I think I’m broken

You guys? I think I might be broken. I mean,  everyone with the same chromosomal make up as yours truly is all ahem, worked up over two things. 1. 50 Shades of Grey and 2. Magic Mike.

I’ve no interest in either. In fact when I saw the preview for Magic Mike it was all I could do to not scream out “that furniture is UGLY!” Also Matthew McConaughey makes me need  Silkwood Shower and a shot of penicillin the moment my eyes set upon him. Plus he was all on the Today Show saying how weird it was to be nekkie and dance like that. Uh-huh.  Me thinks the guy who was arrested naked playing the bongos and hardly ever wears a shirt protests too much.

Mike, I will never want this wagon wheel coffee table. 🙂

As for Christian Grey and Anna Steele…maybe I am just a 12 year old boy at heart but I think I would just giggle the whole time. Maybe it’s awesome and I am really missing out, but I get the giggles just thinking about reading it. Also apparently there is a lot of spanking. The word spanking makes me giggle. Spank. Ing. I am so mature.

Or maybe it’s just that I hear Ellen DeGeneres reading it in my head and that gives me the giggles.

Are we women SO uptight and high strung in real life that we need these seemingly teenage escapes to unleash up? (mind you…I’m not judging; whatever floats your boat!) I mean, a movie about male strippers and a national craze over a book whose craftmanship has been referred to as stilted and relies on tropes that anyone who’s ever sat through 15 minutes of a high school writing workshop would know to avoid.   (cough, Twilight, cough)

Maybe I am broken and wrong and Magic Mike’s random furniture creations are in fact incredible and I should be rethinking my whole decor style. Maybe you’ll riot and demand that I turn in my woman membership card. All I know is neither of these  make “My inner goddess [is] do[ing] the merengue with some salsa moves.

Her inner goddess is dance confused. Poor inner goddess.

 

 

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Short and Sweet for the weekend…

Yes, that is me in my former life (last week- hehehe) modeling for Simon Thorpe. You know what I was thinking while this was being taken? I’m so fat. I’m so ugly. This is a joke. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Enough is enough is enough. Or, enuff as my 15 year old ‘little sister’ M insists on spelling it. Either way ladies, enough (enuff) is enough. For all of us.

In the last week I have had three IRL friends and countless internet friends confess to me how unhappy they are with their bodies, I see them discount their successes and point out their (perceived) failures.

I am guilty of it too.

But enough is enough. This weekend I declare a negativity diet for us all. Two days. We can do it.

You are ALL goddesses. You grew and birthed babies, your bodies are strong. Your laughs are like music to God. Your smile makes someone’s day, you might never know whose…the cashier at the store, your husbands…someone’s day is made brighter by you and you don’t ever know it.

We are too old ladies, too old for this junior high apologizing for being alive. We must stop apologizing for taking up space on this planet. We are meant to be here, to accomplish things. We so frequently apologize for behaviours that need no apology, we consistently accept less than we require and make do.

We would never short change our own children this way, why do we short change our parent’s children?

Giving birth to my son, was a tremendously spiritual experience. I never understood the saying ‘I am a child of God’ but looking at my son I saw a plan bigger than me or my husband. This child was created in my womb, but by no concious day to day work of mine. I never woke and said to TOTT: today I shall work on the central nervous system!

No, it was in me, but beyond me. My child is sacred, and therefore so am I. And so are you.

So no more Ladies! Two days! And like feeding yourself nothing but nutritious veggies and high protein foods, getting our bodies healthy, this weekend I challenge us ALL to get take a tiny step towards getting our hearts and minds healthy. Our esteem healthy, if you will!

I say this for myself as well.
It took me years, years to conquer my eating disorder. It was only when the doctor flat out told me “in six months you will either be getting better, or you will be dead. Your choice.” that I found a survival instinct.

True story.

(of course when I was checked into that hospital the nurse doing my exam asked me my diet secrets cause I was just so cute and tiny. Yeah, see that GIANT red stamp my chart that says BULLIMIC- must watch? That’s how it’s done. You too could be 80 pounds!)
Turns out I kinda wanted to live after all. We (I) grew up internalizing everything. Any mistake meant I was bad. I never did anything bad…I WAS bad. I wasn’t bad, by the way. Not at all. I struggle daily with anxiety (as you know) and also with BDD, left over from my eating disorder…BDD is like a scar from a car accident. I have to constantly remind myself that I do not see my physical self as it is. I see it through a fun house mirror.
I challenge us all to simply take notice of how often we discount ourselves, how often we inform people that we are too pale, too fat, too silly, too…whatever, to be taken seriously.

I’m going to try my very best when I catch myself doing that to replace it with a thought of something I am good at.

i.e. when I look at pictures of myself I always think two things: I look like a hunchback, and I look like the stay puft marshmallow man.
I’m going to try to replace that with: I’ve got a pretty nice smile and my personality shows through in that picture.

Something along those lines.

I am not a Dr. Phil fan per se, but I heard him say one thing ages ago that has stuck with me; people treat us as we inform them we want to be treated.
I don’t know about you, but I would like to be treated well! That means treating ourselves well.

This weekend just try to stop and think about how amazing we all are, what we’ve accomplished, the babies we’ve birthed, the jobs we’ve had, the relationships, the *childhoods we’ve survived.

We are pretty damn awesome. The lot of us.

Are ya with me?

I’m too old to accept anything less than stellar treatment from anyone, including myself. How old is too old? Why 27 of course! 🙂

Ok, that turned out to not be so short after all. Anyone surprised?

(*And  Mom, before you get upset, my childhood was great! You know when I fell apart…)

The walk of shame

I’ve got a confession. I am a happily married woman, but last January I performed the Walk of Shame. If you’re not familiar with the walk of shame then you obviously didn’t go to college. Or you did go to college but it was BYU or Catholic, although I’m pretty sure that Catholic has seen it’s fair share of the W.O.S. (Unrelated I totally want to go to Catholic to finish my Religion degree, they have a study abroad program that makes me one of the Woo Girls) or you’re a Duggar; which is unlikely as they frown on the internet lest their girls be exposed to things like jeans, women’s rights and current hairstyles.


But I digress…Quelle Surprise! 




Just like any affair, it began innocently enough. In this instance I was egged on by my friends Rachell and Janice.


Trust me, you’ll love it said Rachell.


I can’t stop myself said Janice.


I’m too old for this! I protested.


I’m older than you, Rach reminded me then told me just how good it felt to be naughty.


He is so hot, Stephanie, he’s delicious. Janice implored.


So I gave in. And it was good. Good in that way that M&M’s are good. No nutritional value whatsoever but you can’t.stop.eating.them. Before I knew it I was staying up late, waiting till everyone fell asleep and then sneaking off to indulge. 


And then it happened. The Walk of Shame.


Nervously I approached him, flushing as his hand touched mine as I handed it to him.


He said: Exchange?


I said: Yes. 


And blushed further. And just like any guilty person I couldn’t stop talking, offering far too many details.


I vomited out: I bought it for my niece but she already had it so I just need the last one. For my niece. She doesn’t have that one.

LIES. ALL LIES.

Not even 36 hours earlier I had stood in that same Borders and reached for the book, fingers touching it just a fraction of a second before the 13 year old girl who was just opening her mouth to say “Mom, can I have…” I plucked up the book right as her fingers grasped the now empty space where it had been. She gaped at me in disbelief and, God help me, I smiled triumphantly and trounced up to the register. Thrilled that I had gotten the last copy – stolen right out from underneath a child.



Now I shamefully clutched the bag with the newly exchanged final book secured for my non-existent niece to my chest and hurried out into the night, wearing yesterdays yoga pants, tank and hoodie. It was indeed a Literary Shame F***, j
ust as Rachell had said it would be, and as I walked the Walk of Shame I thought man, it was worth it! 



I had an affair with Twilight and my husband didn’t divorce me. He did however, suggest therapy.


Also? Renesmee? Stupidest name ever.

So remember when?


Remember when I said something good was coming? Well…what? 48 hours and one phone call later we hastily purchased a ticket to ride for this morning so that Zach could fly off to Los Angeles for a job interview. And not just a job, a like foot in the door, career making job! Whatever happens, please think good thoughts for him tomorrow as his interview is in the morning.

So he’s home in LA and going to see Dub, Mahmood and Zuzu tonight and I am so jealous!
But here is the thing, if (when…WHEN) he gets a great job in LA and we head back it will be bittersweet. It’s no longer a case of oh-my-God-when-can-we-go-home and is now but-wait!-I-was-really-starting-to-like-it-here.
I do. I love D.C. I love the weather, the people, the atmosphere. I always wanted a big family and never really had one, it was just me and my mom and she tried desperately to be everything I needed. She was and is a rockstar, but I always wished for aunts and uncles and grandparents nearby and I love that Max has this at his fingertips. Wherever he goes in this house there is someone ecstatic to see him, cuddle him, dance with him and love him.
i’ll miss that.
I’ll miss the rain and how green it is. I can picture us living here, getting a cute townhouse in Georgetown, raising Max and hopeful #2. Having a real life here.
What is that about? I’ll still pack my bags and head home with a happy heart! But how odd, to realize that even while I was resisting living anywhere else than LA, DC has crept in and made a little home in my heart.
I’ve given up trying to control anything anymore, I’m just turning it all over. Whatever will be will be, wherever we live we will make a home. I am just thrilled that Zach got this interview and whatever the outcome is; it’s nothing but good.