Spanx? No, Thanx!

Some women don’t know how they survived before the invention of Spanx.

Sure, there were many precursors, probably dating back hundreds of years. From girdles to corsets. All designed to constrict. Make a woman appear thinner than she is.

I’ve even heard that the great Beyonce wears several pairs during performances to keep everything tight. And I guess if I was getting paid millions to gyrate on stage, I may reconsider my stance.

But, seriously, I just like comfort. I do my best to work out and watch what I eat so I’m not jiggling all over the place. However, at the end of the day, If I have to choose between being comfortable and looking firmer or skinnier, I choose comfort every time.

Now, I’m all for girl power and am super thrilled that Sarah Blakely is a gabillionaire for having invented Spanx. And that she’s from Florida. AND an FSU grad — go Noles!

But you can’t tell me that you’re in the best mood when you’re all compressed like that. Just like with pointy, sky-high heels. After you enjoy looking sexy for all of five minutes, you’re just a cranky bitch. And who can blame you?

We weren’t designed to be all sucked in like that. Do what you can to control the jello in the gym and in the kitchen.

And then let your flab fly, I say!

Because form must follow function. It’s like one of the commandments. I’m pretty sure.

How do you feel about shapewear. Yea or Nay? Leave a comment below!

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Anal Probes. But Why???

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I’ve often heard stories about people being abducted by aliens. And no. Not from actual abductees. Just from stories….mainly on TV and in movies.

And it seems to me that the main thing these stories have in common, aside from the description of the flying saucer and the weird looking beings emerging from them, is the very disturbing fact that most of these abductions involve some kind of anal foraging.

Now, because for some reason I find this practice intriguing, I spend an inordinate amount of time pondering this bizarre practice.

Like, what exactly are they looking for?

Or are they inserting some kind of tag, like scientists do so they can track shark migrations?

No matter. I honestly don’t get it.

I mean, if I had just encountered a new species, I’m fairly certain that their anuses wouldn’t even make the top ten list of things I’d like to investigate.

Do you believe in aliens? And what do you make of these probes? Leave a comment below!

 

Softball. A Misnomer.

Have you ever wondered why they call it a softball? Have you ever been on the receiving end of one?

I have. And I can tell you that it most certainly was not soft.

I mean, I guess in comparison to a baseball it may be soft….er. But still.

A pillow? Soft. A puppy? Soft. A baby? Soft. My abs? Soft.

A softball, not so much.

Also, if you say the word “soft” enough times it starts to sound really weird.

Do you ever wonder how some things got their names? Leave a comment below!

Baths: The Antithesis of Relaxation

For the life of me, I can’t understand why people like to take baths.

I know. I know.

You say it’s relaxing. You like soaking in the bubbles. You’ve bedecked the tub with candles and you turn the down lights. You may even listen to soft music.

Or you’ve gotten yourself one of those handy dandy little basket contraptions that holds a book. Or your wine.

But, let’s face it, at the end of the day, you’re just stewing in your own filth.

Unless you shower first. But then, what’s the point?

You also have to clean the crap out of it. Often.

I have small children that like to shower in my bathroom. I know what they do in the there. You couldn’t pay me enough to lie in that cesspool.

Also, seems to me you’re creating a dangerous fire hazard with all those unattended candles.

I mean, the way I see it, the bathroom is a place you go to for elimination. You leave things behind and you get on with your life.

You don’t marinate in them.

And yes, I’ve tried. At some fancy hotel even. I filled the tub with luxurious bubbles. Dimmed the lights. Turned on the jets. Forced myself to sit there and enjoy it.

Instead, the jets created more bubbles than I intended. I couldn’t figure out how to turn them off or drain the tub. The bathtub overflowed as I attempted, unsuccessfully, to scoop them out into the sink. It was a hot mess.

I can honestly tell you I did NOT feel relaxed. If anything, I felt like Lucy.

What’s your stance on baths? Leave a comment below!

Is it Gas? Is it Pork? The Nose Knows!

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Because it’s late and I’m tired….here’s a throwback.

A month or two ago, I began smelling something awful funky emanating from my bathroom. Now, because it’s a bathroom after all, I attributed the odor to, you know, the stuff that goes on in there.

Not the typical stuff that goes on in there, mind you – I mean the peste coming out of there was ridiculous. But I thought maybe the hubby had eaten something that died inside of him. So, to avoid embarrassing him, I didn’t really broach the subject right away.

But a few days later, I figured I HAD to say something. Because if it was him that smell was coming out of, something was wrong with him and he needed to seek medical attention as soon as possible.

So I mentioned the stench to him in as nice a way possible and told him that it’s been like that for days. He looked at me like I was insane and told me that there was no smell. So…I took that to mean that it WAS him!

I began to worry. And to make sure his life insurance policy was up to date. And listed me as a beneficiary. But I digress.

I let it go for another few days. I figured as long as it was contained to the bathroom, I could maybe deal. Until one day I came home and as soon as I opened the front door, the foulness of the odor almost knocked me over and I had had enough. Hurt feelings or no, I had to bring it up again, for all our sakes.

I told him, in no uncertain terms, that there was a horrid odor coming from the bathroom and it had now permeated the entire house. I asked him if maybe I should just call a repair man…a plumber…911. I also told him that if he couldn’t smell it, there was something wrong with him. That the next time someone came over, I was going to ask if they smelled something too – to prove to him that it wasn’t just me.

We even came home one night and the smell was so bad in the driveway when
we got out of the car that I almost passed out. He said it smelled like lechon. Something’s seriously wrong with him.

I mean, my whole life I’ve been teased about having a big nose. And I admit that it wasn’t until fairly recently that I began to accept and embrace my ski slope schnoz. On the one hand, it’s a hindrance because strong odors bother me more than they do others. But on the other, it’s a godsend, allowing me to smell when things are burning. Or when we’re potentially being killed slowly.

So the other day, my sister came over and remarked, “what the hell is that smell?!?” And I said, “AHA!!!” Vindication!! At last!

Gas leakThe hubby finally relented and decided to take me seriously. He went outside to check and then nonchalantly said that it was possibly a gas leak. To which I retorted, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN A GAS LEAK? SHOULDN’T WE BE WORRIED? ARE WE GOING TO DIE???”

He calmly replied, “Why don’t you call the gas company tomorrow?” And I’m thinking to myself, “Is he kidding me? Why don’t YOU call the gas company? And TOMORROW??”

Of course, as many of you know, I am incredibly sleep deprived and it’s a miracle I’m functioning at all so by the time I get the little ones dressed and carry them out to the car screaming and crying and get to work. I sort of forget that we’re slowly being poisoned at home.

Until today. I finally set an alarm on my phone to remind me to call. So I did.

My conversation with the lady at the gas company went something like this:

Me: I think there’s a gas leak.

Her: what makes you say that?

Me: It smells like something died in my bathroom and my husband said that when he went outside to check, he suspected a leak.

Her: But you can’t see gas.

Me: Listen lady, I don’t know what he looked at or how he knows there’s a leak. All I know is the smell is unbearable and it’s been like that for over a month.

This is my favorite part…..

Her: Will someone over the age of 18 be home to meet us in the next 30 minutes?

Me: Yes.

Her: OK, if there’s anything plugged in or turned in inside the home, DO NOT turn it off. If you’re talking to me on a landline, put the phone down and I will disconnect the call on my end. Do not use your cell phone near the bathroom. Do not light a match or smoke anywhere near the side of the house where your bathroom is located. Do not start your car near that side of the house. Do not turn anything on, either. Please step outside of your home immediately and wait for the technician outside but not near the area of the suspected leak.

And I’m simultaneously thinking to myself:

1. Oh shit! and

2. What part of it’s been smelling like that for over a month did you not understand? My smoker hubby smokes on that side of the house ALL the time! The cars are parked on THAT side of the house – where they’re started. Every day. I use my cell in the shitter all the time. This morning even. Are you trying to tell me that we could have blown up at any moment??

I rush over to meet the guy at the house and explain everything to him and he checks the meter and sure as shit….the damn thing is leaking.

The moral of the story? My freaking hubby should know better by now….he should listen to me. Because the Nose Knows. Well, that and because I’m always right ;0)

That One Time I Got Caught With My Pants Down. At Work.

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How many of you have the heard the phrase, “Don’t get caught with your pants down?”

It’s usually uttered in a figurative sense. Like finding yourself in an embarrassing situation or unprepared for an event.

Well, I’m here to tell you about the time I actually got caught with my pant…ies down. At work.

As some of you may know, I like to work out and sometimes consider myself an athlete of sorts. When you delve into this “athlete” status, sometimes you’re forced to do things that non-athletes may not understand. And may find horrifying.

So, I had just started a brand new job and really didn’t know much about what the culture of the new office was. Really. My only experience had been that during one of my interviews, my soon-to-be-boss asked me what the “complexion” of my current firm was. And mentioned that the HR “gal” would be able to provide assistance.

Anyway, the first day at my new job, my boss took me out to lunch. On my second day, I was treated to lunch by the gals in Human Resources. But by the third day, I was eager to get to the gym.

I had already inquired about access to a gym and discovered that, fortuitously, there was a gym in my new building.

I was taken on a brief tour of the facilities, changed into my workout clothes and was enjoying a run on the treadmill. I had my phone in my hand because I run using an app that tracks mileage and pace indoors – but only if you’re holding it – when it began to vibrate.

A bit taken aback, I glanced down at the phone and noticed that it was a meeting reminder. So I stopped running to check because I could have sworn that the meeting had been scheduled for the following Wednesday.

Much to my chagrin, the meeting, was indeed, this Wednesday.

Today.

In 15 minutes.

Well, I had been running for some time so I had to take a shower, that much was clear. I jumped off the mill and ran to the locker room where I took the fastest shower of my life. I considered for nanosecond drying my hair and trying to fix the mess that was my face but quickly realized there was no time for that. I threw on my dress, slicked my hair into a ponytail and hightailed it back to my office.

Unfamiliar with the layout of the office, I not-so-discreetly made my way into the conference room where the meeting was already in progress. I tried to dissimilate as best I could and managed to muddle my way through the proceedings and escape to my office relatively unscathed.

After a bit, I remembered that in my haste to get to the meeting, I hadn’t exactly put all my clothes back on. So I decided that I probably should.

I grabbed my undies and was surreptitiously attempting to pull them up under my dress when I looked up and saw my boss standing in the doorway, redfaced and aghast. Instead of retreating immediately, he just stood there, open-mouthed, gaping at me, making an already uncomfortable situation almost unbearable.

When he finally gathered himself, he suggested that he should probably come back another time. I quickly agreed because at that point, there really wasn’t much I could do.

I mean, there I stood, with my underwear around my ankles. I couldn’t pull them off. And I certainly couldn’t pull them up.

So, he walked away. But rather than letting the situation deescalate, he came right back! And asked if I was changing into my running shorts. To which I casually replied, “Yes.” While I thought, “Right. That’s exactly what I was doing. Putting on my leopard print running shorts.”

He insisted on discussing whatever it was he had come over to talk about and we somehow managed to get through that very awkward conversation as painlessly as was possible.

But as soon as he left my office I went downstairs and ran outside to call my friend to tell her about the mortifying experience I had just had. When I told her I didn’t know what to do she wisely counseled, “What do you mean? You have to quit!”

I decided that one of two things would happen.

I would either:

a) get fired

or

b) get a raise.

I was there for 2 years after that so I concluded that it had all worked out. And that my boss was a perv.

The moral of the story: Try not to get caught with your pants down. Or do. It just might work out in your favor!

Has anything embarrassing ever happened to you? Leave a comment below!

Sometimes, You Just Need a Little Clarifying…Mask

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Do you ever find that you’re so busy with….stuff, that you forget to take care of yourself?

Well, this year, I’ve been making a concerted effort to make some “me” time.

Even if it’s just 5 to 15 minutes to stop and breathe and attempt to meditate (because I’m still trying my best to let the thoughts pass without judgment) or a 30 minute workout. Or making sure that I up my protein and veggie intake.

Or, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, lower my wine intake. (insert sad, sober face) (you can picture it, can’t you?)

But the truth is, most days I look a hot mess. Since I’ve been working from home, I don’t exactly have to glam it up every day. I’ve actually taken it in the complete and horrifying opposite direction. The only time I let my hair down lately is when my head hurts from having it up so much.

Really, the only time I make any kind of effort is when I have to put on pants to go pick up my kids at school – because I think there a laws about that.

And I throw on a hat in the hopes it distracts from the fact that my hair’s a mess. And probably dirty. And that I don’t have a stitch of makeup on.

So, today, I decided to do a little something for myself, even if just a clay mask. But, of course, as soon as the minions saw me preparing to put it on (because they had barged into the bathroom as they normally do every.single.time I’m in there) they had to do it, too.

If nothing else, my pores better freaking be clear.

How do you make time for yourself? Leave a comment below!

When You’re Still Fat. And You’ve Given up Wine for Nothing. For Nothing!!

These are not my feet, btw

How is it even possible that I have gained weight?

No. Seriously.

I mean, no, I haven’t been running countless miles or working out for hours a day.

And granted, I haven’t exactly been starving myself.

But I have been working out every day. Every.single.day.

And don’t give me that muscle weighs more than fat crap.

I’ve been eating craploads of veggies. And watching my portions.

And it’s not like I could even eat the Oreos if I wanted to because the fucking kids eat all of the treats.

I’ve also been chugging gallons of water. And feeding my Fitbit thousands of steps. Most of them running to the bathroom to pee every five freaking minutes.

But most importantly, I haven’t been drinking like a bottle of wine every night. Like, not even a glass.

Surely that has to count for something!!!

I’m hungry. And I’m sober.

#firstworldproblems

How do you lose weight? Leave a comment below. Again, I’m begging.

Who Stole the Cookie?

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My husband claims to not have a sweet tooth. Yet he’s constantly showing up at the house with some chocolate or cookies or ice cream.

 

Luckily, I’m not much into sweets. So it’s really not so much of a temptation for me.

But when you have small children around, the struggle is real.

Now, my kids know that I don’t condone them eating crap. And by crap I mean not only candy but bread and cereal. Even juice is off limits at my house.

But again, my husband subsists off that shit so it’s very difficult to keep the house free of said crap.

But he knows I’m not a fan of their eating it, and after seeing how psychotic they get when they do, he’s decided I’m probably right.

So he still brings home the tasty treats. But he tries to hide it.

He thought he was being slick until he went to grab an Oreo and discovered there were only two left. Now, I’ll have to admit that I did, indeed, partake. But I only had four.

Which means our little cookie monsters ate whatever my husband hadn’t.

So I decided to fuck with them and I put the container back in the hiding place, sans cookies- but with a little extra surprise inside.

I wish I had a nanny cam to catch them when they find it.

How do you keep your kids from eating your stash? Leave a comment below!

 

 

Today, We Marched

img_7374My sister and my niece marched in Washington, D.C.

My eldest daughter marched in Chicago.

And my youngest daughter and I marched in Miami.

We were joined by thousands of others.

In this country and abroad.

Men, women and children.

Educated people. Intelligent people. Socially conscious people.

Peacefully.

Proudly.

We marched to be heard.

Voices that cannot, and should not, be silenced.

We marched for equality.

For women’s rights. For black lives. For the LGBTQ community. For immigrants. For the environment. For the disabled. For affordable healthcare for all.

We marched for progress.

Not to go back to some America people keep saying was great.

But to look forward to an America that can and should be better than it has ever been.

Today, we marched because #LoveTrumpsHate

Did you participate in a rally today? Leave a comment below!