Keira-anne.com

It’s okay, I get it. Many of you who read this blog are my friends and family and, therefore, have a great deal of love for me. However, it hasn’t escaped me that a few of my readers have quite a sour taste in their mouths for me and their reasons for checking in on my blog are more of a guilty pleasure; a love/hate, if you will. I’m a big girl - I can handle that. So for those of you who dislike me, here’s one of those rare shallow gems for your reading and viewing displeasure to fuel your feelings.

Yesterday, after work, I did something I’d long been meaning to do: I bought new jeans. Growing up on the Island, shopping wasn’t something in which much selection was offered. At Christmastime in seventh grade I was beyond thrilled to receive my first pair of Guess jeans. Everybody had ‘em! After that, I stuck mostly to Mavi, Silver and Gap (once Woodgrove Centre in Nanaimo got one). It wasn’t until the last handful of years that I started to learn more about fashion, what looks good and what fits properly. The truth is, I have long legs and a narrow waist, and mass jean manufacturers simply don’t cut their jeans to suit. Even Gap’s ‘Long and Lean’ collection presumes that “if you’re tall then surely you must have saddlebags, so let’s put in extra fabric to accommodate for them.” The truth is, I’m 5-foot-9 with a 3/4 waist.

Two years ago, a beautiful friend helped me discover jeans of a more designer calibre. It started with Citizens of Humanity and never stopped there. The truth is, when jeans are properly designed, they fit the body that wears them that much better. And so last night I pushed open the glass doors of Holt Renfrew and bought myself a new pair from Rock and Republic. And I love them. And they were worth every penny.

Just one short month ago, Becky and I took a trip on a ferry boat. Prior to that trip, we’d been throwing around the idea of doing a podcast together and figured that the hour and a half spent on the ferry would be the perfect time to do so. Each of us fielded reader questions on our respective blogs and answered them for y’all.

I know you’re dying of curiosity to hear what went down, so click here to satiate yourself. We’re funny girls.

You’ve been warned.

P.S. We’re planning on podcasting again this Friday - does that idea interest anyone?

If there’s one thing you can never have too much of, and one thing I don’t get enough of, it’s hugs. I made this statement on Friday afternoon, en route to the ferry, to my friend Susan. In fact, one major selling point to going home to my mom’s so often is the fact that hugs are in abundance there. In a city that can often be cold in more ways than one, this girl doesn’t get nearly the number of hugs she needs.

Photo: Sarah606 on Flickr

Several years ago, I read a book by Gary Chapman titled ‘The Five Love Languages.’ In it, Mr. Chapman outlines what he believes are the fives ways in which people give and receive their feelings of love towards another. He concluded that everyone falls into at least one, most often two, and in some cases a bit of all five categories. After burning through the pages of his book, I came to the realization that my love languages are ‘Words Of Affirmation’ and ‘Physical Touch,’ the latter being my primary language.

“Physical touch is very important. In a crisis situation, a hug can communicate an immense amount of love for that person. A person whose primary love language is physical touch would much rather have you hold them and be silent than offer any advice.”

It is that very reason that I love to give hugs to the people I love as much as I love to receive them. That being said, not receiving hugs or some sort of physical touch when needed is often self-internalized as rejection. However, don’t get me wrong; I am not writing this out of an experience of rejection. My reason for writing this is simply that I believe that, no matter a person’s love language, everyone could use more hugs.

Photo: Breathe Culture on Flickr

I’m most certainly not referring to the one-armed camp counselor hug, the awkward and frozen “three pats on the back and let me go” kind of hug or even the grab and squeeeeeeeeze to death. I believe more people should be less afraid to wrap their arms around someone, to show them that they care and not just through an e-mail or through words. A warm hug to a wounded soul is like chicken soup and 80s movies to the flu. Sometimes it’s just what the doctor ordered, and even better when it’s unexpectedly on the menu.

Let’s start a hugging revolution. Who’s with me?

After weeks and weeks of great anticipation and stories regaled of days of old, the day finally arrived on which Becky and I were to hit the slopes of Mt. Washington. To be honest, after all the hype I fed her, I was a little worried that the weather would be bad or that the beer would be warm or that the men wouldn’t be hot; I didn’t want to disappoint. Fortunately, the powder was fresh, the sky was sunny, the beer was crisp and the men were as delicious as the yam fries in Fat Teddy’s Bar and Grill.

We started the day very early with a handful each of Starbucks’ coffee before making the ascent to the mountain’s lodge. We were full of excitement, anticipation, adrenaline and peanut butter granola bars. We started our day by making our way to the Hawk 6ix Pack Lift and doing a start-up run, but then spent the rest of the day hitting the Eagle and Sunrise quad chairs.

After a quick lunch at Fat Teddy’s and a few more runs, I ran into my brother’s friend, Jared, who at one time lived with my family for a while. It’s always good to have a lot of “big brothers” looking out for you.

Becky and I couldn’t have asked for a day more perfect for riding. I am quite sure that the hype lived up to its promises - and more. I can’t imagine another girlfriend I would’ve wanted to bring. We shot a little video at the top of the Eagle chair, so if YouTube ever gets around to properly uploading the file, I’ll post that for your viewing pleasure. In the meantime, here are a few more shots of the day - find more on my Flickr.

In doing an online Dictionary search for the word “girl,” a minimum of nine possible definitions are produced, followed by a usage note:

Just as many mature men, even young men, resent being referred to as boys, many adult women today are offended if referred to as girls, or the less formal gals. In business and professional offices, the practice of referring to one’s secretary as the girl or my girl, as in “I’ll have my girl look it up and call you back,” has decreased but not disappeared entirely. Such terms as the girls in reference to a group of women, girl or gal Friday in reference to a female secretary or assistant, and bachelor girl in reference to an unmarried woman are increasingly regarded as offensive, and working girl in the sense “a woman who works” is declining in use.

Photo: Retrocactus on Flickr

As for me, I am quite happy being referred to as a girl, thank you very much. In fact, I love hanging out with “my girls,” I love being girlie, I love using the phrase “just being a girl” as an excuse for countless offenses and I love that everything “girlie” is just a little bit more fabulous.

My modest sweater kittens aside, there are more than a manicured handful of things that make me a delicious debutante: my bathroom is awash in a sea of Mac, Clinique, Bumble and Bumble, Bloom, OPI, Smashbox, Lancome and Kiehl’s; I often cry during commercials; I often cry for no reason; my CD collection contains nothing short of Jewel, Hanson, John Mayer and Jann Arden records and I’m rather proud of it; I own every season of Sex and the City on DVD; I take pride in knowing that my bras and panties always match each morning; my toenails are never without pretty polish; my skin smells delicate 24/7; I have more jewelry than I have room for; my bed sheets are a lovely fusion of navy and fuchsia and they’re always clean; I buy new pairs of shoes for special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all; and yes, I too at one time fantasized about being “Baby Houseman.”

There is one thing I will admit to…for the life of me, I cannot understand why any girl for the life of her would resort to the “bend and snap.” Can someone explain that one to me?

In recent weeks, I’ve given much thought about what it means to be a girl. Sometimes it’s much more difficult than men realize. What their logical brains can’t figure out is how we girls can be so illogical at times. And truth be told, sometimes we girls don’t realize it ourselves until the calm has come after the storm. Every girl is unique in her make-up, and I’m certainly not talking mascara and blush brushes anymore. What we’re comprised of, inside and out, is completely different than the girl next to us and the girl next to her. The real challenge lies in uncovering that for ourselves, rather than having someone tell us.

Last week I went for coffee with a friend of mine. He’s someone who is good at giving tough love and telling things as they are. “You’re smart, sweet, sexy, caring and articulate,” he told me. “And you deserve to hear those things every single day.” I couldn’t look him in the eye as he rattled off his laundry list. I looked anywhere else. “It makes you uncomfortable to hear those things, doesn’t it?” he asked. And the truth was, it did.

I find it so easy for me to internalize what other people see as my shortcomings that when the instances come about in which I’m praised, it doesn’t seem at all real. I believe that sometimes, we ladies are capable of wearing many different masks - perhaps not to ourselves but to others. There are times at which I feel as though maybe I’m too high maintenance in many regards. My strong will and independence could be seen as something to fear. Perhaps Carrie Bradshaw summed it up best:

“Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

Sometimes I think that’s me - the girl who is too good of a catch for many men to deal with. I’m not someone that they can easily tame and submit to their will. However, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Then there are the men that will never see me as enough: skin that’s not tanned enough, boobs that aren’t big enough, hair that’s not blonde enough and a handbag that’s not designer enough. I hope to God that will never be true either.

What I do know is who I am under those masks…

You know what’s the best part about being a girl? I’m sure some of you are crossing your fingers, hoping I’m about to say “panty-clad pillow fights with my girlfriends.” Well, no, but stay tuned for that soon enough…

What I like best about being a girl is taking all that I know which I just shared, and knowing that that’s enough. That for the people in my life that love me unconditionally that I am enough just as I am. The good hair days and the bad hair days, the good moods and the bad moods - the good and the bad. It’s best to know that I am who I am and that I’m someone who is unique, individual, special and yes, even rather stunning in her own right.

I hope that you can all find that within yourselves too, man or woman.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bubble bath to run and toenails to paint.

I’m unhappy but I’m not. It isn’t the “January Blues” or SAD. Truth be told, I can’t pinpoint it, but I’ve known for sometime now that I need to love myself more by eliminating the things that rob my life of joy. Either way, I’m heading home to the Island for the weekend and unplugging the computer while turning off my cell phone for 48 hours.

In the meantime, I’ve discovered, there are some things that I can do to increase my joy. One of those things being that I can re-discover the things that brought me a lot of happiness in my younger days. For as long as I can remember, since my age was most definitely in the single digits, I’ve held a personal affinity to U2. I’m not talking about U2 now, but everything prior to 1988 was formative to my childhood years. To this day, ‘The Unforgettable Fire‘ is still my favourite album of all time with the track ‘Bad‘ being the one song I love more than any other song ever written. In fact, were someone to tell me that I could only ever listen to one song for the rest of my life, I would choose ‘Bad’ without any hesitation.

That being said, last night I popped in a DVD that I’d bought a few months ago but had yet to watch: ‘Rattle and Hum.’ I rented this movie incessantly during my junior high years. Now 20 years old, ‘Rattle and Hum’ follows the band through middle America, primarily through stylized black and white concert footage. I’ve never been much of one to enjoy watching concert footage on the screen, but this film is nothing short of pure comfort to me when I seem to most need it.

Below I’ve included the live clip of ‘Bad’ from the movie, along with a few other songs below if you’re interested.

‘I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For‘

‘Running To Stand Still‘

‘Heartland‘

‘Silver and Gold‘ (this includes an amazing guitar solo by the Edge around the 6-minute mark)

All this being said, and considering that I’m unplugging for the weekend, this will be my last post until Sunday evening at the earliest. I won’t be checking phone messages, Facebook, e-mail or comment moderation until that time. Have a good weekend, everyone.

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I dreamed of you last night. You stood there on the other side of the gate; your sandy hair unkempt as I like it, your smile just as warm as I remember. You took me away and I forgot about everything that was on my side of the gate.

Allow me to preface this by saying that Rebecca and I just shared a bottle of Quail’s Gate 2005 pinot noir at Moxie’s. Over the last eight or nine months, I’ve lost about 20 pounds. Man, this is hard to type out. Having lost that much weight has made me somewhat of a “lightweight.” I mean, let’s face it…I wasn’t in “the best of shape,” right? Now just two and a half glasses of rouge vino and I’m ready to go!

I needed to buy new shampoo and more Tonic spray, so after work I tripped over to The Lounge to stock up on Bumble supplies. I met Becky on the corner of Richards and Helmcken. We wanted to walk to Robson and Burrard so she could buy presents for the relatives. We walked along Granville part of the way…

“You ladies can take my virginity…”

That came from a young man, clean cut and well dressed, as we walked along Granville.

Giggles from both of us. If only he knew.

After Becky bought presents, we went to Roots. It’s “Friends & Family” week. Everything in store is 25% off, including sale items. Their remaining pairs of legwarmers were on sale for $24.99. Sooo…

Hot, hey?

Then we went to Moxie’s on Robson. Our waitress had huge boobs that were practically hypnotic and most certainly plastic. The food was good though and we ate too much and drank lots of wine.

Bye.

No, this post isn’t about the tenth installment in the Terminator series in which Arnold Schwarznegger returns as a stripping cyborg. I’m talking about the latest portable music innovation from Samsung.

One of the greatest things about being a blogger whose blog actually gets read is free stuff. Myself and another lovely lady had been asked to partake in a marketing experiment for the Samsung T10 MP3 player. Being a big fan of Apple products, the iPod in particular, I was excited to know I was getting something for free, excited to try it out, but had made up my mind that I’d stick with my iPod. That idea went straight out the window today.

As soon as I got my well-manicured hands on this hot little number, I was hooked. First off, the Samsung T10 is gorrrrrgeous. It’s got a sleek, light-weight design with a just-right touch screen function and a bright, colourful 2″ display screen. Beyond that, the features are absolutely endless and the ways in which you can customize this baby and make it your own are countless.

It took me a little over an hour to have it completely charged, and in that time I ripped a bunch of my favourite records into Samsung Media Studio5 (a CD Rom of the program is included with the MP3 player). I’d always found iTunes a little less than practical in its function, but the Media Studio5 is straight forward, simple to use and easy to navigate.

In no time at all, I had 100 songs downloaded onto the 2GB of space allotted. Not enough records to fill 2GB? No worries there because you can also upload videos and photos (so you can choose your own background). I was also impressed that it comes with Bluetooth 2.0 technology, so not only can I zap songs onto the player, but I can also use the Bluetooth headphones that Samsung have also sent me.

Tomorrow’s walk to work will be the ultimate test, but in my trial listen, “Drunk and Hot Girls” is sounding mighty fine. My next task: get those still-charging Bluetooth headphones in sync with the player for wireless listening fun. I’ll keep you updated in the coming days on what I think of my fun new toy.

I have been awake for somewhere in the range of 17 hours now. My brain stopped functioning many hours ago. I’m all out of wit n’ sass for you kids. Susan and I headed to the U.S. of A to cash in on our rockin’ Canadian dollar and hoped we’d score some sweet deals at the Alderwood Mall. And score we did.

I grabbed another Angels Secret Embrace push-up bra from Victoria’s Secret because it’s basically the most comfortable and flattering bra I’ve ever owned (and makes the girls look simply smashing!) as well as a handful of new panties. Aside from those staples, also now sittin’ in my apartment is Kanye West’s “Graduation,” a faux-suede tote from Target for $20 (a helluva deal), luscious lotions, a new tank and a couple other things I picked up, one of them being Charley’s Christmas present. However, I can’t show you or tell you because then it won’t be a surprise for anyone else on Christmas morning.

My favourite score of the day? The chocolate brown large suede hobo bag I snagged at Coach. Regular price, $350. My sale price, $110. I’ve been wanting one for far too long and that was simply not a deal I could pass up. Happy birthday to me indeed.

I feel peace. I feel happy. I feel content. It’s been much longer than I can remember since the last time I was able to say those three things with honesty. So many of us long for a trouble-free existence and lament over our lives that are anything but carefree. I know because I’ve been there and I’ve spent a lot of time longing for those very same things. Sometimes we choose to feel sorrow, just as we have the ability to choose joy. How much would we appreciate sunny days if we never had to experience rain?

Perhaps I’ve experienced epiphanies, or maybe it was just my time to take forward steps in a way that’s beyond my understanding. Instead of days doubled over in anxiety, I choose to smile. Instead of stinging tears, I choose laughter. Instead of reclusiveness, I choose to hug and embrace.

I am so, so blessed to be in a place where I love myself, where I have huge handfuls of people that love me and let me love them back and instances where I can enjoy people that simply give me the giggles. And believe me, I’ve been giggling a lot these days.

Let me take inventory and check out my “happy stock.” These are some things that are causing my frowns to turn upside down:

- My brother becoming more of a man than I ever imagined

- Rainy days and cozy nights

- Roots and their applause-worthy eco-initiatives

- Rediscovering Extra bubblemint gum

- Puppies!

- A mom and an aunt and an extended family that count for more than 100 relatives ever could

- Finding a picture on Facebook of the boy who broke my heart at 18 only to find him with a receding hairline in his 20s

- Jennifer Garner movies

- Knowing that Christmas is only two months and two days away

- Knowing that both Michael Bublé and Hanson have fantastic Christmas records

- Friends that are as much of homebodies (and camera whores) as me

- Falling in love with Vancouver Island all over again every time the ferry docks

- Falling in love with fall every time a leaf falls in my path

- Discovering new stories about amazing adventures