Eat.Pray.Blog. ~ Lather.Rinse.Repeat.

I woke up Saturday morning looking and feeling phenom and thinking about “Eat.Pray.Love.” The entire week I’d been going back and forth with myself about the new film based on authoress Liz Gilbert’s life. Gilbert has an amazing story, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about this sort of perceived zen-life/love story. I spent the morning weighing my options and after shoulding to myself  for the better half of an hour I decided to go for it. Should … coulda … Prada? I said yes! And you know what, I’m glad I did. Despite landing in the next to giddy TwiHarders; I took a deep breath and focused my energy on focusing my energy.

The films I enjoy the most are the ones that allow you to become a part of the fabric and for me, this story did it flawlessly. Having had my own EPL moment a few years ago, the greatest thing that I’ve learned is the moment you start living for you, everything else falls seamlessly into place. Or at least, you hope it will. For me I’ve never had issues with the eating and even the praying came fairly easy to me. I remember being six years old and having conversations with God about every little thing. Dear God, today Spanky died. Daddy says he has hard worms – please take care of him in heaven. amen. P.S. if he hugs your leg, its best to let him finish. thanks. Love on the other hand, that’s a completely different story.

I literally felt like I had a tsunami floating over my head for the last 30 years. Whoever said it’s better to have loved and to have been loved than never to have been loved at all was seriously mistaken. And by seriously mistaken, I mean high on meth. I’ve loved and been loved and suffered over my fair share of heartbreak because of it. I’ve been howdoyousay … Romantically Challenged.

I’ve been the girl who meets the most interesting man in the world, falls in love with him only to discover that not only is he emotionally unavailable, he’s secretly doing say 14 of his closest male friends – true story. He forgot to tell me he was gay and I was too busy falling in love to notice. That was the most extreme break-up by far, but it wasn’t any less hurtful than 4th of July 1996. The only fireworks I saw that night were the ones between my boyfriend and fellow cheerleader whom I caught with her poms around his ankles. And there was the time that Peter Pan* (no not that Peter Pan, but another one) and I broke up when he explained the reason he missed my cousin’s wedding was because he’d participated in a ménage trois with a girl and her MOTHER!!!! And I wish I were making that up. Unfortunately, the list goes on and on. There was the high school teacher I dated who broke things off with me to date his barely legal STUDENT. In his defense, she was legal, which unfortunately doesn’t make it any less creepy. If there were a contest for the most bizarre break-ups, I assure you my friend – I.Win.

After seeing the movie, I walked out feeling that I had taken the journey along with Liz Gilbert. I was even inspired to go out and find my own Balinese medicine man – which is harder than you think. I settled for a Wiccan named, Randy, who was pleasant and more than willing to shed some light on my past, present and future.

I’m 30 years old and I’ve never had my cards read before nor had I met a real life male witch. I was pleasantly surprised by how normal the whole thing seemed. In my mind, I’d envisioned a tiny woman draped in silk scarves and 80s nostalgia circa Poltergeist Part I. Randy wore a black tee shirt, Levis and Jesus sandals. He handed me the deck, instructed me to meditate on a question and shuffle the cards. Okay self, you’ve just been handed a golden opportunity to suckle from the teet of the great beyond … what does one inquire about? Pretend to think, pretend to think … Love! I want to know about my love life.  I wasn’t allowed to tell him my question and after I shuffled the cards and slid the cards across the table to him. 

I sat quietly as he laid the cards down in what seemed to be no particular pattern. Once he finished working his magick – he opened his mouth and interpreted my life according to the cards. I’ll spare you the details, but the outcome was surprisingly accurate in a tell me something I don’t know kind of way. The cards told him that what ever my question had pertained to (Love life) was a complete cluster f*ck or as he described it “A chaotic tower.”

My entire reasoning behind the reading was to hopefully gain more insight into my life. Instead it was more of an uninspiring treck down the ghosts of relationships past turned pseudo Dr. Randy errr Phil session. “You keep making the same mistakes and – nothing good is coming from it.” We’ll call it psychic tough love. I wanted to burst into tears. I didn’t but I wanted to. Meanwhile back on the other side of the table I sat there waiting for the reading to get all light at the end of the tunnel. All I really wanted to know was how my own movie is supposed to end. Er go … someday my prince will come … Right? Well, sort of. Apparently, my prince will come after I get out of my own way.

Ironically, the card that Randy said was the most important one related to “Looking at the Big Picture.” “This is the card you need to pay attention to and be mindful of” he said tapping his finger. “When you look at the big picture, you’ll learn not to continuously make the same mistakes and you’ll break the cycle.” *Note to self, dear pretty one, b.y.o.b. – be your on beau, only then will you find complete happiness.* Ugh- duly noted.

After our reading was finished, I was allowed to tell him the question that I’d meditated on and I actually felt pretty stupid. I spent $40 getting my ass kicked in a tough love session courtesy of the great beyond. Not at all what I expected. Still, I think I’m starting to get it … … lather.rinse.repeat.

Yeah, yeah great beyond. I’m trying, but in the mean time keep your eyes peeled too. I can’t do it all.


About The.Pretty.One

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.” - Carry Bradshaw The Pretty One is the youngest daughter of a former 70s pageant queen and her first husband, a wealthy financier. A former debutante and southern belle, this Steel Magnolia is anything but. A visionary, she is the owner and creative mind behind a successful boutique communications and event firm. But what I really want to do is dance ... and blog.
This entry was posted in Break-Up, Fate, Film, Humor, Love, Notes To Self, Relationships, Religion, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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