50 Shades of (Being Meredith) Grey

I alluded to it last week, but, not shockingly, my wee heart has had some troubles. In short, I felt like Meredith Grey in her whiny needy "pick me, choose me, love me" stage and it sucked--in the end, I did want him to pick me, to be brave enough to try again, and to try with me. I don't really want to talk about it, I mean, it took me however long to be able to talk about the Barricade Boy, so, no, not there yet (although, BB meant a great deal more, blah, blah). It's hard--always is. And made all the worse by Valentine's Day. And the ex getting married this weekend. FML.

So, I'm struggling. Like I said, even yogis get the blues.

And I can cling to all I have, and all that's ahead, and I am, but, sometimes it's ok to be sad--it's a human emotion and we aren't human if we don't welcome the good and the bad (is that yoga hippie enough for you??). Also doesn't mean I don't want to hole up in a movie theater with ten pounds of Twizzlers, enough Diet Coke to kill an elephant and watch Les Mis again and again, cause I do--but, I won't. Cause that's like legit crazyville. And I'm only medium crazyville. For now.

Instead, I will cling to this little ditty my cousin sent me ages ago:

And hey, hey God, yeah, preferably this one:

I have no words. Other than CHEEKBONES, FRECKLES, HAIR AND HE SINGS

Please and thank you.

(thanks y'all for hanging with me, I promise we'll be back to Anthro, Burberry and stupid shit in two shakes of a lamb's tail!)