How A Chin Hair Made Me Cry

Funny enough, it was finding a chin hair in the mirror the other morning that finally had me in tears.

You know how, sometimes, you find yourself overwhelmed by the sheer number of items on your To-Do List, and you wonder how you’ll find the time to get it all done and not let any of the balls drop and all you can do is cry while your husband stares at you like you grew a third head?
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Too Much Sex

I never thought I’d see the day I’d write those words: “Too Much Sex”. It feels like something has died a little inside… which is why I am making the important clarification between the act, and the adjective.

We’re talking “adjective” today, people.
Call off your mob.

To that end, BuzzFeed Video recently did something… I don’t know, I’ll go with “pretty cool”. I’d give them an A for effort, at least. Continue reading

10 Ways to Get Your Pre-Baby Body Back!

  1. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  2. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  3. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  4. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  5. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  6. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  7. Hire a personal trainer, nutritionist, chef, and life coach and make 20 virgin sacrifices every third blood moon while hopping on your non-dominant foot facing west.
  8. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  9. Don’t have sex in the first place.
  10. Don’t have sex in the first place.

Now, I don’t know about you, but NONE OF THOSE ARE A FUCKING OPTION FOR ME.
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How to Push

A few months ago, I took a pole dance class.

During that class, I was confronted with what my body could/could not do and what I thought my body could/could not do… and it changed me.

Hell, I was changed even before I set foot in the door; for the week leading up to the class, I was brainstorming and talking with my husband about all the things fat men and women are told they can’t do or are too scared to try, and how I could help them face their fears. I was so fired up about facing a fear of my own – being sexy and vulnerable and moving my body in such a different way – that I felt unflappably powerful and capable of helping others.

Then life happened.
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State of BEing: Depression

Well, this is embarrassing.
Here I am, this self-proclaimed badass, Super Mom, Do-All-The-Things chick, yelling “I don’t need no approval” just as much as I am yelling for cupcakes in the workplace (not really, but now I want to), and I find myself scared to post how I’m feeling, for fear that I will… I don’t know. Let my family and friends down? Lose readers? Be judged for being fat AND depressed?

What does that say about our society, that we fear being called fat AND that we fear mental illness in any of its forms as even worse?

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Verbal Warfare 101

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

Who thought up that little gem of a lie?

I don’t know about you, but some of the worst scars I carry are internal – sharpshooter-aimed insults and criticisms so cruelly delivered as to fund my therapist’s Mediterranean vacations well into my retirement years. Then again, I really didn’t engage in a lot of extreme sports… I was more the “read and pretend” type… but whatever.
Not the point!
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A Big, Fat Pregnancy

Repeat after me:

“It is NEVER okay to ask a woman if she’s pregnant.”

Apparently, I never got that memo… or the follow-up memo that states that I should be offended if asked.

I’ve lurked on pregnancy message boards, envying those who bemoan the constant belly-touchings of strangers, hourly “How far along are you??” questions from co-workers, and claims that their 3-month pregnant tummy-pooches are too big for their pre-pregnancy jeans.

I’ve strolled through maternity clothing stores at the mall, observing how sales associates flock to the perky-bellied expectant mothers, exclaiming how adorable they would look in this season’s palazzo pants… all the while four months further along than they are and yet seemingly invisible to those same clerks.

It’s not because I’m not pregnant… I’m due in just 10 days with my third child.
It’s because I’m fat and pregnant.
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