It's MY Time To Shine!

What's this business about nerdy being the new black?

Word on the street is glasses and Star Wars are not only okay, but trendy.  Love video games, Gremlins and Sonic breakfast burritos?  You are now part of the cool kids club.

Why was this not an option in Jr. High as I entered into frog jumping contests and wore Muppet characters on my over sized clothing?  I so would have been the coolest.

Fortunately, I managed to hold on to parts of that inner geek that was never entirely eliminated when I learned how to de-frizz my hair, wear clothes that fit, and adopt normal hobbies like going to the ballet and watching Hoarders on A&E.

For example, I geek Matlock.

I geek highwater sweatpants for laying around the house.

I geek macaroni and cheese with hot dogs.

I geek the color purple.

I geek glasses.

I geek random facts.

I geek movies and shows about aliens.

I geek movies and shows about zombies.

I geek correct grammar.

I geek fart jokes.

I geek reading.

I geek Friday nights at home.

...and so on.

I used to geek All My Children.  But then I got a job and now I'm geeking full time employment.

Needless to say, I'm part of the cool kids club.

Finally!!

It only took years of slouch boots, acid washed jeans, shoulder pads, shirts tied around waists, skinny jeans, ballet flats, and UGG boots to get me here.

Now let's just all try our hardest to keep this new nerd culture going.  For my sake.

VOGUE

Someone please come find me and look at me. 

I need witnesses.

According to Chanel and The New York Times, I am trendy.  I am in style.  But just for today.

Apparently, the "just got out of the shower/need to be at work in 15 minutes" look is in.  You know, the one where you take your sopping wet hair, pull it back in a bun (lopsided or not, doesn't specify in the article), and coat it in hair spray to keep all those little strays from forming a frizz halo.  This is me today.

Also, Sally Hansen pastels are in.

Chanel says so.  But these are more green and my pastels are blue.  And I keep 'em on my toes, not my fingers.  I think that still counts, though.

I would show you a picture of my toes, but I haven't had a pedicure...since August.

And I would show you a picture of my hair, but you would see my face.  "Just got out of the shower/need to be at work in 15 minutes" make up is not yet in style.

You just have to take my word.  I look good today.  The very top and bottom of me.

The freedom of maturity

Boy, if you could've seen eighth grade Stacie. 

Those of you who have,  please keep all comments to yourselves.  Thanksomuch.

Fortunately, throughout high school I became less awkward, wore contacts, found clothing that was my size and did not make declarations of peace or show Kermit the Frog in his underwear.  I learned how to de-frizz my mane and gave up my rainbow colored shoelaces.

And thanks to my newly developed self-doubt and insecurity I also came up with new rules on parental public displays of affection and when playing in the snow with my kid sisters was acceptable.

I still wasn't cool (see marching band references), but I was pretty normal.  However, even that took hours of careful deliberation of what to eat, say and wear, and thousands of she-said-that-he-said-that-he-said-that-she-said-that-she-said conversations.  It was exhausting.

Hallelujah, those days have passed!

Now, I embrace the frizz. 

I wear a bright green jacket in the dull, dead winter.

I run like an idiot in the park with my dog.

I build lopsided snowmen with my dad.

I wear pajamas and slippers to the grocery store.

I am still very embarrased to ride around in my dad's '95 rust-mobile, but that's because I know one of these days it is going to die with me in it and I'll either be trapped inside or you'll see me in the middle of an intersection pushing the dang thing to the side of the road.  But I digress.

I eat chocolate cookies with little regard to my expanding...um, lower section.

And I wear things that are functional.  Like my winter boots.  With my nice work pants tucked in them.

Sometimes I miss those "carefree" days when I was a teenager, but not often.  I'm usually too busy running around, making a fool out of myself and loving every minute of it.

Identity Crisis

Hello.  My name is Stacie.

"Hi Stacie."

I am...in between identities.

In 10-13 days the federal government will officially know me as Stacie Lucas, and poor Stacie Dina will get a courteous "don't let the door hit ya....."

Days after that, New York State DMV will make me wait. 

And wait. 

And then they'll know me as Stacie Lucas.

My credit cards.....I think I'll keep them the way they are.

Here's my problem, identity crisis support group, I like my old name!  I've had it for 27 years and I guess I'm attached to it.  I like the way it sounds! (to be fair, though, Lucas is a lot better than a Hershberger, Yoder, or something ending in -oski.)

Stacie Dina was a competitive 4-H frog jumper.  She was a moderately talented trombone player who graduated from high school almost with honors and attended Purdue University.

So far, all Stacie Lucas has done is organize a set of drawers and make some exploding raspberry turnovers (more on that later!).  Not quite as impressive as running across a football field in granny shoes while trying not to knock out your two front teeth with your mouthpiece (more on that upon request).

I guess Stacie Lucas is just going to have to top the feats of her past life, which will mean working hard, setting goals, and eating a balanced breakfast each morning.  Building a successful Stacie Lucas is not going to happen overnight, but it is worth the effort because that is who I am now.

Thanks for listening.



"Hi.  My name is Mark and I like to wear pantyhose."

I think I'm in the wrong group.