What Would Nikki Bella Do?

Sassarella’s new mantra: What Would Nikki Bella Do? #WWNBD

The best part about this new mantra is that it genuinely came to me one day last week. There are were chocolates in the office at work, small pieces, nothing serious, but at 10am, I wanted one. I stood there in the kitchen and out of no where thought to myself: “What would Nikki Bella do?” She wouldn’t have one, so I walked away. In fact, I made it that entire day without reaching for a piece of chocolate! Mazel! A day later my girlfriend had a rough day and asked if I would have a glass of wine with her after work. I looked down at the gym bag I had packed for an after work workout and I thought, “What would Nikki Bella do?” Nikki would totes have that wine! And later on that night, I went for a 2.5 mile run/walk on the track after the wine! So totally Nikki of me.

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If you are unfamiliar with who Nikki Bella is, I’m sorry for you, but allow me to introduce you. She is one half of the Bella Twins and the reigning WWE Diva’s Division Champ. She is also on a television show called Total Divas, which is how I came to know of her. Her body is amazing. Her clothes are phenom. She is a total betch. At the end of the day, she is a sweet girl, I’m sure, but I find myself channeling her when it doesn’t matter how nice I am or not. I channel her when I need strength, will power, sex appeal, and motivation. I like that she kicks ass but is also a total babe. On another note, I find I connect with her in ways that make me, by society’s standards, superficial and obnoxious. So be it.

I got dressed Saturday night to go out and in direct comparison to the Saturday night before (see: The Hotness Scale), I felt amazing. I wasn’t going to post a picture to insta but I thought, “WWNBD?” She would not only post it but she would love every second of posting it….so, up went my picture! I’m a closet attention whore. I like to think that I am smart and rational enough to know the time and place (i.e. not at work, with in-laws, or at someone else’s wedding, etc., etc.) but if someone gives it, I will take it. And so will Nikki. She tends to run out there and grab attention, but to her credit, it is her J-O-B to draw attention to herself.

I tap into her every now and then when it comes to my J-O-B as well. On an episode of Total Divas, Eva Marie (another Diva) instagrammed a quote, “A lion doesn’t concern itself with the opinion of sheep.” This wreaked havoc with the other Divas who took it to mean that they are sheep and Eva is a lion. Oh honey, not up in here! Nikki did not take to that lightly. She and her twin sister, Brie, argued that WWE is a jungle and they, the Bella Twins, are the lions. Obvs. Anyway, in no way, shape, or form do I think that I work with or for anyone I’d compare to a sheep but I have to be a lion. I need to channel my bae, Nikki, go after what I want, and get it. So, I’m going after it all! I’m going after the J-O-B, the bod, the fame, and the success. I’m the girl that’s all like, “I wanna lose 4 pounds” and if in order to do that, I need to channel Nikki, well then I say to you, “done and done.”


I guess what this is really coming down to now is that I hope there are currently, or will be in the future, women out there thinking, “What would Sass do?” Hopefully I can help these women, the way Nikki sometimes helps me, make their next move. So, “What Would Sass Do?” #WWSD

Sass has that glass of wine after a long day. Sass goes for a run when she’s feeling tubby. Sass drinks 200 ounces of water a day. Sass posts a selfie when she’s feeling hot. Sass betches it out when she’s mad. Sass lets you have it when you’re being stupid. Sass eats chocolate. Sass orders the grilled chicken and salad instead of a cheeseburger. Sass rolls her eyes. Sass is brutally honest. Sass loses her patience. Sass isn’t perfect, and neither is Nikki, but what fun would a spirit animal be if she wasn’t human after all? Channel the aspects that speak to you. Channel your spirit animal and use her (please say it’s me!) to help you get what you want out of life. You might surprise yourself with what you end up doing! I’m surprising myself every day.

All photos courtesy of @thenikkibella instagram.

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The Hotness Scale.

Saturday night was a night I should have enjoyed from the start. My feyonceee had taken the night off and we were headed out with friends for a birthday dinner and so on. Prior to getting ready for our evening out, I had worked a 10 hour day filled with apartment showings back to back. The showings included the building’s many outdoor amenity spaces, it was legitimately 97 degrees, I was dressed in a full black suit, oh, and it was my time of the month! To all the men out there that want to X out of this post now, get the eff over yourselves, grow up, and recognize. I imagine the ladies yelling, “Preach, Sass!”

Anyway, point is that I was not feeling trim and sexy. I was feeling hot, swollen, and gross. I showered and spent 45 minutes doing my hair only to find that due to the humidity, my hair did not want to do what I wanted it to do. It wanted to do, what it wanted to do, which was nothing fabulous. I decided I would wear my hair up, no problem, pull a Kim K.

Next on the “getting ready agenda” was my outfit. Due to the time of the month situation, this was a challenge. All of my skirts that are tight up over the hips would not work, I felt like I had an effing fupa! I didn’t even try my dresses, I knew they would be horrible. I would normally go to tight jeans and a flowy shirt, but let me remind you, it was NINETY-SEVEN DEGREES!!! The issue came down to this: I couldn’t stand to wear anything so big and accommodating to my current situation, for fear of looking (and feeling) frumpy and fat-tastic, but anything too tight would make me look like a “10 pound sausage in a 5 pound casing” (thank you, Caroline Manzo). I settled on a black skirt that I haven’t worn in what feels like decades and a bright yellowish/greenish peplum shirt. Fine. I also had to wear my hair down because in this peplum shirt, if I wore it up, my feeling fat arms would be exposed. As would my feeling fat face. Fine. Hair down. Looks terrible.

We got to the restaurant and I had that realization that all women have had at some point in their lives, “I’m not the hottest girl in the group tonight.” Sounds awful, I’m sure, to the men who have actually managed to keep reading, having not gotten scared off by the involvement of a woman’s period in this post, but this is what women do. We size each other up and figure out in our minds where we stack up against the others. It truly says nothing, absolutely nothing, about my feelings for these women, it actually says more about how I feel about myself. Let me explain: When I am out and feeling AMAZE that is really all that matters to me. It’s not that I don’t notice the other women, because I do, but when I’m feeling hot, I don’t care to compare myself to anyone else. I feel superior. When I feel great, I am 10 times more likely to compliment another woman, “Ohh my gawd you look amazing!” But when I am not feeling hot, I shy away from complimenting other women. Why? Because it automatically draws attention to the fact that, compared to her, I look and feel like poop. Women are effed up. It’s the truth.

Needless to say, the beginning portion of my night was ruined. What’s amazing, and actually quite a shame, is that during this time, most women in the group (and some men), were only noticing my new engagement ring and my gorgeous Valentino shoes! To me, unfortunately, it didn’t matter much. In my mind I could only picture this diamond ring and Rockstuds on a beached whale. I was having some kind of Shallow Hal moment – they saw skinny Sass and I saw Rosemary.

Now, am I exaggerating? Yes. Am I a fat person? No. But did I see a picture of myself from that night and de-tag it immediately? Yes. Why? Because I don’t need to be reminded of the experience and because, well, I did look a bit swollen.

This experience was so jarring for me because I hadn’t had it in a long time. As most know, I lost a good amount of weight a year and a half ago. I used to have that Saturday night feeling all the time but I reached a point of utter disgust and complete rage and made a change. Since then I have maintained a weight that I am satisfied with, always fluctuating a bit, but never too far off course. I’ve completely forgotten about assessing the hotness scale when I walk into a room because it doesn’t matter to me. When life is trim and toight in the tummy, arms, neck, and thigh regions the insecurities that drive me to do that are nonexistent. Basically, out of sight, out of mind, becomes out of fatness, out of insecurities that make you give two shits about how good the person next to you looks.

I’m no where near where I was a year and a half ago, pre-weight loss, but some of my feelings that night could have been alleviated by a run here or there. And ya know what I did yesterday? I ran. I ran in the 95 degree weather, wanted to die, but did it. I wish I could say that this means that my period will never make me feel like Fat Amy ever again, because all women know it won’t, but that run made me feel like Gisele today. I looked in the mirror after my shower, did the nod thing I do to myself, because I noticed my stomach going back to freaking normal #ThankYouJesus. It was difficult to even write this post because truly a day after that time of the month ends, it’s a whole new world out there! The sun is brighter, the leaves are greener, and my stomach, neck, and fingers are smaller!


BAM! And we’re back!

Moral of this story is that sometimes your insecurities get the best of you. I know I’m not fat but I was beyond uncomfortable Saturday night, mainly for reasons outside of my control, but it had an effect on me. An effect that I recognized immediately, from what feels likes a lifetime ago, when I felt uncomfortable every day. Sometimes you just feel shitty about yourself, it happens. If this was any consistent pattern, I’d be throwing out some inspirational quotes right now, but it’s not. It was one night, it sucked, and it’s over. Period, the end.

See what I did there?

– Sass

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Give Me the Mic.

The day my then boyfriend, now feyonceee, told me he bought us Mumford & Sons tickets, I was obviously ecstatic! Then he told me that he bought 4 tickets and my heart dropped. “What’s the matter?” he asked. It took me a minute but I shyly remarked, “Babe, you know I cry at these things and it’s not necessarily something I wanted advertised.” Fast forward a few weeks to the day of the concert and like clockwork, the lights go down, the opening notes go off, and here come the waterworks! Mumford & Sons are my Beatles. I can’t help it. I hear them, especially live, and I lose it. I’ve seen them now 3 times and each time I’ve cried at multiple points throughout the show. Sometimes I cry listening to them in the car. It is a combination of being brought right back to a moment where this song or that song was my therapy and the power of the music itself.

Now travel back in time with me to this past Monday night: I saw Taylor Swift at Nationals Park. I went to see Taylor Swift because like any other basic B, I can’t help but like a few songs. Back in high school, T. Swift was the jam. Brielle and I would sit in Mr. Schnur’s photo class and blast the OG Tay album like our lives depended on it. We related to her perfectly back in the “Tim McGraw,” “Our Song,” and “Picture to Burn” days. Once she starting pulling the, “Oh my goodness, me? I won again? I can’t believe it! It’s only the millionth time that I won something! You really like me? Are you sure?” Like, I’m over it. All of that being said, within a few minutes of the first few songs I could feel my eyes welling up. Maybe it was the alcohol, I don’t know, but there I was fighting them back. [In comparison, there is NO holding them back with Mumf]. Anyway, I think one of the coolest aspects of the show was the wristbands given to everyone in the crowd. They were synchronized to each song so that they all lit up with the beat and changed to the same color at the same time (and for those thinking it, yes, this is the “same thing that Coldplay did a few years ago”). It looked unbelievably cool, seriously. Now the funny thing is that as soon as this wristband thing started happening, I took pictures and video as if I was taking notes. I had thoughts of, “don’t forget this,” almost as if i wanted to Pin it to a Pinterest board. Taylor also had her friends, Lena, Selena, Cara, Lily, Jaime, & Karlie (casual list of superstar/model best friends) videotaped and answered questions about how they first met her and told anecdotes about her. I thought about what my friends might say about me. I should also admit here that I often think about how I would answer interview questions about myself and my life thus far. Is that weird? It’s like I’m constantly prepping for my Ellen interview!


Where is this all coming from? Do I want to be famous now?

Taylor Swift has a badass life and she finally knows it. This album is more mature and she is finally somewhat acting her age. She has hot friends who support her and although I hate it (only because I’m jealous), I would bring them on stage with me too! I found that I liked her. I must have commented at least 6 times, “she is literally my age.” The album and tour is called, 1989, for the year that WE were born. I related to her now because I too am supremely confident in myself. Sure we doubt ourselves, ya know me and Tay, but at the end of the day I would own that stage the same way she did. I can think of handfuls of friends, and although I love them dearly, I don’t think they could do what Taylor does. I know I could.

My blog posts are her songs with a catchy beat and a sequin microphone. Same message, same audience, done and done. Ok so, I want to be famous? Everyone does, right? I can’t outright admit that I want to be famous without sounding like an asshole so I won’t…but I kind of just did. To say I want to be famous sounds so pedestrian so again, I won’t say it…but I kind of just did. In my case, and in the case of T.Swift it seems, fame is by product of having something to say. The dream is to have people listen to us, feel inspired by us, to laugh with us or even at us! My girlfriend who asked me to go to the show with her shared some thoughts with me about my blog and one thing that she said really struck a chord, “I’m not sure if you know this but I think you’re really funny. When I’m with you, the things you say and how you say them crack me up – I want more of that in your blog.” I paused a moment. I was so flattered to hear that she thinks I’m funny! (Oh sh!t, I just pulled a Taylor #UGH). But beyond flattery, it made me think that other people might think I’m funny if they heard what I had to say! I thought about more than Taylor. There are comedians out there that are saying what I’m saying but doing it funny (how do you like that grammar?), i.e. Iliza Shlesinger.

Point is, I relate to Taylor, Iliza, my good old buddy Lena, and other women my age who have the confidence to get on a stage or a platform and say what’s on their g.d. minds. These women don’t intimidate me, they are me. I don’t watch them and think, “Oh gosh how do they do it?” I think, “GIVE ME THE MIC!!!! But no, seriously, give me the mic.”

Give it to me.


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Bringing Home the Bacon.

Finances can often be a relationship killer. In my relationship we have struggled with this in a few not so make it or break it ways but they happened nonetheless.

The first time: As you all now know, I grew up in a house with a very generous father. Don’t get me wrong, my mom works her ass off, but as an easy example whenever we went out to dinner we always chanted, “Thanks, Dad!” It was just the culture set up by my parents in our house that Dad seemed to take care of most, if not all, dinners, social events, etc. Now I have no idea if later on my mom gave him money or whatever but this is what I grew up seeing on a regular basis. You also all now know that my fiancé is very similar to my dad in this regard. When we first started dating there seemed to be a mutual understanding that he was wining and dining me aka paying for all of our dinners, dates, movies, day trips, bar tabs, etc. As I got comfortable, it seemed I got too comfortable with this dynamic. I recall a clear tipping point when we were out with a friend of mine and when she pulled out her wallet I pushed it away and said, “He’s got it.” This did NOT go over well and nothing was the same since then. I was then looked at like a spoiled, unappreciative brat. It took a lot of conversations and soul-searching on my end in order to articulate where that had come from and why I had said it. While I don’t defend the snippy arrogance that the comment had in the moment, I do defend what I perceived as normal up until that point. To me this was what happens – the guys takes care of the girls. Duh. Anyway, I’ve grown since then.

The second time: When I moved to DC I had my savings and a job at a bar. This money is what I used to pay $1700 in rent every month, plus utilities, plus expenses, etc. but once football season was over this often proved difficult. I can recall days where I literally had $30 to my name. Now I understand there are people who have it worse than I, no question that I always knew if I needed it I had my parents but I didn’t want to need it so I never asked for it. With that being said, once I got a new “day walker” job at a company with a regular pay check, benefits, and bonuses I had to shift gears again. We fought this time over the fact that now that I had money why was I so stringy in spending it? I recall the tipping point of this argument as well: my building was fob access only and on nights where my then boyfriend, now feyonceeee, would come home late from work I would either need to go open the door for him or the security guard would need to actually be there and be awake to let him in. We fought over whether or not I’d spend what was it, maybe $75 for an additional fob. Seems ridiculous to me now but at the time it was the first time in my life I had my own money and I wanted to just sit and stare at it sitting in my account. This was the time when I had to actually let him know just how broke I was and how now it seemed like I wanted to hold onto every dollar I’d ever made!

Jumping ahead to more present days, my fiancé makes more money than I do. In fact he makes a lot more money than I do and it isn’t until you are actually engaged that this starts to matter. It matters in a way that you actually have to start talking about it in a real way and put it all out on the table. You have to talk about what each of you is willing to spend money on since most of it will come from one half of the relationship. This, as you can imagine, presents a possible problem for someone as opinionated about our future as I am, i.e. buying a house in Chevy Chase. In some of these discussions I’ve been forced into a few reality checks that basically sum up to, “Unless you can bring home more bacon, we won’t be able to afford X, Y, Z for a few more years.” Now this post is not meant to dive into our financial situation but rather shed light on my realization that I either I don’t get everything I want when I want it or….I have to bring home more bacon.


In these discussions, as it is human nature to make it about yourself, he sometimes says I make him feel like he isn’t enough but really what I’m feeling is that I’m the weak link. I’m the weak link, he knows it, I know it, and our non-existent house in Bethesda knows it. It’s pretty much the worst thing ever. Now I know my dad is reading that sentence and is outraged but financially, for the time being, it is the truth. Key phrase: “for the time being.” At this time I don’t have the ultimate resolve to this problem but what I do know that is that so help me God, I will not be the reason we can’t afford to send our kids to private school or go on vacations. It is a call to action for myself. The answer is not today or tomorrow but it is impending because I really cannot imagine not living the life I’ve always known and better.

– Sass.

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A 12 Year Old Driving a Cadillac.

*Corresponding NJ towns are in parenthesis for clarification.

A week or so ago my day took me to Bethesda, Maryland (Summit), a nice town right outside of DC. It then took me to Potomac, Maryland (Chatham Township), another very nice but a little further out from DC town. On the way home from Potomac I stopped at the Montgomery County Mall (not quite ShoHo but better than Livingston). I didn’t stay very long but I got what I needed and a few other items. Even though I took in the scenery all day I was busy, preoccupied, and hadn’t taken much time to reflect until the drive home to DC. I decided to take the long way, and by long way I mean through the city from as far Northwest as you can get to about as far Northeast, instead of taking a highway. I stopped at a light in Chevy Chase (Short Hills) and in the big, black Escalade making a left turn past me was what looked like a 12 year old girl driving. She had her hair pulled back with a bow, barely any make-up, and a teal tank top on. I thought to myself how silly she looked driving that big, expensive car. But then I looked back up at the light to see if it had changed when I saw another big, black Escalade driving through the intersection. This time it carried 4 young boys with shaggy hair hanging out from their flat brimmed hats. All of the windows were down, they seemed to have team jerseys on, and the one driving looked about 12 years old. At that moment, I smiled, and a moment later I laughed. I didn’t laugh in the way that you might expect though. It wasn’t a “wow they look ridiculous” laugh at them but rather a laugh of recognition, it sparked memories for me. That girl was me back in the day and those boys were a car full of John Masini Jr’s. You know the type: field hockey playing, Rainbow flip flop wearing, khaki shorts sporting type. Later that evening I explained the scene to my fiancé and my near exact words were, “It was quite possibly the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever seen….but I loved it.”

Of course he knows why I want to move north but since I can’t say I’m particularly unhappy living here, I have to think about what makes it feel like staying here would mean the end of the world. I realized a few months ago in our umpteenth debate over this issue that a big reason that New Jersey wins at life over DC is that I could never picture the next phase of life here. Sure it’s easy now when I want new restaurants, easy access to fun events, and not much need for overall convenience but what happens when we get married and want to have a baby? I can’t picture having a baby where we live now. I can’t picture having one in Virginia…sorry, I know I’m offending most people I love down here but I can’t. I can’t and I won’t cross that bridge to Virginia. So where does that leave me? Prince George’s county? Feh! Sorry, I’m probably offending more people but I just want to be a suburban yuppie with a 2 car-garage and a swimming pool! Is that too much to ask?!

I want a neighborhood where I can drive my car to Target, park in the FREE parking lot with endless spaces available, go in, come back out, drive to the grocery store, park in the FREE parking lot with endless spaces available, go in, come back out, drive home and park my car IN THE GARAGE attached to my house and unload the bags from Target and Safeway. I want to be able to leave the house an easy 15 minutes before the yoga class because I don’t have to account for 25 minutes in traffic across town and another 15 minutes to find parking. I want the conveniences of suburban life. What brings me to Chevy Chase is that I don’t want just any suburban life – I want to recreate the suburban life my parents created for me. I want to move Florham Park, New Jersey down to DC. That’s what I want.

Those who know the area know that you don’t just buy a house in Chevy Chase or Bethesda, I mean this is where the politicians live, but in this discussion with my fiancé we discovered an absolutely crucial, like make it or break it kinda discovery: he is totally fine with my suburban goals. This is major. Prior to this conversation I really wasn’t sure if he’d be more concerned with getting more bang for his buck in another, less affluent neighborhood then where it means our kids will go to school. And even though he will always be mindful of the finances, I was thrilled to learn that it just means that he will find the bang for his buck in one of these neighborhoods when the time comes.

The reason this was so incredibly critical was because lifestyle, for a lifetime, is not something you mess around with. If he had looked at me and said there was no way he was ever going to move to an affluent neighborhood because financially it doesn’t make sense to buy a smaller house for more money yada yada we would have opened up a whole new can of worms! If settling for a lesser neighborhood was his plan then this would never work. In this case, he understands my need for a yuppie neighborhood and our mutual need to send our kids to high-ranking schools. I think he just kinda wants the pool too! Phew! Anyway, maybe it’s not Bethesda or Chevy Chase but I’ll know what town it is by the 12 year olds driving Cadillacs, the 2 car-garages, and ladies in yoga pants pushing strollers to Down Dog Yoga classes after having their Starbucks.

So no pressure and I’m like totally low maintenance but really I just want to live in a nice, safe neighborhood and give our kids the best life we can possibly give them. Kisses!

– Sass

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The X Factor.

They say you marry your dad. The idea of that has never bothered because, well, my dad is awesome. My sister married our dad in a lot of ways. Her husband is kind and passionate. He, like my dad, shows his emotions with little hesitation – it’s all out there! They are our mushy gushy men and we love them for it. I always wondered how my future husband would be like my dad. Would he be the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve? Would he be an athlete? Would he be fiercely loyal? Will he be neat and organized? Will he be spontaneous, generous, and hard working? What will his quirks be like? I’ve always noticed how my dad eats his cereal and the way he walks. My dad can laugh at himself. He can be stubborn but when you’re on the same side of that stubbornness you know you’re on the winning team. How could my future husband ever compare to this man?


In case you live under a rock and have not heard the news, I am getting married! #Engaged. My future husband is very different from my dad. You will never see him cry. In fact, I have never seen him cry! My future husband doesn’t take getting the car washed regularly very seriously nor does he care where he puts his shoes every night. My future husband leaves his clothes right where he takes them off. My dad is almost robotic in his routine, whereas my future husband could care less about having one at all. This of course drives me bananas but this is a story for another time.

People who know both of my guys always revert to the obvious traits that they have in common: they were both once high level athletes, they are sports fanatics and they like to gamble here and there. In really thinking about this, I have come up with a few more. They are both insanely generous. My dad is generous in an obvious way but also in a way that you’d only know if he raised you. He sent me to the best camps and schools but he was also generous with his time. He spent years coaching me and my friends, he drove us around, and dropped anything at work to be with me. He never missed a game. My future husband is that way – when you need him, he is there. He would drop everything to pick me or any of his friends up on the side of the road. Neither will hesitate to pick up the tab or splurge on the vacation because to them there is no better feeling than knowing the people they love enjoy their lives. They are both providers. They are both competitive which makes them successful at this provider game. They are both salesmen. They are both spontaneous. They are both kind-hearted, well-intentioned men.

One overriding trait they share is a certain X factor. When my future husband walks into a room heads turn, excitement flows. He has a strong presence. It is difficult to go somewhere he doesn’t know someone….or 50 someones. It is difficult to find a person who doesn’t like him. People seriously love him! My dad is the same way. We were once even out the country and someone recognized him! My dad is loved. For years I’ve had friends comment on how amazing he is. I’ve heard it from his employees, his clients, his classmates, his own friends old and new! What is interesting is that when I really analyze this, I can recognize how they handle this X factor differently. My future husband is boisterous and animated – he more or less announces his presence so that you couldn’t miss him even if you tried. In opposition it seems that my dad’s way about him is that if you ask him, I’m not sure he’d even recognize the extent of his X factor. However which way they go about it, people gravitate towards them. I too gravitate towards them for the same reason. They are men with a presence. They are men that make it impossible not to like them.

You already know that I have a kick ass father and you can imagine that I believe my future husband will make a great dad. I could sit here and rattle off characteristics about why but you already know those. What matters to me is that I feel it in my bones. I live by gut feelings and mine is telling me that what I loved about my father growing up are what my future, currently non-existent kids will love about my future husband one day. We will have our disagreements about taking out the trash and who is going to take the car to the shop but when it comes to the big life stuff he is solid. He is solid and while that is a testament to his upbringing, as far as this post is concerned, it matters because I see in him what I have seen my entire life through my dad.

To my future husband, I can’t wait to marry you! And to my dad, Happy Father’s Day! I love you both. My two favorite guys you will always be.

– Sass

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Listen to me.

Just about everywhere I go I am the youngest person. I’m the youngest in my office, I am the youngest in my relationship, I am the youngest child, I am the youngest of my friends. Because of this, it is more natural for me to ask them for advice than it is for them to ask it of me. “What’s like the best bar in Georgetown?” My married friends with 2 kids, living in the ‘burbs completely unaware of the fact that Georgetown isn’t what it used to be will ask. “OHMYGOD! Where did you get that dress?” My elder co-worker will ask when she sees me outside of the office. “Wait, like how does the latest Katy Perry song go again?” My friend who just had her first baby and is too busy to care about pop culture will ask. Ok so maybe a touch dramatic because let’s be honest I no longer know how the latest Katy Perry song goes until it’s been on the radio for at least a month. The point is I feel like those around me don’t come to me with anything of substance.

Generally I ask my mom but in the event one of these elders (and forgive me for using that word but I can’t write my “older but not old” friends, family, and so on throughout this entire post) is around I will ask for advice but it’s not my fav. I’m not generally the asking of advice type. I’d rather listen and perhaps offer an opinion if I think you might actually hear it. I think because I feel like it happens so infrequently, I am very flattered by anyone who tells me that they’ve learned something from me or that they want my advice on something. In my old office I was the one who trained all new hires and I’ve taken on that leadership slash mentoring role since high school whenever it was presented to me. I was a peer leader, a team captain, “head hostess,” and so on. I miss that role. I was about to write “I need younger friends” but I immediately hit backspace because I would never have the patience for younger friends – I am surrounded by the people I am surrounded by for a reason. I am mature for my age. I’ve heard it all my life.

I hadn’t yet had an opportunity to over-think any of this until I was presented with a question from a woman older than myself about a topic that I would consider myself an expert. This woman has a younger daughter who is about to enter middle school. She is considering sending her daughter to private school and asked my opinion of Oak Knoll (my private, all-girls, Catholic high school, in case you didn’t know). I lit up! Not only did I go to the school but I have opinions about it, I’m not simply indifferent. She asked about other schools that I considered going to that many of my close friends from the younger years attended. I was delighted! I know what I’m talking about here. This is not a topic of too much interpretation like for instance, love. Love is crazy, it’s hard to give be-all-end-all advice but this, this I could talk about for days. I could talk about it intelligently, emotionally, practically, and confidently.

“So, you went to Oak Knoll? What did you think about it?” She asked. I answered with a somewhat long-winded, can’t say enough about it response. “What about Kent Place? What do you think of that school?” Again, more passionately enthusiastic, almost embarrassingly so responses came from my mouth. And ya know what she did? She shrugged her shoulders, barely let out a “hmm”, took a bite from her pizza, and continued to watch the g.d. hockey game.

I was immediately deflated. Perhaps she starkly disagreed with me but I couldn’t help but wonder if I was mother or a little bit older that maybe she would have have treated my opinion and advice with a bit more respect. I really did. In the moment, I thought, “JUST LISTEN TO ME! Your daughter is going to end up one of those girls at effing Kent Place instead of an amazing graduate of the Oak Knoll School of the g.d. Holy Child Jesus because I’m not a mother?!” WTF. “What would this conversation be like if she could ask my mom those questions instead of me?” I wondered. It really pissed me off. She really couldn’t have cared less that I had gone there or that I’d lived through the entire experience that she was about to embark upon with her daughter.


I have opinions and I have advice to give so just listen to me! I look forward to the days where perhaps I am the first of a different circle of friends to get married or have babies. Perhaps then people will come to me for advice and actually take it! It will be a glorious time for Sass to shine!

– Sass

Posted in Life & It's Changes, life as I know it, Rant, Totally Random | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment


Have you ever been truly speechless? For the first time in my life I can honestly say that without a doubt, I know what it is to be speechless. I now know that there is a difference between a pause or hesitation and true speechlessness. I knew what she had to say was a possibility. What I didn’t know was how I was going to react.

There she stood, in all black, hair down, flats on, talking to the other woman in the room. I approached and I felt my body tense up. I kept my coat on and my bag over my shoulder. My feet slowed to a stop about 6 feet away from her. Mid-sentence she stopped, turned to me and said, “Sooo, I have cancer.” I didn’t respond. She turned back away from me and continued to tell the tale to the other woman. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. My bag stayed put, my coat stayed on, and my feet stayed planted. The other woman nodded and sighed, asked questions, and gave the usual response, “I’m so sorry. Please let me know what I can do.” I was speechless. I literally had no thoughts running through my head. I wasn’t debating what I should say or how to say it, there was nothing.

I felt the emotion well up in my eyes, my throat, my gut. Knowing each other the way we do, she looked back at me, “I know,” she said, “I’ve had more time to process than you have.” After she said that I took another look at my friend. My 31 year old, mother of 2 who just found out she has cancer friend who was in her own way consoling me. I couldn’t take that. I moved toward her and all I could say was, “I’m having a real moment here” and hugged her. We don’t hug.

I was eventually able to let her know that I am available for whatever she needs. Over the next few weeks, in brief passing moments, we would hug again and once we cried. She doesn’t cry.

I’m still unable to really talk about it. It’s too shocking. She, on the other hand, now speaks of it so nonchalantly. She talks of her new wig, of telling her just turned 4 year old daughter, or how her husband is dealing as if we are speaking about what she had for dinner the night before. It’s her way and if I knew her any less I might find it strange. Selfishly, it’s comforting that she is handling this true to form.

Completely unselfishly, I’m with you all the way. “FAFA4evaFAFA” 0793 160x160x137-information-desk-person.png.pagespeed.ic.w6dJapFDhn

– Sass

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Pick One.

I sat down knowing the overall theme of what I wanted to write about but when it actually came time to put the pedal to the metal I found myself typing Katy Perry lyrics. I could not for the life of me recall how in the world I ever just sat down and wrote about something. In an effort to find inspiration I went back to some old posts and re-read them. After perusing a few from about two years ago I realized how much more together I am now than I was then. Why did this surprise me? Along with surprise, the most overwhelming feeling I had was of relief! Without even realizing it, I had come together as a human so much more so than I was then. Thank G.

I re-read posts about a 20-something chick (moi) wondering where she should live, what type of job she should have, and who she should spend her life with. Then there are those posts where I would declare, “Ok, now I live here, I work here, and I love him but is this the right place to live, the only place to work, or the right person to love?!” I had to laugh a little while reading because I can recall those feelings so vividly but I hadn’t realized how much they had subsided over time.

I gave some advice to a friend recently, “Pick one.” I told her. I could feel the stress coming from within her about all of the same topics that I had stressed about in those posts ridden with internal chaos of the who, what, when, and wheres in life.

About a year and a half ago I was forced to focus on the love part of the life equation. In my relationship we hit that 2 year itch – is this for real or are we moving on? We had to decide and together we stayed. Now, so far removed from that crossroad, I realize that the other decisions, like my job, my home address, my friends, my diet, everything seems way less overwhelming. I know that I have one of the biggies figured out. I know who I want to spend the rest of my life with. That is huge. Maybe for my friend that won’t be the first or the easiest of the pieces to figure out but maybe first she figures out that for sure she wants to work for company X or for sure she wants to live in X town.

For me, knowing that he and I will be together no matter what is something I can count on. I can exist and know that if I lose my job or move onto other one that he will still be there. I can know that while I still struggle with my zip code that whether that zip code changes or stays the same, he will still be there. It’s incredibly reassuring.

The same can be said for a place or a job, a little different of course but I hope you can see what I am getting at. Let’s say you decide that you absolutely need to live in LA. You can move to LA and know that whatever job you find, whatever man you date, that as long as you are in LA you are solid. You are where you are happiest. In doing so, you picked one.

So now you’ve picked one, your job as a different example, and it works out for awhile but then you want to change your mind – well that’s the best part isn’t it? Even if it’s just figured out for the next year, that’s one whole year that you aren’t worried about your job. In that year while that stress is off your plate, maybe you meet the guy! Pick one to focus on and let the others go. Once you do that, I’m almost certain that the one you let go originally will be the one that comes together. It’s just how it goes!

– Sass

Posted in Dating, it's a girl thang, life as I know it, love & relationships, the pursuit of happiness | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment


So in case you didn’t stalk my Facebook, which let’s be serious, you ALL did, I felt AMAZING on our trip to Mexico. By the time we left I was down 9 pounds, which was just one measly pound away from my goal but that’s ok. At one point during the trip I felt even thinner! However, I am not sure because I think someone up above was watching me when the scale in the hotel room decided it was broken all week. If I had been able to see my weight each day or if, God forbid, the scale was incredibly different (just because scales are like that) than mine at home, I would have been miserable.

Anyway, vacation was not as hard as I imagined it would be. I was working out after nap time – not the best work outs of my life but I was doing it! And meals were pretty easy too. I’ve never been the type to order something that’s not good for me so that wasn’t so hard. My downfall is usually when there’s junk food just lying around at my disposal, which when you are on vacation that is rarely the case. Additionally, I am always going to have control at breakfast and lunch so if I splurge even a little at dinner than I’m good with that. I was having ceviche, grilled chicken, and salads every day. The best part is, of course, that someone was making it and bringing it right to me. No work needed aka no reason to not order something healthy.

I knew that the drinking would be the challenging part. It is a ton of extra calories and completely takes away my drive to work out. I stuck mainly to vodka soda (sometimes with a splash of cran) and tried to limit the day drinking. I let it go by the last day – and by let it go I mean that I drank and had whatever I wanted at dinner and didn’t worry about it. It all seemed to work because by the time we got back I was just a pound and a half higher than when I left (which I went into the trip knowing that would be ok and not the end of the world). I’m also not entirely convinced that part of that was just being swollen and gross from traveling all day.

Even better is that as of this past Friday, February the 7th (after 1 wk back in reality) I was back to what I was before I left…down NINE POUNDS!

I’m happy at this weight. I think on a daily, regular, and consistent basis I am very happy at this weight and am able to maintain it. On the upswing, now when I will be super strict before an event or trip, I will be even thinner than I am on the reg. And on the down swing, I am a bit terrified. I am so thrilled with myself and I don’t want to lose it. I need a goal – vacation anyone? I need to keep this going and I am scared that I will slip up. So far I am able to be a little more lenient without gaining weight but that is a slippery slope. WAH, the pressure!!

Let’s take a look back:


Week 1WEEK 2week2WEEK 3week3WEEK 4week4WEEK 5IMG_2857WEEK 6week6WEEK 7 – THE FRIDAY before MEXICO (we left the following Thursday)lst wk

lst wk 2

The night before Mexico and the 1st night in Mexico:lst wk 3IN MEXICO:vacay

Sassarella Says…it’s possible. I was truly unsure of whether or not I’d completely embarrass myself on my blog by not getting the job done or if I’d actually be able to lose weight but I did it. I was so much happier on our trip and was really able to enjoy the time, the company, and the environment without feeling insecure about my body. The full-length mirror in the hallway by the elevator was mind-blowing. I kept catching glimpses of myself and for a second not recognizing the person looking back at me. I was not used to seeing a mirror and enjoying it! That’s all I’ll say for now because I know that for those who are still trying or haven’t started trying yet but want to – these pictures will be enough. I don’t need to use any more words. And if you don’t think I look good or that different…well, you can go screw. Peace out.

Posted in detox, it's a girl thang, life as I know it, the pursuit of happiness | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments