*Please note that I am no longer The Type 3 Woman. Here's why.*

Well, everyone else is doing it. I might as well do drugs and jump off a cliff too.

Mark it in your journals people, I wore color on my lips.

These big lips wear nothing but Chapstick Medicated.

So what does that mean?

It means I only have one lipstick color...from four years ago. 

Buried deep within the dark part of my bathroom drawer, hadn't seen the light of day in several months, to be pulled out for "Just In Case" moments.

Like today. Thanks to The Crazy for making me keep it.

So I had to get a little creative. 

Type 1's lipcolor = The lipstick +  white liquid shimmer eye shadow

Type 2's lipcolor = The lipstick + a dab of this (brunette). No joke.

Type 3's lipcolor = towel burned lips (I did T3 last) + light brown shadow to bring back to "normal".

Type 4's lipcolor = The lipstick + a bright pink eye shadow that also bunks with lipstick.

While I should have gone all out and done a full face of makeup with each Type, I didn't. I had the burning desire to get this all done now, and to do that would take several days, if not all day. And motivation. Which comes at random.

Maybe makeup can be another day.

Perhaps. 

Eh.

My conclusion on wearing each Type:

Type 1 - I laughed at myself with this look. I look ridiculous. And like a man. My nose looks eww. And I felt like I was suffocating myself with trying to be excited in this photo.

Type 2 - I felt like I was forcing myself to be the romantic we all know I'll never be. I hated trying to be soft and sweet, yuck. Reminded me of times past when I wasn't myself.

Type 3 - DUH, how do YOU think I felt?

Type 4 - I had three different Type 4 tops and after doing those photos, I felt like I had a knot in my stomach. I can see why people feel anxiety for reasons not found as I was on the verge of having an attack myself wearing such bold colors. I threw off my last top and didn't hang it back up. I'd rather go naked, I've decided.

But I have a confession. 

I have one color that I love beyond my love for chocolate turnovers that, according to the Type 3 mold, is not a color I should be wearing.

Sorry?

No, I'm not. Will I ever place myself in a mold again? 

Crud, I hope not.

I really don't know what this color is called. It's a deep grey with a hint of blue. Looking online I found a site that called it "pewter" but that brings me back several years ago when I was debating with my friend that pewter was more of a grey-brown than a grey-blue.

According to Wikipedia, we're both right.

But regardless, I don't see this color as "pewter". 

I loved this pewter shirt as it sat for weeks in my closet, unworn. Something about that shade me happy, but I figured it wouldn't look good on me as grey was just for the Type 2s. 

Encouragement of a friend had me trying it on.

How could I look so good in such a "wrong" color? I don't know! But the rebel inside smirked and said, "Who cares? I like it!" I took a pic and sent it to my friend with this message, "Screw brown, this is my black".

And then I was introduced to the beautiful name Zyla. I know little of Zyla. 

...except that Zyla calls me "The Sexy Librarian". 

Hello, best name ever!

I sure as hell like her. 

Or him. Whoops yes, HIM.

(My bad.)

Especially after hearing my friend, Jane, say this:

"Zyla does NOT determine your (type) by your...colors, you are (your type) first and then those are your special additional colors, that might even seem out of range."

Why does this make me so stinkin' happy?

Because it allows me to be a rebel without really being a rebel! Ya know that I'm sayin'?

That's like God saying, "No one can cheat in college and expect to become a high-paying doctor... Except. For. You. You are immune. Enjoy."

My "First Base" color is technically my black! And my energy color is a darker version of my first base color which therefore would make sense why I love wearing it and why I feel so darn good doing so!

Sometimes being a rebel is being right.

I'm a conclusion jumper. It's a habit...a flaw of mine. I don't even know if it's a Type 3 trait.

Sometimes I'll make assumptions of people and situations without fully assessing the picture; what the people involved may be going through, why someone may be acting how they are.

And while I feel that being a conclusion jumper can be used for good as I have made quick decisions and they have worked out for the better, that doesn't mean that being this way all the time is A-OK.

I go to church on Sundays. No biggie. It's the first of the only two good habits I have.

I try not to come to church with the week's stresses. Sunday, especially church, is a time away from the norm, a time to reflect on your week, finding where to improve, a time for spiritual uplift.

It's my recharge...albeit half the time I'm bouncing my leg, twiddling my thumbs, or will roam the halls during class before I suddenly combust due to an over-snuffing of my energy.

Quick overview: Church is 3 hours long.
-Hour #1: "Sacrament Meeting" where we take sacrament to renew our covenants made at baptism and to hear talks/sermons from scriptures.
-Hour #2: "Sunday School" 'nuff said.
-Hour #3: "Relief Society" where the ladies 18+ years old attend to hear a lesson on spirituality; how to be a better person, how to receive Christ in our life, how to serve and love others, etc.

I only attend Sunday School about a quarter of the time I should. It honestly varies on my level of energy.

One Sunday I was in the halls during Sunday School, chillaxing the ADHD and talking with one of my friends that I hadn't seen in a while.

Our close friend comes barreling past us. While she wasn't technically walking fast and was actually very silent, I could sense she was in high-stress mode. And I felt she was trying to project that to the Sunday School Ditchers.

And at the feeling of this, although I love our good friend, I was getting irritated. Like a T3 would, I guess? She was zooming back and forth and stirring the cohesion around my bubble to become confused and suffocated and dramatic. And for someone like me, who relies on those three hours as time away from the chaos of life, to find chaos come barreling back into it, is a recipe for a little active/reactive. When people do this, my first emotion is I sadly find no pity for them.

I have no heart, I believe. In my truest of true forms, I think my heart is black. My "give a damn" is broken when situations like these happen. To top it off, Carol Tuttle justified this by saying my (and other T3s) heart chakra is weak.

Clearly she is saying, "Sorry Ladee, you are bound to be a big, fat meany, especially if you wear black."

The friend I'm talking to turns to our friend and offers to help her. I could not help our friend as I was already asked to play piano for a class. I turn to my friend and say, "That's nice of you." to which she responds, "Well yeah, I'm doing this for her, just because I know she's having a hard day." And then she proceeds to tell me about what our friend is going through. All of these issues appeared like something that has happened last minute or with not much warning.

And I agreed, that is stressful to have sudden changes dumped on you.

I love church. But I have found that church is just that, CHURCH. It is not a time to be fretting and going crazy because there's a slight change in the normal church routine. It's just three hours, let it go. If it's gonna be a wild church day, oh the hell well. That doesn't mean each week will be that way. And that doesn't shed a light on the person that you are. And my good friend, the one that was stressed, is amazing. I admire the person she is. Anyone that knows her, knows that one bad Sunday does not mean that she, herself, is bad.

I see myself reacting how I wanted to. I wanted to roll my eyes and say, "Oh get over it!" Church will work itself out.

But this is where my Type 2 pushes me back, shushes me before I get a word out (or contort my face to show how much I think this situation is being blown up to be bigger than it is), and will tell me of times where I have been in high-stress mode for reasons I felt were legit, even when no one felt I was being reasonable...other than my husband who has to agree with me. ;)

And then I felt bad.

Because I was in Christ's church and was feeling far from Christ-like. Here I saw that there was a person in need, regardless of how stupid I thought the need was, it was an important need for her. And I wrongfully excused that. Type 2 reminded me of the times where I have knelt in the most humbling of circumstances, begging the Lord for solace to a problem that to anyone else, would have their heads shaking in confusion, as to them, my need for solace made no sense. I have asked for help in situations where clearly to another person, I shouldn't need help. I have said no to opportunities that could have been of benefit to me and others but because of where I was in life, I could not do more than be a simple homemaker; making it one day at a time.

And at that very moment, I wished I was more Type 2. A little more considerate at the first sight of seeing someone in stress...that I had a little more heart.

There comes a time when you just have to say no. Even when temptation is knocking. And even when it's so not.

I turned 30 this year. I was certain the end of the world would come before I would ever reach this age. 

(But in my mind I'm still 18.)

(And am told I look like I'm 21? Lies!)

A lot of my friends are in their 20s and yes, I am way more mature than them.

I'm not an embarrassment at all to my kids. Or to Mr Hunter. I don't dance on the front lawn. By myself. Because Mr Hunter fixed the car speakers. And the air conditioning. Or just because I want to dance.

I sing too...make my own "theme music".

And I certainly don't give sloppy kisses and sappy "I love you"'s to my children in public.

Just in front of their friends when I drop them off.

Or call Mr Hunter "Sexy Man" on facebook, for the world to see. And for all our friends to then call him that while assembling for church.

...

See, I'm totally grown up.

Dawn Direct Foam (DDF) and I are tight. We've been close since 2007. DDF gets me and I totally get DDF.  So much so that I know DDF isn't worth the price selling on the shelves. It's like three bucks for the DDF with the pump (pic above) and for the large refill bottle--fork out twice as much.

Now that's not too much money, right? I went to the Cheesecake Factory last night and spent over $20 on an entree and dessert (that's going straight to my backside) and I considered it highly worth it. But simple dollars can add up when you're going grocery shopping and notice that you're just about over your weekly budget when you remember you need the damn dish soap. And we're not about to sacrifice that Ben & Jerry's ice cream for clean dishes. Hell, we'll borrow some soap from the neighbor before we would ever let it get to that.

So you stand there for ten minutes, looking at the never ending wall of dish soap, noting that you can get a decent sized bottle of soap for a mere buck...but you want DDF even considering the price increase. So you put DDF in your cart, feeling somewhat guilty and angry that these name brands have to cost us so much.

What in the world is in this direct foam that makes it cost five times more than the generic and will WORK in your direct foam pump? Well, let's get out our periodic table of elements. The secret "ingredient" is merely two parts "H" (hydrogen) and one part "O" (oxygen). Yep, that's right--water; you know, that organic stuff that we drink that's supposed to help suppress hunger and increase metabolism? No, we're not talking about Green Tea, honey.

Now you CAN buy the generic, not feel guilty, put about a tablespoon or so into your direct foam bottle and ADD WATER. If you're a dollar store junky and like to get your dish soap from there (respect), you will need to add more than a tablespoon of soap (as it is much runnier and already has more water in it than the store brands). If you notice that your wannabe DDF isn't foamy, add more water.

The secret's out! DDF, you're amazing, but you're nothing but diluted dish soap. Forgive me?