Go Viral

It's a not so secret dream of mine to have one of my social media posts go viral. Or make it onto the huffington post funniest parents and/or women lists. However nowadays people go viral for the wrong reasons (major embarrassment, social gaffe, racist/sexist/idiotic/etc behavior followed by (hopefully) public outrage), so "going viral" probably shouldn't be on my life's accomplishment's list.
  
Anyway, I'm on my social media a lot right now (I'm on leave, newborns are pretty boring, the toddler is every bit a 2.5 year old so I have to vent and daytime tv sucks). All of those platforms have ads which I normally gloss over and dismiss. But this time I noticed all the ads were for diet products, workout routines, waist trainers, supplements etc, all these...things in an effort to motivate me to become an even "better" me.

And I'm like, I just had a baby. She's not even a week old, we're talking days. I housed a tiny human in me and literally pushed them out of my lady parts. Some might even consider that the epitome of what a lady's body can do. Here I am, sleep deprived, mentally exhausted, sore everywhere, ice packs on my raw nipples, wearing diapers (postpartum life is disgusting y'all), super hormonal, in addition to raising two very needy small humans to not be assholes and I'm supposed to be pretty too? WTF?
   
So I posted this on facebook: 

All the diet ads/products on my feed imply I should be getting back to societal set beauty standards and be ashamed of my current body for producing a healthy baby. 

Guess what world? Fuck off!

Us ladies giving a middle finger to that mindset
I also like the prominence of my double chin and how I don't give a rat's ass 

I tagged my husband (because when it involves the kids that's pretty much what we do), and got a respectable amount of likes and comments applauding my fuck off. In fact, one of dr soc's friends copied and pasted my status and gave me credit on her own wall and she got lots of likes too! So in my own way, I'm going to count that as going viral.

Achievement unlocked!

Taller and Older

When I lived in Kentucky occasionally I would run into people I had gone to school with (k-12) or they had worked or taught there. But as time goes on you forget names, so most people knew I was one of the T-girls, but couldn't remember if I was the big or little one. When we were kids it was easier to tell us apart because I was "taller and older." And for the record, I still am.

Fast forward to today. As grown adults my sister and I have very similar body shapes overall. (and similar styles too it seems since we both wore the exact same sweater from stitch fix at thanksgiving) Since I'm the first kid and the first granddaughter on both sides, I didn't get a lot of hand-me downs. And though my little girl is our first born she has 2 older female cousins who gave her their outgrown wardrobes, so most of her clothes are hand-me downs. When I visited my sister a month ago she gave me a bunch of her maternity clothes which is great because because she had summer clothes and baby 2 is due in July, aka peak-stupid-hot-summer. So in a little bit of role reversal, I was getting hand-me downs from my little sister. We're going through them and I held up a pair of pants and asked if they were capris from the proportions.

Her response: no, they're regular length, my ass just got that big. Holy sh*t my ass got that big?! (she also was the one to tell me to put coco butter there to minimize stretch marks) 

A week later I was wearing a different pair of pants from her and they were tight. So I texted her: I'm wearing the maternity khakis from you and they are snug. So even if your ass got larger when pregnant, know mine is wider. 😂

Looks like I'm always going to be the bigger sister!

Pampers Points

On occasion my toddler will say "poop-poop" after she has done just that. (Other times she'll say it and grunt with a huge grin because it's hilarious.)
So the fist time she legit (not the bullsh*t-pun intended-version) did this, my mom-sense immediately recognized this as a sign she's could be ready to potty train. Mommy however, is not ready.  Nope.
Do I want my kid to be in diapers forever? No, of course not. Diapers are expensive and environmentally toxic and gross in general. But...I'm just not mentally there.
She's only 19 months old, still a baby. My small helpless baby is a legit toddler and she's growing into a strong, chatty opinionated little girl right on schedule. But she's still a tiny little girl - the 1st percentile. She would fall in! The stool to reach the potty and sink would probably be bigger and heavier than her. I mean... how could such a tiny little girl be ready?
At least she's not really showing any other signs. So the mom-guilt isn't flaring up at this particular moment over this. I'm sure it will soon enough over something just as developmentally important, but meh, for now I'll change my baby's diapers.      

Feel the burn

As someone who has completed a full marathon (and couldn't walk to prove it) and enough half marathons to loose count on occasion (7. I think 7), I know a few things about working out. I love yoga, dancing like a fool is so fun and runners high are great. Achieving fitness goals and working out are things to be proud of. I'm totally for being active, taking care of oneself and having a healthy lifestyle, especially now that I am a parent.

But god people, I so. don't. care. about your workouts.

You signed up for a race? Awesome! You can fit into a smaller size after working on that for months? Wonderful! Quit smoking 3 years ago? Rock on! Hell, even I've posted about getting stuck in my sports bra, because flailing around like a T-rex is hilarious.

But: Mention you got up at 4 am again to use your favorite treadmill at the gym? Ran 4.13 miles on run keeper? Announce you're 17 days into your wheat grass/acacia berries/organic unicorn hair-diet lunch? Instagramed the kettle bells that were "torture but OMG soooo worth it?" And posted some little workout quip along the lines of sweat is fat crying leaving your body- all within 12 hours?

STFU.

Bull Poop

Parenting truth: Poop is a part of your daily conversation pieces.

If we're being honest, this sh*t (pun intended) starts even before the baby arrives. Because one of the unfun things about your body creating a human is that pretty much every other system in your body goes apesh*t in one way or another. And so you talk about it. Because you're pregnant and grumpy and out of f*cks to give.

Anyway. Here's some of our exchanges since becoming parents.

Baby is 3 days old-
me: Baby pooped on me. Parenting achievement unlocked.

Baby is 5 days old:
me: I have been pooped on twice today. That is all.

Baby is 4 months old-ish:
me: Blowout today was through her onesie and up her back, but her pants stayed clean.
dr soc: Impressive.
me: I know right?

After daycare drop off:
me: We're on outfit number 2 already.
dr soc: Already? 
me:  Yeah. If we're being honest we hadn't even left the house yet.
dr soc: Ouch.
me: And stinky.

After a particularly toxic diaper change:
dr soc: How bad?
me: Bath-worthy.

Two weeks ago:
dr soc: Ever seen a purple-looking nugget in baby girl's diapers?
me: Yup. Was there a gray tinge to it as well?
dr soc: Not sure, it's in the pail now. I was just surprised.
me: It probably did. Gray and nugget like from the yogurt and purple from the prunes.

today:
me: If you do nothing else today please for the love of god give our daughter a bath. There was poop on the wall.

Breech of Contract

At my last doctor's visit the doctor was feeling around my belly but couldn't quite figure out where baby's head was. So out comes the ultrasound machine and baby is breech.
That little punk!
However, at that appointment I was just over 34 weeks, so there's still time and space for baby to move head down and butt up. My doctor gave me the okay to try and flip the baby on my own with some yoga positions, so I every night I give it a go. She also mentioned an Indian ritual of walking over hot coals, but I'm just going to leave that one alone. As a last resort maybe I can convince baby to flip by telling him/her it's like flip cup, which is mommy's favorite drinking game.
Hopefully baby gets with the program and moves into the proper position by 39 weeks. Or else baby's probably coming out via c-section before Thanksgiving. Which, nope, OMG, not even going to process that right now. Becasue OMG. Before Thanksgiving.

Shapes

Currently I'm growing a human. So my figure is changing.
Dr Soc is training for a half-marathon in October. So his figure is changing too.

Dr soc~excitedly~: My (hip bone) lines are coming back!
me~less than thrilled~: Yeah, mine aren't.

Belly Button

I don't know if your belly button popping out is one of those happens to everyone pregnancy things. I've got a notion that it'll happen to me though. I've noticed that as my tummy has been getting bigger my normal innie belly button has started to become...shallower.
But right now I still have an innie. Sorta. And by sorta I mean it's still a little concave in some parts. It's not full outie, and maybe it will stay the way it is now... So I guess right now it's a...flatie?

No Shame

In light of Robin Williams' untimely death, I'm going to "come clean" about my mental health.
I have been taking an anti-depressant for a full year now. The past 10 years I have struggled on and off with depression, and since the spring of 2013 I developed anxiety in addition to my depression.

I caught some breaks here and there in that life calmed down enough that I could breath. I've learned coping methods that weren't alcohol, berating others or thoughts of ways to harm myself. I was incredibly lucky to have support everywhere I turned. And I'm incredibly lucky that I was strong enough for at least one moment to reach out for help, and start fighting the fear, loneliness and emptiness that was my mental health. It took a combination of counseling, support, love, medication and work,  to become healthy again.

Suicide is not selfish, it is tragic.  It is not a ploy for attention, because all I wanted to do was become invisible. I was so ashamed of my mental health. My weakness. The fear my entire world would crash into oblivion and not take me with it, leaving me alone to...I don't even know. At some point, I had to be brave and change the scary landscape I lived in. There wasn't a specific catalyst, but something pushed me to do so. Because it doesn't just "get better." It takes time, and a lot of work to heal.

There will always be moments and triggers that may upset me and set me off, but I cannot control those. I can only control myself. And I will not be shamed, I will not hide from this.

Get. HELP. There is no shame.    

Sign of the Times

When I woke up yesterday morning, the left side of my neck and shoulder were really bothering me. My run the day before hadn't been the easiest, but it was just this one spot and the rest of me didn't hurt, I figured I had just slept on it wrong and that it would work itself out on it's own as the day progressed.

Except, it didn't.

Later in the afternoon my shoulder/neck was still bothering me and I didn't have my full range of motion, despite using a heating pad and taking an ibuprofen.  And then I remembered. I am 31, and things hurt for longer now. It's still bothering me this morning too actually. Sigh, to be the nubile young thing that could wrench her shoulder out of its socket and to be able to brush it of as nothing like in my days of yore. (ok, that never happened, that sounds incredibly painful no matter what age, but you get my point.) There will be no more "work itself out 'on it's own'," and even the working it out part requires some assistance.

Too Pretty

Ok, so I'm not tardy to the party or anything, but I'm 5 weeks from my wedding and haven't had time to snark about this until now. The writer who whined about being too beautiful.  Due to her ravishing looks, she's constantly spoiled by unwanted attention and lavish gifts of champagne and caviar that she never asks for, she's never been a bridesmaid, and women won't eave their husbands' sides if she's in the room. And not surprisingly, she doesn't have any female friends.

First: never trust a woman without girlfriends.
Second: to no one's surprise (except maybe her's) the reactions weren't met with any sympathy. And not only was there no sympathy, there was some, shall we say, backlash.

I am under no delusions that I am an attractive woman.  But I have not been showered with unwanted gifts of champagne and caviar, (first, because a gift of champagne is always a welcome gift in my world. Caviar though, I'll pass) nor am I constantly being burdened with upgrades to first class plane tickets. (the only time I have ever consciously gotten the pretty girl discount, was when my $3 and something left on my uk plus account was enough for the $6 something I needed for a pair of replacement lab goggles the one time I forgot them before chemistry lab.)  But you don't see me "complaining" about it like this brittish chick.

It's dirty common knowledge that pretty people sometimes have it a little easier in some areas. But no one want to have that acknowledged. So all she was doing was rubbing the not so pretty people's faces in it it seemed. And pretty doesn't make you a better person. But I guess it doesn't matter if you're ugly (or just less than beautiful) on the inside, because the pretty shell seems to be all you need anyway.

Hour Glass

I got a confirmation call from the company we're ordering the bridesmaid dresses from saying they had recieved the order and everything looked good. So, woo hoo on that!

Sort of by coincidence I found the company (and by coincidence I mean I very deliberately clicked on a link that said "bridesmaid dresses they will actually love.") and chose them because they offer a lot of variety in their dresses, so that everyone could find something they look best in. After all, with five different wonderful women in the party, there's bound to be five different body types as well. Though, in my group of friends, we're sort of known for being somewhat top heavy. And even though I already have my dress, that didn't stop me from looking through the whole page of thumbnails and picking out my favorites too.

There was this one dress that I thought was super cute, and it was similar to the one style that all the ladies liked. Then I read the dress description:
"This dress is best suited for those with A and B cups."
me: Well, there goes my bridal party!

Vaniety sizing

--Mike was trying on coats*--
me: That one fits really well on you. --I look at the size tag-- Oh, it's medium.  Do you want to try on the large to see how it fits?
mike: Sure --tries on the large-- Hmm, are the shoulders off on this one?
me: They do seem a little to wide for you. I think the medium looked better.
mike: Ok, cool, we'll go with the medium.
me: Can I just say, how much that I appreciate that you have no problems with a medium and don't have a Napoleon complex where you think that by not wearing a large you are less of a man?
mike: Uh, ok. The medium looks better, why wouldn't I get it? 
me: I'm just saying. I mean it's really just vanity sizing in male/reverse form.
mike: Vanity sizing?
me: Yeah, women buying smaller sizes because it makes you feel better. I do it. For example, I'll try on a 4 and a 2, and there may be no difference whatsoever in how they they look on me, but I will without fail buy that 2 because it is a 2 and not a 4.** So for guys it's buying a bigger size because they feel more manly in one.
mike: That's stupid.
me: I know. --Sigh-- Don't judge me.

*It's his Christmas present that he already wore. The practical side of me says he should wear it now since the point of a coat is to wear it. But the holiday side of me says he has to wait until Christmas!
** Sigh, I know. The plight of being small.

Teeny-Tiny

I had to get my engagement ring re-sized.  As much as I really didn't want to take it off and hand it over*, it spun just a bit too much for everyone's comfort. A few years ago I was a 5, a bit smaller than average, but not ridiculously tiny.  When dr soc and I were ring shopping, he was smart enough to get me sized instead of just taking a blind guess in the dark.  And at the time, a size 5 still fit it seemed.

When dr soc put his ring on my finger, it slipped on no problem.  I also squeed and cried no problem.  And it spun no problem too.  This was back in May. So now that it's July, and 90-something degree days are the norm, my fingers are as puffy as they are going to get.  And now that I've just starting to train for my marathon, I may slim down a bit. Not to mention in winter, my hands tend to get smaller.  So if my ring was spinning now, it was more than likely going to continue to do so for a while from here on out. 

So I went to the jeweler and reluctantly handed over my shiny.  But I had to figure out what size I was now.  Turns out, I'm now a size 4 1/2.  Yeah.  Four and a half.  Even I can't deny how small that it.  So I finally just acquiesced to the fact that I am indeed, a very tiny woman.

*Seriously, I was not happy about giving it back. I whined almost every day "I miss my ring!"  And then when the jeweler unwrapped it and handed it back to me, I clapped my hands and squealed  like a seal.**
**Of course she laughed. I didn't mind, I'm amused at my own excitement.  

Elephant Feet

With websites like zappos, I can shoe shop whenever I want and never even have to leave my couch.  So I'm browsing for my wedding shoes.  Of course I am.  I haven't decided on anything yet and they may or not be colored.  Just cause.  If I do do color, they will more than likely be pink, but I may do yellow. (Blue would be cool too for my something blue, but everyone wants to do that since Carrie Bradshaw wed Big in that bullshit* sex in the city movie, and I am so not Carrie Bradshaw**)

I wear a 6-7, depending on the type of shoe.  Thing is, I have wide feet.  Which for some reason surprises people. I can wear a regular/medium shoe width fine, but wide shoes are much more comfortable for me.  Especially for running shoes, those things gotta be comfortable.  I want to wear my wedding shoes through my wedding day, because, well I do.  If I'm going to get fabulous wedding shoes, I want to wear them as much as I can on my fabulous wedding day. 

So I'm looking on shoe websites.  Of course the shoes I like are $230. Of course they are.  Then I turned on the filter option for wide, because why not.  But the wide heels (or heels that have a wide option) are mostly all kinda chunky looking and, in my opinion, kinda ugly.  Not what I'm looking for.  And I thought "what's with all the wide shoes being ugly?  I just have a wide foot, I'm not a freak." 

*I liked the show well enough, but it's bullshit.  In real life, power player guys like Mr Big don't change for their girlfriend, they don't fly to Paris to win her back, and they most certainly don't come begging to be forgiven after jilting their bride at the alter.   
**Clearly, I am Charlotte. Because she is the desperately wants to get married and have babies one.  And, I have dark hair.

Carb it up

My fiance apparently wants to make his already trim physique into a rock hard figure. (sweetie, if you get to the point where you can't lift your arms up all the way not I will not only laugh at you, I will continuously ask you to lift your arms up for my own amusement.  But if you do get an ass I can bounce quarters off of don't be surprised if I start throwing change at your ass.)  So his trainer has him on this new work out plan, but he also needs to change his diet a little bit in order to see results.

In other words, he should be cutting his carbs.

This is absolute blasphemy to me.  Especially now that I'm getting back into running, and I need carbs for energy.  I most certainly will not be making hamburgers without the buns or put my pasta recipe book away.  No way in hell would I ever do that.  And even though I don't know how to make rice in my mom's rice cooker and completely failed at being an asian there, I'm starchly (hehehe) refusing to cut rice out of our diet either.
    
Now, in fairness, he doesn't have to cut them out entirely.  He really just needs to cut the excess carbs out, and replace those with less processed options.  Like having a yogurt instead of toast with his cereal in the morning, or fruit salad in place of his late night cereal snack (that's one way to keep chocolate Cheerios in my house, have Mike stop eating them twice a day), or have whole grain pasta for dinner or brown instead of white rice.  That, ok, I can do that for him.

But really, he doesn't want to do this either.  And this is how I know.  
--Late night snack time-- 
fiance: What do I want to eat?
me: You want to eat carbs, you just won't.
fiance (sadly):  Yeah.  Maybe just a little bit of cereal won't hurt..?
me: I don't think a Sarah-sized bowl will hurt.  Or you can have fruit salad.
fiance: (sadly) Yeah....

Short Shorts

I have a black pair of shorts.  And they are really really short. 

Me (while going through my dresser deciding what to wear): Oh, my black shorts. I barely wore these last year.  Hmm, well, it's super hot out and I think I can pull these off.

--At the store in short shorts where every guy over the age of 10 stares at my legs and every woman gives me the evil eye.--

Me: Oh, right. Now I remember. That's why I don't wear these.

Kept

So it's sorta always been a secret dream of mine to be a kept woman. Secret because if a college educated woman says that you get looks like you personally have set woman back 50 years. Which actually, I blame the skankification of America and the over-sexualization of kids for that.

Feminism is great and all that. But one of my takes on feminism is that it gave us the right to choose. Well, it gave affluent (mainly white) woman the choice. Poor socioeconomic class woman always have and will continue to work as a necessity, not as a choice. I've been more than fortunate and I can have that choice, instead of being forced into one path or the other.

I am looking for jobs fyi. But currently, I am kept. Which yay, dream of mine. And it's fun at first, but honestly, it gets old quickly. There's always stuff I can do around the house and I have to keep a constant eye on the dogs, but that hardly makes my day. I can play on the internets for a while, but once I cycle through my favorite sites I'm back to boredom. I've been going to the gym every day which is something, but guess who paid for our membership? And while I'm going all the time now because I'm training for a half, I'm also doing so because I want to look good so I feel like I'm bringing something (albeit something very superficial) to the table. In essence, I'm going to the gym, on a membership my boyfriend paid for, so I can stay hot. How's that for kept?

Average Jill

I happen to think I'm average. And I am average height, but I'm smaller than the average size/weight for a woman. Never the less, I'm still convinced I'm average, but every now and again I'm reminded that I really am quite tiny in some cases. Like recently when I was on vacation.

One of the handy things about vacationing with the boyfriend is that you have someone willing to put sunblock on your back. In a strictly skin care sort of way. He was also kind enough to tie my bathing suit top tighter for me, but he just made it one big knot and since I'll never be able to kill off the designer in me fully, I undid it and retied it myself so it would be more aesthetically pleasing.

Anyway, he put the sunblock on me, but he's significantly stronger than me. So he sorta (totally) pushed forward me in his gusto to properly apply skin protection.

me: --small squeak of surprise as I hurdle forward-- Oh! Hey, no pushing.
dr soc: Oops, sorry. I forget how tiny you are sometimes.

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

me: Wait, how tall are you again?

dr friend: 5'1".

me: Really? I thought you were closer to 5'3" because you're a little shorter than me.

dr friend: No. I've never been that tall.

me: Oh well then how come I think you're 5'3"?

dr friend: Probably because I'm loud. Makes people think I'm bigger than I actually am.

me: True.

dr friend: How tall are you? 5'7"?

me: Ha! I wish! I'm 5'5".

dr friend: Oh. Really? how come I think you're 5'7"

me: Probably because I'm loud too.

dr friend: Yep.