I Don't Have a Problem...I Just Need More Chapstick

I can pinpoint to the moment when the lip balm problem began. I was on the bus in 7th grade and a kid named Chris yelled, "Hey Raisin-Lips!" There I was, completely humiliated and scarred for life. At that moment I vowed to never be called a name like "raisin-lips" again. I have always been a very girly-girl and appearance has been important to me. It would be natural to assume that calling any 7th grade girl a name like "Raisin-Lips" would be damaging, but calling a girl with self-image issues that same name launched a dependence on lip products that has lasted over 30 years. I sometimes call it an addiction because when I don't have Chapstick in a pocket or nearby, I instantly begin to feel panicky and my lips start to dry up and hurt. These are very real, physical symptoms triggered by a fear that I might be more than a 5 minute drive the nearest Walgreens. I never leave the house without making sure I have a tube of lip balm in my pocket, and my purse, and the car. I'm like the guy who has to light a cigarette on his way from the car to the Walmart entrance. I know I'm not alone either. My friend posted on my Facebook page that she was at a concert and forgot her Chapstick at home. I almost made the 20 minute drive to bring her some. I can relate! Don't get me wrong. I don't in any way minimize the real, physical struggles that are part of the lives of those with substance abuse issues. I understand that my dependence, (and that is what it really is, dependence), on Chapstick in no way compares to the dependence one has on drugs or alcohol. Lip balm addiction isn't life threatening and I won't lose my family or job because of it. I can say that it does interfere with my life. I can honestly agree with step 1 of the various Twelve Step programs, that I am powerless over cherry Blistick, which is my balm of choice. Did you know that there are actually articles, websites, and blogs dedicated to the topic of lip balm addiction? Go ahead and Google "Chapstick addiction" and you'll be astounded at what comes up. Here are a few things I have learned from these sources.
Vaseline or petroleum jelly will actually pull moisture from your lips, causing you to need to re-apply more frequently. I know this to be true because I used to carry a hand lotion sized tube around in my purse.
Any sort of mint flavor is irritating to lips.
Tarter control toothpaste will dry out lips. I tried using the whitening toothpaste and it does the same thing. I stick to plain old regular Colgate.
So wherever you are, Chris from 7th grade. I'm placing the blame directly on you. My name is Dawn. And I'm a Chapstick-aholic.

My Bra Gives Me More Support

I recently entered a writing contest and the following post was my second choice. The first choice article has been submitted and can't be previously published in a paper or blog. So wish me luck and enjoy the runner-up!

"You know I could sue you for that" remarked my 17 year old son after he discovered I had mentioned his name in the column I write for a local paper. I mistakenly assumed that after  three years my biggest fans would be my family. Think again. In the beginning Tom and the boys seemed to be OK with being in the public eye because what I wrote wasn't about them. My first indication that the support was waning was when I wrote about my husband referring to me as a "good little cooker." They guys at work thought that was pretty funny and gave him a little ribbing about it. He came home and firmly requested that any columns that included him needed to be reviewed and approved before they could be published. Then after the column about teaching my son Robby to drive, he came home and asked,
 "Did you write about me in your column? Don't do that anymore."
It was evident that support was decreasing. Then came my younger son, Sammy. Apparently his buddies at school had read a column of mine and spent the lunch hour joking about it. He told me that absolutely under no circumstances was I to write about him ever again. Strike three. Do you know how difficult it is to write a column about your life without including the members of your family? Some of my best material comes from my husband and teenage sons. They can be downright hilarious at times. It bugs me that they have stifled my creative outlet so at times I use it against them,
"You better get your keister over here and do these dishes or I'm going to write about you in my column!"
Robby did eventually soften up a bit. When I asked him if I could please write about his homecoming nomination, he said, "It's your column. Write about whatever you want." Sammy, on the other hand, has not. I did mention his name but it was about my husband and I going to his football game, so it wasn't technically about him. There really is a fine line between letting it all hang out and respecting the dignity of your family. I'd love to write about the never ending trail of dirty socks strewn about the house, but in doing so it might cause repercussions that I'm not prepared to deal with at home. For the sake of an interesting and humorous column I'll have to choose my words carefully and find creative ways to highlight the antics of my semi-supportive family without a pending lawsuit.

Finding Happiness in the Little Things...Like New Toothbrushes

For the most part I lead a pretty good life. Even so I can let stress and negativity get the better of me,
especially during the holidays. When that happens there are little things that can really make me feel happy. When I am having a bad day my go to is Pepsi and a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. Pepsi just tastes good and who can't help but smile back at Little Debbie? I also like to get mail. Not email. Old fashioned snail mail. I look forward to opening the mailbox everyday in hopes that there might be something special, like a hand written note from my mom or Aunt Marge, which makes Christmas card season my favorite time of year. Recently I posted on Facebook that I was getting a new toothbrush, which means I got to go to the dentist. Yes, I said I got to go. For as long as I can remember I have gotten my teeth cleaned every 6 months. Some of my earliest memories are of leaving the dentist office with a brand new toothbrush. Back then, my new brush came in a clear plastic tube with two halves of a brightly colored plastic dog capping each end. When the toothbrush was removed the two ends could be put together to create an adorable little red, yellow, blue, or green dog. I treasured those silly things and kept them like they were precious. I know some people don't like going to the dentist, but I really enjoy sitting back and relaxing while I get my teeth cleaned. Oh I've had some unpleasant experiences like fillings, but they never seem bad enough to take away the feeling I get when I anticipate my next visit and my next new toothbrush. I think in life we have become so materialistic we tend to equate happiness with the big stuff like new cars or Vera Bradley bags. I have been reading a book called "Growing Up on Drummond Island" by a friend, Jill Lowe Brumwell. The stories are so sweet. Jill spent much of her childhood on Drummond Island in the UP and although her family didn't have much, you can feel the happiness on every page. It's so easy to get caught up in the stresses of life that I forget to notice those little things that bring joy to my life like a hug from one of my boys or a pop and a snack cake from the gas station. I got some less than great news from my dentist the last time I went but none of it seemed to matter as I left with my little plastic bag containing my new toothbrush. Life is good.