Martha and Me

Have I ever told you I have a huge girl crush on Martha Stewart?

I don’t want to make out with her or anything like that. I just want to be her bestie. You know, go to her house for a sleepover, make heart-shaped vegan cookies, crank call Donald Trump and later, when we have changed into our pajamas, I’ll let her French braid my hair while she tells me stories from her time in prison.

It started back when I was still living with Will (my first gay). He had a subscription to Martha Stewart Living and at Christmas time he sat me down in front of a couple of the Christmas issues he had collected (you never throw out a Martha Stewart Living). I was to use Martha as inspiration for our Christmas Installation -- some people have Christmas decorations; gay art professors have Christmas installations. And because I was unemployed and Will was busy finishing up the semester, it became my job to create a Winter Wonderland.

After I finished our paper ornaments, the choirs of paper plate angels (man, that Martha is clever) and hung our gum drop wreath, I revised my Christmas wish list to include my very own subscription to her magazine.

Now, recently, I have been feeling not quite myself. I don’t know if it is the fallout from finishing the novel or that it is going on a year that I haven’t had a “real” job or finding out that I didn’t get into my first choice for grad school but whatever it is I haven’t been sleeping well and I’m definitely not loving what I am seeing in the mirror and instead I just feel gross and unsettled and very, very scared.

So avoiding work that is due on Wednesday, I was reading the recent issue of body + soul (another Martha Publication). I’m not sure if the last page always has ten inspirational messages or if this is something new (my love of this magazine is some what new) but there it was, at the very bottom. The last of the 10 thoughts on whole living: Sometimes getting lost is the only way to figure out where you really are.

Cheesy, I know. But if I were Rihanna, I would tattoo this on my shoulder, backwards so that everytime I looked in the mirror, I would remember.

Instead, I'll just cut it out and tape it to my refrigerator. Thanks, Martha.