life: super powers not included

photo from Sole

Hey friends, there is still time to enter my Totally Awesome Beauty Giveaway. All the fun (and rules) can be found here. The contest ends Friday, so head over and enter before IT’S ALL OVER!

The dilemma: You’re forced to use custom orthotics or else risk ruining your body mechanics by walking around on flat feet—yet you’d rather not wear closed shoes in 100-degree heat. Do you:

A. Suck it up and throw on a pair of socks and sneakers.

B. Forget the orthotics and slip on flip flops.

C. Duct tape your orthotics to the bottom of your sandals?

I vote for none of the above. Not that there’s technically anything wrong with duct-taped sandals, but it’s just not my thing.

Here’s a brief lesson for anyone who’s never had to wear orthotics (lucky you). They’re shoe inserts that help make up for a too-high arch or flat feet. Because you slip them in your shoes, you’re required to wear a pair that at least have a back and sides. So sandals are out.

For the first two years I wore orthotics I stuck to sneakers, even in summer. Which means that not only was I wearing socks and closed-toe shoes but I also could not wear skirts. (I think the skirt-sneaker look only works with fanny packs and Disney World T-shirts. Unless, of course, you have those cute sneakers which, incidentally, DO NOT FIT CUSTOM ORTHOTICS. Not that I’m bitter.)

Anyhow, then I discovered Sole flip flops, which have arch support and are designed by podiatrists. They’re not the cutest shoes, trust me, but they work well enough. And did I mention they don’t require socks? In summer. No socks. Amazing.

I’m writing about this because I was shopping for my second pair and I thought, Hm, maybe some of my flat-footed readers would be interested in these. And then I thought, Hm, maybe even people who have normal feet would want a pair because they’re really comfortable and so much better for your feet than regular flat flip-flops. (Well, as good for your feet as flip flops can be.)

But don’t think Sole is paying me to say this. Or giving me anything for free. They’re not. Sigh.

Anyhow: Bad feet + Sole flip flops = Happiness.

Anyone ever use Sole? If not, do you wear flip flops or do you heed every single podiatrists’ warning and stay far, far away from those dangerous shoes? (Me neither.)

Remember! You can still enter to win my Totally Awesome Beauty Giveaway. That is, if you like beauty products. Or if you have friends who like them. (Never underestimate the ability to regift.) Interesting in entering? Click here.

Sometimes I see a new health food creation on a blog and I’ll think, That’s genius! Sometimes I’ll sigh, Why didn’t I think of that genius first?!

Example A: Egg whites in oatmeal. That’s genius!

Example B: Almond butter–stuffed dates. Why didn’t I think of that genius first?!

Then sometimes I think: You crazy.

Example C: Kombucha. Ha, yeah right. You crazy.

Talk of the fermented tea is just about everywhere, and as much as I wanted to hear the health benefits all I really heard was this:

Bacteria.

Big giant colony of living bacteria.

Big vat with tea and a giant mushroom of bacteria and yeast.

Mama bacteria patty breeds baby bacteria patty.*

See where I’m going with this?

Drinking it sounded about as appetizing as eating a vat of worms. And in case you don’t know me, I’d rather scoop my eye out with a spoon than eat a vat of worms. (There. That was your daily dose of yuck.)

Anyhow, I really didn’t see the point of drinking tea spiked with bacteria even if it was laced with water from the Fountain of Youth. And then.

You knew that was coming right? And then a family friend said she swore by it. And Averie pinkie promised that I would love it because A. I love tea and B. I love vinegar and this tea tastes vinegary.

Hmm, she had a point. Sometimes I drink tea while eating a salad with vinegar. Kombucha couldn’t be much different than that, right? Besides, I take a probiotic. Isn’t this bacteria just like that? Or the live cultures in my yogurt?

I wasn’t about to just get over my fear, but then I came across this at Whole Foods.

Low and behold, Kombucha exists at the grocery store. So I got it.** (That is, I got it after I checked the bottle to make sure there weren’t any weird floaty mushroom babies in there. All clear.)

I went with the flavored variety so maybe any disgustingness would be masked. At least that’s what I told myself before I took a sip: Oh, Tracey, don’t worry. You won’t taste yeasty bacteria. It’ll taste just like quince.

And you know what? It was good. It tasted like fruity beer. And beer tastes good.

Even The Man liked it. And that’s saying something.

I don’t think I’ll be making my own any time soon—the mushroom still freaks me the heck out—but it’s good to know the bottled version is refreshing and (dare I say it?) tasty.

*No, I did not steal that from a National Enquirer headline. Swear.

**How’s that for carpeing the diem?

Have you tried Kombucha? Thoughts? Do you believe the hype? And now that Kombucha is more or less MIA at the grocery store, how do you get yours?

photo by memckimmy

Well, I’ve lost all faith in Americans.

So the other day, my friends and I were riding the elevator to the parking garage. A man got in on the fifth floor and eavesdropped on our conversation. The whole thing went like this:

“I made an amazing granola bar the other day,” my friend said when I mentioned breakfast.

“You made them yourself?” a random man in the elevator asked. He was staring straight at my friend, a rusty orange chair in one hand.

“Yup,” she said with a shrug.

“Like at home?” He asked. Confusion played across his face. “You can do that?”

In other news, cookies don’t grow on Keebler trees.

A note: Don’t forget to enter my Totally Awesome Beauty Giveaway. Click here to enter to win a package with 13 never-been-used beauty products. Yippee!

Yes, it’s time for Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest No. 3. Yes, this week’s giveaway is made of 100 percent awesome.

Before we get to that, there’s this:

Should you find yourself in a Blockbuster and in need of some food fast, try a Hot Mama pickle.* Sure, the bag of yellowish liquid looks eerily similar to a urine collection bag, but you’ll get over that. You’ll also get over the idea of Blockbuster video selling the pickle alongside gummy candy and jumbo buckets of popcorn.

Who can resist a thick, floating pickle?

I know what you’re thinking: What would you drink while eating a pickle-in-a-bag? Why, nothing other than crambberry juice, of course.**

So, yeah.

Moving on, thank goodness. I’m giving away another batch of beauty products this week. Whee!

Here are the 13 items you can win this week:

1. Philosophy The Cookbook (a set of three scented soaps)
2. Philosophy Purity Made Simple facial cleanser
3. Philosophy Hope in a Jar moisturizer
4. Crabtree & Evelyn Natural Botanical Body Butter in avocado, olive oil, and basil (this body butters is super silky, by the way)
5. Hempz herbal moisturizer (which smells so much better than it sounds)
6. AETO Botanica bamboo and wild mango fortifying mask for hair
7. Leaf + Rusher Acne Spot Treatment
8. Leaf + Rusher Acne Serum
9. Organic Wear Peachy Glow bronzer
10. Tricia Sawyer Beauty Eye Slept
11. Tarte Inside Out lip gloss powered by Borba, in Nirvana
12. Clinique eye shaper for eyes in Brown Sugar
13. Heart Stoppers Get a Grip shoe hearts (pop one of these on the bottom of your new high heels and prevent skidding—or slipping and falling, which is more my style)

Edited to add: PS guys, just a reminder that I’m not giving away any used products. They’re all never-been-used, never-been-touched (aside from desperately trying to remove any price stickers.)

The old rules still stand:

• You can enter once a day until the contest ends
• There are three ways to enter: Leave a comment, tweet about the contest (the link’s here: http://bit.ly/aFVRmN), or become a friend through Google Friend Connect
• You can enter all three ways—or just one.
• The contest will end Friday, Aug. 13. Yes, Friday the 13th. Be afraid.
• I’ll announce the winner on Monday, Aug. 16.

In other news, Jessica at No. 28 is last week’s winner. Three cheers! Just send me your full name and address (e-mail me at tracey@notsuperhuman.com) and I’ll get your winnings out.

To enter you can leave any comment you want, but I understand that total freedom can sometimes make your mind go blank (or is that just me?), so here’s something to think about:

Name a trend you followed in childhood. I’ll go first: I wore those dangerous slap bracelets with pride. Because, of course, nothing says fashion like a piece of metal clothed in fuchsia leopard print fabric.

* Heck no, I didn’t try that thing.

** This is what happens when editors go to breakfast together.

photo by muscl_mc
You do not want to see the “after” shot.

It’s not like I’ve actually fought in a war. That’s a good thing for both me and America. Still, I have war buddies: The girls who were in the trenches with me during the semi-insane years at my first job.

When we get together and reminisce about our old days fighting the Germans at work it’s like life rewinds and the year that bridges the time since we last saw one another disappears. I like friends like that, don’t you?

The reason I bring these ladies up isn’t because I’m sitting home along crying over missing them. (That was soo last month.) Nope, it’s because they’ve driven down from Philly for the weekend. (All but my friend Joy, who’s wading in a pile of work and couldn’t make it. We’ll raise a glass to her in the sort of way that doesn’t imply she’s dead; just busy.)

All this means there will be lots of laughing, screaming (the good, friendly kind), storytelling, and wine going on in apartment 1D. (No, that’s not my real apartment number. But it’s way, way cooler than the real thing.) If you’re my neighbor, sorry. If you’re my neighbor whose cigarette smoke fills my place nightly—I’ll shout extra loud for you.

While I’m gone from the blog, imagine me and the girls touring D.C. and hiking random trails in the area. Of course we’ll be doing none of those things because when you come to visit me you do what I do: Sit around and wish your body wasn’t broken. But I persuade you with chocolate to not really care too much.

Oh, and before I go, you should know that The Man is one of the best photographers I know. He specializes in turning normal humans into half-dead freaks all with the click of a button. Exhibit A:

In real life I do have the lower portion of my eyelids. And eyelashes. But with The Man’s magical photographic talent I can finally look like the eyelidless freak I’ve always aspired to be.

To answer your question: Yes, he does weddings.

I almost forgot! Today is your last day to enter my second Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest, so head here.

Have a good weekend!

Speaking of old war buddies, tell me a work horror story. I love laughing at other people’s misery. Just kidding.

photo here
That, my friends, is cheeze. With a z.

There’s something I want to tackle today, and it mostly applies to women with husbands, though all the single ladies can take this as a warning of impending doom.

How’s that for a cheery, upbeat lead?

I’ll just go on and say it: Getting married makes you eat like crap.

Or, at least, makes you eat worse than you ever used to before you got hitched. It’s scientifically proven, which is saying something. I’m not implying that marriage makes you eat like a man, all burgers and beers and frozen meals that include orange cheeze (in which the z indicates its obscure origins and characteristically un-cheese-like qualities). I am implying—no, stating—that getting married makes you eat stuff you may not have eaten before. Because someone bought it. Or someone brought it home. I won’t mention any names, but it’s usually someone known as The Man.

(Brief pause … the same can be said of men who eat healthy and marry junk food lovin’ women. I don’t have experience with that, but I’m 99.9 percent positive it happens. So I’m not picking on men in general. I’m just more experienced with being married to a guy, you know?)

That’s been the case around here for the past few weeks because I’m at the mercy of The Man’s grocery trips. (And yes I appreciate that he does the shopping and spares my knees and does just about everything else around here. Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer.) But I’ll tell you what: There’s been a sort of chip and bread overload the likes of which this body has never seen.

All of this backstory leads to one good question: How do you eat healthy when your husband is—oh, how do you say it?—a meat and potatoes kinda guy? (And when I say meat and potatoes I mean hamburgers and fries, of course.)

Here’s what you do:

1. Do the grocery shopping. This is an obvious answer for anyone with two legs that happen to work. (Hear that, knees? Other people’s legs actually move without pain. Just sayin’.)

2. Make a grocery list. It’s a good way to take the focus off the Hostess Cupcakes that happen to be on sale and happen to be on an aisle end cap, staring your husband in the face. With a list in hand, he’ll be better able to resist the magnetic pull of the discount aisle and march along to fruits and veggies. It helps if your grocery list says in all caps DO NOT BUY JUNK OR ELSE. No, it’s not necessary to explain what the OR ELSE is. He’ll get the idea.

3. Cook separate meals. This idea doesn’t thrill me, and here’s why: When you make two separate meals you’re not encouraging one another to eat healthy. Sure, The Man can eat a cheeze dog and barbecue potato chips while I munch on a salad, but consistently doing that isn’t any good for him. Besides, it just feels more like a family dinner when the family is actually eating the same dinner.

4. When all else fails, do one of those sit-down serious talks you see on Oprah or Supernanny. I had “The Talk” over the weekend with The Man, and he’s agreed to support my healthy eating. (I’d like to note that The Man and I were at a chain restaurant on our way home from his sister’s and we were munching on jalapeno and cheese poppers during this conversation. Yes, I see the irony.)

There you have it: Simple steps for getting your husband on board with your healthy eating goals. 1. Do it yourself. 2. Give good instructions. 3. Do your own thing. 4. Beg and plead—and lay on the guilt.

By the way, there’s still time to enter my Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest. Woo hoo. So head here and enter if you’re a girl and want to add 11 beauty products to your arsenal. Or if you’re a guy (thanks, Armbar) and want to regift.

Do any of you have a spouse who’s, um, less than enthusiastic about healthy eating? What do you do? If you fly solo, do a girl’s or guy’s eating habits determine whether he gets a second date?

If you’ve been living under a rock, you may not have heard about Caitlin’s Operation Beautiful campaign and book. (And, um, welcome back. May your new digs be much warmer, softer, and more welcoming than your previous abode.)

Here’s the deal: People write meaningful things like “You’re beautiful no matter what” or “Hey, hot stuff” or whatever on Post-it notes. Then they go stick them all over the place for girls to see and smile about. And, no , I’m not talking about an Operation Beautiful note on the inside of a toilet stall (for a good time, call … www.operationbeautiful.com?) but more like a Post-it on the mirror. Sometimes they deface public property with uplifting sayings, which is OK because usually it’s already been defaced, and the words those people scribble on aren’t always so nice.

Anyhow, when Miz talked about the book the other day she mentioned that she likes to leave behind words she’d hope to hear. She asked what random note of kindness we’d like to see. And that got me thinking. One day I hope to randomly see a Post-it that says, “You rock—no matter what.”

Here’s why.

Let’s say you have terrible knees that hate you with every ounce of cartilage in them. Pretend you can’t do much at the gym because said knees will make you pay for it later on. It’s all pain all the time, which isn’t as fun as it sounds. Anyhow, since you were once majorly active you start feeling like crap, what with the severe lack of exercise and all.

You know how exercise can make you feel better about yourself? Yeah, well it works the other way, too, friends. Lack of exercise and movement in general can make you feel like a waste of space whose only purpose in life is to create a solid couch cushion dent.

But then one day you walk into a public bathroom at Panera or somewhere and you see a pink Post-it that says, “You rock—not matter what.” And then you start thinking, maybe you do rock. Maybe you rock more than you’ve been giving your stupid, weak, noncompliant body credit for and—goshdernit—a pair of faulty knees aren’t going to stop you.

That’s why I love the whole Operation Beautiful idea. It’s not even just about weight. Because we all have something we feel like absolute crap about. And once in a while it’s nice to hear from a stranger that you’re not a freak; you’re beautiful just the way you are.

What makes you beautiful no matter what?

Also: I get how strange it must seem to remind you that you can still enter my Totally Awesome Beauty Product Giveaway while talking about Operation Beautiful, but you know what? I think it’s OK to love beauty products while at the same time appreciating yourself for who you are. There, I said it.

photo by natashalatrasha

You guys are spot-on when it comes to unlikeable actors and actresses. I’m not responding to comments on yesterday’s post because doing that would mess up the count and all, and I’d hate to run a contest where I’m the one who royally screws up the entries. So I’m keeping mum. But I will say Matthew “No Shirt” McCaunahey and Jessica “I’m Too Sexy” Biel are at the top of my Hate List. (Which The Man hates, by the way, because Jessica Biel happens to be in man movies like Stealth and Blade and A Team. I refuse to see a movie with her—yup, I dislike her that much—so The Man’s forced to find another movie buddy to catch those totallyawesomeamazing movies.)

Continuing this ramble (I swear, I so didn’t intent for my bashing to go on this long) I agree with Jessica and Ameena, who threw Will Ferrell under the Craptastic Actor bus. I assumed I was the only one who didn’t find him funny. But, thank goodness, I’m in good company. I can’t force myself to sit through another movie where he pretends to be an idiot, gets naked, and yells incoherently. The end.

Not really. Just the end of my rant.

So the other day I was talking to my mother about acupuncture because her brain is nearly exploding and there isn’t enough Excedrin in the world to treat it. In other words: She gets constant headaches and the drugs just don’t cut it anymore. I’m in the process of convincing her to try acupuncture since there’s good research that says it works like a charm. (Well, really the research says something more like “acupuncture leads to persisting, clinically relevant benefits for primary care patients with chronic headache, particularly migraine.” But c’mon, you know my summary is just as good.)

Anyhow, our conversation got me thinking about acupuncture in general. Here’s something I bet you don’t know about me: I tried acupuncture on my knees a couple years ago.

I was in the midst of having a midlife crisis of sorts—my knees were kaput and The Man was carrying me around the house like a mule. Not cool. So I scheduled an appointment with an acupuncturist who was a former NIH doctor and begged her to heal my knees. ASAP, if possible.

I had two sessions and I’ll tell you what:

1. It doesn’t hurt. I’m not sure why I thought those hair-fine needles would somehow make me flinch with pain, but they didn’t. (And now that I get a 4-inch needle full of blood platelets jammed into my knee for PRP I laugh at Old Tracey and her stupidity.)
2. It’s relaxing. My acupuncturist’s office was part doctor’s lair, part spa. Minus the cucumber-flavored water, deep tissue massage, and $200 bill. There was a bed and dark room with soft music, and after the doctor was done jabbing me with needles she let me snooze for a half hour.

I’ll be honest: It didn’t work for me. I know, this is a shocking ending to what you must have assumed would be a glowing review. (I’m tricksy like that.) I so wanted it to work. I gave it two tries. But the fact is, the needles made my Baker’s cysts on the back of my legs ache. And I already had plenty of pain thank you very much. So I stopped going.

The thing is, I still think acupuncture has its place, if not on my legs. I still think it can work, and I think it’s a smarter move than, say, chugging a bottle of Excedrin daily. So I’ll let you know when my mom goes—and whether she’s cured of her daily mind-exploding headaches.

And also: My Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest is still going on, so head here and enter if you want to will 11 different beauty products. Weee!

Have you ever gotten acupuncture? Would you?

I have a very cute niece. I just thought you should know. I met her this weekend and, really, she’s on the ridiculously cute side. I’d say she’s perfect but word is that all the sleeping she did was just for show. Come midnight she’s wide awake and rearing to go till the sun comes up.

This leads me to believe one of two things. One, she has it out for her mom, who no longer understands what the word sleep even means. Or two, she’s a vampire. I’m going with one, but you just never know…

And also: I’ve hit 200 posts. I know that’s terribly boring for everyone except me, but I’m telling you anyway. (Because it’s my blog and I can do that sort of thing.) I’m not sure what thrill I was expecting to get out of hitting the 200 mark, but I’ll tell you what: it’s good to know I can stick at something 200 posts long.

In other news, someone won my first-ever Totally Awesome Beauty Contest. Before I reveal the mystery number, I thought you’d be interested in my Totally Awesome Beauty Contest, Part 2. That’s right: The fun continues.

This time, you can win a package of 11 products:

Philosophy The Fragrance eau de parfum
Trilogy botanical body wash
Mario Badescu Enzyme Cleansing Gel
Pureology hair care sampler pack
Foot Petals strappy strips (to numb the ouch that comes with strappy shoes)
Kiehl’s creamy eye treatment
Madame Paulette professional stain remover kit
Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Raisin
Benefit Eye Bright
Nars face powder in Venus
Benefit Silky Powder eye shadow in Soft Shoulder

The rules are the same. And because I care (always, you know) I’ll bullet point them for you:

• You can enter once a day until the contest ends
• There are three ways to enter: Leave a comment, tweet about the contest (the link’s here: http://bit.ly/csVxuI), or become a friend through Google Friend Connect
• You can enter all three ways—or just one.
• The contest will end Friday, Aug. 6. I’ll announce the winner on Monday, Aug. 9. Happiness ensues.

So there you have it. Another contest. Another chance to win.

And speaking of winning, Random Number Generator says No. 75 gets the loot. (The comments went to 78 when I picked a winner last night.)

So, Deanna G., send an address to tracey@notsuperhuman.com and I’ll mail you the goods.

Oh, by the way, any comment gets you an entry. But if you’re at a loss for what to say, tell me which actor or actress you can’t stand.

I’ll even go first—just to break the ice, you know. I can’t take David Caruso from CSI Miami. The way he takes his sunglasses off to punctuate each and every one-liner he says makes me want to throw a rock at my TV.

photo by kenziemc
How gorgeous is this shot? Love it. Wish I had taken it.

Holy moley. It’s basically August and I have yet to sit out in the sun or see an ocean or wear shorts. It’s a cryin’ shame.

Remember those days in school where you had to write about what you did on summer vacation? Yeah, me neither. I think that happens only in the movies or in Pizza Hut commercials. But anyway, my point is that if I ever got stuck in a Pizza Hut commercial and had to tell about this summer it’d be a snoozefest. It would go something like this:

I worked and then one weekend I went and got an eye exam and then we went to the office and it was neat. But then we went again and it was boring because we kept going all the time and I didn’t want to because it was so nice out. That’s why I wanted to go to the beach but we couldn’t. Then one time we went to The Man’s sister’s house because it was Fourth of July and there wasn’t fireworks but we didn’t care too much. Only we wish there were. This summer I got two nieces which were OK I guess but kinda boring because all they do is sleep and I wanted to play but their moms said no. Dumb. And then I went back to work and that’s all I do but I have to or else I don’t get allowance.

Yes, it’d be written like that because I’d be 7 and that’s how 7-year-old’s write.

Anyhow, take it from grown-up me, this summer has been kind of lame-o. Minus a couple trips, it’s basically been winter minus the snow. Sigh.

What’s a girl to do? Why, cram it all into one month, of course. Which is why I deem August the Great Month of Excitement And That Sorta Thing. I’m visiting my new niece this weekend, have next week off, dinner with a friend during the week—yes during the week, which is a big deal for this old lady—out-of-town friends visiting over the weekend, and a wedding the following Saturday. Jam-packed, and that’s only the first two weeks.

What ever will I do with the rest of the month? I have an idea.

photo by planetchopstick

Eh, I’m kidding. Sorta. I do love my sleep.

This may also be on the to-do list seeing as all of this peanut butter and jelly consumption has given me a big craving for veggies:

photo by fotoosvanrobin

And finally, August will continue my five weeks of giving you all free stuff. (Cue chorus of elated fans.)

On Monday, I’ll announce the winner of the first Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest. Today’s your last chance to enter (here), so use it or lose it.

Also on Monday: I’ll reveal the next Totally Awesome Beauty Package Contest. The fun just won’t end.

And now a question for you: If you had plenty of disposable income and a month to spend it, where would you go on your summer vacation? What would you do? (To force you to get creative, here’s a rule: You can’t save the money or use it for practical things like groceries, a house, or car payments. That’s a bore.)