Three Hundred Sixty Six.

I know what you’re thinking.

Nope. I still don’t have any answers. And I still don’t feel like a grown up. Maybe slightly closer, but I still don’t even want to have to take care of a houseplant.

SIDENOTE: Somehow I manage to keep my dogs alive and happy. I don’t know how that works. Life Math is weird.

…Maybe I’m just not a green thumb.


My BFF Jo texted me yesterday and said, “It’s your last day as a 26 year old.”

At first I kind of panicked. Holy shitballs. 26. It’s over. I feel like it just started. I know it sounds like a super cliche, but in some ways, it really was like the blink of an eye.

I started this blog a year ago as a challenge to myself as a writer. Early in 2012, I kind of lost faith in myself. I hit a major rough patch and thought wow, maybe I’m actually a terrible writer. Maybe I have no idea what I’m doing. Maybe I don’t want to ever write again. Of course, I eventually came around and realized that writing is the thing I love the most. And in the same vein, I knew that if I wanted to be a writer, I’d have to write.

But I was kind of scared.

So I promised myself I would write something every day.

I wasn’t really expecting that forcing myself to write a blog post every day – a story that somehow led to me learning a life lesson, no matter how small – would help me be happy. I saw it as much more of an exercise than anything else. And an opportunity to maybe be funny. But I have to say, writing this blog has given me a completely different outlook on my entire life. It’s helped me understand how my past has made me who I am. It’s helped me work through a lot of difficult times and put a positive spin on things I would have never otherwise laughed at. It’s helped me approach life in a much more open, accepting way.

Like, happen to me, life: I’m ready to learn from you.

That was a disaster. Oh well, next time will be better!

I can’t believe that just happened. I am mortified. Also, that was hilarious. I can’t wait to tell people.

I did it! Someone pat me on the fucking back!

I hate everything right now. Surely someone will understand.

I am hurting. I need to know it’s going to be okay.

This is weird. Does everyone feel this way?

Did that just happen? SRSLY?!

At the same time, I had come to a bit of a crossroads with myself. I had hit a self-love low. I was feeling depressed, defeated, discouraged, you name it. I decided enough was enough: it was time to make the active decision to be happy.

I also discovered that Jayne Mansfield had stretchmarks. And my world was turned upside down. In a good way.

To quote myself (is that totally pretentious? I’m trying to recap, shut up.):

Jayne Mansfield, the American actress, singer, Playboy playmate, and all around drop-dead gorgeous bombshell, was flawed in a way that has been the root of much of my self-consciousness for all of my teenage and adult life.

So…all of that got me here.

SIDENOTE: It’s really hard writing the last post of a 365-day blog.

It’s going to be difficult to let this blog go. I know I’m going to wake up tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and my first thought is going to be, “What can I write about today?” or, “Oh shit! I still have to blog today!”

But I’m looking forward to channelling my creative energy into a number of other projects that I’ve already either started or am about to. So I guess what I’m saying is I’m not going anywhere. Maybe there will be another blog. Maybe not. But I promise there will be something.

I was trying to think of a fun way to commemorate the end of this blog.

Here’s what I came up with.

Jayne Mansfield had stretchmarks.


And so do I.



P.S. It’s hilariously ironic that in the majority of the pin-up photos I took, my stretchmarks aren’t that visible. Because they’re everywhere.

But I guess there’s a life lesson in that, isn’t there?

I’m probably the only one who really notices them.


P.P.S. Things I meant to write but forgot: Happy Birthday to me! Also, here’s to 27! I’m crazy excited for it!


Three Hundred Sixty Five.

I know this is a 365-day blog, but this is technically the penultimate post, because it’s a birthday to birthday thing. And tomorrow’s my birthday!


SIDENOTE: Have you bought me a birthday present yet? We can’t be friends if you didn’t because all I care about is material possessions.

Anyway, I thought what better way to spend the second-last day of my crazy year-long blog than looking back on some of its best moments?

SIDENOTE: Maybe that should say best/”best”…

Think of this, if you will, as a flashback episode of your favourite TV sitcom. With the help of a couple friends, I’ve compiled some categories I think you’ll enjoy.

Without further ado…

Top 5 Stupid Kid Moments


Oh boy. Where to even start with this one?! Well, okay…

1. Pressing buttons was (OKAY, STILL IS) a thing I loved doing. See examples A and B.

2. Of course, there was the time I electrocuted myself

3. The day I put scissors through my finger

4. Setting fire to things is never a good idea.

5. Neither is writing a hate letter to your childhood friend.


I have to give honourable mention to the day I learned that “bastard” is a bad word. Oh, and also to the combination of shaving off my eyebrows and getting hair extensions.

And guess what?! It’s your lucky day. I found a photo of teenage Andrea with hair extensions and no eyebrows. And apparently I have no shame because I’m gonna post it on the Internet.


Boy oh boy oh boy.

Moving on!

Top 5 Most Awkward Moments

If you haven’t deduced by now, I am the QUEEN OF AWKWARD. This is quite the random assortment, but I feel it encompasses who I am pretty well…

1. The day a goat ate my t-shirt. (Enough said.) (Stupid goats.) (Seriously, why would she do that to me?!) (Ugh.) (I fucking loved that t-shirt.) (SOB.)

2. The day I learned about orgasms in sex ed. (Is anyone else craving cake?!)

3. Barrel-chested. That is all.

4. The day the National Poet of Scotland called me stupid. Which I really should add to my resume.

5. My elementary school “boobies” moment.


There are so, so many, but I feel like my Pilates FAIL and my Zumba BARF moments were pretty grand.

Top 5 “SRSLY?!” Moments

You know those moments. The ones that make you go, “what the fucking?!”

1. People and my tattoos. Why are people so weird about my tattoos?

2. That time a guy threw a book at my face. No big deal.


4. Nothing says “what the fuck?” like getting pepper sprayed!

5. Also charming: when people tell you how to pronounce your own name


I have to give myself a shout out for fucking up my neck by making fun of someone on a Zumba DVD. Because who the fuck does that? This girl, right here.

But the greatest honourable mention in this category goes to Glasgow, Scotland, where I experienced so many WTF things, including…

Finding a tooth in an ATM.

Finding a used tampon on a bus.

And buses in general.

Among so many others. I fucking love you, Glasgow. I really do.

Top 5 Workplace Blunders

It’s a wonder I still have my job. It really is. It’s also a wonder I still have any self-confidence after all of the stupid humbling things that have happened to me at work…

1. My friends still bring up the day I parked on the sidewalk.

2. Also charming: locking yourself in a stairwell on your first day of work.

3. Or, you know, getting caught dancing in the bathroom.

4. Similarly, walking in on your coworkers in the bathroom.

5. Or traumatizing them with your hair colour.


Getting caught taking a selfie at work.

Work selfie

At least I know my office mate loves me and doesn’t judge me.

Top 5 Relationship/Sex Fails

Look. I’d prefer we don’t dwell on how much I suck at relationships, okay? OKAY?!

1. I have been known to throw myself at guys I like.

2. I’ve learned the hard way that spin the bottle will only break your heart.

3. So will going after guys who don’t care that you exist. (But you can keep trying to shout “LOVE ME! LOOOOOVE MEEEE!” at them. Trust me. Guys SUPER love that.)

4. I’m good at ending up in awkward sex situations.

5. And awkward kissing situations, sometimes.


Okay, well, first of all, heartbreak, right?

I think I also screwed it up with this guy, because he was clearly paying me a compliment.

Let’s not forget all of my failed marriages. Sigh.

And the time a MONSTER RASH ruined my potential Scottish boyfriend.

And hey, since I’ve already shown you how great I looked with hair extensions as an eyebrowless wonder, here’s a photo of me in the midst of the MONSTER RASH attack. This was after I managed to get my eyes open, because they were swollen shut.

Photo 130

Good lord…

Top 5 Accomplishments

I didn’t screw up everything, though. I’ve done some stuff. Yeah. I do things! I TCB every once in a while!

1. I’ve gotten over a lot of fear to become a Zumba instructor.

2. Then I stuck with it for a year and changed my life.

3. I grew back my eyebrows, guys. I fucking did it!

4. I got over some serious “I can’t!” bullshit and also tried wall climbing.

5. Oh, hey, I also learned how to embrace myself sometimes. I think that’s pretty huge.



A year, guys. A YEAR.

I’m excited to celebrate my birthday with you all tomorrow.


P.S. I know what you’re thinking. There totally should have been some sort of crazy travel category. But I just couldn’t narrow that shit down. So you’ll just have to re-read my entire blog to enjoy.

Three Hundred Fifty Four.

Okay, guys, my Internet is down and I’m blogging from my phone, which isn’t easy. Had something else planned, but you know what? This is fitting.

Ladies, you’ll feel me on this one. You know when you’re doing your makeup and you sort of mess it up and you’re running late so there’s no turning back? Like maybe you made your eyeshadow too dark or – like me – your eyeliner way too thick?

It’s like Halloween came early and Amy Winehouse is visiting…
SIDENOTE: I know it’s not insane, but it’s a lot more than the casual look I had planned for my day, okay?

It happened today and I thought hey, you know what? Go with the flow, Beça. Go with the flow.

Guys, this is where today’s post applies to you, too. (Shout out to guys who wear eyeliner – I love you hi okay cool!) Through the application of my DRAMATIC eyeliner this morning, I learned a lesson, and that’s that some days, life is gonna throw stuff at you, and on some of those days, you’ve got to just go with it.

How meta is it that my internet went down and I had to go with it and write this post today instead of what I had planned? Right? RIGHT?!


Three Hundred Forty Seven.

A couple weeks ago, I went out to the movies with a friend of mine and then we grabbed a bite to eat.

Oh, actually, now that I think of it, it was this night, AKA the night I ATE ALL THE FOOD.

Anyway, when I got home at the end of the night, I went to wash my face and noticed I had a bunch of black pepper in my teeth. My first thought was, “Why the fuck didn’t he say something?!”

SIDENOTE: It’s possible he didn’t notice. I would have had to smile pretty darn big for it to be visible. But still.

You see, I’m a person who will ALWAYS tell you if you’ve got “something” going on – if you have food in your teeth, if you have a strand of hair sticking out the wrong way, if your hanger strap or clothing tag is hanging out. I’m your girl. It’s not because I’m critical or anything. I’m not. I’m like, the least judgemental person. It’s because I would want to know if any of that were going on with me.


But as I was thinking about that, I was reminded of one of many hilarious moments I had as a teen.

In case you’ve forgotten, I was a goth when I was a teenager. A Marilyn Manson-obsessed, eyeliner-loving, eyebrow-shaving goth. So I wore a lot of makeup. I didn’t do anything too crazy – I didn’t like, wear black eyeliner tears dripping down my face or anything (no offense or judgement to anyone who did/does – you do your thing). But I was…creative?

There was one day that I was going out to run some errands with my mom and I was sporting some particularly interesting mascara and eyeliner. I had applied both as usual, but then I decided that I wanted like, eyeliner dots coming out from the corner of my eye toward the side of my face.

I really wish I had a photo to illustrate this. But I don’t. But imagine some cat eye eyeliner:


Only imagine it much messier and comprised of dots.

SIDENOTE: I don’t know what I was thinking. I was 13. Who cares? I was “finding myself.”*

So anyway, I was out with my mom and I remember specifically that we were at Future Shop and we couldn’t find what we were looking for, so we found a sales associate to ask for help.

We had been chatting with him about our needs for a few minutes when a natural silence fell upon the conversation. It was at that point that the sales associate turned to me, and very quietly said, “Uh…I think you have a little something…” and pointed to his eye/eyebrow region.

Being the super self-conscious, nerdy kid that I was, I tried to laugh it off.

“Ha ha!” I giggled nervously, “No, it’s supposed to be there.”

“Oh, okay.” The sales guy cleared his throat anxiously.

And then we all felt awkward.

People wear a lot of crazy shit these days. Like, how many times a day are you walking behind a girl in leggings or yoga pants when you realize you can clearly see her bum/underwear/thong?

SIDENOTE: I work both on campus and as a fitness instructor, so maybe my percentages are higher. Okay, they definitely are. But like, a MILLION TIMES A DAY it happens.

Hell, just last night I was out and saw a dude wearing gold spandex pants and it was like, junk-central. He might as well have been pantsless. It was all out there.

SIDNEOTE: Pretty sure it’s the look he was going for, because shortly after I spotted him, he started doing lunges, so good on him.

Um. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I understand why some people would hesitate to point out if “something” is going on, but:

(A) If the person is your friend, POINT IT OUT ANYWAY. Be tactful. But just in case. Do it.

(B) If it’s something in someone’s teeth, no exceptions. TELL THEM.**


*I’m nearly 27 and I feel like only NOW am I actually finding myself.

**Unless you hate the person. Then I guess do whatever.

Three Hundred Thirty Four.

A few weeks ago, I finally opened up to you all about something very close to my heart: my eyebrow woes.

SIDENOTE: You all just read that sentence, and by the time you got to the end of it you were like:

B Eye Roll

That’s okay. That was my intention.

Anyway, that blog post was a long time coming. As I mentioned, I’ve been trying to grow my eyebrows back for like, 10 years, which is crazy. In the last two months or so, I’ve really been trying to thicken them up so that I could maybe have a face that looks like it has eyebrows, even when I’m not wearing any makeup.

Well let me tell you something, people.


Patience pays off!

SIDENOTE: I look OVERJOYED in that photo. I think I was high on low iron.

SIDENOTE TO THE SIDENOTE: One day, when I’m a well-known writer, that photo will resurface and the haters will be like, “Ew! Andrea Beça without makeup!” and I’ll be all secure in myself and be like, “Who cares?” and everything will be cool.


These are almost full-fledged eyebrows, wouldn’t you say?

Screen shot 2013-09-15 at 09.41.25

I’m here to tell you people that dreams do come true.

In another couple months, I think my eyebrows and I will be like, totally ready to woo.



P.S. This isn’t really related, but it’s related to my LIFE:

Screen shot 2013-09-15 at 09.48.12

Three Hundred Nine.

This is a pretty girly post, but hey, if I’m impressed, I’m impressed.

The last time I went to Sephora, I got a 100-point “perk” – it was a liquid eyeliner from the Kat Von D collection.

Screen shot 2013-08-21 at 10.00.21

I didn’t try it out for ages because If often run right from work to Zumba classes, so I tend to keep my makeup minimal, both for my skin’s sake, and so that I’m not crying black eyeliner tears by the end of class from sweating so much. (It happened a few times and it was NOT a good look for me.)

But yesterday I was in the mood for a sexy little cat-eye sweep of liquid liner, so I thought what the hell? I was already planning on having a night at home practicing choreography, so I figured I could really put the product to test.

This was me about five minutes into my workout:


And here I am after over an hour of Zumba and a pretty intense legs and bum workout:


Dripping wet, but the liner didn’t budge!

In fact, I rubbed it (not crazy hard, but enough) afterward and it still didn’t smear. I washed my face in the shower with face wash and after that I still had a bit of liner on.

There you have it.

That Kat Von D knows her shit. No wonder it’s called “Tattoo Liner.”


P.S. It’s also super easy to apply and it only costs $18, so it seems like a pretty good buy to me.

Three Hundred Two.

Look, I get that I’m nearing 30 and most of my friends are, too, so it’s probably too late for me to save you, but if you have children or you plan on having children, you can feel free to read this to them when the time is right. If I can help one teenage girl’s adulthood by sharing this tiny piece of wisdom, I will consider myself an accomplished woman.

I, myself, came across this piece of wisdom a few years too late when I read an interview with Rose McGowan in a magazine. Unfortunately, the damage was already done.


You see, when I was a teenager, I decided I wanted to be a sexy goth chick (which, P.S., I totally failed at, because I know sexy goth chicks now and they are totally sexy and I was totally not) and I decided that in order to do that, I had to get rid of my humdrum eyebrows and draw on sexy, dramatic ones.

I’m not going to lie to you. I have some insane photos of myself as a teenager, but I hate most of them, so while these aren’t the craziest brows, this is the only photo you’re going to get. This was in my post-goth-moving-toward-sexy(?)-nerddom-alterna-chick(?) phase when I was 16 or so. I learned how to play like, every Ramones and Misfits song on the guitar and wore lots of superhero t-shirts. It was a good time.


There they are.

Look, the truth is that sometimes, my eyebrows looked killer hot. And I got really good at drawing them in – a skill that has been incredibly useful to me in adulthood both for myself (about to get to that) and for all of the makeup I’ve done for people for photo shoots, plays I’ve produced, and so on.

But here’s the thing you don’t (I didn’t) think about when you shave off your eyebrows: they don’t grow back.

Wait a second, you’re thinking, I shave my legs and my armpits and my face (shout out to the guys reading my blog!) and those all grow back.

Yes, okay. They grow back.

But they may never be the same. And they may take years – YEARSYEARSYEARS – to grow back.

I think I fully shaved my eyebrows twice, maybe three times. Maybe. I did that some time when I was around 14-16 years old.

I am almost 27 now and only in the last year or two have my eyebrows started to look normal. I still struggle with the ends of my eyebrows, which are patchy. I still struggle with the fact that they grew back in a very ashy, light colour, too. So while I have eyebrows, they’re very light and I always have to fill them in. The last few weeks, I’ve been on a mission to let them grow in a bit thicker and my god, has that been a challenge. I swear I pep talk them every morning and they’re still coming in at a snail’s pace.

So yeah, there you go. When I read the Rose McGowan interview and she said something like, “it’s taken a decade and my eyebrows still aren’t back,” I thought wow, what shitty luck! Now, over 10 years after shaving my own, I’m like ROSE KNOWS, GUYS. ROSE KNOWS.

Tell your teenage daughters.

(For the record, I’ve known a couple guys who have shaved off their brows and they’ve never had this same problem. Lucky bastards.)


Two Hundred Ninety Five.


I think so.

I was going out with my friend Karly (the cat) to see another friend perform in a burlesque show at a goth nightclub.

I think I was dressed up as Liza Minnelli. (I wasn’t.) I was wearing a corset, a skirt, a top hat, and A LOT of makeup.

I’d dig out a photo for you, but my eyebrows are fucking crazy in it and I’m feeling vain today and I don’t actually know where the photo is anyway.

Everything was going totally fine. Until I tried to get anywhere.

Picture this: I approach Karly’s car, go to bend down to get in and realize that won’t work. I turn around and attempt a bum-first entry to no avail. Because OH YEAH, I can’t bend!

Finally, I decide I am going to have to FALL INTO the vehicle, while somehow keeping my body straight.

SIDENOTE: I promise  that if you put me in a corset today, I’d have more of a clue. I was young.

NOTE TO SELF: Get a corset.

I don’t know what to tell you, aside from I did, in fact, FALL INTO the vehicle. And then I pretty much slid down off the passenger seat until Karly was able to jump in on her side and recline the shit out out of my seat so that I was horizontal. I’m fairly certain I was yelling “Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!” on a loop.

I buckled myself in and we drove to the night club, me looking like I was either too high or too drunk to sit up straight in the car like a normal person. By the time we got there, I was probably high on a lack of oxygen.

Once we parked and I ROLLED OUT OF the vehicle Tobias Fünke style, I was golden.

And everyone complimented my corset.

Lesson learned: Corsets are tricky, but sexy. Totally worth it.


I mean SHUT UP, right?


Two Hundred Eighty Three.

Oh my god, this is going to be too easy.

Seriously, though.

“Carina shuffled through the dresser that held her clothing. It all appeared alien to her in this moment, as though someone else had removed all of the contents and replaced them in a disorderly fashion.

LESSON LEARNED: Don’t state the obvious.

(A dresser hold clothes. If it’s alien, it seems like someone else’s.)


I feel like today was a freeeeeee fucking ride. So I’ll tell you what: I’m going to go back to blogging about life, and then maybe I’ll compile a HUGE LIST of all the things I’m going to learn from this TERRIBLE NOVELLA.

By the way, in case you were wondering, this is what teenage me looked like. Just replace the guitar with a computer. Oh geez.


Da na na na na na na na GOTH KID.


P.S. Yes, I did edit this blog post because there was an extra “na” in the song lyrics at the end.

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