Full disclosure: my self esteem is similar to that of any realtor’s will to live on any given episode of Tiny House Hunters.
Yeah, it ain’t great.
A lot of things factor in to this such as my constant weight fluctuation, my very tiny stature, oh and the fact that I’m CONSTANTLY ITCHY. Continue reading
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.
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.
My name is Ellee Long, and there is a 63% chance that I’m allergic to you. Continue reading
What is it about certain situations that makes you apply makeup like war paint?
As you lovelies may know, I’m trying to get healthy. Yes, a lot of this is me being vain. I know we all read about those women who say “I just want to be healthy. It’s not about looks.” Yeah, that’s bullshit. I’m secure in myself to know that I’m in this to get to Bettie Page levels of awesome. I already got amazing hair and makeup skills. This is obviously the next step. If I become a healthier person, that’s a perk too.
So, after singing a requiem for my chocolate ice cream, I jumped back (literally. I started swimming) into the swing of things.
I forgot how HARD this was.
On recommendation from my fantastic friend, Justine, I signed up for Piyo. Of course, when I first heard the word, I thought it was some magical weight loss frozen yogurt. I was wrong. Good God, was I wrong.
The Piyo lady seems so nice. I don’t know why she takes such pleasure in my pain.
I’m only on week two, so here’s hoping that the endorphins start kicking in soon. I know I’ll stick with it though. Charming already completed P90X and started P90x2 while signing up to be a Beachbody coach. Show off.
Currently, I’m laying on my couch, sweaty and in pain, trying to convince my dog to get me dinner. Seamus Finnigan needs to start earning his keep, after all. No luck yet.
I wonder how much it would take to get my cat to carry me to the shower…
~Little Bombshell
What exactly is the “treble” in All About That Bass? Is the bass your bum and treble your boobs? Is “bass” a metaphor for being curvy and treble its angular opposite?
This is what occupies my headspace at work. I clearly need a new job.
Why, do you ask? I just put down my deposit for a Celeste Giuliano photo shoot! !!!!! That’s right, soon this gal
Will be working with the BEST pin up photographer in the known universe. Except maybe Neptune. That’s one sexy extra terrestrial object, so obviously their photographers are top notch.
Check out her work… and drool over it at celestegiuliano.com. I’ve never seen better work, and two of my three best friends model professionally.
I don’t think I can fully express how excited I am for this. Maybe this will show that the pin-up life is for me. I hope so. I’m shit at geography, so there isn’t much else I would be good at.
I’ll keep you lovelies up to date because I’m vain as fuck. I love you all!
Now back to the wine.
~Ellee
So, my laptop is on its way out. It’s impressive, though, since it has lasted for four years. As someone whose super power is being a human EMP, that is quite the achievement. Now, the keyboard is jacked (my fault since I type with purpose) and the space bar only works half of the time. Even typing this post is driving me to drink.
I’m looking up reviews of different computers/tablets/whatever and realizing I have NO IDEA what I’m doing. How do I make myself feel better? Play with makeup, of course!
I’m really good at looking at the camera like a deer in headlights.
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
Little Bombshell 