Friday, July 31, 2009

My life in corsets (ps this is my 100th post!)

So, Hey if you've never met me in real life, I'm voluptuous. I say this in my head the same way a person might say, hey, I have a communicable/venereal disease. I'm not ashamed of my body. OH nononono. I just feel like everyone else is. I feel like my boobs enter a room before I do. I feel like my butt knocks things over of it's own accord and my thighs(my least favorite and most zaftig body part) well, I could wax poetic all day, but I won't bore you.
I have said before and I'll say again, I love the things my body has done, I have three wonderful children(when they are sleeping...or medicated) and I have ran races and delivered a million trays of food and I can swim and bike and play soccer and volleyball.
Yet somehow, I always apologize for myself, when no apology is necessary.
I recently embarked on a new adventure(code word for torture) at work I like to call front of house managing(to those unfamiliar with the resturant industry this means 'complaint handler/jane of all trades)and I have to DRESS UP.
In my life before children, I kind of liked to dress up, granted this was almost eight years ago and long, flowy skirts were in, as were boy pants with suspenders, but I digress. Now, I hate to dress up. Because it means, well, it means some sort of body shaper is generally in order. blech.
I'm pretty honest.
I'm like a five on the angel to politician scale. But I'm not Oprah, I could not on live TV talking about all the business my spanx hold in.
But I will tell you this, I don't wear those suckers every day. Or even most days. I wear them when I do not want to see a muffin toppy roll over the tops of my pants and when the line of my outfit is compromised( which is almost always when I'm dressing up)
It occurs to me, even as I write this, that I've kind of always thought that I'm not exactly thin (but hey, what teenage girl doesn't)
I think however what I'm really trying to say is, that although I'm fine in my house when I'm chilling (as I so frequently chill) when I go out into the world, I still feel the need to suck it in.
I like me, and that guy I married is still a fan(bless his heart) so I've got what matters and yet..still with the funny underwear.

I believe what I see in the mirror (and believe me...although I spared myself only cursory glances in the mirror through my twenties, I've been examing pretty hard here lately botox diaries style) and I'm pretty OK. I mean, I've never been a cover girl, but I think I still got it( and by got it, I mean most of my teeth and decent eyelashes)

My point and remember when I was just (sweet martha already) going to get to it?is this, all women are beautiful, in some way, at some point and if we don't recognize it for ourselves it may not be recognized. Mass consumerism is always going to want us to buy into thinner is better, but if you take care of yourself and don't neglect your health, maybe we can just suck it up on our own and let the funny underwear stay at the bottom of the drawer.


Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Take me to your leader

I've wasted a good deal of time this summer, as my Ma-maw would put it 'feelin' sorry fer myself '.
and it's true.
I've been mopey all summer. (and whiny, don't forget whiny, I'm really good with whiny)
I miss my friends, my life, I never thought I'd have to go back to work for this long. I hate that my husband is so unhappy and that our future is so unsettled. A fellow writer friend and I just recently had a discussion about whether true writers are taught or born and he said he was more of a mind that true writers, that is-writers that grab hold of you for four hundred some odd pages or so, are mentally unstable. They've suffered, been alcoholics, druggies, grown children of divorce or just plain malcontents.
To some extent I agree. If I had no pain (and really, who doesn't? at some point everyone's feelings are hurt, everyone suffers from that unsteady feeling that can teeter foward towards depression or backwards towards the decision to change what bothers you) I would have no writing. Not that I write about my pain very often, but it fuels the creativeness that keeps me moving forward. Writing is tough, it's a tough business, it's tough to break into and tough to stay in.
I think the funny stories I tell were once something that really bothered me, but I've broken it down, took it apart and realized if I take myself too seriously, I might always be sad. I just may miss the blessing of my small everydays. I would miss the tiny joys (reading a book with B before nap time, watching K grow up to be such a lovely young lady, listening to A talk to anyone, anytime) these are the real things, the constants and although it's hard to be thankful when I'm watching family and friends flounder and search and even my own husband worry and update his resume' and try to make any connection he can. But I am. I am thankful, I'm thankful I have a job, even when I loathe leaving my family and having no time for my friends or myself. I'm thankful my friends are patient with me, I'm thankful most of all for my ability to work with my pain, but not forget my joy.
I hope your summer is going better than mine even though things are looking up and if you are local, some friends are starting a semi-annual consignment sale for more info!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

still the one.

I have been promising writing excerpts for approximately a year and so I suppose I'd better make good, this is from my longest WIP (meaning I've been working on it the longest har har)my original project, The ditz gets it done, this is part of the first MURDER scene and I'd love any feed back you have.

Like everyone else I surged towards her, but stop dead when I catch sight of her mint green dress, a lovely summer weight shift, but completely ruined. It was covered in blood.

I fished my cell phone out of my tiny jeweled bag, and dialed 911.
"Las Vegas 911, what's your emergency?" and realized that I really didn’t know, so I kneel carefully in front of Miss Michigan, Samantha something or other, and speak softly, “Samantha, what happened?”
She looked at me with frightened eyes and whispered, “Miss Utah, Kuh kuh kuh karen Ingleton, she was stabbed, I think, there’s so much blood. I mean, I think she’s dead, there’s like blood everywhere.”
My throat closed,and I felt cotton-mouthed but I forced myself to ask what room and transfer the information to the woman on the phone who assured me help was on the way. I snapped my phone shut and wrapped my arm around Samantha and steered her out of the room. I stopped and asked one of the panicky looking security guards if there was a room where she could be alone, he pointed mutely to one of the other conference rooms. We ducked in quickly and left the chaos behind for a moment. The only sound in the dark room was our breathing and Samantha’s stuttered sobs. I absently patted her back while she tried to calm herself.

The sharp iron smell of the blood was still clinging to her and it turned my stomach. When Samantha finally calmed down, I stuck my head out the door, not sure what I was looking for. I stopped the first man who seemed to see me, “Hey, are the cops here yet?” I ask, and the man whips his head back at me, then opens his suit coat displaying a badge. I grin unsteadily, “I have the girls roomate in here, I thought I should get her away from the crowd. She found her” He just looks sharply at me without speaking and pushes past me into the dark conference room where Samantha was still trying to stop crying. He leans down and introduces himself to her, and speaks softly. She smiles shakily and takes the tissue he’s fished out of his pocket. She takes a deep breath.
I stood there, feeling like a sore thumb, trying to decide whether or not to go back to my room and pack my bags and go home, or see if I could lend a hand restoring calm to the mass of what surely by now was a group of hysterical girls. The decision was made for me when the officer swaggered back towards me, behind him Samantha was once again reaching a new level of screeching, he motioned his head towards the door, and we stepped outside. People were still clustered in bunches talking animatedly and some were crying. Marilyn and Grace were nowhere to be seen, but I’m sure they were somewhere having kittens together.

Hope everyone is having a great summer!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

My best friend girl..

I have the extreme misfortune (or the colossal luckiness) to have both a husband and a friend (I would say best friend but in the past year we've probably one spent a total of five hours together) who have the same birthday. On Sunday July 12, 2009 both my wonderful husband and my glorious friend will turn (HMM, should I not say their age? ) 31..oops I said it. As funny luck would have it, my husband actually knew my friend before I did and introduced me to her.

Most of you may even know her as well, she has a great blog of her own, two small children and a husband she adores, but that's not who I want to tell you about today. Because although she is a great lady (one of the best!) she was a fantastic girl.

We met when we were both 20 ( we were soooo 20, 20 has never been so good)and although a lot of our classmates and such were partying and having random encounters with faceless strangers, D and I were planning our weddings.

In the long along year 2000 we were both in school and planning weddings and (although we could have been twelve for all the fanciful ideas we had) we actually executed said weddings and proceeded to move into adjoining apartments.

By all accounts the first year of marriage is hard and although I would never speak for D, I know M and I had some doozy fights as well as some doozy make ups.

We carved pumpkins, exchanged Christmas presents, helped each other pick out our wedding albums while our husbands played Nintendo. We took trips, worked together and played together, got dressed up and went out on the town together (for the record I would love to put a photo or two in here but my scanner is kaput..maybe soon)

We started to plan our families, D and her husband bought a house and moved away from us ( and then we rented a house four doors down) then we moved apart.

We started our families and cried and grew massive bellies and burped together, got gorgeous haircuts and catastrophic ones (mostly me, D's hair is always stellar).

We took a trip to the beach and got screen printed shirts and read trashy novels and missed our husbands and watched some great and awful karaoke.

We've comforted and cried and we've had our moments of apartness.

Right now our lives are on different paths and we don't each other as often as we'd like, but I was standing next to someone yesterday with D's perfume, and tears came to my eyes.

I loved growing up with you, D, you've made me a better person, a better mother and a better wife. You inspire me so much. I hope you always know your true value and worth. Happy Birthday Babe.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

As easy as breathing

I realize I've been quiet on here for awhile, but I have been enjoying every one's summer posts and pictures and just as soon as I find a new camera that can take the beating I will hopefully have something along those lines to share, but although I could wax poetic for a good long time about cameras I'll save that for another day.

Today it's going to be about how easy (and hard) it is to have a good day.

I think I've mentioned that M and I are taking Mondays off together which has been great (although the girls have camp on this day, so it's busy and we haven't been able to do zoo, carowinds, tweetsie, picinic or any other superfun summer activity yet) because after our weekends (I usually log about 20-25 hours and M rises at 5 on Sunday mornings to be in Charlotte before anyone else in the entire city is awake) we need a day. But this week I somehow managed to have both Sunday and Monday off, which is like a mini-vacay for me (us).

M's family had us over for a laid-back swim and cookout.

It was the best day.

I mean it. Not even a hint o' sarcasm.

Our only contribution to the whole affair was ketchup and some chips and dip and showing up.

We swam, we hung out, we chatted. It really was fantastic. Even the morning before we went over was nice.

I can't get over how sometimes you can plan and plan and fix and decide and make, and things just don't work out, but then spur of the moment stuff can go super.

I hope everyone had some relaxing time during the holiday weekend, I certainly enjoyed my day today.

Have a great week all, hope to have some new and exiting stuff going on soon (links to new writings and such...)