SAD
Despite all my avid resolutioning and attempts at making 2005 a massive stride towards self-improvement, I have found myself rather glum of late. At first I thought it was my roots. When their natural color begins to show, my complete demeanor changes. (A quick root fix while waiting for Parlour Therapy can wreak havoc on any Twirty.) But after three glorious hours in the swivel chair with my stylist, I still remained a wee bit blah. (Beautiful with big, I'm-a-sex-kitten-hair, but blah.) This is very telling as we all know that a girl is at her confidence apex when she leaves the Beauty Parlour. You can spot her a mile away -- she's the one making grand movements with her head at every opportunity such that her hair swings this way and that like a TV commercial. Indeed, the hair swoosher is a happy girl. But I digress. Let's please refocus on me.

Still blue with beautiful, big hair, I figured it must be my bag. I ruled out shoes and clothes because they are changed every day, whereas the bag remains consistent (somewhat). Deciding New Year's resolution #81 (no more bag purchases unless house burns down) was worth breaking in the name of mental health, I outbid my Ebay nemesis, shopswithmoneytoburn, on a tried-and-true Jackie-O Gucci. But alas, even with keeper bag of keeper bags on my shoulder and hair completely commercial-worthy, I was not-so-perky.

By this time, mild concern was turning panicked. Was I having a thirty-three-point-three percent life crisis? Was I menopausal at age twirty? Oh tell me, no! Did I have some sort of deadly disease? Would I never live to own a pair of Manolos? 'Twas enough to send a girl to bed. And so, I declared myself in crisis mode, reporting to Shop Girl that I would be unable to get a manicure, shop, or cocktail on Saturday. I explained to her my Last Will and Testament and showed her where I kept my Pucci scarves should I depart this world in my sleep. (Odd that she didn't want any of my clothes. Has my illness impaired my chicness?) I then brought all necessities into my bedroom: phone, computer with extra long internet connection, Valentine's- themed M&Ms (love the pink and red together, very chic chocolate combo), movies, water, yummy hand cream and at-home spa treatments, and settled in for a long winter's nap.

Cocooning quite nicely, I began thinking about satin sheets. I've never owned any, opting in the past for high-thread-count cotton or fashionable prints, and it seemed a pity to die without experiencing a luxurious sleep. But after daydreaming my way through my tragic death scene where Shop Girl finds me in my adorable flannel PJs wrapped in deliciously luxurious satin sheets only to profess that flannel and satin don't 'work', I realized that my condition was only worsening. It was time to get serious. It was time "to heal thyself". It was time to Google and get to the bottom of this. (Googling (in all verb tenses) is one of my new favorite words. Very hip to use in conversation, as well.)

I entered search words describing my symptoms. And in nanoseconds, I was face-to-face with my answer. Skipping the first option, "manic depressive illness", which even an overeater like myself couldn't face, I saw my diagnosis. I was SAD. Hurrah! A treatable illness. According to a report performed by Physician Engineered Products, Inc., Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is a clinical condition characterized by depressed mood (def. me), lethargy and fatigue (me), excessive sleeping and eating (see me in cocoon with M&Ms), increased weight (me + aforementioned M&Ms), social withdrawal (me not shopping) and decreased amorousity (hmmm...no comment, not even sure it is a word). It is seasonal - beginning in the fall and ending in the spring. Studies show that exposing SAD victims (love thinking of self as victim, so tragic) to extended light (thereby mimicking summertime conditions) can reduce or eliminate SAD symptoms.

Relief upon all reliefs. All I needed was light therapy to simulate summertime conditions. (Who knew there were therapeutic treatments beyond mall and the beauty parlour?) I've opted to pass on the #1 prescribed light goggles, as they don't really work with my overall look and I already busted the budget on the Jackie-O. Instead, I'm embracing full spectrum light bulbs throughout my abode and have invested in this desk lamp at my lovely new desk. (Passersby think I'm self-tanning and Shop Girl is ignoring me entirely.) Adding in some fresh glosses and festive flats in summer hues, and I tell you, I'm walking on sunshine right here in the midst of March.

Anyhoo, that about sums me up. The big D is over, springtime and prissy skirts await just around the bend and all the stores are painting themselves pink. What's not to be happy about?

Ta ta, my loves. Smile pretty and try not to break too many hearts!

xoxo,

she she me

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