Day 1

This Book Will Change Your Life

Day 1: Warm-Up

As this is your first day, you should warm up with an easy task that will only change your life a little bit.

Tell someone your middle name:

My birth middle name was Deanna. Fun story about Mr. T…when we first met he informed me that he hated the name Sarah and insisted on calling me by my middle name for the rest of the night. We were at a movie theater, and it ended up being my boyfriend at the time, then me, then Mr. T, then Mr. T’s girlfriend at the time sitting in a row. Well, halfway through the movie Mr. T was so uncomfortable about how he’d insulted my name that he panicked and switched seats with someone…which didn’t help the whole “Oh, yes – he hates you.” thing that was happening. It took two years for us to really get to know each other thanks to that, and we started dating almost immediately.

You  might not know this, but “Sarah” is a very popular name. There was always at least one other Sarah in school with me any given year. And I was almost always the one that had the shortest last name. So growing up my name was not “Sarah” to friends/classmates. Oh, no – it was “Sarah Bell”. So when I got married the thought of losing the “Bell” in my name felt…weird. So I dropped the “Deanna” and took “Bell” as my middle name. And now you know. ;) One thing that’s funny… “Sarah Bell” is such a roll-off-the-tongue name that there are a few people that I’ve met post-marriage that will call me “Sarah Bell”.

Leave work five minutes early.

Psh, I do this, anyway! ;)

Give your genitalia pet names.

I used to have names for my boobs. I know the right one was called “Lefty”…but I can’t remember the name I gave the left one. Tragic! I’ve never named the ol’ vagina. I give too many inanimate objects identities as it is, I probably don’t need to go down this road.

I’ve given my tattoos names! My very first tattoo, the baby dragon on my ankle, is called Smirnoff. It’s because I drank a LOT of Smirnoff vodka not long after getting him. Hey – I didn’t say I’d given them clever names. The giraffe on my ribs is named Bernard. No reasoning behind that one at all. It just came to me. In a vision, you might say. (You’d be wrong, but you could still say it.) My newest one, the little gummy shark that was the first tattoo created in Two-Tone Tattoo Parlor was dubbed Tommy Two-Tone like some kind of old-school gangster. Or something. I dunno. The rest of them have names because of what they are (Russell Brand, Gir, toxic waste Bambie, and Derpy Pony) or they don’t have faces (garter, heart, lantern, steampunk ribs).


Tell me how you REALLY feel: