It Takes Two

My friend recently posted this to her FB page & it got me thinking (because I am a weirdo who analyzes memes);

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As the poster child for “taking too long to heal from a bad relationship,” this made me sad. So, I sent her this text;

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The reality I learned is humans choose to make themselves happy or miserable. We choose who we become & no amount of bad relationships can “turn” us into anything. I chose to be miserable & believe my former friend’s lies that it’ll all work out it I wait. I chose to mourn for the life I thought I wanted. I chose to ignore the fact that he is too closed off emotionally to give that life to me & I needed to heal from my emotionally abusive marriage to be in any position to build a life; I just missed the idea of what I thought we were building. That’s what we miss when a relationship ends; the idea of the life we were supposed to have, because we never really have it. If I had that life, we would have talked about our feelings instead of me hiding my concerns because he’d leave me. I shouldn’t have had to be afraid he’d leave if I breathed wrong or asked for my feelings to be validated or to be made a priority. If that life had been real, I would have felt safe & happy. I thought I did, but now I realize I didn’t, because I was so afraid he’d leave, because he did, all the time. What I missed wasn’t real & what made my friend feel like the graphic wasn’t real. She’s too sweet to ever do it, but if she becomes a bitch, it’s her choice, just like I chose to be miserable. I made that choice & then I un made it. I decided, much like when I mourned my marriage, that I wouldn’t mourn a life that wasn’t real. I mourned this family that wasn’t real. Reality was an emotionally defeated mom, and three little girls who were afraid of their angry father. I needed to focus on why I make bad choices, which is that I choose broken men. I choose them because I want to make them happy so I can feel happy knowing I bring someone joy. I do this because I was unhappy with my weight, my lack of byline, my insecurities about who I am. If I make these broken men happy, then I’m doing something right so I have value. So, I choose to bring myself joy, give myself value & then I won’t need to choose broken men & keep up that cycle. The only reason the cycle in the graphic exists is because we allow it. When my teen daughter mentioned the emotionally abusive relationship of Damon & Elena on The Vampire Diaries was romantic, I had to think about what I had been teaching her. I had been teaching her that women in love allow men hurt & manipulate them & it’s their fault for not loving them enough. I don’t want my daughter in that cycle, so I had to break it, for myself, for my daughters. Again, that’s a choice I’m making for us, to teach them what a healthy relationship is.

No one can “make” you a bitch or an asshole. You chose that. You chose to crush the heart of that person that loved you. You chose to let someone crush it. You made those choices & you chose to dwell & let it warp you. Why choose to destroy joy? I was destroying my own joy & for what? Nothing. So, I choose joy. I choose my happily ever after. It’s right now, in this moment. I’ll fix what makes me feel weak & make myself happy, because then no one can rip it away. But in the moment it’s hard to see that reality & seeing my friend’s pain (albeit in snippets with her talking about binge eating, etc.) made me realize something I didn’t for a long time. I understand why my ex-BFF lied for so long. I was crippled emotionally by the on & off, the intense togethers & sudden splits & the consistent rejections that I couldn’t think. I went to school & raised my kids but my friend saw me broken, so very broken. He just wanted to make the pain go away. Hearing her pain made me want to do the same thing. But we have to choose the path of reality & allowing someone time to figure out what they miss isn’t real & the real happy ending is around the corner is much kinder in the long run.

My friend is an amazing & strong woman, mother, performer & friend. She will choose joy & meet her match & live a beautiful life. Even if she doesn’t, she’ll live a beautiful life with her son. Because happy is a choice, not a situation.

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I Almost Do

I don’t mind being single. I don’t mind living alone. In fact, I revel in it.

I’m kind of hermit like, and as I told my friend Steph, it’s because I have very little to contribute. People I know live exciting lives; I do a lot of yoga & sit-ups. That’s my life in a nutshell; work, raise family, yoga, run 5k, sit-ups. I find it rewarding, but I know that it’s really boring. Only the Psych Major, her husband & my friend Sarah love sit-ups as much as I do. But I revel in my boringness (I don’t think that’s a word). I love that I do whatever I want. I’m a starfish in bed, I hog it so well even the Pirate Princess (the champion bed hog) would be proud. When I decided to lighten my hair to it’s current light brown & blonde ombré, I didn’t ask for an opinion; I just did it. I pick the movie, & I really don’t care when I hog the couch blanket. I’ve only been making my own decisions for a year, so it still amuses me. I actually enjoy living alone more than I should. I’ve even given up on ever seeing a dime in child support (thanks to our flawed system in Canadaland) or that I’ll ever have an effective co-parenting relationship with the dad. I’ve accepted that I’m doing this life thing by myself & my girls & I aren’t just surviving; we’re thriving & I’m living as an example for them. I’m getting pretty good @ it too. Between meal planning & a schedule, my house is clean, my kids are eating healthy all of the time & most of the time, I’ve got life under control.

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But, I will admit, the latest development in my life makes me wish I didn’t live two hours away from everyone I know & love (one hour from my Sarnia peeps). Because I am actually a moron, I forgot I had two wisdom teeth. I forgot for YEARS, mostly because I had no benefits & couldn’t afford to have them removed. I had the other two pulled years earlier when one got impacted. Well, one of these bastards decided to remind me that they exist by shattering in my gum & getting infected. My face looks really fat & it hurts like a mother effer. But I’ll have surgery & be back to work the next day. Why? Because I can’t afford the time off. Being a sole support parent means sacrifice. But you do what you gotta do.

I won’t lie; I wouldn’t mind a supportive hand to hold to tell me the dentist isn’t scary & an offer to make me soup. I wish I had someone to watch the girls so I didn’t have to condense the teen’s slumber party. I just don’t want to do another sucky thing alone. I get that this is part of independence, but sometimes it’d be nice to have an ally. I know if I still lived in Windsor, I would have friends right there to be a help, but when one moves hours away, you don’t have these things. I guess maybe this broken tooth is helping me realize that while I can do everything on my own; maybe I don’t particularly want to all of the time & that’s okay.

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Not wanting to live forever me against the world doesn’t make me weak; it makes me human. I think I’ve held onto to this belief that I need to be completely independent to prove some kind of point, but maybe I don’t need to prove it anymore. Maybe it’s time I let people help when they offer it. Maybe it’s okay to let people offer comfort, be a friend. Maybe it’s okay to want a partner in life someday. Or maybe I’m whacked out on painkillers & rambling. That’s entirely possible & maybe, that’s okay too.

Hey Brother

Much like everyone else, I was instantly mesmerized with the beautiful story of Ryland Whittington, who’s parents made the brave choice to accept their child for who he is, transgender. Ryland (now seven) often lashed out, saying he hated himself & someday when his family died, he would live as a boy the way he was supposed to. His parents Jeff & Hillary consulted doctors & therapists, who all came to the same conclusion; Ryland was exhibiting feelings of a transgendered male who wanted acceptance. So they did. Their video explaining to friends & family that Ryland would now use male pronouns & live as a male went viral & they received the Inspiration Award at the Harvey Milk Diversity Breakfast.

However, instead of celebrating this family & their demonstration of unconditional love in a time when so many children talk of coming out to find their parents do not accept them, many bloggers & commenters claimed that these parents were actually abusing their son (before I get hatred, I want to remind you that Ryland identifies as male, so I will refer to him as the Whittington’s son).

Wait, what?

Self proclaimed “Speaker of absolute truths,” Matt Walsh claims that Ryland is too young to understand something as huge as gender & he’s confused & his parents shouldn’t have allowed it. Fox News correspondent Keith Ablow said Ryland should have been prescribed anti-psychotic medication. Both of these men stated clearly that Ryland was too young to understand what being a boy was, despite the American Association of Pediatrics saying gender identity is determined at four (Ryland was five when he began his transition).

When I pointed this out in the comment section of Walsh’s blog, along with the fact that he is not a doctor and has never met Ryland. Many of his commenters replied that doctors don’t really know anything so they were unqualified, but Walsh speaks truth. One caught my eye & inspired this post, so thank you commenter, whom I’ll call “Bigoted Psycho (or BP for short).

BP mentioned that doctors don’t know anything. She was diagnosed as bipolar, then with General Anxiety Disorder. But she knew her body & that these weren’t working & found other, natural methods to curb her anxiety & now she’s happy.

Wait, so what BP was saying is by understanding the feelings in her body, she was able to effectively convey them to a medical professional who was able to diagnose her & help her feel okay? So, when Ryland Whittington told his family he felt his body was wrong & he didn’t feel right & needed help, he was able to convey that & feel okay?

No, BP says. Ryland is a child. She was a teenager. It’s TOTALLY different. Oh, okay.

I don’t know the Whittington’s. I am not a doctor. I am not even very smart most days. But I am a parent. I love my girls more than life & I want them to be happy. I want them to know that I’ll love them if they’re LGBT, or straight, if they go to college & become doctors or if they work @ Burger King for life. I also want them to know if they feel something isn’t right, that I’ll be there for them. Whether their stomach is upset or they feel like they’re in the wrong body & they hate themselves. I want them to know that I will understand & accept them. I am their mother & it’s my job to give them the safe haven from cruel people like Matt Walsh, or BP, or the bully down the road & that they can tell me ANYTHING & I’ll help them any way I can. The Whittington’s obviously felt the same way & I have nothing but respect for them.

It’s okay not to understand what it means to be transgendered. I don’t 100% understand. But I’m learning so if I meet a trans person I can get to know them on a human level & not ask a million intrusive questions (I’m a journalist; we ask a lot of questions). But it’s not okay to tell them how they feel about what’s going on in their body is wrong. It’s not okay to tell them it’s a phase. It’s not okay to call them “it” or say they’re confused & this magic pill will fix it. It’s not okay to say that to any LGBT kid. If you don’t understand, then take the time to learn. Try to see things from their POV. I bet we’d be burying fewer LGBT kids who took their own lives if we did. And if you can’t understand, STFU. There’s lots of things I don’t agree with in the world but I’ve learned that, despite Matt Walsh’s claims, there is no absolute truth other than we are all born & we all die. Everything else is a big gray area. So, instead of judging the gray that you don’t like, focus on your own gray.

This Is How We Roll

Because I don’t have time to meet people in the city (or ever), I have an online dating account.

I’ve had it for about six months now and I’m not going to lie; I never log into it except to reply to messages. My friend & I actually compete to see who can issue the funniest comeback to the biggest creeper. The fact that some of these guys think that these are the best first impressions crack me up. I’m sure if I talked to someone who seemed cool, I might change my mind, but I’ve learned that “Plenty of Fish” really means “Bottom of the Barrel.”

I have learned what I already knew, which was that the online thing likely doesn’t work for me, but it does provide me with countless minutes of entertainment, as well as my FB friends, as I often screencap the best ones and post them on my account. So, for your entertainment, I shall post some of the best ones, so you may also ask why any of these men thought these lines were a good idea.

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48 To Go

As I continue to work towards my fitness goals (down 40.5lbs), I’m learning how much money I waste on…well, crap food.

A little progression pic. See my 40lbs loss...and my various phones.

A little progression pic. See my 40lbs loss…and my various phones.

Between my Tim Horton’s Tea and my Starbucks chai tea and my restaurant lunches on paydays, I’m not eating as well as I should be, especially if I want to lose the last of the weight. I’m over halfway to my goal and I’ve dropped two sizes and plan to drop two more, as well as get stronger. Eating that crap is not going to help me. Not to mention it’s pricey and with summer coming, I want to be able to take the girls on a much needed and well earned family vacay to the zoo, as the overlord has been waiting since she was two years old to see hopping kangaroos. Not to mention that in the next three months, I will be attending a WWE Live event and “Queen” Katy Perry with the littles, as well as Queen and Ed Sheeran with friends (still accepting offers for someone to accompany me to see Ed Sheeran. You get to spend my birthday with me and go to Ed Sheeran for free, as my friends are all “I don’t like him, he’s a hobbit.” Jerks), so having the extra cash would be nice.

In order to finally kicking the junk food habit, I’m imposing my #29DaysJunkFoodFree. From June 1 – 30/14, with the only exception being the soon to be teen’s birthday, I’m going to cut out all junk food, fast food, caffeine, and alcohol. I’m going to put the money I would have spent in a jar to see how much money I waste on junk food. Obviously I’ll need to find some workarounds, as my coworkers are planning a team outing (so I’ll have to order salads and drink water), but I will not eat fast food, or chicken wings, or drink, or have any caffeine. I’ll see how much of a difference it makes on my weight loss goals as well as on my wallet. I’m going to hopefully lose more weight while fattening up my wallet.

This just cracks me up...and will help me kick cupcakes.

This just cracks me up…and will help me kick cupcakes.

Part of trying to live better is taking accountability for what I eat. Cutting out junk food and caffeine and restaurant foods will help me live longer by cutting out excessive fats and unhealthy foods, but it’s going to put money back into my pocket, which will help me support my family. I have friends trying it with me, with each picking one exception day and we’re all going to go #29DaysJunkFoodFree. I hope to see awesome results and get one step closer to living healthy and well and teaching my kids to teach them healthy eating habits too.

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Begin Again

I’ve been told when it comes to dating, I’m just too damn picky.

I think I reserve the right to be picky. I’ve dated Newspapers, Mr. Emotionally Stunted, guys who are completely incapable of love because they’re emotionally crippled, narcissists, physically abusive morons, cheaters, etc. My track record effing sucks. Part of that is because I chose poorly. I didn’t see my own value. I allowed people to walk all over me because I didn’t think I deserved any better. But, now, I look differently. I want someone who will help me evolve as a person, compliment my life, all those cliches.

The picky comment came from a friend after I told a guy I didn’t want to see him anymore when I found out he didn’t have a job. The Gleason Table & my new coworkers agreed that this is a deal breaker. I don’t see that as picky, I see it as smart. “I thought you were an independent woman,” the guy snarked when I told him. I am. I live in a house I pay for. I pay my bills. I support my children completely on my own, as I have not received a child support payment in 22 months (although his wages are finally being garnisheed). Everything I own I have purchased with my money from my jobs. While I currently only have one, at one point I was working two jobs & attending school full time. Why? Because I support myself. I don’t need another person to support, so employability is kind of a must.

Late last year, I made the list of the seven rules to dating MHC. It’s important to me to maintain high standards so that I meet the right person & it works. That doesn’t mean I won’t compromise on little things. For example, I don’t really want to date a man that smokes (ironically enough, every man I ever dated, even casually, has smoked), but I will compromise. But I won’t compromise on unemployment. I just wonder why are you wasting your day pursuing a woman, you should be finding a job! I’m really glad I took time away from dating, as it helped me understand how to make good dating choices. After all, whom I choose will be around my daughters (after one year) & they will base their romantic choices around mine. Too often, people rush from one partner to the next because being alone deafens them. They fear the being alone, the lack of intimacy, the idea that it will never end & you’ll always be alone with your thoughts & self doubt. That’s why all of those relationships fail; because they’re making choices out of loneliness, not because they really care for the person. I wondered if that’s why I kept making bad choices. All of the men I choose are the same; broken birds. Perhaps my lonely, sad & jaded year helped me. It helped me discover that, in the words of WWE Superstar (& my husband in my imagination) Seth Rollins, we are the authors, the finishers of our fate. The reason I was unlucky in love is because I was making bad choices, forgiving men & accepting their mistreatment & taking them back without expecting them to make changes. I was just blindly giving. Well, insanity is defined as doing the same thing & expecting different results. I can’t keep doing the same things. I can’t keep overlooking things I shouldn’t. I can’t be a doormat. I can’t keep losing my identity in a relationship. I need to be able to be me, just with someone. I needed to learn that I wasn’t in the right place to be a partner. I needed to grow up, stop letting others define my happiness, define my own happiness & stop letting love be the excuse for why people treated me like crap, because if they did love me, they wouldn’t treat me like crap!

The old MHC would have looked past the joblessness, and his excuse that it wasn’t his fault, the manager was an ass & wanted to help. The new MHC saw the lack of ownership & knew it’s a red flag & walked, knowing she deserves better. Maybe I am a little bit picky, but that’s only because I need to be. If I don’t think I deserve the best possible partner that compliments me & will be a good male role model for my girls, then who will? My friends? It’s nice that they want what’s good for me, but it’s not up to them to build me up. That’s on me. My family? See above. I have to want what’s right for me, & not push down the doubts because I’m too blinded by love to see that I’m being torn apart piece by piece & becoming a simpering, weak, baby. Maybe that makes me too picky, or frigid, or I’ll die alone. But I’d rather die alone with my kids & my cats & blissfully happy with my life, my writing & my fitness than miserably in love with someone who either a) mistreats me or b) just doesn’t work, or in this case, literally doesn’t work.

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My Darling

I saw so many adorable Mother’s Day pics on FB where kids wrote hilarious facts about their mom that I decided to share The Overlord’s “About My Mom” page. Apparently I am nice, shop @ Build A Bear & love to work hahaha. But it’s a stunning likeness of me. I think she got the hair perfectly.

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Can’t Go Back

After The Texan got me to go Vegan for exactly one day, I decided to adopt more vegan recipes into my diet to help the girls & I be healthier & open minded about other dietary options. Because of this, I bought Bake and Destroy: Good Food for Bad Vegans by vegan chef Natalie Slater (my kids love taco lasagna). I’d been following Slater for years on Twitter because she’s freaking hilarious. But her first column with Red Eye Chicago (found here) solidified a thought I’ve had for years; celebrity worship is getting out of hand.

From Global Looking Glass

From Global Looking Glass

Slater details how her longtime friend has no privacy & can’t do simple things like take out his garbage or go to Target without people snapping pics. My oldest commented on how much that must suck when her friends on IG were uploading photos of her idol AJ Lee attending a hockey game with former WWE superstar CM Punk. “Poor AJ. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s not wrestling right now,” she said before unfollowing the offending account. She doesn’t read dirt sheets, mainly because she feels that they are biased against AJ & the Divas, & only goes to one wrestling discussion group, one of the few communities that promotes women’s wrestling & respects the hard work these women put in to entertain her.

From wwe.com

From wwe.com


As a semi retired entertainment reporter, I understand celebrity worship. In fact, as I apply for jobs in media in my new city, I understand that my livelihood depends on you caring about celebrity culture. But there is a limit & that limit is that celebrities are not trained monkeys to amuse you every second of their lives.

My job is to promote celebrities (well, it’s currently to sell phones, but my designated career path is to promote celebrities). I actually take minimal issue with the paparazzi. I feel that you signed up for that life, you take the pros & cons. But there is a limit. If a celeb is enjoying an outing with their children or doing a mundane task, then back off (I mean, does anyone REALLY care that Elisabeth Hasselbeck pumps her own gas?) I’m sure you’ve noticed that my children, while mentioned, are never seen. I have posted their photos twice. I do not call them by their given names. Mom’s a blogger; they aren’t. They deserve privacy. They also deserve me as a role model, not Miley Cyrus.

by: Terry Richardson

by: Terry Richardson

Before I go further, I love Miley Cyrus. I think she’s awesome. I also don’t expect her to raise my kids for me. If my kids experiment with drugs or dress inappropriately, that’s on me, not Miley Cyrus. Her job is not to raise your kids. Her job is to release albums & go on tour. She’s doing that. Don’t like it? Don’t buy them. Don’t go. Posting venomous comments on message boards clinging to anonymity because she doesn’t want to act the way you as fans want her to is sad. Then we wonder why kids bully. They learn it from you.

Slater’s piece should have opened our eyes to our fan entitlement. If Slater’s friend wants to retire from professional wrestling, he’s allowed to do that. He doesn’t owe you anything more. WWE World Heavyweight Champion Daniel Bryan didn’t need to ask your permission to get married on the date that he chose, causing him to miss a week of TV. Jennifer Lawrence shouldn’t have to apologize for her personality. I have probably purchased everything with AJ Lee’s face or logo on it, but she does not owe me her private time & I hope if I ever ran into her in public, I have taught my teen daughter enough respect to leave her hero alone while she shops at Target or approach her with manners & respect, as well as respect that Lee has the right to decline her request for an autograph if she chooses.

Think about how you would like it if you were enjoying a baseball game & strangers were photographing you to announce it like a Sasquatch sighting. Or you’re enjoying dinner & 20 strangers bombard you, asking you when you’re in next or why you made that choice at work. Because that’s what it is; their job. I know if a stranger bothered me on a date to ask me about either of my jobs while I was off the clock; I’d punch them (or want to).

Sadly, Slater’s piece didn’t help anyone “get it.” Just more fan entitlement. Those people didn’t get that this is exactly what she meant. Those people who blasted her & called her horrible names, she was talking about fans like YOU. Yes, people choose the entertainment industry, but that doesn’t make them zoo animals, forced to perform 24/7. It’s not about you; it’s about basic human respect.

So, next time you decide to send that hate tweet, or go on Disqus as “guest” to put a celeb on blast for not being a good role model to your bratty kids, or attempt to take a selfie with the celeb you spotted at Olive Garden, think about how you would feel if people sent you hate tweets for making a work decision or demanded photos while you were eating your angel hair pomodoro. Also, before you say “well, they chose & I didn’t,” yes, they chose & worked hard & sacrificed & succeeded to entertain schmucks like you, & I bet you’d trade places for a day if you could. And I bet if it meant shopping in peace, they would too.

All Of Me

I’m always afraid to write things about fitness because every time I do, I get accused of fat shaming.

I don’t really understand “fat shaming.” It seems like something made up for fat girls to bully thin girls by calling them bags of bones etc. I am currently a fat girl. I used to be a fatter girl, once weighing almost 300lbs. But now, I’m under 200, a size 12 & halfway to my goal body type. I’m not working to be thin; I’m working to be strong. I see my fitness idols Trish Stratus (thanks to her Stratusphere Yoga DVD’s & lifestyle tips I’ve lost 32lbs in 16 weeks) & WWE Diva Nikki Bella rocking their strong & fit bodies. Bella is regularly called fat & has even been nicknamed “Thikki” by her detractors, but I see a strong girl with some killer arms. I also know she & Stratus train hard for their bodies, eat a healthy, balanced diet & their rewards pay off. I’m training with the help of the Psych Major & her hubby & using Stratusphere yoga as well as cardio. It’s hard ass work, but I’m taking this time of my life to focus on the person that I want to be, and that is strong physically & emotionally.

Courtesy: Nikki Bella's Instagram (theNikkiBella)

Courtesy: Nikki Bella’s Instagram (theNikkiBella)

But I digress.

I am fat. I am well aware that I am fat. I am working to change the fact that I am fat. I am doing it because I want to feel better about myself and be healthier for my children. I am also an extremely beautiful & charming woman & even if I were a size 40, I’d still be beautiful. I have a friend who is fat. She is dieting right now because she wants to find a job & she feels her weight is holding her back. I don’t feel ashamed when people call me fat or post ads promoting bikinis saying that we should aspire to be thin. That’s not true either. My four best friends all have very different body types. What is “thin” for them might be a size 14. What is “fit” for another is a size two. These numbers mean nothing. What matters is that you’re healthy & in the right shape for your body type. Own that body type!

Courtesy @trishstratuscom

Courtesy @trishstratuscom

However, I see nothing wrong with pointing out truth. When my brother said he wanted to go to the gym, I said “you’ll need to change your diet, because you only eat s***.” I had to give up a lot to see results. I’ve cut down on carbs (not completely, I still enjoy potatoes, pasta & bread in moderation), started packing lunches for work & gave up soda completely. If a friend asks me if the dress makes them look fat, I say “yes,” & hope they’d do the same for me. The Psych Major & her husband are always brutally honest & I love them for it. You shouldn’t sugar coat reality. Saying “men love curves” does not mean “being obese is cool.” Saying “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful,” reaffirms the idea that you can’t be fat & beautiful. Why not accept that you’re fat (or thin) & beautiful? If you don’t like it, go freaking fix it or if you’re cool with it, be cool & don’t get butthurt when someone says you’re fat (or thin). If you’ve made 1000 excuses about no time, you’re too fat to do (insert exercise here), then you’ve made the choice to be overweight & you don’t get to feel badly when people call you on it, nor do you get to bully thin women, who may be fighting their own body image battle. You chose to accept your body, so embrace it. Words lose their power when you take the power away! People call me fat all of the time. They say I’m crazy sometimes too. And I’m a bitch. Whatever. They’re words. They used to hurt me, until I realized that’s all they are; words. I could scream “POTATO” in someone’s face & it has the same power. Fat is a body type, not a personality trait. If you don’t like it, talk to your doctor & work on it. If you’re cool with it, own that big butt & wear it with pride. Same goes for you thin girls. If you don’t like it, speak to your doctor about safely gaining weight. If you’re cool, rock those plunging necklines I can’t wear & work them.

Courtesy: Glamour UK

Courtesy: Glamour UK

I guess I’m saying don’t focus on some scale number or dress size. Focus on what works best for your body type with your health care professional & get the body you want to have, whether you’re cool with your love handles or you want to be jacked like Chyna. I know I want to be strong. But only you have the power to make yourself feel like crap. Once you choose to take the power away from bullies & use it to better yourself, you’ll be much better off.

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The View From Here

I figured I’d take a moment and share my lovely view of suburbia! That’s right, the least likely soccer mom now lives in a community with a condo board & a welcome committee & a housing association. Let me just get my minivan & mom jeans & I’ll fit in! I’ve also gotten to say “I don’t know how to turn on my fireplace,” in a sentence. I’ll post more pics after my furniture arrives & I finally get to paint.

Isn’t it very Desperate Housewives like?

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