I Remember Everything (A Shy Kid Looks Back)

Alright lovelies, before we get started on the riveting stories I'm about to share with you I want to make a few comments on the outfit. 1: yes I realize that it is summer and I am wearing a trench COAT and JEANS but 2: I've been DYING to wear the aforementioned trench coat and it started out as a cloudy day so I took full advantage of it and 3: that was basically it, there wasn't really a three. Lets get to it then. As a child I was always shy. No, that's a lie. I wasn't really a shy child until my family and I moved to the states when I was four. When I was two years old going to school in Guatemala I was perfectly sociable. I had my small group of friends, one of whom was a rather chubby child who I shared 90% of my lunch with at her request. (Understandably my mother was greatly annoyed by this.) I think the shyness started due to being thrown into a new country in which I understood nothing. I started keeping to myself more, not that the other 4 year old preschoolers didn't try to talk to me. Bless their little souls. Their attempts just weren't very successful since I couldn't really talk back and often times it felt more like they were talking AT me rather than TO me. Anyway, that's were the shyness began. My childhood shyness is most evident to me in four stories.

ONE:
When kindergarten rolled around I was pretty much fluent so language wasn't a real big issue anymore but my shyness had already kicked in. Sure I talked to my fellow five year olds and we were buds, but that's just it we were BUDS not FRIENDS. For my entire kindergarten year I elected to spend my entire recess playing with my older sister and her cool older kid friends. Which, now that I think of it kind of made me the bad a$* kindergartener (that sounds like it would be the prequel to that movie "The Kindergarten Cop"). Playing with my older sister required sneaking off from the "little" kids playground over into the "big" kids playground without getting caught. I never got caught. You might wonder why I chose to hangout with my sister's friends instead of making my own. Well, the answer is simple. My sister's friends spent an entire hour of recess cooing over me calling me an "adorable baby" while teaching me how to make mud pies. Who wouldn't want to make mud pies with people who think you're an adorable baby? Nobody. In fact, I want to do that right now.

TWO: In the subsequent years my shyness was cemented in by my transformation into Asian girl genius. What is this you ask? Well, in order to answer this I have to inform you that I'm about to get a little stereotypical and maybe even a lil bit racist. You've been warned. You know how most Asian kids are school junkies who excel in anything academic, are obsessed with getting perfect grades, and respect their elders almost to the point of creepiness? That was me. At least from the ages of 7-13. Not that I stopped caring about academics after that it's just that after that I started getting a little more "stick it to the man".

THREE: During those years I had my small intimate group of friends who I would spend my recess hours with imagining up all sorts of weird little games and co-writing novels that we just knew in our little hearts would be the next Harry Potter in terms of success. Then 6th grade rolled around right along side with hormones, early signs of puberty for most of my fellow classmates (Myself not included. The Boob Fairy was never kind to me), and the start of "the popular kids". I was not a popular kid. I had BIG hair, no gifts from the Boob Fairy, I read books for *gasp* fun, I was good at school, I was quiet and when I spoke I said weird things, and I dressed so fashion forward that my outfits were deemed weird by most of the 6th grade population. Back then white leather moccasins were my staple, loafers where my go to shoes, and patterned skinny jeans or well tailored pants were my wardrobe favorites. Everybody hated it. I dressed like a 40 year old in an 11 year old body. (Thank goodness moccasins, loafers, and printed pants actually came in style now because now I can say I was just ahead of the fashion crowd. [; ) All the other little girls dressed in denim mini skirts or short shorts with baby pink spaghetti strap tops. While they were committed to "fun", "flirty" outfits I was committed to quality items that looked expensive and "put together".  You'd think I was going into work at some fancy New York office rather than 6th grade.

FOUR: Now, please don't get offended by what I'm about to say next and pardon my French but it needs to be said...there's always that one douche kid. We all know it. That one kid that proves that, yes, children can be douches. That one kid that's the "funny guy" but is really the "jerk butt guy". For me this kid was Josiah (his name has been changed to protect his douchey identity). To be honest, his jerky attitude toward me wasn't unrequited. Believe me when we spoke, which wasn't often because we generally tried to avoid each other like the plague, his snarky attitude and snappy comments didn't go unanswered without a good jab or two from me. It all started on the first day of 6th grade. We were standing next to each other in line waiting to be let inside. Now, before I tell you what happened next I have to inform you that from my early years of life up until I was about 11 I had a very narrow understanding of race. I just naturally assumed that if you were tan or on the darker side like my family and me or black then you just had to be from some other country. I had no concept of the term African-American. I know I had been taught a little bit about it but it just hadn't sunken in. Josiah happened to be black. I'm sure you can see where this is going. So, standing there in line I asked him where he was from. He looked at me and told me that he was from Utah. I then asked him, "okay, but where are your parents from?" Big mistake. He looked at me with an expression of sheer contempt and told me that his parents too were from Utah. It's a good thing I stopped there and didn't say what my young naive mind was thinking next which was, "well then why are you black?" I wasn't trying to be racist, I was just trying to understand and strike up a conversation with my belief that we both had being foreign in common. In my shy attempt to make a friend my inadequate mouth spluttered out probably the worst thing it possibly could and instead, I made the kid hate me and from then on it was just downhill mutual dislike. The Guatemalan Girl vs. The Black Kid.

{H&M: Polka-dot button up top; Gap: trench coat similar, jeans similar, Tanger Outlets: white oxfords similar}

Anyway, there are my tales of a shy kid. I was ridiculous. I know. You'll be happy to know that my shyness did eventually ebb away by the beginning of 9th grade but that's an "Am I Even Funny" story for another day. What was your elementary school experience like? Email me or make my day and comment below!

Much Love!

Linking up with: Because Shanna Said So

Babies who Hate...Become Lovely Adults

This is the first of my "Am I even Funny (and other concerns)" life story posts. Be in awe. ;) If you don't know what I'm talking about then read my last post. Let's get started. You know how most babies are cute little slobber goobers who love kisses, cuddles and just love in general? I was not one of those babies. I was a baby who hated. Much to the disappointment of my dear old dad, my baby self hated him. He couldn't hold, kiss, cuddle, or even really look in my direction without me bursting into the sort of tears that make you want to play it like Van Gogh and chop off not one but two of your ears. Luckily he didn't take it too personally because I did this to everybody who wasn't my mom. As the story goes I apparently had the unique -at least to babies- ability of having the glare of a thousand suns and I frequently employed this ability when I was in the arms of 99% of the human population. You're probably wondering why I'm so openly sharing with you all the fact that I was apparently born a demon. Well, let me tell you all a different story that will tie it together.

{F21: scoop neck basic top similar, pearl heart stud earrings similar; Charlotte Russe: white wedges similar; Nordstrom: infinity ring similar; Skirt: vintage, inherited from my grandma similar here, here, and here}

The day I was born the sun was shinning, the flowers were especially bright, the grass was green and the heavens parted as I made my entrance into the world and the doctors were in awe of my awesomeness. Haha, as if. My actual birth story went more like this. It was four weeks before I was even due and in the middle of the night my mom awoke with horrible contractions. Seeing as I decided to make my glorious appearance four weeks early I had no name. In a cute story that involves my grandma and dad both writing up separate lists of names on which they both wrote down Allexis, I was given a name. I know, tear inducing right? Anyway, after her c-section my mom says that the doctors doped her up so much that she hardly new what was going on. All she remembers is seeing me and thinking I looked like Snow White (coincidentally my least favorite princess) hair black as night and skin white as snow. I of course have no proof of this because there are literally no photos of me until I'm a few months old. My parents claim this is because since I was premature they had no time to get a disposable camera (oh the 90's!). I know better...I'm adopted. Ha, just kidding. I look too much like them to be adopted. Anyway, the point of this story was actually to share the significance of my name (not my secret belief that I may have been adopted). My name means: defender of mankind. Pretty nifty right? I mean, I was clearly meant to be a superhero! Maybe I'm meant to defend mankind with my unique glaring abilities. Alright, alright, back on track. Anyway, throughout the subsequent years of my life I lived up to my name. I have striven to defend mankind endlessly and I try to truly love and see the good in every human on this planet. Key word here being try, it isn't always easy. The point of all of this rambling is that even though I was born a hateful baby I grew up to be a perfectly adequate and loving adult. Aw the classic tale of spawn of Satan baby turned loving angelic adult, touching right? ;) So, what's the meaning of YOUR name? I'd love to hear, email me or comment below!

Much Love! 

P.S. I feel the need to point out that I now very much adore my Dad. He is possibly one of the sweetest humans I have met thus far. Also, I love this vintage skirt that I was able to get from some of my grandma's things. It makes me feel like a fine lady straight from the 60's or a chic little ballerina!

Linking up with: Fashion and Beauty Finds

Am I even Funny? (And other Concerns)

If you read this post then you know that I was reading Mindy Kaling's book, Is Everyone Hanging Out 
Without Me? (And Other Concerns). Well, I finished it and it was...well, (If you watch How I Met Your Mother then imagine what I'm about to say next in Barney's voice) TOTALLY AWESOME! Anyway, it kind of got my creative/funny juices flowing and inspired me to write my own version of Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? Hence the title of this post. While it got me all inspired to narcissistically share with you all the life story of a young vaguely strange Guatemalan living in Utah it also got me wondering if I could even do it. I mean, I know I could totally write it all out, what I was wondering was if it would even be funny like I intend it to be. I mean, am I even funny? I like to think I am. Well, at least my friends tell me I'm vaguely humorous. If you've ever watched Emma, starring Gwyneth Paltrow, then you will understand why that last statement is funny. If you haven't then you will just read it without finding it at all humorous and move on...well, actually...what the heck? Why haven't you seen it, and what are you still doing reading this post? Stop reading and go watch it now. It's on Netflix! Actually, don't stop reading. Finish reading this whole post and then go watch a movie that will move you into falling in love with an older British male.

{F21: skirt similar, basic tank similar; Tanger Outlets: sunnies similar; Hat: borrowed from my sister; Sandals: Guatemala }

Anyway, back on point. For the next couple of blog posts I will be sharing with you all my life as I have seen it, with hopefully humorous and awe inspiring undertones that will make you all wish you were currently a 21 year old Guatemalan girl living in Utah blogging about the clothes she puts on her back and her semi interesting opinions. ;) Oh and I actually lied. This little venture of mine will probably not take a mere few blog posts. Why? If you've ever received a text from me then you already know the answer to this, but for the majority of you the answer is this: everything I say, whether it is said or written, is wordy to the EXTREME. I ramble and babble a lot. Example: if you ask me what I had for lunch I will proceed to tell you a ten minute story about everything that was going on around me and every tiny emotion I felt as I ate said lunch before I tell you what I actually had. -Insert French accent- I am told dees ees a habit most females have, no? Anyway, now you are prepped and ready for the blog posts to come. If you have little to no interest in hearing the tale of how a heroic tiny foreign brown girl living in a state most people wrongly associate with polygamy got to be a weird little fashion blogger then you can simply ignore the massive quantities of text you will see and simply look at and hopefully be inspired by the outfit I so coyly dressed myself in for the day. I will not be offended. Probably. Plus, the only way I'll have of knowing if you did or didn't read my life story told in broken up posts is if you comment with something like, "nice shoes". Which I will then proceed to answer with an "aww thanks" that will be genuinely heartfelt but still probably slightly hurt that you didn't actually read my riveting life story. ;)

Much Love!

Linking up with: The Pleated Poppy

Whatever Happened To?

Hello friends! How art all of you? Here in Utah today is day in which we Utahns celebrate a little holiday we like to call Pioneer Day. The point of the holiday is to remember and celebrate the pioneers who settled the state. For a lot of Utahns the significance comes from remembering their pioneer ancestors. However, since I'm an immigrant I don't have any pioneer ancestors to celebrate, BUT my family and I have come to the consensus that as immigrants our family basically qualifies as modern day pioneers for our future generations to come. With that in mind, we decided to make Pioneer Day a day all about us...so we take the liberty of celebrating ourselves! We treat ourselves to a day of going out to the movies, eating any junk food our little hearts desire and just all around basking in and celebrating each others pioneer glory!

{Target: skirt; H&M: booties similar, hat; Top: old, similar}

This morning I saw an outfit similar to the one I'm wearing on Free People's Pinterest feed and decided I had to replicate it because, um, if Free People did it it's obviously an awesome look right? ;) Anyway, last week I got to having a bunch of "whatever happened to" thoughts and it got me thinking that it'd be nice to share them here so let's make a bullet list! You all know how fond I am of lists! 

Whatever Happened To...

• Lady Gaga? My sister and I recently got to discussing Lady Gaga's apparent disappearance. I mean, whatever happened to her? One minute she was wearing meat dresses and singing about being "born this way" and the next...WHAMMO...shes gone! Not that I'm complaining or anything, I've never really been a big fan of hers, but still...eerie. 
• Passing notes instead of texting? I mean, I know phones and texting kind of rendered notes obsolete but I miss notes, they were so nice. A note was heartfelt, it took time to write out in perfectly adorable teenage script and I mean, it used to take some serious risk to pass a note back in the day. I mean, heaven forbid your teacher caught you passing notes and then proceeded to read aloud to the class about your undying love for McHottie. Notes for me died sometime around sophomore year in high school. Which, you know, considering how cell phones really took off for teenagers sometime when I was in the 8th grade it's pretty impressive that notes where able to hang on for that long. The reason I even got to thinking about this is because I found an old note I had gotten from my best friend when I was 15. It was adorable. We talked about the then "man of my dreams" code name, Frosted Flakes.
• Asking a girl on a DATE rather than asking her to HANG OUT? Maybe to some this one will seem kind of pointless. I bet some of you are wondering is there even a difference between the two? There is. The difference is that guys have started calling dates "hang outs" to make it seem less official, less real, less committed. It's mega annoying, let's just be real. If you want to spend an hour+ of time with me than just gussy up and call it a DATE. I "hang out" with a friend, not with someone I'm romantically interested in spending time with. Maybe I'm alone in this one, but that's how I see it. 
• Labeling things? This one is kind of in line with the last one and I mean it solely in the terms of relationships because labels like "geek" or "nerd" aren't necessarily good. Anyhow, it's kind of frustrating how so many people seem so averse to labeling their relationships. If you're exclusively dating a person then again just gussy up and put the boyfriend or girlfriend label on the sucker. It saves confusion, heartache and time. Is it really so bad to DTR? I mean, labels are good. Humans thrive on labels. How would the world function without 'enter' and 'exit' labels on doors, or the 'women' and 'men' labels on bathroom entrances. Labels give us direction, and clarity. If you're sure about the person then DTR and walk on through the 'enter' doorway, if you're not sure about DTRing then it's probably for a reason and it'd probably best to proceed through the 'exit' doorway. Again, not everyone is going to agree with me on this one but it's just kinda how I feel, plus there's a reason we all hate "500 Days of Summer" anyway. Nobody can stand it that Zooey Deschanel's stupid character, Summer, won't DTR with poor adorable Tom. Which, if we really get down to analyzing the movie it kind of goes along with what I was saying. Why didn't Summer label her relationship with Tom? Because she didn't love him, she wasn't sure about him so she should have just saved Tom the heartache and stopped seeing him after the first couple of dates. 
• Non automatic toilets, sinks, and paper towel dispensers? I know I already dedicated practically a whole post to this one here but I seriously hate automatic bathrooms SO much that I had to say it again. Plus, I just needed a fifth bullet. I like making all of my lists in groups of five. Why? If it's not a list of five it freaks me out, and a list of five is lucky because five is my lucky number. 

Much Love!

Linking up with: Fashion and Beauty Finds

Lists? Lists are Good.

I'm reading Mindy Kaling's book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and Other Concerns). It's pretty much pee your pants hilarious, but I mean this is Mindy we're talking about here so obviously it's ridiculously fun. Don't know who Mindy is? Shame on you. Go Google her now and read her entire Wikepedia description. If that isn't enough to convince you that she's awesome go watch an episode of "The Mindy Project". You will die of laughter and then come back from the dead just so you can watch the next episode. Not even kidding. Why am I sharing this with you? I think you should totally read it and bask in its hilarity, but mostly I'm sharing this information because, eh, I can't really think of anything else to say. I guess it's just one of those completely blank mind kind of days. Alright, to help with my blank mindedness how about we make a list? Lists are good. Alright, before we start I just made a random connection! You know that little minion in Disney's Hercules that says, "If? If is good." Well, that "List? Lists are good" that I just said totally reminded me of that so go back and re-read that line in the voice of that little minion!

{Ross: studded peter pan collar top similar here and here; Target: boyfriend jeans, wallet; H&M: pink wedges similar; F21: earrings borrowed from my baby sister}

Onto the list! What is passing through my mind right. This. Second.

1. I'm watching Admission right now. You know, that rom-com with Tina Fey and Paul Rudd? I'm like 15 minutes in and I'm already totally heart melting like warm butter down hot toast over Paul Rudd's adorable smile! Sigh. He's gotten cuter with age. I mean, he was totally baby puppy cute in Clueless but now he's lost the awkwardness that came with wearing the 90's male version of mom jeans. Eep! Just watched a scene in which Tina Fey goes in for a cheek kiss and accidentally ends up VERY awkwardly smacking her mouth into Paul's open mouth. Ha, hilariously awkward! 
2. I'm in the process of getting a new mattress so I've been sleeping on the couch. I've never been one to give a crud about sleeping comfort. I know. I'm weird. I just have never really been a big fan of sleeping. If I could do without it, I totally would. Anyway, with that said, I never thought that I would miss a bed so much. Couches are not comfortable. I don't know how my sister slept on a couch for almost two years. She's a beast. 
3. I may or may not have fantasized about future engagement and wedding photos last night. We've all done it before right? Right? Ok, maybe it's just me then. Call me crazy but I fantasize more about the engagement and wedding PHOTOS than the actual engagement or wedding. I totally know where (a green field up in the mountains of Utah or a totally colorful meadow) I would want to take them and I can totally already envision how I'd pose and everything. Crazy seeing as I'm single, but I mean what kind of girl would I be if I didn't occasionally imagine these things. It's completely healthy. Completely. Plus, this was a may or may not have situation here so you guys can't be sure whether I did or didn't. ;)
4. Mint and pink? New favorite color combo. Is it vain to say I totally loved my own outfit? 
5. My puppy sucks at being my male model. He refused to cuddle, stand still, do anything remotely adorable, or even face the camera, that is why you are all being flattered with images of his butt. You love it. ;)

Well, that's my list for ya. Hope I didn't bore you all to death.

Much Love!

Linking up with: The Pleated Poppy