Wednesday, August 10

Bostonian criticisms: Unhealthy, poorly dressed massholes.

In my east meets west, gets sent back east saga, I've made quite a few generalizations.

1. people in MA want to be overweight.  It's a rarity to find any sandwich, omelet or even salad not smothered in cheese and bacon.   Toast is always drenched in butter, girls and guys alike slug bud heavies over vodka sodas, and if it's not deep fried and caked in 3 days worth of sodium, then it doesn't taste good.  No avocados, no balsamic vinaigrette, no fat free frozen yogurts with fruit.  

2. People in MA have a horrific sense of fashion.  Working in the back bay, this observation didn't initially jump out at me.  However, after a clever GQ poll so frankly stated: "Boston is the worst dressed city in America," I began to look around.   Full grown women wear running sneakers, yes, like reeboks, with their skirt suits.  And not just any suits, but pewter colored, un-tailored polyester blend suits.  These same women have short "manageable" hair cuts dyed a becoming mousey mix of brown and grey, with chipped red nail polish. Yet these middle-aged women aren't the only culprits.  Younger women can be seen in two outfits: The first, a hooded college sweatshirts, jeans, uggs and toting a longchamp or coach bag that's so worn and dirty you can barely see the C's.  The second: leggings, old navy flip flops, an oversized and unflattering tshirt with a faux-leather belt and silver hoops.  Men are no exception to this critique; in fact they're most of the reason Boston has earned it's deplorable title.  Think beer belly enhancing t's  tucked into too baggy shorts with tube socks and tevas. For the younger males, flat brimmed sports hats with the official sticker still on, light wash baggy jeans, and work boots.  Now I'm not saying I haven't fallen victim to the "I'm from Bahston and I dress for cahmfort" trap, because I have, but thankfully the Back Bay is swarming with extremely smart dressed men and women who keep me on the toes. Lets just pray I don't get re-located to downtown crossing. 

3. Massholes are actually honest to god assholes!  Of course not when you get to know them, for if you make a friend in Boston that person becomes closer than a sibling.  Boston loyalty runs thicker than the Irish mobs, or perhaps they're one in the same, but either way you make friends for life here, which is a real rarity in LA. That being said,  I've never seen less friendly people in my life.  I sit next to the same commuters every single morning on the T, think they would say hi? These unsalted crackers not only abstain from muttering a greeting, they grumble when you sit down next to them!  It's a three person bench seat, and you are actually mad at me for sitting on the furthest end of your row? THEN you have the audacity to push past me, hit me with your oversized faux leather bag, put your head down and forcefully thrust yourself through a sardine tight crowd.  I actually saw 30 people walk by a man in a wheelchair trying to open a heavy convenience store door today. I stop and open the door for him, and I truthfully thought he was going to cry with gratitude.  Sure chivalry is dead, but common courtesy? 


Now, while I am bitter to be back home, and this is a rather harsh critique, there are many things i absolutely adore about beantown ..and the more I explore, the more I fall in love with this city.   I also fall victim to these stereotypes myself.  The entire time I lived in CA i complained that I couldn't get a chicky pahm, buff chix calzone, or hot fudge sundae with hunka chunka pb fudge ice cream from Friendly's.   I try hard to stay trendy here, but the weathers ridiculously unpredictable ...and I have to walk/travel so far to get to work! Plus all the streets are cobblestones, and if by some miracle they are paved... they are riddled with pot holes. Who can walk in heels on streets like that?!  As for the massholes, I hope to God, my uninhibited friendliness remains intact because observation 3 is really the most disheartening.  

Paz y amor,

Chels

Tuesday, August 2

This is me, trying to find me!

As a born and raised Suburbian MA girl, I naturally escaped the doldrom of small town life and headed West to Los Angeles before my air born graduation cap could even hit the ground.

After a year of working in reality tv, going to houses that made me blush and parties too fabulous to describe, I have returned, somewhat grudgingly, to my parents home in Halifax, Massachusetts.

The move home was strictly career base, as I was offered a job at a modeling agency that I couldn't pass up.  In the best analogy I can conjure in my wine induced, sleep deprived state: LA is to Hogwarts as Halifax is to the closet under the Dursley's stairwell.

My passion is traveling, exploring, trying new foods and testing my limits.  I love to read, write, eat, drink, exercise, complain, and laugh. Follow me while I try to assimilate into Boston life, without losing my LA inspired zest and energy.

Paz y amor,

Chels

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