When I get through tough days, the only person I want to talk to about it is my Great-Grandmother. She was always the most welcoming, kind person I had in my life. She believed in me no matter what, and she never thought the worst of me—no matter what I did or said. She had the biggest heart out of everyone I knew, accepted everyone, and forgave everything. She passed this past November, right before her birthday.

I miss her greatly every single day. Her presence is still known on every holiday that passes, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. She loved getting the family together. There is talk about an annual family reunion in her honor, just to get everyone together and stay together like a real family.

But honestly, what I miss the most is her advice and the stories that she used to tell. She would always reassure me that everything would be okay and would advice me on what she would do if she were in my position. It always made me feel so much better and it made me feel as though I would be able to handle what is going on.

On days like what Saturday was, I missed it the most.

Today is self care Saturday for me. (This may be TMI, fair warning. I’m not shy about it, except with my family and they won’t read my blog even if I asked them to.) I got up early this morning for my waxing appointment (down there). The last time I got it done was right before the wedding, that was my first time and let me tell you, it was worth it.

For the last three months, I didn’t have to worry about grooming. I didn’t have to worry about my monthly friend making it worse. I didn’t have to bother with much besides my legs. This is a luxury for me. 

Ellen, my waxing lady, makes it such an easy and welcoming experience that it makes me feel comfortable in her office. I already booked my next appointment in May. 

I got up at 8 am this morning, showered, had alvocado toast, and left with plenty of time to get to my appointment. I sat there and read a chapter of my A Court of Thorns and Roses. Then she was ready for me. 

After I got home, I put a face mask on and now I am writing my daily blog for the day. This feels like a regular journal for me, I look forward to looking back a year or so from now anad reading about my daily adventures and daily thoughts. (Only a journal strangers will read, that’s okay to me). 

I plan on trying to curl/wave my hair after I am done while watching our shows together with Brandon and try to make sure I drink enough water for my intake before I allow myself a “fancy drink” (Fancy to me, probably gross to you) of a poppi or olipop soda. 

Since I have started making my body go to bed at a earlier time, waking up early (I say early, but it is like 8am or 9am – which I know maybe considered late by other people’s standard) and I have been making sure I put self care and self love into my routine, I have genuinely felt better at myself and I am proud. 

Well, I am off to wash this mask off and do my hair for fun while we relax until we go out to dinner tonight with my in-laws.

A few days ago, my brother had indirectly accused me of being pregnant since I haven’t drank any alcohol. (Reminder: one of my New Year’s resolutions was to cut out alcohol).

So he kept asking me to drink his drink because he wasn’t convinced. So I did. (I’m not counting the one sip, it is what it is). Afterwards he went back down stairs and left it alone.

Tonight at dinner, he brought up New Year’s resolutions. Brandon apparently joked his was cutting sweets (like he didn’t order Girl Scout cookies the other day – 3 boxes of them). So, I mention that I gave up alcohol.

It’s like a light bulb went on in my brothers eyes as he put two and two together. Then goes, “Alright, which ones are yours so I can drink them.” As he opens the fridge.

It’s even funnier to me to have the same conversation with my brother sober and my brother drunk with two different outcomes. Keeps life interesting in our house.