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Women’s issues

feminist, feminism, Time Magazine, Feminist movement, women's rights, equality

Feminist: A person ( a man or woman) who advocates or supports the social, political, legal and economic rights and equality of women to men.

According to Time Magazine, “Feminist” is one of the terms that may lead you to “seek out the nearest pair of chopsticks and thrust them through your own eardrums” and it should be banned from existence. The good people of Time are tired of hearing every female celebrity’s declaration of whether or not she is a feminist. (I’m tired of hearing all their backpedaling). Did I mention that the writer of the piece was a woman, Katy Steinmetz?

Poll conductor Katy Steinmetz flippantly referred to the use of feminist as this,

“You have nothing against feminism itself, but when did it become a thing that every celebrity had to state their position on whether this word applies to them, like some politician declaring a party? Let’s stick to the issues and quit throwing this label around like ticker tape at a Susan B. Anthony parade.”

The world is simply tired of hearing all these damn women complaining about being treated like second-class citizens; with making less than men for the same work, being objectified and being given the general direction of “be seen and not heard”. I’m sorry that women’s wanting to be treated as human beings is annoying you, Time Magazine. I’m sorry me wanting my daughters to know that what lies between their legs does not make them less than a man.

In case you are new here, I am a feminist.

I am a raging, in-your-face feminist that has the audacity to believe that men and women are equal in value as human beings and as such, should be treated with equal rights and respect in the world. I don’t believe that women are better than men. I don’t hate men. I don’t even want it all. I just want to live life on my terms with basic human rights.

Time could have called for a ban on the word “feminist” any time, but they did it during a year when the conversation about the meaning of the term is being seriously discussed. They did it at a time when the movement is growing when young girls are finally understanding what it means to be a feminist and craving it; realizing they deserve to be treated as human beings with dignity and respect just like their male counterparts.

We should all be feminists – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie at TEDxEuston

“We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, ‘You can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful, but not too successful, otherwise you will threaten the man,’”  “Because I am female, I am expected to aspire to marriage. I am expected to make my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important thing. Now, marriage can be a source of joy and love and mutual support, but why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage and we don’t teach boys the same? We raise girls to see each other as competitors, not for jobs or for accomplishments, which I think can be a good thing, but for the attention of men. We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings in the way that boys are. Feminist: the person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes.”

Basically, a feminist, contrary to popular belief, is not someone who hates men or hates being a woman and wants to be a man but we are simply women and men who believe in equal rights and treatment for all human beings. I don’t want special privileges, nor do I think my equality should diminish a man’s rights. I’m a raging feminist and I have been for decades.

I came out of the womb believing that I could do and be anything I wanted to and I am not alone in believing this. Sure, people along the way may have tried to derail that belief but you can’t keep a good woman down. If you tell me that I can’t do something, I just want to do it that much more.

My dreams are not limited by my sex. The last time I checked, having a vagina did not cause a drop in IQ, creativity or innovation. I promise, our brains are in no danger of falling out between our legs. I believe that if you are alive and kicking and willing to put in the hard work and dedication, you can achieve absolutely anything, regardless of what lies between your legs.

I believe that we should all wear lip gloss, fancy bras or no bra at all, stay home, work out of the home, get married, don’t get married, have 5 kids, or have none. We should reach for the stars and dare to be whatever we want to be. I believe that we should be afforded the respect to make that choice for ourselves. I am a feminist. I am raising feminists. And I am proud to say that I am married to a feminist man who should be the role model for all men.

#IAMAFEMINST

What are your thoughts on removing the world Feminist from existence?

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#YesAllWomen, marriage, misogyny, abuse, The Washington Post, women's issues

Oh look, the Washington Post thinks that for women to protect themselves from being victims of violence and rape we should all get married or live with our biological fathers because hey, if we’d all just stop being such cock-teasing whores for one minute and stopped taking lovers and made honest women of ourselves, we’d never have to worry about feeling threatened and “uncomfortable” and all of this #YesAllWomen business could just go away. Coincidentally, once again placing blame on the women for being abused. I mean come on, if the b*tch wasn’t drunk and half-naked, the least she could have done was gotten married and stopped trying to be such an independent woman. That’s how she got herself abused and if she hasn’t gotten herself abused, the dumb broad probably got her kids abused because she decided to date again after leaving the crack-headed, wife beating, meth head she was married to.

It was written by two academics by the names of W. Bradford Wilcox and Robin Fretwell Wilson, whose names aren’t the only thing out of the 19th century: the article looks at a bunch of statistics in regard to violence against women and children, and concludes that “the data show that #yesallwomen would be safer hitched to their baby daddies.” 

Basically, once again, the world (more precisely the Washington Post) has lumped us all into 2 categories; whores and virgins and there is no room for gray, only black and white. The bottom line is that the Washington Post has at least two misogynistic writers who blame all women for being treated like second class citizens. Hell, maybe there’s even a secret woman haters club at the Washington Post that meets once a week and is lobbying for the acceptance of drowning baby girls because really, what the hell’s the point? Because apparently, some people think that men can procreate without women and our pesky uteri. Apart from cooking and cleaning in all of our bare footed glory, women serve no real purpose in the world other than to look pretty and be quiet, right? News flash, women are people too.

Yes, misogyny is alive and well at the Washington Post.

Men are allowed to do as they will and women are supposed to suck it up and just accept their fate. I mean WHY would any woman think that she has the right to happiness after divorce or at all, for that matter? It doesn’t matter whether the man was an abusive jerk who beat her on the regular and had started molesting their children, she is his property and she needs to just accept that and be alone and in fear for the rest of her life. If not, it’s going to be her fault when something bad happens and it will because women are like magnets for bad shit to happen so prepare your daughters.

#YesAllWomen, marriage, misogyny, abuse, The Washington Post, women's issues

Eff it, happiness is overrated anyways plus I hear only men can truly experience happiness, it has something to do with the happiness receptors being located right under the tip of their penis or wait, maybe it has something to do with being an asshole. I can’t remember. What do you expect, I was just some kid whose mother stayed with her husband and I was raised by my biological father but we all still got to experience our fair share of abuse. I guess we were just lucky.

When I was about 8, I begged my mom to leave because even at that young age, I knew that it was wrong. I knew that there had to be something more out there than just accepting your situation. I KNEW that she deserved better. That we all deserved better. But none of us got it. We all got to suffer in silence. Do I think that my life is better because of her sacrifice? NO! Do I think she is happier because of her sacrifice? NO! Did it save her from abuse, pain and humiliation? NO! This is the oldest story in the book. This is fear-mongering and it is about time we stop letting fear keep us quiet. It’s time to get mad; downright pissed off and to stand up against the misogynistic world we live in It all starts with one person willing to say no; to be the change. I’m saying no for all the women who couldn’t or haven’t. NO!

#YesAllWomen, marriage, misogyny, abuse, The Washington Post, women's issues, child abuse

Maybe life would have been better had my mom not been brainwashed into staying in her abusive marriage by a society that taught her that it was better to be miserable and have a husband, better to be abused and let your children get abused than to be alone. Thank God for a society who looks out so deeply for its women folk. No thanks, I’ll take my chances and try to decide for myself what’s best for me and my children. Unless you are living in the same dire situation that some women face every day by being abused and raped by their partners, you have no right to insist that she take it on the chin and just accept it.

Hey Washington Post until you’ve lived in the world with a vagina, why not stop skewing statistics to fit your agenda?

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#yesAllWomen, Elliot Rodger, women's issues, misogyny, sexism, rape, shooting spree

I had no idea that #YesAllWomen movement began this weekend. I spent the weekend with my family, celebrating my daughter’s 7th birthday. Her birthday was Wednesday and we were busy every single day until her birthday party held on Saturday. 15 tiny, beautiful little girls surrounded me; little girls who still think they can do and be anything. They giggled and laughed and we played and had cake and I had no idea about what had just happened with Elliot Rodger, the 22-year-old student at the University of California Santa Barbara.He went on a shooting spree and killed 6 people before killing himself.

In the weeks leading up to the killings, Rodger posted a series of angry, bathetic YouTube videos and a hundred-and-thirty-seven-page autobiographical “manifesto,” declaring his hatred of all women for the rejection and disdain he claims they dealt him throughout his life.

I had no idea that there were other mothers who were mourning the loss of their daughters for no other reason than a mad man who felt that women deserved to die because they had rejected him. Misogyny is running rampant and no one is stopping it. Not anyone in specific, just all women in general and even men just for having sex when he was having none. This was avoidable, had anyone cared to listen. If anyone ever cared enough to listen when people ask for help.

Director Peter Rodger and his wife Moroccan-born French actress Soumaya Akaaboune said through their lawyer that they contacted police several weeks ago after seeing a series of YouTube videos their son posted which made references to suicide and murder.

I blissfully unaware soaked in every moment of my time with those girls on that beautiful Saturday in May. Not until tonight, when the girls have all gone home and my littlest girl is snuggled in bed tight next to me did I see the story and watch the video and here I sit ugly crying. Not because I am scared for my girls, for all girls, but because I am mad. I am fucking pissed off. What gave him the right? Who’s protecting our daughters?

 

What a spoiled, disgusting animal Elliot Rodger was. He thought like so many other men that women are here solely for his pleasure and when they did not accommodate he decided that they must face a day of retribution and annihilation for no other sin than being born with a vagina. This spoiled child made himself, judge, jury and executioner.

The sad fact is that the world is full of men who feel indignantly wronged by women who dare refuse them. There are men that feel that women owe them everything from their time, to their love to their very life. There are men who feel like we owe them our hearts, our bodies and our respect but they don’t feel that they need to give those things in return. In some men’s eyes, women are no better than property; a piece of furniture, a toy or an old sock. We belong to them. We belong to the world that doesn’t respect us, value us or love us enough to fight for us and they have beaten us down for so long that we let them without so much as batting an eye.

We do not buck and strain and resist, we passively walk with our heads down, quickly out of harms way for fear that what lies between our legs makes us a willing participant in the victimization of our own flesh. We can’t walk alone in the dark or leave a drink to pee. We can’t smile at a man without him taking it as consent to have his way with us. This is nothing new. Most men believe it; women accept it and it sucks for all of us.  I am a mother of daughters and I refuse to accept this fucked up status quo. This is my line in the sand. I say no more.

I do not want another little girl to go through life running from men for fear that they will be attacked. We cannot raise our girls to believe that what they wear or say or drink makes victimization their fault. We cannot accept fear as normal. We need to teach our girls to be strong; to fight back, to stand up and to value themselves for who they are, not what lies between their legs.

Sexism is nothing new; the ideas that perpetuate systematic marginalization, outright violence towards women, rape culture, and the demonization of women who dare to stand up for themselves has been around since the beginning of time. A strong woman is a threat. A strong woman is too much trouble. Women are here to be seen and not heard, to service men in every way; this is what some believe. Not me. I am a fucking human being and I am sick of everybody from the UPS guy to the local preacher to the old man on the golf course and every single stinking asshole who ever pushed up on me in a bar in between who thinks they have the right to use women and abuse women because we are here for their disposal.

He wanted to abolish sex, thereby equalizing men and ridding society of women’s manipulative and bestial natures, and to lock women in concentration camps so they would die out. (“I would have an enormous tower built just for myself, where I can oversee the entire concentration camp and gleefully watch them all die,” he wrote. “If I can’t have them, no one will, I imagine thinking to myself as I oversee this. Women represent everything that is unfair in this world, and in order to make this world a fair place, women must be eradicated.”) His idea was to imprison a few select women in a lab, where they would be artificially inseminated to propagate the species.

We have all endured catcalls and men openly touching themselves in front of us while licking their lips like we were steak. I’ve personally had strange men expose themselves to me in broad daylight, men I dated force my hand and my head to places I didn’t want to go, had male employers corner me in small solitude rooms and make unwanted advances. I’ve had drunken frat boys try to force me out of my clothes, put their hands up my skirt and drunkenly dry hump me in plain sight. No one helped. I’ve dated men who kept pushing past where I felt comfortable and didn’t care that I said stop. It breaks off little pieces of your self-esteem, it chisels away at your sense of safety and soon you feel as worthless as they make you believe that you are. When I’ve spoken up for myself, I’ve been called a cunt, a bitch, a tease and a dike because if I didn’t submit to their will then obviously it was because something was wrong with me.

I have held my breath and my tongue more times than I can count and I can’t anymore. What Elliot Rodger did was shocking but not surprising. I watched his video and physically became ill at the callousness with which he spoke of massacring women because he felt rejected and alone. He had no care for their lives, it was completely narcissistic and outrageously removed from humanity. He equated women with animals to be slaughtered and why wouldn’t he? Our own government has done so on several occasions.

Look at us. See us! We are people. We are not property. We are not animals. We are not inanimate objects put on this earth solely to bend to the will of man. We are more than sperm receptacles and objects of desire. We have thoughts, dreams, goals, wants and needs. It frightens me that this man did this with no remorse, no second thoughts. It was like a spoiled child who wanted a piece of candy and had been denied and decided that the entire population needed to be eradicated because he was mildly inconvenienced. Worse still, he is not the first who has done this and he will not be the last. This makes me sadder than any words could ever convey.

When you lie awake and think about the horrors this man wanted to inflict on women, please remember that #YesAllWomen matter.

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Alpha Women, divorce, marriage, strong women, money, finances

Do you think as Alpha Women are taking back their “bossy” and leaning in so hard that maybe we are forcing men out?

Are Alpha Women responsible for causing so many failed marriages and entitled kids who are products of these divorces? FOX news thinks so. Wait a minute…FOX news doesn’t think, they just speak.

I recently watched this video segment on FOX news and was flabbergasted. I was sure that someone had posted an Onion piece posing as a FOX “news” piece but then again, what comes out of FOX news channel these days shouldn’t surprise me. They are the conservative news outlet and apparently, they don’t so much report the news as bend it to their will to support their conservative agenda. Or maybe it was an Onion piece? I kinda hope it is.

Apparently, as we women “lean in”, men are forced to lean out to avoid being completely annihilated. Now that a whopping 24% of women make more money than their husbands, the conservative dogma is about to implode upon itself. (Women typically make 23% less than men, so obviously if these women are making 24% more than their husbands, they are having to work just about 150% harder for that.)

In this particular piece, it was stated that social pressures in the U.S. for men to be breadwinners are what may cause the marital problems. Obviously, the answer is for women to stop being so damn Alpha and let their men do what God intended, take care of women. Only there is one f*cking problem, men don’t always take care of women and secondly, not all women want to be at the mercy of some man to make her dreams come true.

Look, our whole lives, women have been told that in order to succeed in life we need to get married and have children, keep a clean house, cook well and look good while doing it all. We are not supposed to think or have free will if it interferes with the grand scheme of things. If what we want to do interferes with what he wants to do, we are expected o acquiesce because you know… the vagina thing. Just accept our fates already. We have vaginas, they make us weak so we need big, hairy men to take care of us. Huh?

In fact, let’s back up, what constitutes ALPHA WOMEN?

Is FOX News trying to insinuate that strong women are the problem? Are we suppose to teach our girls to bend to the will of men and take less than they deserve just to make the men in their lives feel better? Because I’ve got to tell you, that will never happen in my house. We teach our girls to do their best, work their hardest and go for whatever they want. We teach them that anything is possible. I’m raising Alpha Girls.

The question was raised, “Do women LIKE being taken care of?” Well, I have a two-part answer for that. First of all, what does taken care of mean? Financial security? Shelter? Food? Or emotional support and love?

My first answer is yes! Of course, every person (man and woman) loves to be taken care of in a way that they have a partner that reciprocates unconditional love and support. Do we all like having someone in our life that will carry us through when we are down or give us a hand when we have fallen? Of course, we do. Doesn’t everyone? Do we like being financially stable and being provided a beautiful home and things? Of course, that is human nature. But do I expect my husband to provide my everything? No. He is my partner and I am his. We get through this life together. If being “taken care of” means my husband going to work every day while I stay home and work my tail off and that equals him getting to do whatever he wants while I get to be subservient, then no thank you. We take care of each other over here.

No one is leaning over crushing the other under his or her weight. Sure there are sometimes when he is the star and I let him shine and there are other times when I am leaning in so hard, he picks up all the slack. This is not him doing me a favor or me letting go of my dreams to support his. We do this for one another. No, marriage is not 100% equal all of the time. You are a fool if you think it is. But in the grand scheme of things, if you add up our years together and divide them by when ones been the star and the other has been the wind beneath the wings; it’s just about even.

I don’t make anywhere near as much as my husband does these days but when we were first out of college, I was the only one working while he interviewed for months. We lived together. There was no animosity. I worked while he looked for a job. Every night we sat down together for dinner, both of us had worked all day; one at a place of business the other at home. I appreciated everything he did for our home. I respected him for being a participant in our marriage and supporting me emotionally during that time in our life.

Once we had children, we made the decision that I would stay home. To be honest, I made the decision and he completely supported me. Since he had been home, he knew what had to be done to keep a home running. Once we had the children, he knew I was at home raising our babies. He knew all the other stuff I was doing as well and he supported me. We moved several times throughout our marriage for his dreams and now, he supports me in pursuing mine. When I go to conferences or on press trips, he is able to be flexible at his place of employment. He’ll work from home when I travel. When I have deadlines, he makes dinner. He knows how to give the girls a ballet bun. He takes them to ballet on nights when I need to host a Twitter party or have a Google chat about business.

In our home there are no master and servant roles, there are only 2 people who have loved and supported one another for the past 16 years. There are no man’s work or woman’s work, there are only things that need to get done and we do it…together. The idea that a man would divorce a committed, loving wife for making more money then him I ludicrous and only proves how stupid it is to let male pride and machismo get in the way of happiness.

In truth, the Big Guy says if I ever make enough money to be the sole breadwinner, he’d be more than happy to stay home with the girls and consult for a living. He gets pretty excited at the dream of an early retirement.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe that finances most certainly can contribute to the divorce rate but that usually has more to do with a lack of money. Our philosophy has always been that as long as we have one another’s love and support and the true desire to be together, there are very few problems that we couldn’t work through. Next week, we celebrate 15 years of marriage so apparently, what we do has been working for us.

Alpha women, Alpha Men, Alpha Babies and Alpha Dogs, we love them all.

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good girls, unicorns, raising daughters, women, sex

Dear Preston Waters,

I read your piece about good girls today being as illusive as the unicorn; non-existent. I hope you are wrong. I am a unicorn who is currently raising two unicorns (as you call them). I am teaching them to have respect for themselves and do what makes them happy in life. Life is too short to live by other people’s rules; especially when the rules are not clear and ever changing. Good girls are not extinct, maybe you are just too pompous and stupid to see them because you are so busy going for the easy piece of ass and then disregarding the girl who showed you charity.

I agree that we live in a world where more women are sexually asserting themselves. We live in a world of selfies and social media gone wild. People taking nude photos of themselves and uploading them to the internet or sexting them and having them end up in the wrong hands has become common place. The world has become so small that sometimes we forget that we are not alone with our computer, camera or phone. We forget that the Internet is vast and permanent. Forever. Talk about never being able to outgrow the sins of your youth.

good girls, unicorns, raising daughters, women, sex

Women have not lost all morals and respect for themselves, you are just more aware of their indiscretions thanks to social media. Men and women have been making mistakes since the beginning of time. We still have dignity, only now we also have the Internet and our every mistake can live on in infamy. What’s so wrong with a woman enjoying sex, anyways?

Mr. Waters you are complaining because men have finally gotten everything they ever wanted, women who are willing and able to have consensual sex with you on her terms. No more begging, no more bullying her into it; nope, now women realize that they can choose to embrace their own sexual appetites without being a whore. Still, your misogyny won’t let you accept your gift. We’ve finally broken free of the shackles of patriarchal approval. We finally care more about what we think about ourselves than what you think of us.

good girls, unicorns, raising daughters, women, sex

The story has not changed. Men have always liked the chase more than the actual prize. Women figured this out a long time ago. This is why I was a virgin until I was in college. You’ve always wanted the good girl who plays hard to get but is a complete freak in private. But you don’t want to believe that she has ever been with anyone else, ever. So, we’ve let you believe what you wanted.

“Then you have drugs, uppers being predominant, and many women are addicted to prescription pills to help their “anxiety.” In short, women have become easy, but they have also become broken — and eventually become undesirable because no one stays hot forever. Sure, we men are to blame for this as well, but that is because we are idiots.” Well, you got one thing right.

Mr. Waters, I don’t think that you would know a unicorn if it bit you in the ass. All women are born unicorns. If they are broken, it is life, full of it’s double standards,painful situations and callous men who treat women like whores that have broken them.

good girls, unicorns, raising daughters, women, sex

The problem Mr. Waters is not with the unicorns, it is with assholes like you who put women into categories; whores and virgins. We are more than what resides between our legs. Maybe you need to become a unicorn yourself if you want to attract a unicorn because unicorns don’t want to marry assholes; we prefer unicorns too.

Sincerely,

A Unicorn

good girls, unicorns, raising daughters, women, sex

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women's issues, body image, self-image, expectations of being a woman

I read a post written recently by Petra Collins titled Why Instagram Censored My Body. You need to read it. Petra’s instagram account was for the crime of posting a photo of herself from the waist down in a pair of bikini bottoms. She had not had a bikini wax. There was no Borat like tactics with rogue pubic hairs escaping at alarming rates but there was a definite shadow at her bikini line. I was not offended. Hair grows naturally; it’s supposed to be there. Grown women are not supposed to have pubic areas that mimic small children. Even though I’d never have the balls to grow in my pubic hair never mind snap a photo and post it to Instagram, I respect Collins for doing so.

We live in a world where women are expected to look, act, be and do things a very specific way. The manual for how to be a woman was obviously not written by a woman. It is very meticulous in the wish list for the perfect woman. Perhaps a teen boy wrote it at the beginning of time. It’s nearly ridiculous enough that I could believe it.

We all live by these imaginary, unwritten rules, whether we intend to or want to or not. We may wish we did not or pretend that we don’t care but every single woman who has ever lived has known that these rules for how to be the perfect woman exist. We either chose to embrace it, hate it, fight it or pretend to adhere while hiding who we really are and live with the shame of not being good enough. That is where most of us live, in the shame and unhappiness of not being good enough to meet these crazy unreachable expectations. If we are beautiful enough, we don’t feel smart enough. If we are smart enough, we don’t feel attractive enough. If we are thin enough, we don’t feel interesting enough. If we are interesting enough, we don’t feel exciting enough. If we are exciting enough, we don’t feel responsible enough. We never feel completely satisfied with who we are in the world. Do men?

Too much sex; we’re sluts. No sex: we’re frigid. The assumption is that men want to date sluts but marry virgins but no one wants to date a virgin. It’s a woman’s personal choice why can’t we all just have a preference without being labeled? An average sized body is considered too fat. Fat is considered disgusting. Malnourished and eating disordered is considered beautiful, no one cares the toll it takes on that woman to get there. Small breasts are not big enough. Big is never big enough. Damn your back and the fact that you look like a cartoon character. If you work, you should be home. If you stay home, you should be barefoot and pregnant. If you don’t work, you are useless. If you don’t want kids, there is something wrong with you. If you can’t handle your kids, something is wrong with you. If you’re succeeding at your career, you must be shirking your responsibilities as a woman elsewhere; unhappy husband, neglected children or bad hair. The expectation is that the house is supposed to be clean at all times and a home cooked meal is supposed to be on the table no matter what else is going on.

You are supposed to be beautiful, thin, patient and love motherhood. You’re never supposed to rest or complain. You’re always supposed to be happy. If you have an opinion, you are overbearing. If you don’t, you’re an dumb. If you’re smart, you’ve got a good personality but no dates. If you speak up for yourself, you are bossy. If you take a stand, you are a bitch. The world is a masochistic, ironic murderer of the woman’s self. The dichotomy of who women are and who they are expected to be is enough to make the sanest of our heads spin but then if we complain, we must be bipolar, PMSing or just bitter. How sad is it that we live in a world where women commonly use fat as a protection against their sexuality or the sexual advances from others? How fucked up is it that the worst thing a woman believes she can be is ugly or unattractive in any way to men? How sad is it that we live in a world where women still confuse sex as love?

We’ve been forced to stoamch women being treated as less than for so long that we accept it as the state of affairs. The unspeakable is status quo. We have been beaten down for so long that we no longer fight. We are too weak from the fury of fighting just to be treated as equal human beings.

I’m here to tell you that you are….
More beautiful than you can see. Special in your own way. Smarter than you will ever believe. Stronger than you think. Talented in ways you never expected. Perfect just the way you are. Better than enough. You set the rules. This is your life. You deserve to be happy. Fuck other people’s expectations. The only one you answer to is yourself. Choose to be happy. Shave. Pluck and wax if you want. If you don’t, let your bush flag fly but never let someone else dictate your happiness. To truly be perfect, we need to be free to be ourselves all the time without consequence of backlash for being scrutinized for every choice we make.

What is the one thing that You love about YOU?

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shark week ,pms

Shark week is not my favorite week of the month. Shark week (menstruating and PMS, in case you were confused) is just one more thing that I have to deal with on my already full Mommy plate. Shark week is that one week of the month when my entire body rages against me and decides to attempt yet another mutiny. Ain’t no mutiny like a shark week mutiny! Damn you, shark week!

shark week, PMS, living authentically online, Domain .ME, blogging, digital influencer, writer, blogger

Kids, this is your mom before shark week.

But then something happens. My head begins to spin. My breasts ache. I am ravenous to eat things like hot fudge sundaes with jalapeno chips at will. My ovaries feel as if a tiny angry troll is squeezing them. I’m bloated like a dead fish (no correlation to the smell, I smell like a summer’s day, damn it!) and as if by some cruel joke, it’s the one week of the entire month that my husband finds me completely sexually irresistible (well, that and ovulation week. Conspiracy, I tell you!).

My ovaries feel as if a tiny angry troll is squeezing them. I’m bloated like a dead fish (no correlation to the smell, I smell like a summer’s day, damn it!) and as if by some cruel joke, it’s the one week of the entire month that my husband finds me completely sexually irresistible (well, that and ovulation week. Conspiracy, I tell you!). New baby? Who dis? Ain’t nobody got no time for that.

Unfortunately for him, I am like a hybrid between a Praying Mantis and Black Widow spider. All I want to do is rip his head off and eat my young, not necessarily in that order. Pretty much, if you breathe you are in danger of incurring my bloody, hormonal rage and for some reason, I swear my teeth get bigger.

Shark week, PMS

This is Your Mom on Shark Week

For your safety, I am listing here a few ways to survive Shark Week without Losing a limb;

  • No sudden movements or loud sounds, Mama usually has a migraine during shark week. Move slowly and quietly for optimal chance of survival rate.
  • For the love of God, please don’t hide my Diva Cup or flush all the tampons. I’m talking to you fruit of my loins, this could result in Mommy’s head spinning and/or completely popping off.
  • Have chocolate and carbs in the house. A pizza with a side of French fries and a Ding Dong usually does the trick. And NO, don’t remind me that I’m on a diet. There is no reasoning with me when I am on shark week.
  • Don’t ask me any stupid questions, like where is the milk? It’s in the fridge! Do you want to die? And please pick up your f*cking socks! I’m not your maid. Would you like me to shove them down your throat? ( This is directed at the Big Guy, not the children. I pick up their socks, with no threat of choking them out, on the regular.)
  • Don’t look at me sideways, it will surely not bode well for you. I know you will be tempted to test this theory, but just be aware that during shark week, better men have died for less.
  • Don’t comment on how tight my jeans are or the extra head-sized pimple that has sprouted on my forehead. I can see it. I’m menstruating, not blind and I am hyper aware of every single flaw this week.
  • Don’t expect me to try on clothes, especially a bathing suit for a vacation. Don’t even ask. You will be wasting your time and is your life worth it?

Shark Week, is that eye roll worth dying over?

  • Don’t take my measurements for any reason under the sun. Seriously, Mr. Personal Trainer, I know you are a man and don’t understand but I don’t need to know how many inches the water retention is adding to my body. My jeans are cutting me in half; believe me, I’m already aware.
  • Don’t be my Mother or Mother-in-law, anything you do while I am on shark week will leave me exasperated and annoyed, usually taken as passive aggression and held against you for the week. I would recommend marking your calendars and not calling me or making eye contact at all that week.This is more for your benefit than my sanity. I promise.
  • Don’t ask me to step on the scale, this is pretty much any day of the month but it could have dire consequences for you during this week.
  • Don’t raise your voice at me, not even moderately. You can try it. But I’m pretty sure that I will have snatched the snark right out of your mouth before you get to the second word. But, hey, it’s your life.
  • Don’t touch my boobs or ask for any kind of “service” for you. I’m dying over here. Why should you be having a good time?
  • Which reminds me, little one, please don’t ask Mommy for a baby brother on this week. It truly is the furthest thing from my mind. Birth is pain and I’m in enough right now with the troll squishing my ovaries, my sore boobs and cramps. Ask me in a couple weeks, when the water weight is gone and I‘m feeling frisky (this tends to happen during ovulation week. See, conspiracy I tell you!)
  • And under no circumstances, ever ask me if I’ve got PMS? Just observe and know it, that’s enough to save your life. I don’t need your commentary. I know I’m on shark week. I don’t need to know that you know and think I’m being a hormonal bitch I already know that.
  • Your best bet for surviving Shark week is to stay still, be quiet and hope that I don’t see you. In 3-5 days I will be back to my sweet self but for the next few days, stay out of the water.

What is your best tip for surviving shark week in your home? Has anyone ever been seriously maimed during that week? What was there crime? Can’t wait to hear your stories in the comments, Misery enjoys company…especially this week. Oh and for an extra dose of The TRUTH I am guest posting at Blogging Dangerously Where sex in the city meets married with children today. If you are not already familiar with Blogging Dangerously, go now and check it out. Kit is an amazingly funny and quick witted writer and I’m sure that you will love her as much as I do. Also, she is the creator of #wineparty on Twitter every Friday night. What’s not to love?

*Disclaimer; I did not coin the term Shark Week.I can’t remember who the brilliant soul on Twitter was who did, but I have made it my own. That week of the month will forever be known as Shark week in my household. When my daughters begin menstruating, I will pass it down. Shark week is now my legacy:)

P.S. No husbands, children, Mothers or Mother-in -laws were harmed in the making of this Shark week post.

Happy Shark Week, Hope we all make it out alive

 

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I just woke up, an hour earlier than usual. I suppose it has something to do with me trying to actually get some sleep these last few nights. Hergo no late night, 2 am blogging sessions. Sorry about the posts shortage but for my sanity’s sake I had to get caught up on some sleep. I was beginning to feel a bit disjointed. Speaking of which, I awoke this morning with the remnants of a bad dream lingering on the horizon. Let me preface this by saying, I’ m pretty sure this has everything to do with  the current living situation (due to an out of town job for my husband), stress of being a part-time single mom, and nothing to do with reality…at least not to my knowledge. In this dream, my girlfriend who is about to burst pregnant comes to visit ( in reality , my husband has never even met this woman). She is at my house complaining about wanting this baby out and her husband always being out of town ( which he, in fact, always is due to work).My husband enters the room, sits down by her and begins to console her. Now, in reality, my husband is the type who is very ‘friendly’ with my girlfriends. I don’t mean flirty, I mean actually friendly. He is a very jovial man ; he likes to laugh and thinks himself to be very funny. So, this is no stretch that he would see one of my friends down and jump right in like one of the girls. But in my dream, he pulls her toward him and leans in and kisses the side of her head. I was watching ,uncomforatble and shocked. What the hell just happened? It seemed innocent enough, but not in the context…being that she’s not his wife. Remember, he doesn’t  know her. After she left,. I asked him, “What was that?” He shrugged his shoulders and said, ” I don’t know…I like her.” What? Half jokingly, I said,”Well, don’t like her too much.” The whole thing had a really weird feel about it. Then, the next day, we’re in the car (my husband and I) and he tells me,” I’ve been thinking about it and I really do like her.” This is not what any woman wants to hear about her friend. He was serious and the implication was I like her more than you. So, I sat there in disbelief and listen to this cornucopia of reasons why he likes this woman he barely knows more than his wife of a decade. It went something like this…She’s blonde (I’m brunette), She’s so small (I’m 5’7″ and slightly overweight), she’s so vulnerable (well, I have to hold it together because he’s always gone and I have to be strong), she’s quiet (I’m opinionated.I have a brain and I like using it.), she’s pregnant (he doesn’t want any more) and the list went on for what seemed like forever. Which I suppose it would if you had to listen to your husband list why he likes another woman more than yourself. It was all like a horrible, cruel joke. Ever see that movie where the teenage girls were hazing the other girls and they would circle and point out every single flaw you  they had, and laugh and mock that flaw.That’s how I woke up feeling. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and raw in my entire life. I’m not sure if this sleep thing is for me, if this is the product of sleep. Sometimes we spend so much of our time as Mommies powering through life that we never take the time to actually dwell on things like we did before we had kids. That is normally a good thing because it saves us from living like lovesick teenagers; worrying about every look, glance, hidden meaning behind every word or gesture, second guessing our relationship. But maybe sometimes we need to remind ourselves that we are not just Moms, who have to be strong for everyone.Sometimes we need to dwell on ourselves and our relationships with our spouses because they fell in love with soft young girls, who doted on their every breath and hung on every word. I know we don’t have time for such niceties with the house falling down around us and kids swinging from the chandeliers,bills to be paid, laundry to be done, but I think this dream was a reminder that I need to make more of an effort to be just ‘Debi’ when he and I are alone. I need to be able to switch back into woman mode, from Mommy mode. Mommy mode is too high strung to stay on 24/7…Mommy mode will burn out our motors and leave us broken. Hey nightmare, thanks for the friendly reminder! Now, please leave me alone…I have things to do and places to be, until Friday when I switch back into Debi. I wonder, when Debi’s around…who’s going to run the joint? I guess Daddy will have to figure it out.I’ll be busy being vulnerable and soft.

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