People say the strangest things…

Yesterday a co-worker made a comment to me about my clothes and I’m not exactly sure what to make of it.  “You make me sick, you are so skinny.  I could never dress like you.”  Now, she is not a big girl.  In fact, (and especially) considering she has a 3 year old and an 18 month old, she is in very good shape…probably about a size 6, maybe a small 8…and she is tall.  So I said, “What are you talking about, look at you…” and before I could finish someone else chimed in with “you can dress like that.”  She responded, “No, I’m not a girly girl.  I can’t dress all cute like that.”  What does that mean??  I began defending myself without even thinking about it, saying I only dress like that for work, I’m not a girly girl either, at home it’s all jeans and t-shirts…blah, blah, blah.  That is true, to a point.  I try to look nice and professional at work, although I sometimes don’t, or completely miss the mark.  When I get home, it’s sweats time, and on the weekends it’s mostly jeans, although I do try to maintain an element of cuteness if I’m going somewhere…but 90% of the time it’s jeans. 

But why defend myself?  What is wrong with trying to look nice, especially at work?  I don’t go overboard.  No crazy make-up.  No perfect hair.  Not much in the way of accessories unless I’m feeling extra spunky in the morning (and have time to accessorize).  I don’t get it. 

So was it a jab or a compliment?  Hmm…

A couple weeks ago, my friend Y had a similar experience I was lucky enough to witness.  She has gone grey at an early age and dyes her hair.  It had been awhile since she had made it to the salon, so there was a little streakage showing at her roots, but whatever.  She’s a busy lady (5 kids, full time work, school, extra-curricular, oh yeah, and her hubby is in Iraq with Mr. W, so she’s doing it all!)  A co-worker who is known to be a little on the bitchy side (I’ve personally experienced this three times now) mentioned casually, “I wish I could be like you.  I could never let my hair go like that…” trailing off from there.  What does that mean?? 

In case you are wondering, my three negative experiences are these:

• Compliment on my shirt from her.  Statement that I got it from Target or Walmart (I don’t remember) from me.  “Oh, I don’t shop there…” in a smug tone from her.  ???
• Conversation with Mr. W: “You better not be dating ________.  She has too much baggage.”  from a woman recently split from her husband, on the prowl, and oh yeah, she has 3 boys…2 from the husband, and one from some other man who we know nothing about that she was never married to nor had any intention of marrying.  I’m not judging at all,  but seriously, who is she to say that I have too much baggage??
• Conversation with me about Mr. W after informing her that we were moving in together:  “I don’t know what happened with them.  I really like ______ (his ex).”  WTF???  I’m his girlfriend, and you want to tell me how much you liked his cheating, high-maintenance, selfish, hurtful, putting-Mr. W-through-some-serious-misery ex??? Seriously??!!

What are these people thinking?  Or a better question, are they thinking?  Are these twisted compliments?  Or are they twisted cut-downs in disguise?  I just don’t get it.

Why did I leave him?…oh yeah, that’s it

I have a confession…I have horrible taste in men.  Of course, I am not at all referring to the one bright shining star in the darkness that has been my dating history.  As we all well know, Mr. W lives up to his name, and then some…Mr. Wonderful.  No, I am referring to the ex-men.  They never cease to amaze me while simultaneously horrifying me and my sense of sensibility as far as men and relationships are concerned.

I had the following conversation with my STBX, soon to be known as TASMCITISM (the absolutely small-minded caveman idiot that I stupidly married)…ok maybe that’s a little long, but I will think of something!

Him: So where do women get their breasts from?

Me: huh? what do you mean?

Him: Well, I know men get their receding hairlines from their mother’s side, so which side do breasts come from?

Me: I don’t know.  I got mine from my mom’s side, so maybe the mother.

Him: Well, if [the girl] gets hers from my side, she won’t have any problems.

Me: What does that mean?  I don’t have any problems?

Him: Well, if she has a nice rack (yes he actually used this terminology to speak about his 3 year old daughter) she will get a lot further in life.

Me: WHAT?  Seriously, you do realize this is your daughter you are talking about, right? 

Him: Well, it depends a little on what line of work she wants to go into, but it’s a proven fact, as a DA or prosecuting attorney, if she has a nice rack she will be favored with the judges.

Me: I can’t have this conversation with you.  And for the record, I’ve done just fine with my lesser endowments, thank you very much.

Seriously?  Seriously?! Seriously?!

He went on trying to convince me that the girl needed to have big breasts to succeed in life.  I tried to reason (forgetting who I was talking to) that I don’t like the idea of any woman, especially my daughter  being looked at and talked about that way.  He didn’t get it, thoroughly convinced and insisting that she must have big boobs to get by in life.  That is her only hope.  (She is beautiful, by the way, and slender…oh, and THREE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE!!)  Do I need further explanation on why I left this idiot?  (For those of you that think I do…don’t worry, I have a whole laundry list for you…)

Now, I’m not naive.  I know that looks still play a part in today’s society.  I know pretty girls can use it to their advantage to gain in the workplace, or in life in general.  I am decent looking, and I’ve heard it a million times, especially in the military.  I got promoted early because I’m a pretty girl.  I get recognized because I’m a pretty girl.  I got hired (outside the military) because I’m a pretty girl.  What about the other side?  I don’t get take seriously because I’m a pretty girl.  My experience and intelligence are ignored because I’m a pretty girl.  I have to fight harder to compensate mentally because I’m a pretty girl.  I don’t want to rest on my looks.  I downright refuse it.  I’m smart, I’m a hard worker, I’m a great problem solver.  Those are my selling points.  My looks should  have not a damn thing to do with it.  Should.

But all that is in today’s society.  A lot has changed in the workplace and in the relationship among people in general (we have a Black President Elect, for God’s sake!) let alone in the relationships (personal and in the workplace) between men and women.  My hope is that our world changes even more in the next 20 years, when my kids are growing into it and heading out on their own to be part of it.  Is that so wrong?  Is it wrong to hope for a better world and a better situation for your children?  Is it wrong to expect it?  If it is, then I’m wrong because I do hope for it.  I do expect it, dammit!  I expect that my kids will be able to be whatever they want in the world.  I expect that the  world will welcome them with open arms, whatever their lifestyle, appearance, quirks, or shortcomings.  I expectthat my son will not openly reap the benefit of being a “good-looking white male” and my daughter won’t depend on her looks, whatever they end up being.  I expect both my children will be respected and valued for their intelligence and work ethic. 

I have now realized I have a whole plethora of battles in my future.  I knew they were coming, but not in this form.  Both of the ex-men are “old-fashioned,” which I truly believe is a PC way of saying small-minded and ignorant in a caveman sort of way, but I digress.  They are both lazy and all about cutting corners and breaking rules “that aren’t really important” or are for “other people.”  (Come on, STBX is a cop for Pete’s sake!)  They will poison my children’s minds (not that they haven’t already tried, but I’ve managed to reverse most of the damage before it takes hold up till now) and I must be ready to battle to keep them safe.  I must be ready to combat the damage as it happens, before it takes hold, and ensure the best, happiest possible future for my babies. 

Battle on, Bitches!

Totally hating the fall right now

I love the fall…normally.  The beautiful leaves, the crisp wind, the lower more snuggle-friendly temperatures, the yummy fall food…what’s not to love. 

But today, today I hate the fall.  I loathe it.  I despise it.  Damn leaves.  Damn rain.  Damn wind.  Every night when I get home, there are leaves.  Every morning when I get up, there are leaves.  Every afternoon, there are leaves.  DAMN LEAVES!!

Maybe I should explain.  I did know the joys of homeownership once, but the shortly after the bankruptcy, my house was foreclosed on, and that was that.  My house was great though.  Just the right size, in the country, brand spanking new so very little maintenance.  And even though we had about 1/3 of an acre of land with it, the yard work was minimal.  Sure there was lots of mowing (which I inevitably did the most of…but we won’t get into that) but it was ok. 

Now I live in Mr. W’s house, and it is a beautiful house (townhouse to be exact).  It’s the perfect size, has a small yard, but nice nonetheless, with a canopy of wonderful mature trees…oak, maple, whatever, just big and nice.  It’s great in the summer when they provide just the perfect amount of shade to cool off under in the back yard.  But in the fall…oh the fall…I hate them!  Seriously, every time I go outside, there are more leaves to sweep.  Every time I finish sweeping, there are more leaves to sweep.  Every time the wind blows, or a squirrel jumps from limb to limb, or the trees just feel like puking on my yard, there are leaves to sweep.  It never ends!!  Now, generally I would just leave it and let nature take it’s course, falling leaves, blowing leaves, snowed on leaves disintegrating into the ground.  Nature does these things for you, for her, the circle of life…  Then I could love fall.  BUT, there are stairs back there which lead down to the basement.  There is a drain at the bottom, to stop the water from collecting and finding a way inside.  Of course, if there are leaves over that drain, the water won’t go down, and will, in fact, find a way inside.  Crap.  AND, it has been raining, sort of, for three days.  I say sort of because it’s that annoying, spitting rain.  Enough that would make one hell of a rainstorm for about 30 minutes if combined.  But noooo, fall has to go and stretch it out over three days just to annoy me further!  So that leaves me, daily (probably should be more than daily) trudging outside, in rain or cold (or both as it has been lately) sweeping and bagging, bagging and sweeping, getting pelted in the head by falling leaves as I’m bagging and sweeping.  Seriously, in the head!  It’s as if those damn trees are laughing at my efforts!  I swear it!  I hear  them…

I’ll be glad when the winter snow comes and freezes their little tree tushes off!  But then, crap, there will be snow on that bottom step, and that means shoveling…crap, crap, crap!

The real deal, and he’s worth it

Seriously.

I look around (hypothetically in some cases due to distance) at my friends and the other women around me and marvel at how they survive.  So many of the women I know have sunk into these disastrous, destructive relationships, yet they still get through their day to day.  Now, I say I marvel, but I also fear for them.  I’ve been in destructive relationships.  I still can’t believe how close I was to jumping into yet another one just after my STBX and I split.  And I still can’t believe how lucky I am today to have found Mr. W.  He’s the real deal, ladies.

Mr. W is the guy I always thought I wanted.  He’s the guy I dreamed about as a silly young girl.  He’s the guy I gave up on even existing as the multitude of other “wrong” guys drifted in and out of my life over the years.  He’s the guy that has saved me from the deep, dark hole I was living in and from myself, and I love him for it.

When I was lonely, he gave me a friend.  When I’m happy, he is someone I can share my happiness with.  When I’m stressed, he rubs my back and helps me get myself through it.  (very important wording there, he helps me get myself through it.)  When I need affection, he seems to know and just holds me.  When I need something more…well, let’s just say that department aint too shabby!    We speak the same language, sometimes even at the same time.  We dig the same stuff, although not all the same stuff, so there is enough variety in tastes to keep things interesting.  He never willingly asks anything of me, but genuinely appreciates everything I do.  He willingly does anything for me, whether I ask or not, and I love him for it. 

We have our days, where things don’t quite click for whatever reason, stress, exes, kids, fatigue, stress, but we always get through it and get over it and find ourselves cuddling on the couch once again.  I feel like he’s a part of me, and I’m a part of him and as long as he’s there beside me, in spirit or in body, there is nothing that can ruin my day, and I love him for it.

Ladies, he does exist.  That guy.  The one you always knew you wanted but always thought didn’t exist.  He does, and he’s worth it.  There was a point in my second marriage where I had to ask myself, “is he worth it?”  Is he worth the trouble?  Is he worth the sadness?  is he worth the stress?  Is he worth the work?  Is he worth the pain and heartache?  The answer was obviously no, but it took me awhile to see it that way.  I held so tightly to the few good things that the many not so good (and sometimes downright bad) things had to get so bad they knocked me off my feet (figuratively, not literally.  it wasn’t ever that bad, thankfully).  I asked my friend the same thing last night.  “Is he worth it?”  I want to ask every woman I see who is hurting from their mate, “Is he worth it?” 

And you know, I’ve come to realize it’s not just about your man, or your mate, or your spouse.  It’s everything in life.  Your job, your hobbies, your stuff…are they worth it?  Anything that is in your life that causes any sort of stress or disdain, you have to take that step back and say, “In the long run, after it’s all over, will I look back and say it was worth it?” 

I can say without a doubt, Mr. W is worth it.  I can say without a doubt, my kids are worth it.  My job…eh…working on that one.  School, worth it.  And that is it.  Everything else just ain’t that important.

Aging…gracefully?

I found my second white hair.

It’s kind of hidden on the side of my head that I push all my hair towards, but I  know it’s there.  Of course, it’s my 5th if you count the phantom 3 at the back of my head that have been witnessed by a couple people over the years, but no real proof of their existence has yet been brought to light.  (The 1st/4th “appeared” out of thin air about 3 months ago.)

I’m not even 30!  I realize there are many out there who started going gray or white way earlier than this, and to you all, I’m sorry.  This is a big thing for me though.  I’m officially getting older.  On our recent trip to Michigan, I of course took my baby, my Nikon D-40, and Mr. W insisted on taking some pictures of me while we were exploring the big, bad city of Detroit.  Dude!  I look like my mom!  Not cool!  Ok, my mom is pretty.  No problems there, but she is also MY MOM!  And in her late 50’s!  I’m supposed to me, young and cute and all that, not my mom!  I’ve just gotten to the point where I am able to refer to myself as a woman (verses a girl, or chick) and it still makes me cringe when someone calls me “ma’am.”  I’m not ready to get old. 

I’ve had an “arthritic condition” since my early 20’s, so while the rain and cold affect me terribly (and painfully), it’s something I’ve grown accustomed to.  I’ve had digestive/stomach issues (GERD, heartburn, gastritis) since I agreed to marry Ex#1, which coincidentally went away when we separated, only to return shortly after marrying the STBX…hmmm…whoever says your body doesn’t respond to mental and emotional stress is full o- poop!  I get suddenly (in the last 2 years) get migraines.  I’ve suffered from insomnia for as long as I can remember.  My allergies get exponentially worse with each season.  My boobs, although small, seem to be migrating south as far as that little bit of skin will let them.  Aging gracefully was never in the cards for me, but really, do I have to do it now?  In my face?  In my hair!?  Couldn’t the __________ (fill in the all-powerful being, force, whatever of your choice there) have given me at least until I was out of my twenty-somethings? 

*Hrumph* and *Sigh*  Gone are the days of eating however much of whatever I want without any objection from my digestive system body, and still staying in shape.  Gone are the days of getting only 6 or even 4 hours of sleep and having no trouble pulling a full day’s work, cleaning my house, going shopping, and participating in extensive partying through the night, for several days on end with no ill-effects.  Gone are the days of being able to take 12 and 15 hour road trips without stopping every 80 (50) miles to pee, stretch, get water, then spend the next day recovering from the soreness of the drive.  Gone are the days of multiple marathon “snuggle” sessions.  I’m tired, I’m thirsty, and I have to pee….all the time!!  I’ve been tested for diabetes, had endoscopes, had my stomach lining, blood, and (ew) poop tested for all sorts of bacteria and disease, but these recent appearances of white hair and aged features on my face explain it all: I’m just getting older.  *Sigh*

I guess I will have to embrace it.  No hair dying for me.  No botox.  No crazy skin creams.  Just acceptance, and moving-on-ness.  At least I still get carded for cigarettes and beer!  Of course, they don’t know what I looked like when I was too young to buy cigarettes and beer…

Question: There are three very suspicious hairs in my bangs area that I’ve been keeping a close eye on…they seem to be lightening.  Do white/gray hairs grow that way, or does the color just slowly fall out?