Author Archives: AwkwardJean

Bi-Curious Hair and an Addiction to Clorox Wipes

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So, one of the adventures submitted for consideration was for me to dye my hair brown. HA! I scoffed at that one immediately. Not gonna happen. I’m blonde. I’ve always been blonde. I’ll always be blonde (except someday we may call it silver). It’s pretty much the only committed relationship I’ve maintained throughout my life. It’s part of who I am. Dye my hair brown? Riiiiiiigggghhhht. Nice try. And then, about an hour before my hair appointment, I started thinking “Why Not?” Isn’t this year about getting out of my comfort zone? Maybe Kris was right…

In truth I’ve always kind of wondered what it would be like to have beautifully rich mahogany hair. A full brown with warm red highlights that shine when the sun catches them… Ahh, gorgeous. In fact… I once tried to achieve the look myself.

Sometime during my senior year of college I bought a box of hair dye — the much fantasized mahogany. Based on the picture on the box it was the dramatic change I was seeking… but, I just couldn’t find the nerve to ever try it. Fast forward to winter break my first year teaching…

Break was almost over and I was getting a bit stir-crazy. So, one night a couple days before school was to start back up, I found the old box (key word here: OLD) of hair dye I’d never quite been brave enough to use and I just went for it. No test strand, just full on makeover mode — ain’t skir’d.

Until I rinsed it out. Then I was horrified. I burst into tears. What was I going to do? School started up in two days and here I was with not just pink hair, but every shade of pink from fuchsia to magenta to burgundy… OH. MY. GOD. And, to make matters worse, the middle school I taught at was pretty strict about the students not being allowed to dye their hair “unnatural colors”. Shit.

Fortunately, early 20’s Jean was nothing if not resourceful. Still in tears, at 9 o’clock at night, I called up the mother of a student from my homeroom whom I remembered was a hair dresser. She was so sweet and offered to see me the very next morning.

The next day I walked into her salon, took my baseball cap off and, after a surprised gasp, she said “Oh wow, it REALLY is pink. And all kinds of pinks at that. How in the world did you manage this?” Talent I guess.

After stripping my hair of color twice (think really bad chemicals) it still appeared to be pale pink all over. I had to keep it that way for two weeks before she’d put more blonde in afraid my hair would all fall out. Suffice it to say my one attempt to explore my interest in being a brunette was not a successful endeavor.

Fourteen years later I tried again. And by “I” I really mean my most amazing hair stylist Nicole Davis (seriously, she’s amazing — like I’m 87% certain she has wizard blood coursing through her veins because what she can do with color is nothing short of magical).  I have to say, this time was a smashing success.

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I still need to get a makeover and play with colors in my wardrobe (I totally think I can pull off citrine now — holla!), but overall I am LOVING it! It’s fun to make a drastic change. The reactions are priceless — from excited to stunned to disappointed to unnerved, it’s amazing how something like one’s hair color can have such an affect on people.

For me the biggest challenge has been seeing the hair in the sink. I’ve always been quite the hairy beast (we’ve already established my nose is like staring up into a gorilla pen) but the abundance of shedding hair has always been blonde. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not used to it yet and keep thinking it’s someone else’s hair, or if it really is just that much more visible, but a sink full of dark hair is kinda gross. I never noticed how much there really was before now. In fact, I’m turning a wee bit OCD with cleaning the bathroom sink every morning… about three times. At this rate I’m going to have to add a line item in my budget for Clorox wipes, but… I suppose it’s a small price to pay for adventure.

I’ve wondered what I’d look like with dark hair for a good 25 years. It feels good to know. If there’s something you’ve always wondered about, big or small, find out. Stop wondering. Go for it. I’m glad I did. Plus, I’m like WAY smarter now that I have brown hair. True Story.

XOXO Awkward (Hairy) Jean

The Fool, The Lovers and Happily Ever After

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Little known Jean fact — I read Tarot cards. I have for almost 20 years. I’m not psychic, I don’t have any secret knock that gets me into the hereafter party, but I’ve always been interested in many facets of spirituality, mysticism and the paranormal. However, when it comes to tarot cards, I think of them as a tool, a hands-on workbook of sorts that helps us work through our issues. When people are open to the tarot they “read” things into the card as truth, not because of some great all-knowing seer flipping the cards over, but rather because we allow the cards to act as a conduit to our innermost thoughts granting them a shape and outlet. In short, the cards just help us figure out how we’re feeling. 

That said, I’m self-taught and those are my personal beliefs from years of practice. I occasionally use the cards on myself as I find they help give shape to the feelings, hurts, hopes, etc. that are too often buried, hidden and ignored, but I’ve never actually had my cards read professionally. Sure I’ve read cards for friends over the years who’ve then tried to reciprocate, but… I always wanted to get it done by a practitioner of the art. 

SO, my very first, planned and official, Misadventure of Awkward Jean was to go see Gypsy Joan at the River Market Antique Mall and have my tarot cards read on a lovely fall afternoon.

Honestly I didn’t know what to expect, but I was pretty skeptical. Especially when I saw the draped wool cape, big beaded earrings and au naturel look… mostly because it all seemed to conflict with the very sparkly, trendy, princess cut platinum engagement ring she was sporting… Hmm… 

I sat down and she made small talk while she shuffled the cards. She asked me if I had been read before, to which I replied no, then she asked if I knew much about the tarot or had any expectations for our reading… I nervously giggled and told her no. I was not about to make this easy for her. Plus, let’s face it, every ounce of my being oozes with the word “GULLIBLE” so I kind of wanted to see where she’d go with that. 

She began by telling me that she was a third generation reader and had no psychic or clairvoyant ability. Then she went on to tell me her beliefs on tarot cards, which more or less mirrored mine. Hmm. Maybe this was going to be better than I thought, but she was still shuffling the cards… For those of you who don’t know a key with tarot is to have the person being read do the shuffling while concentrating and trying to imbue the cards with some of herself, how could this woman not know that most basic premise? When Gypsy Joan was done explaining her views and what I should expect she handed me the deck and told me basically what I just explained. That’s when I remembered she has to “clear the deck” from the person before, that’s why she was shuffling… It’s also when I realized I was being quite closed to this experience, fully expecting it to be a money grubbing stunt. Wow, 16 Year Old Jean would have been horrified at my prejudgments. 

So, I took the cards, closed my eyes and really tried to open up to the reading. 

Gypsy Joan reads a classic Celtic Cross spread, the same as me, so it was pretty familiar which was nice. The humor of it all would clearly be in the first two cards flipped: The Fool and The Lovers.

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The first describes where I, as the questioner, am currently at in life with the latter being placed over that card to indicate the most consuming challenge I face.

The Fool is one of the most controversial in the deck and its meaning is very tied to its placement. In the first position, describing the questioner, it is the most powerful card in the tarot stating that the questioner’s free will can almost literally move mountains; that nothing is beyond reach if one is to simply seize the day. Google this and you will often find it associated to the Latin phrase “Carpe Diem”… yep, the same one I had tattooed on my left wrist earlier this year. Given the placement and surrounding cards, Gypsy Joan interpreted this to mean I am currently in a position of setting out on a journey of self-enlightenment and personal growth. That combined with the other cards this is a very exciting time in my life where the meaning I seek is within reach. (And suddenly 35 is looking up!)

In the second position, crossing over The Fool, was The Lovers, which symbolizes one’s soulmate. This was interpreted by Gypsy Joan as having two possible meanings — either I’d found my soulmate, but he was holding me back from fulfilling my growth potential… OR (and this one maybe stung a little) that it’s possible I’m so focused on finding this person, that I’m losing myself in the process. 

(SIDEBAR — Two cards. That’s how long it took me before I started looking around thinking I was being punk’d.)

The other part of my reading that really struck me and stayed with me after we’d finished was the card in the seventh position. This is the position that represents how others view the questioner. For me that card was Strength, and while I can’t recall what cards were in the positions above and below it, Gypsy Joan interpreted the placement and surrounding cards to mean that I seek validation from others, that I desperately want to have their approval, but what I don’t see is that I already do and the real validation I need is from myself. She said if there was one gift she hoped my journey would find, it was to see myself the way others do and once I can do that it would be all the validation I would need. 

The rest of the reading was really quite positive. I was pretty thrown by how some of the cards hit so close to home. I found myself a bit overwhelmed and couldn’t remember as many specifics as I’d like, but I do recall her telling me multiple times that overall the cards reflected a lot of light, positivity and happiness. It made me think of the words I have hanging in my bedroom, opposite my bed as the first thing I see every morning, “It’s never too late to live happily ever after.”

Suffice it to say… Gypsy Joan can wear whatever the hell she wants, I was impressed. If you ever get the chance, or if you ever want me to do it for you, I highly recommend opening yourself up to a tarot card reading… After so many years of reading other people, and finally experiencing it myself, I think the best surprise of all is that none of it was really all that surprising.

And with that, my first official challenge is in the books AND I’ve written about it. Whew! Alas, I still have soo many adventures to catch you all up on… Stay patient my friends, we’ll get there. 

XOXO — Awkward Jean

Birthdays, Fake Dates, Private Clubs, and Criminal Behavior

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DAILY ADVENTURE LOG:

10.22.13 – Shower Dance Party Birthday

10.23.13 – Fake Date

10.24.13 – Pendergast Club and Stolen Goods

10.25-26.13 – Recovery Time

10.27.13 – Gypsy Joan

10.28.13 – Bonefish Birthday & Crazy Cat Lady Certified

10.29.13 – Bi-Curious Hair

10.30.13 – Dinner Date

10.31.13 – Real Date

11.01.13 – Impromptu Fall Party

11.02-04.13 – Recovery Time

11.05.13 – Sushi Sensation!

So, it’s been two weeks since my inaugural post… The goal was to post every couple of days, eh… minor fail. Partially because I REALLY need to figure out how to adjust the ginormous font and various layout issues that are driving me nuts. My apologies on the technicalities… still a work in progress. Now, to catch you up on the happenings of Awkward Jean, I’ve detailed (if we’re using the term “detail” loosely) the past fourteen adventures below… because let’s face it, when you’re the Jean, the question isn’t “Will today be an adventure?” but rather “How big of an adventure will today be?”

10.22.13 – The Official Birthday.

My actual, official, birthday celebration is best described in the following text I sent to some girlfriends:

Birthday night winning! Made a quick “Empowered Ladies” playlist*, lit Erica’s fancy incense, cracked open CRUSH’S <name changed to protect any chance I possibly have… let’s remember the lessons from the dating blog> all-time favorite beer (that I tracked down and bought for him when I invited him over for football this weekend but he didn’t come), put it in my special birthday coozie from Kim and Rhonda, then drank it while dancing in a hot shower and singing at the top of my lungs. Callie may be traumatized, but I’m having a great single lady night! Cheers!!

10.23.13 – The Fake Date.

I never know if I’m on a real date or a fake date with my crush. It starts with drinks after work, then suddenly we’re having dinner. Sometimes we split the bill, sometimes he picks it up, sometimes I do. There are no clear social cues and lord knows if there were I’d miss them. That said… I can pretty confidently call this one a fake date based on the following transaction:

MID-DINNER

CRUSH: Do you pluck your nose hair.

AWKWARD JEAN: Um… <STORY BREAK – When I was 19 years old, and a summer camp counselor, Collin, a precocious six year old, looked up at me one day during lunch and, with the bewildered voice of an innocent babe, said “Miss Jean, you have more hair in your nose than my dad.” Seeing as a compliment I graciously replied “Thank you Collin.” Suffice it to say some trimming has been a solid part of the Jean Routine over the past 16 years. Again I say… Thank you Collin.> Yeah. Well, I mean, I don’t actually pluck, that hurts. But um, I use my cuticle scissors, but well, I don’t use those for my cuticles, I have a different pair that are more like clippers, but the ones that are like scissors are small and I do some trimming, and maybe the occasional… I mean, er, uh… Why do you ask? (This is about the point of self-conscious horror thinking I’ve got some Willie Nelson style parading out my schnoz and down my face…)

CRUSH: Well, the way your nose sits on your face you’d almost have to.

AWKWARD JEAN: Check please.

And that’s how I spent the night of The Fake Date staring at myself in the mirror, looking at my nose (well-trimmed I’d like to point out) from every angle and finally crying because I’ve always liked my nose and how dare him for making me feel self-conscious about it. And then I sent him a mean text.

And that my friends, is how you know it’s a fake date. When your crush is more awkward than you, and you end the night crying about a non-existent problem (I really do have a great nose – even when my nostrils flare when I’m mad, it’s STILL a great nose), it’s definitely not a real date, at least not a real good one.

10.24.13 – KC’s Elite… Meets Jean.

There is a private club located above a well-known steakhouse in Kansas City. The steakhouse is called The Majestic, and has a rich history of its own. The club is called the Pendergast Club and is so named for an infamous historical Kansas City politician. In polite circles Tom Pendergast is renowned as a key patron to Harry Truman, but the reality of his infamy stems from his reputation in the 1920’s-30’s as an unapologetically corrupt politician (read: mob-related violence, extortion, tax evasion, all the KC greats). The Majestic is in the building Pendergast’s offices had been located and the rooms he once did business from have now been turned into a private club for, here’s the kicker, Kansas City’s political elite. Judges, lawyers, federales… You name the power player and chances are he (sorry ladies) is a member of this club.

If not for the brass lock on the otherwise white wall, you wouldn’t even realize there was a door behind the host stand at The Majestic, but tell the host you are there as a guest of the Pendergast Club (and yes, you have to give a name) and the door swings open, granting access to the various stairwells that lead to the Good Ol’ Boys club upstairs. Think scotch, cigars, leather couches, exposed brick and men in suits. Lots of suits. And that’s pretty much the Pendergast Club. It is a very cool space, and while I didn’t know anyone there other than the people I came with, it just exuded power and influence… Which is why I basically bellied up to the bar, ordered some Buffalo Trace whisky on ice, and made friends with the owner/bartender Scott. In unrelated news… guess who was invited to come back to the Pendergast anytime as a guest of the owner. This girl. Guess who drinks a lot of scotch as he pours it and will likely never remember this girl? Yeah, Scott. But… it was a cool adventure… and, given the mixture of men, stairs and whisky… it’s basically an Awkward Jean miracle that nothing actually awkward happened. WIN!

(And, for those of you who were present… I guess I should probably go ahead and self-incriminate now… we MAYBE went somewhere after the Pendergast Club… And by maybe, I mean we did… At the second bar we met up with some co-workers for dinner… And, well, the fries came in these cute little mini pot things that were all adorable and one of my colleagues really wanted to take one home, but c’mon, we’re grown-ups, we don’t steal shit from restaurants… that was sooo last decade… That said… I DID have a big purse, and in the morning may have noticed one of the cute pot things had fallen in it… If that’s the worse 20’s Jean is gonna do when she rears her ugly head, I say we take it! And, in my defense, I DID gift the ‘found’ item to the colleague who showed interest. You’re welcome colleague. Gosh.)

10.25.13 – Recovery Jean

Even Jean needs to rest… And I’m sure this had nothing to do with the fact that the last stop of the previous evening was newly discovered treasure with the mystery beer vending machine – I tried one that tasted a bit like someone regurgitated some Jägermeister into a stale beer left at a frat party… which, in hindsight, explains the next one too…

10.26.13 – Recovery Jean Part 2

And… at 35, sometimes that resting takes a few days…

10.27.13 – The Fool, the Lovers, and Gypsy Joan

FINALLY – My first officially sanctioned Misadventure – getting my tarot cards professionally read.

And… whew… Sleepy Jean strikes again…

<<TO BE CONTINUED>>

*FOOTNOTE: In case you’re interested here’s the “Empowered Ladies” playlist from my shower party. All songs are best sung loudly, with reckless abandon, while dancing. If a shower is unavailable, a car (windows up or down — performer’s preference) will suffice simply adjust your dance moves accordingly.

Roar – Katy Perry

Brave – Sara Bareilles

Girl on Fire – Alicia Keys

F**kin’ Perfect – P!nk

Shine – Anna Nalick

I Was Here – Beyonce

Single women over the age of 35 are more likely to…

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Today I turned 35 and for some reason it was very difficult for me. Actually, strike that. It’s not an unknown, random “some reason.” I know why. It all goes back to a silly, completely debunked, statistic from the mid-80’s that occasionally is popularized by film, particularly in the genre of Rom-Com (Romantic-Comedies for all you out there without a uterus, cat and/or stock in Kleenex brand tissues).

My freshman year of high school the movie “Sleepless in Seattle” came out. I was young and idealized the romanticism of the film. It made me want to grow out long blond hair (check) and move to a fabulous houseboat in Seattle (um… townhouse in Missouri… eh) and of course have a whirlwind, all-consuming, magical romance much like in “An Affair to Remember” (yeah… definitely haven’t done that one yet).  But more than these bucket list type items stood out;  something else in the movie stuck with me. The characters were all up in arms about a statistic that women over the age of 40 were more likely to get killed by a terrorist than to get married. That’s when the seed was planted.

Fast forward thirteen years to 2006 and the release of “The Holiday” where the same statistic was touted, only this time it was 35… and they pointed out that terrorists were now a real part of our fear spectrum thereby giving the faulty statistic more credibility. That stuck. I was getting older, the statistical age was getting younger, I was still single and terrorists were very real. That seed had been fertilized and well watered. For years it has lurked in the dark recesses of my brain, growing stronger and stronger toward this day. This moment. This birthday. Thirty-Five.

35 years old just feels as if the path before me has slowly, systematically narrowed in all the directions that were once offered. And when I look back, the multitude of options behind me grow more distant, more overgrown and more unlikely as viable paths. Marriage. Kids. These things suddenly seem like less of a realistic option.

So, what to do? Maybe that’s not my path. Maybe it’s time for a new dream. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving up on it entirely, but… when all is said and done, if my dream of being a wife and mother is not realized, what meaning will my life have had?  My guess, my hope , is lots. I want to look back on my life and, regardless of its path, be filled with the joy of knowing it was a life well-lived.

And so begin The Misadventures of Awkward Jean. Each month I’ll try something. Something big, something small — as long as it’s something. As long as I’m putting myself out there and looking for new paths, new options, new dreams; something that pushes me more toward my extroverted self and less into my introverted. I always joke that if I won the lottery I’d be an eccentric hermit. Yeah. That’s no joke, I really would.

Sooo… let’s focus less on hermit and more on eccentric.  It’s not about big life-changing moments, but rather about just living life. Doing. Being. And then sharing it. And who knows, maybe somewhere along the way the life-changing moments will set in and the years after 35 will be looked upon as my having found the path that truly became the meaningful life I seek. Or, it’ll just be a collection of hilarious, awkward, cringe-worthy, good memories. Either way I’d call it a win.

That said, after many suggestions I’ve come up with the following list, in no particular order, of random things I’ll be doing and writing about in the next 12 months. I may add more to the adventure as time allows, but for now the list is as follows:

1. Get my tarot cards read professionally

2. Take a cooking class

3. Learn to meditate

4. Write every day for month

5. Take a train trip

6. Cut-It-Out (This will be a week at a time and I’ll do dairy-free, caffeine-free, gluten-free, alcohol-free)

7. Join a book club with strangers

8. Take a sign language course

9. Mystery Road Trip Adventure

10. Plan the perfect date and invite someone on it

11. Yoga (Oh. Dear. God)

12. Walk 10,000 steps every day for a month (Um.)

13. Unplug — technology free weekend

My first adventure is this Sunday, October 27th. I’ll be attending an event at the River Market Antiques where, for a mere $20, Gypsy Joan will probably get my whole life figured out in a simple ten card spread.

Oh, and as for this whole fancy technology “blogging” thing… yeah, I’m still working on figuring it out… so, be a little patient while I work on the best layouts, links, shares, “fancy blogging term here”, etc. I miss Facebook Notes already… (HashtagSoOld)

XOXO — Awkward Jean