs in the car the person behind the drive through door asks "Do your puppies want some donuts!?" Well, if I lied and said "no thanks" I think Bug and Beast would probably disown me. Now it's a custom to roll the windows down, let them put on their hungry faces and wait respectively for their donut holes. Every time we round the corner and place our orders the pups perk up. Bug is raised from his sleep by the smell of donut holes floating in oil and Beast hops over to the window, both with hungry eyes and big smiles!

Moodiction: [Muh-dik-shuhn] -noun

I have an addiction to cows. They are such rustic, beautiful, under rated milk producing creatures. Cow’s are gods gift to man. They give us milk to make cakes with, and to make luscious milkshakes with, and to spoon up cereal with. The possibilities with milk are endless. But aside from the benefits of what comes out of their utters- have you ever looked at a cow?! They’re enormous beasts. And yet so funny looking with their bony butts and huge sloppy noses and cud chewing jaws. They’re tails swat flies like it’s their sole mission in life (which I suppose it is). They’re mouths are constantly chewing. They’re udders hang heavy from their dirty underbellies. Ugh I just want to kiss them. But above all else I adore their spots. Cow spots are messy and fun and imperfect. They’re more like blotches than they are spots. I painted my ceiling with cow spots many years ago and every time I look up I feel happy. Cows make me extremely happy. They seem rather content them selves. Just chilling in the fields swatting flies chewing cud and perusing with their fellow cows.

My love for cows developed from an early age. I’ve watched home movies of myself naming each cow at our local family farm Muscoot. I named them and gave the camera a brief description of what I presumed was their personality and life story. “over there is cupcake. She’s younger than the rest but doesn’t mind because she could beat any other cow at a grass eating contest. Her favorite cereal is lucky charms and she enjoys reading mysteries. Cupcake sleeps only under the stars and never in the barn with the rest .” I may have been stretching it with the lucky charms but I feel a connection to cows. They’re sweet eyes are always smiling at me. As if to say “thanks for the love!”.

Next time you drive by a field of cows give them a big hello from their biggest fan!

First Product Review!

I find product reviews very helpful, and when I find a good product I love to gush about it, so it only makes sense to post a few reviews myself. So much false advertising comes out every second it blows my mind. Products that promise natural highlights end up turning my hair bright copper. Mascaras that assure me my lashes will grow ten times their length- (which would technically leave me looking like an avant garde runway freak) make my lashes clumpy and stiff. It's frustrating. One of the worse culprits in the beauty world tends to be tanners. They promise sun kissed skin but without fail, always, always leave my skin blotchy and orange no madder how meticulously I spread or spray or rub.

But at last! Jergens Natural Glow daily moisturising lotion! It's a daily lotion that gradually puts color on your body. And shockingly enough it works! I've used it for a little over two weeks now with perfect results. After about four or five days my boyfriend commented on my tan. Now I'm not a sun-o-phobe and do spend time in the sun, but I also don't have the patience to sit and tan so I fall somewhere in between. So I suppose some of the color is natural but I've never been one to tan easily and this product definitely raises the color and gives you a glow like it advertises. Since it's gradual there isn't any streaking or blobs or fake orange color. It does have a slight "self tanner" smell but it's tolerable. After using it for two weeks ( I use it every other day) I feel more confident, less ghostly and somewhat Hollywood- it's fabulosity in a bottle. Could be all in my head, but what difference does that make!

Vroom Vroom

When you turn 16 in my hometown, you get a car. There are exceptions to this of course, as with everything in life, but I was not one of them. Right around my birthday the car talk surfaced and the hunt began. It was a very short hunt. I fell madly in love with a red 1992 Volvo from Deluca Auto in Pleasantville. Deluca's was a car repair that had a lot full of unwanted, barley working hunks of metal. Most kids in my grade were settling into fresh BMWs and "lightly used" Acuras. But I was in love. Her $2,500 price tag didn't bother me in the least. She wasn't sparkling, and she didn't purr when I entered the highway but she was perfect. I called her the dinosaur because she was extremely boxy. Her tape player (yes, tape) didn't work so I drove around delightfully singing along with the crackling radio. I glued pom poms to her dashboard and quickly dressed her seats in plush cow print seat covers. Wooden butterflies dangled from her review mirror.

What an exciting time that is. It quickly dawned on me that I didn't need my parents to drive me to the mall. If I wanted to go, I could go. That was a feeling that is hard to explain in words. I was loose from the grips of my parents forever. I was unstoppable and this giant clunky Dino-box was my fellow traveler and passport.

Unfortunately, my big red companion (I should have named her Clifford the big red Volvo!) only spent a year by my side before she was laid to rest. On one of our spontaneous adventures to uncharted territories (A trip to A.C. Moore in an unfamiliar town 20 minutes up the highway) I failed to keep her safe. I was texting my mom for directions (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) when I rear ended another fellow Volvo. Their car had minimal damage and they drove off but my poor friend's bumper was damaged beyond repair, and they declared her dead, or totaled.

At the time my heart was broken and I didn't think I could ever feel the same kind of love for another car. I was right, but time heals all and eventually I moved on. After a string of thousand dollar Deluca Auto cars I settled on a Toyota Matrix. My parents were sick of the cheap cars only lasting months at a time. The second one I got, another Volvo, caught fire while me and my boyfriend were only a mile away from the house. We pulled over once I noticed the hood was on fire and quickly gathered my purse, groceries and most importantly Bug! Minutes after the entire car was engulfed in bright red flames, and I kid you not, it burned to the ground leaving a pile of dust on the side of our local road. After that I got a purple Buick that ended up not having air bags (whoops).

The Matrix did it's job well. It was the perfect car for short notice camping trips and for toting the muddy mutts all over town. I was able to fit my entire dorm room in it when college rolled around. The folding back seats allowed for ample junk room. Perfect for side walk sales and trips to Ikea. The carpeted seats were easy to clean and never once smelled like the dog butts that so often occupied them. It seemed like the ideal car. But after going through so many cars in so little time I had become accustomed to the change. After about three years I began to feel the itch. The itch of wanting, longing and needed a change. After my first winter in NH I had found my excuse.

"Dad, I just don't feel safe in the Matrix up here in the winter. Since it doesn't have four wheel drive it just slips and slides all over the damn place."

Safety is a parents top priority so I knew this couldn't fail, and I was right. What I didn't know, however, is that my begging and pleading for a safer vehicle would result in my cruising around Rindge NH in a swanky little Mercedes Benz.

I had my eyes on another Volvo. A black C30. It's seats folded down just like the matrix, and despite being about 1/8th the size I was sure some how, some way, I would be able to fit dogs, friends, and luggage with ease. Or I would just tell my friends to walk from now on. Luckily, my boyfriend is a tad more practical than me. When my parents put a used Benz in the mix I was stuck. Cute little zippy Volvo- or hot used Benz? In a rare twist I actually wanted the Volvo more. Then Ryan intervened with his practical thinking.

"You'll regret it if you choose the Volvo. It will only be cute for so long before you realize you could have had a Benz!" He assured me.

He was right. I bit my lip and made the trip home to test drive the silver C280 Benz. It was love at first drive. Driving her home felt like winning the lottery. Every time I get in my car (now named Heidi- after the German supermodel) I feel like I'm winning the lottery over and over again. She is classy and dignified and sexy as all hell. It's hard not to have confidence driving her around. Even Bug feels cool hanging his head out of a Benz, slobber and all!