Quarter life crises are a thing, right?

Holy hell, I’m the worst. In the past few months, I’ve moved countries, changed careers, and possibly bought a house all while procrastinating getting healthy and upping my highlighter game.

I’m such a millenial.

2017 Has been absolutely nuts. Mister and I have moved bases, now back in the USA… or what’s left of it. I’m glad to be back in a place where I can understand the street signs, but things are still in flux. I’m finding myself diving headfirst into creative endeavors. It is overwhelming having chronic illness, and I am finding solace not just in yoga but in my make up and beauty, my fashion and decor. A large amount of headspace has been taken over by wanting to share my idea of pretty with the world. So, when my office job wanted to transfer me to Philly, I put in my notice. I should have known I was losing my mind when I used my insurance money to buy a convertible.

I blame the current political climate, but I digress.

Currently, I am wondering if it is possible to have a quarter life crisis. Should I go forth and pursue something that I love if I could very well fail? Do I stay in a career that I might not like, but am good at? Do I tell my dog he’s adopted?

I’m kidding. I would never put that on Seamus. He gets his anxiety from me. #likemotherlikeson

So, this has been an unnecessary life update. I am trying my best to funnel in what I want this site to be; what I feel it means to be a bombshell. I guess it has to do with not having your shit together, but still liking pretty and fun things. After all, we all have a little bombshell in all of us.

Hey, that’s catchy.

God, I suck at writing

Guess who’s got two thumbs and a penchant for not following through? This guy.

To quickly recap, I’m still in Germany, still married to the military, still purchasing way too many shades of red lipstick, still constantly dyeing my hair.

Oh, but Charming and I adopted a black kitten that we named Dash. Then we found out he was actually a panther. Oops.

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Bombshells and Bras

Much like Moses’s quest for the promised land, I find myself on an epic quest to find the perfect bra. This has been happening for years, and I can only hope I don’t end up in the desert with a golden calf.
I have learned many things during this. First and most importantly, Victoria’s secret straight up lies to you. They want you to buy one of their bras, but they only have limited sizes. When I went to see if they had anything for me, they tried to say I’m a 34C. I’m 30F. Shade thrown. But let’s be real, no one buys Victoria’s Secret bras to wear them for any length of time. That’s the only logical explanation I can come up with for bedazzling lingerie.
It’s hard to measure yourself, so get a friend to help. Think of it as a bonding exercise. I asked Charming to measure me, however it just turned into him bewildered at what goes into women’s clothing. Oh honey, you don’t even know. Continue reading