All due respect to Billy Mays.

My parents sent me to Catholic school, so I learned shame as a subject in school.

I honestly can’t think of an emotion that has done more harm to my psyche than shame. Guilt is a fairly close second, but shame is the king.

One of my earliest lessons was in shame about my physical self. I NEVER heard the word ‘vagina’ and there certainly weren’t cute little euphemisms.  I thought VAgina was pronounced VIRgina until I was in Junior high.

The southern regions were referred to as the ‘bottom’, specifically, the ‘front’ or the ‘back’. And those areas were only spoken of when ENTIRELY necessary and it was in hushed tones.

That’s really just the tip of the iceberg. Shame was a way of life. I would like to let all of that go. I need to find a way. Something quick and easy.

I propose a new product. The SHAME WOW! This is what we need. The Shame Wow can soak up YEARS of shame in minutes. It rinses clean and can be used over and over again.  

You son brings his new girlfriend home unannounced and you realize the bathroom hasn’t been cleaned since the last time you had over night guests…which was a while ago? And a while ago = Easter. Get the Shame Wow out! In mere SECONDS you won’t give a flying fuck WHAT the new girlfriend thinks. Let her find out that her new stud leaves the bathroom in shambles. It’s not your fucking problem!

You stand up from your desk chair without making DAMN sure your shirt is pulled all the way down and some random coworker who you don’t give a FUCK about catches a glimpse of a love handle? That’s right! The Shame Wow will give you instant and much needed perspective! How many times have YOU see someone’s spare skin and your eyes glide right over it? It really doesn’t matter much, does it? The Shame Wow will remind you how unimportant this really is and will help you get the fuck over your big bad self.

The paint on your front door has flaked off in places? Okay, perhaps ‘flaked’ is generous, perhaps ‘peeled’ is a better description. You find yourself comparing your door to all the other doors in the neighborhood. No one ELSE has strips of silver showing through. In fact, you are CONVINCED that your flaky door makes your house looks like the Clampett’s BEFORE they made it to Beverly Hills, while all the other houses would make Scarlett O’Hara jealous. And you’re convinced that you’ve ruined the ENTIRE neighborhood. Get that Shame Wow out! It soaks that shame right up and leaves you with the knowledge that you don’t give a fuck what the neighbors think and you’ll paint the damn door when you are good and ready.

You spend a LOT of your spare time on the treadmill and still, the best you can do is run for 15 minutes at a time. Then you see those 13.1 and 26.2 stickers on mini vans EVERYWHERE and you feel terrible about yourself. The Shame Wow will kick your ass and tell you to stop being such a pussy. Also, it will remind you that we are all in different places and comparison has no place in your life. The Shame Wow will also remind you to consider all the ways your life is awesome and remind you that you ARE doing your best.

The Shame Wow also works on the following:

Rusty deck furniture.

Sticky spots inside the fridge. Including hard globs of jelly by the butter shelf.

Adult zits.

Old underwear.

Stupid laughs.

Get the Shame Wow now and at no extra cost you get the Guilt Grinder. Any time you feel guilty about something, get the Guilt Grinder out and it converts that guilt into NEGATIVE CALORIE BROWNIES!

Fine.

Perhaps the Guilt Grinder is a bit far fetched. But a girl can dream, right?

What are you holding on to that makes you feel ashamed. Can you let it go? At least try?

I have to think we’d benefit from it.

And if anyone is interested in going into business with me on the Shame Wow thing…pretty sure it would be a hit. We’d be rich and never have work again.

And I’d definitely get my front door painted.

Like frozen crazy..

There is no reason to move forward if there is nothing to look forward to. There is no reason to improve if we are just improving into the same shit life.

We all have really good fucking things about our lives. This is what we live for. This is what keeps us going.

Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine…

1.  I have four AMAZING children. Three are grown and one starts highschool next year which makes me want to cry. Just a little. My kids are four completely separate entities. They are NOT alike. What they have in common? They are creative and fucking funny as FUCK. I have an artist and a criminal and a nerd and a really cranky child. It’s kind of like The Breakfast Club. My feelings toward them can be described as nothing less than FIERCE.

2. Which leads into reason number 2. We have 3 1/2 grandchildren. Layla will be here in July. I got to see her 3D sonogram today. Ummm…they’re a little creepy…but still..I am thrilled to have another granddaughter. We have Emma, who looks like an elf. Like the queen of all elves. She is gorgeous and she has a great voice and she gives the best hugs. And we have James who has eyes that look like they have LED lights in them. He has pudgy feet and he loves Froot Loops and I get to see BOTH of them next week. Madelyn is the newest edition. I got to see her pop out. She calls me Gaga. I am wrapped around her little baby fingers.

3. This is where I should mention hubs..but he hovers over the top of this list all on his own. I will spend all my days with him, he deserves his own list. Instead, I will mention all my sisters. I have four of them. My sisters that I grew up with and my sisters that came with my husband. I don’t own a Snuggie. I don’t need one. I have four sisters that give me a sense of security. They are there even when they aren’t. I wouldn’t want to live without them.

4.  My brand spanking new muscles. I fucking love my muscles. They went away for awhile, but they are coming back in a big bad way. I feel them all the time. I’m even smug about them. They fucking ROCK like frozen crazy. I’m going to keep tending to them. They are serving me well.

5.  My blog. I love writing this blog. I adore that people read it. I treasure every single comment I get and I am THRILLED by the new relationships I’ve established since I started writing this blog. This blog has gotten me through some dark ass shit. It’s mine and I love it. I’m proud of it. And I can go back through and read my words and think to myself….Hey..you know what? I don’t suck! YAY ME!

I have more reasons. I could write 10 blog posts about my mother alone. I could write about books I love. I could talk about ways I’ve grown and habits I’ve shed and acquired. These just were the first five that came to mind..

This is what we all need. What do you live for? Why is your life awesome?  Give me five reasons.

Hubs and I are watching a REALLY bad movie right now, Chillerama.

Well, he’s watching it, I’m kind of watching it and writing a blog post and playing Scramble and wrestling with my extreme impatience.

I hate how long this takes. I just want to be in shape NOW. RIGHT NOW.

Anyone who says “Well, you didn’t get overweight overnight, so you aren’t going to lose overnight, either” is getting a crotch punt.

Okay, seriously, this movie is both extremely stupid and disgusting. And my husband, who is usually a film SNOB is laughing his head off. He’s laughing at a huge swimmy sperm. Wadzilla.

If there is anything I wrestle with, it’s this. I have been working my ass off. I’ve changed my diet in a big bad way. I’m far from perfect when it comes to my diet, but still, I’ve made some major changes.

It’s been months now. Two months.

Why am I not in a size 8?

The spermatozoa has grown teeth and has escaped. Hubs, who can go for DAYS without cracking a fucking smile, is laughing his ass off.

I’m not stopping, but I think it’s time to admit that I need to slow down. I’m working out between 80 and 120 minutes a day. I’m tired. I’m tired all the time. But I don’t stop, because I HATE FUCKING WAITING.

If I keep pushing myself, then I’ll get there faster, right?

I’m not in a race. It’s a journey. And if I think about it, I actually LIKE what I’m doing. I dig lifting weights. I am actually having a torrid, sweaty affair with my treadmill. Even the changes in my diet make me feel better.

Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t I appreciate the changes I CAN see and feel instead of straining so hard to see into the future. To what? The end? Is there an END to this?

No. This is my life now.

I must learn patience. I get impatient and I begin to feel overwhelmed which makes me feel even more tired.

Okay, even hubs had enough of the monster sperm. Looks like we’re back to rewatching Sons Of Anarchy.

We all struggle in different ways. What puts you off? What makes you feel overwhelmed?

How the fuck do you get over it?

Why yes, I HAVE become confident enough to feel qualified to hand out beauty tips. You’re probably gonna want to bookmark this page and refer to it often as I can promise it will come in handy.

1. Use caution when plucking those gray eyebrows. It’s POSSIBLE that you might overpluck and then it’s also possible that the gray ones will continue to grow, but the fucking bald spot you left will STAY bald and you’ll have to color it in every morning.

2. If you plan on trying hemorrhoid cream beneath your eyes to shrink up the bags, DO NOT LET YOUR HUSBAND KNOW. Or he might start calling you ass head.

3. The time to stop wearing uncomfortable shoes is NOW. Advice I could have used 8 hours ago.

4. Black eyeliner is always in fashion. But for fuck’s sake, it goes on the OUTER lid, not the inner lid. Inner lid application makes your eyes look all squinty and shoved together, plus, when you blow your nose, black shit will come out.

5. If you hold your head high with an “I’m a badass mother fucker” attitude, you will ALWAYS look better.

5a. Is it ‘Mother fucker’ or ‘motherfucker’?

6.  Do not attempt to apply makeup with uneven lighting. The result will be that half of your face will look ‘dirty whore’ while the other half will look ‘Casper the ghost’.

7. If your natural skin tone is ‘red splotches’ and you use green makeup under your foundation to cover the splotchiness, make SURE you cover all the green. Or people will think your mother fucked an alien.

8. Big dark sunglasses are a perfectly acceptable substitute for eye makeup.

9. Don’t wear Crocs. Not ever. If you wear them to garden in, I guess that’s okay. But I will still judge you a little bit.

10. Experimentation with eye makeup is a wonderful thing! But unless you are under the legal drinking age, don’t wear green mascara.

11. If you jab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand, don’t try to fix the ensuing mess you’ve just made of your eye makeup. It’s gone. Over. Finished. Clean it all off and start over. Unless you are already late for work, in which case, refer to #8.

12. If you color your own hair and decide that you’re going to try the box that says it’s really REALLY easy to do your own highlights…Stop. The box is a lie.

13. Always take care that you don’t mix your eye makeup remover with your nail polish remover.

14. Don’t spray hairspray directly into your eyes.

15. If you DO have to color in a bald spot on your left eyebrow, remember to not rub your face during the day. If you do, the bald spot will be uncovered and you will have a brown streak the length of your forehead.

And there you have it. Beauty tips from me.

Obviously, I need a little help. Got any tips of your own?

I am SO excited. I bet you are, too. This is the day I look forward to every single year. More than Christmas AND my birthday AND Talk Like A Pirate Day (September 19).

Personally, I find it an outrage that we don’t get off work for this holiday. Cretins.

HAHAHA

I’ve never had a pig in a blanket in my entire life. Having the white trash background that I have and being married to their king, it’s odd..I know. But I’ve never had one.

The point isn’t so much that today is Pigs In A Blanket Day. (It really is) but that it occurs to me that I spend a lot of time fretting and wishing and generally being annoyed with my day to day life.

At the risk of sounding cheery, because that is so much NOT me, perhaps it would be a good idea to find reasons to celebrate. Perhaps tubular meat byproduct and dough isn’t what I had in mind. I’m sure if I tried, I could come up with reasons to celebrate. Reasons that might even over shadow this very special day.

Okay, here’s a good one. I have a pair of jeans that are slightly snug, not so much that they are uncomfortable, but definitely snug. If I wear them, I have to wear a long shirt over top of them because they are old and worn and the snugness of these jeans cause the zipper to randomly go down. I wore them today. The zipper did not come down on its own. Not even ONE time. That, my friend, is reason to celebrate. I’m starting to see changes again.

Also, I got my first pedicure of the season. My elephant skin heels are a little less elephanty and my toes are deep, dark red and they look goooood.

I can still only do wussy girl pushups and I have to use my step instead of the floor, but I’m starting to kick their ass rather than them kicking mine.

I am settling into the idea that getting into shape is NOT a race. And I’m NOT letting that idea become an excuse to slack off. I’m looking forward to working out and looking forward to the results. Fine..today? Today I felt frustrated because I want ALL THE RESULTS right now. I’m not going to get them. I’m good with that. I’ll get the results as I work for them.

I yelled at my 14 year old son so much today that I made him get teary. He’s working on a project that involves paint. I told him MULTIPLE times to be careful. Minutes later, I found gray acrylic paint spots all over my kitchen floor. I am not as proud of this, but it is weighing on my mind. Not the paint, that got cleaned up. The yelling. This really has NOTHING to do with celebrating a day. I just feel really horrible about this at the moment..hence the digression.

The big ass pile of laundry has been downgraded from Goliath to David.

In a few short weeks, I’m going to get to see all my grandchildren at the same time.

How about you. What comes to mind to celebrate? Mind you, it MUST be better than pigs in a blanket.

We should name our own days. Who comes up with this shit anyway?

You know what I want to do? Just ONE time?

I want to get my curling iron out and eighties up my hair. I want to tart myself up with heavy makeup and false eyelashes. The works. I want a big booby bra and a sleazy evening gown and whore shoes and THEN, I want to walk down the red carpet.

Just ONE time. Is that too much to ask?

I want flashbulbs a poppin every where and I want to wave that two handed wave that I’ve been practicing for years. You know, just in case I get famous.

In reality, what would happen is I’d freak out from all the flash bulbs, I’d become horribly self concious and I’d fall right the fuck off those whore shoes. And then I’d flash my granny panties. Of course, I’m sure THAT is the only paparazzi pictures that would ever be seen.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m never walking down the red carpet.

HOWEVER..

I DID win an award.

Charles from Sub-three gave me the prestigious Liebster award.

I’ve never heard of the award, but what the fuck? I say any recognition is GOOD recognition. Unless it’s my former sister in law. I would prefer she forget what I look like altogether.

And there it is…my Liebster. I’m thinking of having a room built to hold it…then I can leave my laptop in that room and when people come over, I can casually wave toward the room and say.. “Oh, THAT room…that’s where I keep my Liebster”.

There are conditions that go along with the Liebster. Normally, I don’t like conditions…reminds me too much of previous marriages.

Any way…here are the rules…

1. Choose 5 up-and-coming blogs with less than 200 followers to award the Liebster to.

2. Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.

3. Post the award on your blog. List the bloggers you are giving the award to with links to their sites. Leave comments on their blog so they know about the award.

4. Share 5 random facts about yourself that people don’t know about you

Okay…about that number 4. I am hard pressed to come up with five fucking things I’ve never shared on my blog. I’m an open book. What the fuck is there to say? I’ll give it a shot, but I’m really afraid I’m going to have to dig into the depravity files for this…

In 1998, I came in 10th in the annual Writer’s Digest contest in the personal essay category. I wrote an essay about traveling by bus with my son and it was titled Eight To Nine In 66 Hours.

When I got married the first time, our hotel burned down on our honeymoon.

My two favorite scents are toast and lilacs.

I got Tom Cruise’s autograph when he was in Cincinnati filming Rain Man.

I can speed read.

Whew..no depravity. That was close. Thank the fucking stars it wasn’t SIX things.

And here are the five up and coming blogs I’ve chosen. And by chosen, I mean I asked people on twitter if they wanted to be featured. Here they are in order by color:

Chris, from The Body Moment. –  I got tired reading his blog, I was worn out just THINKING about all the working out. Seriously..he has some great food and exercise information in his blog. You should do yourself a favor and check it out. Also, it appears he’s kind of a smart ass (he knows why I say this) so that definitely earns him extra award points.

Tryanythingfitness - @DondaRex5 from twitter offers a glimpse into her fitness world. If you are like me and you are a self proclaimed voyeur, then check this blog out. I can NOT get enough of peeking into people’s personal lives. I was probably the original peeping Tom in a former life.

Kara from Kararuns – I really REALLY want to be a runner. I’m pretty fucking far from being a runner, but I will get there. I love the inspiration in her blog. Do yourself a favor and click on the ‘get inspired’ tab and read to your heart’s content.

Christine from Love, Life, Surf - Seriously…she surfs. That is so fucking exotic to me. Anyone who surfs AND blogs deserves a nice following…

Bang, from Run Bang Run – All that really needs to be said here is tutu. Okay, PURPLE tutu. How fucking cool is that. Anyone who has a picture of themself in a tutu on their blog should get ALL the awards.

And with THAT…I pass the Liebster torch. Have fun fellow bloggers!

I THOUGHT I had the coolest thing happen to me this week. I mean, seriously cool. I thought, for a brief moment, that I would be immortal.

As it turns out, only my hair will be.

I have been a fan of Stephen King since high school. I faithfully read everything he publishes. Even the crap. He has another installment of the Dark Tower series coming out soon. I get his newsletter and because I am a huge dweeb, I read it everytime it shows up in my inbox. They had a contest of sorts. The back cover of his new book Wind Through The Keyhole would be filled with many many many pictures that his fans sent in.

Of COURSE I sent a picture in. It looks like this:

Honestly, I pretty much forgot about the contest. Then I got an email inviting me to check to see if I had been chosen to be on the cover. So I checked. And lo and behold…it said I HAD BEEN PICKED. I was going to be on the jacket of the one author I’ve read faithfully from the time my boobs were perky all the way up until they were…less perky.

And then I saw the picture. Turns out, my face didn’t make the cut. It’s just my hair. Here, see for yourself.

I guess my actual face is too scary. For a Stephen King book.

And, if you didn’t notice…it’s gonna be printed on the UK version, so unless I get get one of my friends from across the pond to send it to me, I can’t even buy it.

I think I’ll just download it on my kindle.

Okay..as promised..Two stories, one post.

This one has nothing to do with Stephen King. It’s not cool, not by a damn sight, in fact the only thing that it has in common with the first story is that it happened this week.

As Middle Sister likes to say me: “Hey Michelle, did you know the word gullible is NOT in the dictionary”?

Yeah, that never gets old. Unfortunately, it’s also true. I am gullible. I don’t like most people, yet I trust them. How is THAT for fucked up?

I was contacted by someone through my blog and they asked if they could do a guest post. I’ve never had a guest post. In fact, it’s never occurred to me to ask anyone else to write for my blog. I got that part covered. I was intrigued by the idea because he wanted to write something regarding the importance of staying healthy to combat cancer and the importance of being in shape if you DO get cancer.

I thought that was a good idea. I decided it was an important subject. I wrote back and said that as long as he wasn’t trying to sell any products or services that I would be happy to accept a guest post.

I got his post this week. It was a little dry, but as promised, chock full of encouraging words about the importance of being in shape when dealing with cancer. He provided many links to support his article. How fucking considerate is THAT?

I sent hubs an email and told him that I would not be writing any blog posts this week because someone else had done it for me.

He had ONE thing to say: Send it to me.

I rolled my eyes (sorry, baby) and thought, here we go. Hubs has a tendancy to question everything. He is NOT as trusting as I am. Turns out, this is a good thing. At least in this case. He wrote back and pointed out that the VERY FIRST LINK in the article was to an attorney’s website. An attorney who specializes in asbestos related cancer cases.

Fucking hell. I totally fell for it.

At least I didn’t PUBLISH it.

And his writing was more than dry. It sucked ASS. Stupid dick.

Consider this a PSA for all you bloggers out there. People suck. They will attempt to take advantage of you.

Also, the word gullible really IS in the dictionary. I just checked.

Okay…so you DON’T want to work out. You REALLY want to slack off. You need a reason. I have a fuck ton right here for you. Feel free to apply as needed.

HAHAHAHA….Just kidding..

Get OFF YOUR ASS AND WORK OUT.

But before you do..I offer these excuses for your entertainment.

Disclaimer: These are for entertainment only. They are not intended to be used as real excuses. Except reason 4. And maybe 35.

1. Busy writing pithy Twitter comments and RT’ing ass off.

2. Have to bend over and plug in treadmill.

3. Can’t stop staring at massive muscle guy with the raging boner humping the weight bench.

4. Tequila is singing it’s siren’s song.

Better turn off the treadmill lest a salacious robot appear.

5. Too busy feigning interest in hub’s sump pump installation story.

6. Need to check what’s been recently added to Netflix.

7. Forgot brain. Left in cubicle. No brain no gain

8. Can’t shake feeling parallel reality doppelganger already buff.

9. Feel obligated to spend deck time with lonely husband who tells fascinating sump pump installation stories.

10. Turns pretty feet into gnarly, calloused, feet of death.

11. A chafe, chafe here. A chafe, chafe there.

12. The horny, old muscle head who lays his hands on you to “correct” your form.

13. Can’t stand thought of touching workout equipment slickered up by buckets of stranger sweat.

14. Convinced a drive to the liquor store equates a vigorous workout.

15. Busy hoping a bee flies into the mouth of guy who grunts every time he lifts 10 lbs.

16. Half Sack of Halloween candy close to expiration date. (You Sons Of Anarchy friends will get the half sack tribute).

17. Copping bad workout attitude because neighbor’s dog shit in driveway. True fucking story.

18. Can’t eat lunch while doing pull ups, sit ups, or lunges.

19. Camel toe phobic while wearing last years too small workout clothes.

20. Exercise not as interesting as watching hubs install sump pump.

21.   Fucking DOMS.

22.  Walking one room away to treadmill too inconvenient.

23.  Only work out shirt reads “Property of Jackson County  Correctional Facility” .

24.  Fear of choking on brownies while jogging.

25.  Concerned running treadmill will lure salacious robot.

26.  No clean workout clothes and refuse to do naked squats. And nothing will be done on the stability ball sans clothes.

27.  Socks don’t match and refuse to wear panty hose during workout.

28. Fear of SID (Severe Intestinal Distress).

29. Check e-mail. Check e-mail. Check e-mail. Check e-mail. Check e-mail.

30. Dog ate IPod ear buds.

31. Keep falling asleep after laying down on weight bench.

32. Can’t figure out how to manage time with a Mayan calendar.

33.  The world is ending…again. Why bother?

34. On hold while Miss Cleo figures out my future.

35.  Afraid zombies will hear weights clanking.

36. Too busy thinking of creative ways to accessorize workout ensemble.

37.  Tennis shoes only fit left foot.

38.  Can’t make a decision whether to a) workout b) try out grilled cheese donut recipe c) get teeth cleaned d) Confess perverted sexual fantasies to Monsignor Iamnotapedophile.

39. Sam

40. Dean

41. Fuck you. I don’t have to work out.

42. Seriously, I don’t mind being fat.

43. Have you seen our new sump pump?

Okay…give them to me…give me your reasons for NOT working out.

Now get rid of them.

And get off your ass.

That is all.

Okay, so you KNOW you want to get into better shape but you still aren’t feeling motivated enough to actually get started?

Let me help. Here are some VERY good reasons to get into shape:  

1. Living well is the best revenge. I don’t care HOW  nice you are or how much everyone loves you..there is at least ONE person in your life that you have to deal with that you don’t like and who doesn’t like you. A co-worker? Sister in law? Neighbor? You start getting into shape and it will drive them BATSHIT. Just picture them doing that long and slow burn. Makes you want to start working out right this second, doesn’t it?

2. You’ll be more speedy. Hopefully, this will never be an issue, but what if you find yourself in a situation where you have to RUN? Suppose a bear is charging or an axe-weilding psycho is coming toward you and a group of family or friends. Or strangers..it doesn’t really matter. You do NOT want to be the slowest in this situation. No one wants to be bear food.

3. You will sound youthful. Old people talk about aches and pains. The only things old people like to talk about more than aches and pains is free food and how often their relatives don’t visit. If you aren’t in shape, those aches and pains years will set in way too early. Then you’ll be one of them. You don’t want to be old ache and pain lady when you aren’t even 50 yet. Or as I choose to call it, the new 30. In fact, I’m going to have to insist you all follow suit. I will be the new 30 next year. By then, I want any references to age 50 eradicated.

4. You won’t get winded as easy. Your phone rings and you have to sprint to get it? Well, if you’re out of shape you’re gonna get winded and then you’ll sound like a creepy old person when you answer the phone. People are gonna say “WHAT were you just DOING”? And you’re going to have to convince them that you really weren’t just masturbating, that YES, you DO get that winded just from sprinting from one room away.

5. What if you fall and break your leg and need an ambulance? You don’t want to have to tell the 911 operator that they need to send their biggest and most burly EMTs. And if there are steps involved, do you really feel comfortable with strangers getting you down those steps with out dropping your ass? You don’t want to live out one of those movie scenes where the wheelchair or gurney or whatever rolls out of control. Sure, it might be funny in the movies. Pretty sure it would be horrifying in real life. Not to mention your broken leg might become the least of your problems. One of which very well may be Youtube.

6. Live your life. In all seriousness..when you feel good, you do more. How many times have you decided ‘just staying home’ was the best option? I’m not saying that isn’t valid some of the time or even most of the time. But if you find you don’t really do much of anything, then life is just sliding past you. We just get this one….don’t squander it.

Yeah, that last one. I’ve squandered way to much of my time. I don’t want to lose any more of it. I want to feel good enough to get up and move. I don’t want tiredness or aches and pains to slow me down.

I also want to weed my garden. It’s not my weight that’s keeping me from that, though. I just saw a fucking snake.

Help us out here. Give me another good reason to get into shape.

I feel the need to write a post tonight, but fucking hell…I am way too lazy to come up with my own idea. So here’s the deal: I want some suggestions. I will have hubs decide which one to choose.

See what I did there? That way no one can be offended if I don’t pick their idea.

And let’s make sure we’re clear here…I won’t be writing about unicorn riding banshees or kittens or…well, really, anything I don’t want to write about. Other than that, the topic is open. It doesn’t have to be about diet or exercise or health. Whatever you feel like reading about.

As long as I do NOT have to research. I don’t do research. That is reserved for serious bloggers, not silly mooks like me.

So..have at it!

@LisaEirene had the following suggestion: write a post about criticism, how women cut each other down instead of supporting them,how catty women can be about weight etc.  And @cuddleboobies concurred..

And yes, @SinnerEllaDeVil  This IS a common topic..but I have a story.

So, gather around and your cranky Aunt Michelle will tell you a story about how we women can FUCKING SUCK!

Hubs and I were shopping at our favorite grocery store. (Seriously, if you are ever in the greater Cincinnati area, you need to go. You can even buy spicy cock soup mix there). Hubs stopped at the Starbucks counter and chatted up our favorite barista. She told him about her young daughter breaking her ankle while engaging in a gymnastics competition.

She told him a story about another little girl on her daughter’s team. Mind you, these kids are no older than 11 years old. This little girl has a medical issue (no idea what it is) and that she’s been on medicine since she was 4 years old. This medicine has caused her to carry some extra weight, especially around the middle.

This little girl also runs circles around the the other kids on the team. She outperforms them all.

Our barista friend said that the other mothers in the stands, and not just a few, did not recognize AT ALL what an amazing little athlete this girl was. All they could see was her size.

And they were HORRIFIED. They said she shouldn’t be out there. She shouldn’t be competing. Because she’s FAT.

This is what we do? We can’t even protect our daughters from our own damn selves??

How are we supposed to support each other when we spend so much time judging? How are people supposed to change when they’re hurting because of the way they are treated? And speaking from experience, when I hurt, I EAT.

Here’s my suggestion. And also my pledge…let’s do this: When we hear a person running someone down because of their size…let’s call them out on it. Seriously. I’m not saying you have to be a dick about it (although, in all likelihood, I will be) You can quietly point out how cruel it is to mock someone’s size. And maybe ask them why?

It seems to me that the derision has got to be stemmed in fear. And it also seems that I hear this derision from very thin people more often than not.

Why?

Maybe because being thin is ALL THEY HAVE..and they are terrified of losing the only thing that they feel gives them value. They see what they are so afraid of becoming and their pathetic and sad response is vitriol.

Even against little girls.

We can do better.

Are you with me? Can you stand up and speak out?

I can.