Strip That Down

Today we’re going to talk about the man romper. 

Ever since they hit runways last week, there’s been a ton of feedback, mostly about how man rompers aren’t for straight men, no “real men” would wear a dude romper, etc. 


This really made me sit back and ask myself one question; 

“Why the actual fuck are we so concerned with what other dudes are wearing? Like, seriously?”

I have never understood this concept. Mostly because I wear whatever the Hell I want and don’t really give a flying frog’s ass what you think of my clothing. Unless you are paying my bills, mama wears whatever she feels comfortable in. This means I’m going to go to Sephora and buy my highlighter and rock my Sailor Moon shirts and a big middle finger to those that don’t like it. I pay for it; imma wear it. I didn’t put on the makeup to impress you, or because I wanted attention; I like it. The end. 


Which brings me back to the dude romper. If you’re a dude and you want to put on a romper, knock yourself out. Rock that romper. Wear it to the mall. Wear it to get chicken wings. Do you. It’s a piece of clothing. If you don’t want to wear one, don’t. But questioning someone’s masculinity over a piece of clothing is weird. What makes a “man” anyway? I always assumed you identified as male, generally you have a penis, and that’s about it. Like, obviously there are really good men, who respect their mates and pay their bills on time and don’t commit major crimes vs. Fuckboys, but that’s another story. To be male, you would need to have been born male or transitioned into being male. How would the dude romper affect that? Is it a magic romper? I’m confused. Please help me. 


Life is too short to judge people by what they wear or how they look. Wear the makeup or don’t. Dye your hair pink or don’t. Wear the dude romper or don’t. And don’t call people names for having pink hair or wearing the miniskirt or buying the dude romper. Don’t shame people for wearing a fatkini. At no point in time are you ever allowed to tell an adult what to wear, unless you are asked for advice on what colour man romper your bro should buy for himself. 


Humans all need to treat each other better. The best way to start is with the policy of “not my body, not my business.” The sooner we realize that, the happier we’ll all be. So stop calling women whores because they showed off their legs in that cute mini skirt. Stop calling men fags for wearing pink. Stop yelling at that girl for finally feeling confident enough to wear a bikini. Not your body, not your business. 

Finally, because I was already asked once, as a heterosexual woman, I would TOTALLY  date a dude in a romper. Seeing as my requirements are

1. Don’t be a douchebag

2. Like kids

3. Like dogs and cats

4. Like crossfit

5. Enjoy eating chicken wings and telling me I’m pretty. 

Any of those things can be done while wearing a romper. 

Whatever It Takes

My life has reached a comfortable and calming rhythm and I’m super grateful about that. It’s been so chaotically busy, but it’s a good busy. I’ve been building up my writing career nicely, I’m still working on those driving lessons, and I’ve been more successful at my day job than I have been in months. That means more money for me, and a better way to provide for the famjam. I’ve also been without fast food, alcohol, or caffeine for 22 of thirty days. I’m looking better, my skin is better, and I feel more alert and focused. 

This makes me wonder if I should resume my Red Bull filled life after the month is over.

These past few weeks have been very eye opening. Much like when you rid yourself of toxic people, not having caffeine has been the same for me. First I felt really shitty. But now, my mind is clear, I’m focusing better, I’m less tired because I’m sleeping better. My workouts are better (with the exception of the damn geese).  But  iced coffee is also really delicious. So, the struggle is real. 

Maybe I need to reevaluate how much caffeine I’m consuming. Maybe limit it to that one cup of tea or one Red Bull a day. Or even treat it like I do with alcohol and have it as a rare, once every few months treat. But I wonder if anyone else struggles with a quasi unhealthy love of caffeine? I mean, I don’t eat much fast food because it’s not good for you. I avoid alcohol because it isn’t good for you. But I guzzle caffeinated drinks like water even though I know they’re bad for me. Why am I giving this kind of poison a pass? Shouldn’t I keep it out of my life like I do all other poisons, food, human or otherwise? Or am I overthinking this? 


I guess I’m wondering if I’m sabotaging my best life by adding poison to my body and saying it’s okay because it’s just coffee. It’s just an energy drink. I’ve gone without for three weeks and I’ve been emotionally, physically, and mentally better. Maybe this thing we’re taught helps us stay alert is actually holding us back. Or maybe, I just really want a damn coffee and I’m trying to suppress the cravings with justifications that I don’t care about it hahaha. 

I want to be my healthiest, happiest self. Maybe that does mean caffeine free, alcohol, and fast food free (until I remember that there’s a Popeye’s five minutes from my house). I mean, it’s been three years since I’ve had soda & that’s been okay. Maybe cutting the cord on coffee won’t be so bad. I’ll probably feel better long term. But I’m not sure if I can stick to it. Maybe I’ll keep replacing it with my delicious David’s Tea until I forget about it forever…maybe. 

But for now, it’s time to consider ending my long term relationship with caffeine. It’s not you coffee, it’s me. I want to be a healthier, happier person and I’m afraid you might be holding me back. 

Fake Happy 

There’s been an article circulating online that a few of my friends have tagged me in, mostly because it’s something I’d relate to. 

Feminista Jones, an authour and social worker, encouraged women to agree with a man when they complimented her. The results weren’t terribly surprising. Anyone who is familiar with my online dating trolling on my personal Facebook page knows all about what happens when you say “no thank you” or agree with a compliment. I thought maybe I was just a bitch, but no, apparently this is a thing. 



I’ve seen this in my previous long term relationships, and even the workforce. Weak men do not like it when women are confident. My ex husband once made his own Facebook fan page with photo albums of “his” cover stories. They were all written by me. His answer was that he was the reason I was a good writer, so they were kind of his. Before I started at my new job, a male colleague at my old job told me not to get a big head when my performance was commended, it was a team effort and don’t think you’re so perfect. Agreeing with a compliment makes you a vain bitch. We’re taught that a woman only has worth if a man sees it, and that is bullshit. 


I read a lot of comments from men about why women should just say thank you, be humble, stop being full of themselves. But why is it that when a woman thinks she is smart and pretty and worthy of love an attention, she’s suddenly unworthy of attention. This trope is common in pop culture. Look at One Direction. The girl is only beautiful BECAUSE SHE HAS NO IDEA THAT SHE IS BEAUTIFUL. Had she known, then Zayn wouldn’t have found her so attractive (sorry Gigi). Every teen movie is the same; the pretty, popular girl is a bitch and the nerd is only pretty when a guy tells her that she is. What a great lesson girls! You’re only amazing when a boy tells you that you’re amazing!

It makes me wonder why the world continuously forces the idea that women who are assertive and aware of their value are somehow bad. Why should we only feel pretty because a man tells us we’re pretty? Why should we only giggle and say thank you? Why can’t we know our own value? We wonder why girls have low self esteem, but then they’re inundated with the idea that confidence = lack of humility and women are only desirable when they’re innocent and unaware of who they really are until their prince comes to sweep them off of their feet. Why do we need that? To me, that feels like we’re encouraging low self esteem and breeding controlling and abusive relationships. That’s how we end up being told “without me, you’re nothing,” and we believe it. Why? Because we’re taught that feeling good about who you are makes you vain and conceited and no one wants that. Be the quiet, meek, girl who doesn’t know she’s gorgeous. That’s how you end up with Freddie Prinze Jr. instead of all alone. 

We need to start telling ourselves that we’re beautiful and stop waiting for Freddie Prinze jr. or an online creeper to tell us that we’re pretty. Like Ms. Jones said, agree with compliments. It’s a good way to weed out the men from the weak minded jerks. The one who respects your confidence is the one who will elevate you to be the best version of you, by supporting you, not trying to reshape you into some stepford simpleton who giggles and falls at their feet because they said you’re pretty. 

I know I’m pretty. I’m really smart too. I’m good at my job. I’m pretty okay at crossfit and my running times improve. I can carry a tune pretty well and my hair is super cute. I don’t need anyone to tell me these things and you don’t need anyone to tell you either, because despite what Harry Styles says, you DO know you’re beautiful & that’s what makes you beautiful. 

Work Bitch

For those of you who are new to my world, let me catch you up to speed; I am absolutely terrified of geese. Every once in awhile, I try to pretend that the geese aren’t scary af, but in the end, I always go right back to remembering that geese are the minions of Satan, and are probably out to get me. 


Anywho, I often see these dark creatures of evil while I’m running and I normally turn around and run home. Why? Because I don’t want to die. Duh. But yesterday, I was feeling pretty buoyed by the Oilers big win and wanted to get my 5K in. So, I’m running and feeling all good about myself when up ahead I see…that’s right, the feathered horror itself; Mr. Goose. But, as fate would have it, my playlist switched to the greatest icon of my generation; Britney Spears. 


If you’ve lived under a rock, let me bring up to speed: Britney Spears is an icon. Anyone you consider an icon that isn’t Britney means that you are wrong. Deep down, everyone likes Britney Spears. You know that you secretly mouth the lyrics to Baby One More Time when you’re alone. It’s okay. But I digress. So, I’m running, and Britney’s Stronger comes on. Again, I don’t care who you are, if Britney Spears’s Stronger comes on, and you don’t feel like a bad bitch, then who are you really. Suddenly, I’m an invincible goddess, much like Britney. If she can survive 2007, I can survive a damn goose! So I jog right past that feathery fucker and keep on going. I can run 5K. Why? Because I slay. Queen Britney has empowered me. 


I’ve always said that music can change your mood. That’s why my running playlist is mostly hard rock, Britney Spears, and also Brie Bella’s entrance music (which is also my ring tone, because it’s the best thing ever). 

Stuff like this keeps me pumped up. Unlike Crossfit, where I have coaches and teammates to keep me motivated; I have only myself. Sometimes, I want to just give up early. I’m tired. I’m not feeling it. My hips are sore. Whatever. But I can’t do that or I’ll never progress or get triathlon ready. So, I use music that will elevate my spirits and keep me energized to finish my run, just like I choose music during my day to pick me up. Back to the story, I was doing so well. I was making great time, I had Britney Spears and Brie Mode, I was the fittest person ever. I was fearless guys, FEARLESS. I was almost positive that no goose would scare me off from my run…

Almost

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t invincible. But part of life means putting on your big people pants and putting up with stuff we don’t like. For me, it’s geese. Eventually, I’ll get to the point where they aren’t terrifying…or I’ll use my fear to run faster. Maybe. 

The Cure

What’s new? 

I’m really freaking tired. 

Part of this is because I’m currently participating in my annual May kick start; no caffeine, no fast food, no alcohol for thirty days (mother’s day is my one cheat day). It’s awful. I don’t drink, consume pop or coffee (often), but let me tell you that Red Bull is fantastic and I need more of it in my life. Also, did you know that tea is caffeinated? AND I LOVE THAT IT IS CAFFEINATED?! Fortunately my beloved Raspberry Mojito from David’s Tea is sans caffeine so I’ll be chugging that every second of my life thank you very much. 

Likely my blood

But I’m also too damn busy. I’ve managed to build up quite the little writing career. I used to just pitch articles, now people come to me and ask me to write their stuff. It’s like I have connections and stuff. I have a lineup of articles that need writing and submitting. I’m focusing on my day job because I want to be a success there. I spend my days off with the kids, or at the gym with the kids, or running. I literally have no free time. Add in no caffeine and MH goes something something. 


But I know I’m putting too much pressure on myself. I’m a sole support parent. I haven’t received child support in over two years. I can’t even get help to buy a loaf of bread, let alone help with birthdays or anything else. He’s always broke and too busy inventing conversations with our girls for the internet than actually being a dad. When I ask him when he plans to work, he hides behind the depression he won’t get help for, despite having universal health care for doctors and counselling through a hospital, and drug benefits for medication (which is totally an insult to those with an actual mental illness who fight, scratch, and claw every day to get healthier and live their lives. Two of my dearest friends are bipolar and they have more strength in them to get through one day then I probably do my whole life). 

Me when I hear another excuse

So that means everything is on me. All of it. I have to pay for hot lunches and class trips and birthdays and trips for ice cream and rent. I have to think about summer clothes and new sandals while he washed his hands of parental responsibility years ago. Drinking and partying are more important. So, I need to be successful to make sure they have everything that they need. This means that I go into every shift feeling like I need to sell as many phones as I can in order to get that commission to help support us. I have to complete as many articles as possible so that we have extra money, because it’s up to me to be mom and dad. But because I’m putting so much pressure on myself to be the best, I’m kind of falling off. I need to take deep breaths and relax (such a novel concept I know!), because all of this pressure to be the best cell phone helper boss lady/journalist/mom that is also dad/crossfit athlete that I’m not enjoying any of it! I’m literally living my dream life (minus the part where I am rich and married to Seth Rollins) and I’m not enjoying it because I keep putting all of this pressure on myself to be the best. 

So, tomorrow, I am going to go to work and I’m going to have fun. I’m working with my favourite co-worker (who is across the hall) and my two favourite members of the leadership team, so it’s going to be a great day. I’m going to use Sunday to go for a walk with my girls & feed ducks (but not geese because fuck geese), and then write my articles and meet my deadlines. Then I’m gonna relax. You can’t be successful if you’re under pressure. My boss, editors, they’re not putting me under pressure. It’s all me. I am putting myself under pressure, all because I want my family to thrive. 


It’s time for me to enjoy what I’ve built. I have the best life. My kids rule. My writing career is amazing. I have the best store and work with the best humans (or they’re across the hall from me, being the best humans). I put in all of this work to get here and I’ve gotta work to maintain it, but if I keep putting all of this pressure on myself, it’ll all cave in. So, no more taking on the weight of the world because I’m the only one holding it up. I’m going to embrace my life and enjoy what I’ve built, completely on my own, with no one to take credit for what I’ve built ever again. 

11 Blocks

Today, I’m going to talk about the selfie. 

Yes, selfies. 

We all take them. We all share our cute outfit of the day with our friends, a fun moment with coworkers, or that super rad Snapchat filter. While a coworker and I once joked that there should be a ratio of 1:7 of selfie and non selfie photos on your IG to prevent narcissism (& a limit of four hashtags), mostly because he’s a model and it was a silly in joke, taking and posting selfies is a normal part of our culture. One of the questions I’m asked most at work is about the selfie camera. We all take them, whether we want to admit it or not. 

If you’re not following me on Snapchat (ASHMHC), you’re missing absolutely nothing

My teen daughter takes them with her friends. I don’t really think anything of it. She’s fully clothed, not shooting the finger, so who cares? As her birthday approaches, she’s asked me for an autobiography penned by her idol, retired WWE Divas Champion AJ Mendez Brooks. I’ve skimmed excerpts; for the most part, AJ writes a beautiful story of finding herself and learning to embrace mental illness. AJ is very honest and open about her struggles and successes and I commend her for her honesty. I think (for the most part) she’s a great role model for young women. But there is a passage in the book where she equates selfies with a lack of self respect and a desperate cry for attention. As a woman who was once an impressionable teen, I could only imagine how upset my daughter would be to read such a judgmental and self righteous passage, but I refuse to let that cloud my perspective of a moving and inspirational journey. 


I briefly touched on this on Twitter with another blogger and artist (who is rad af & I would totally throw a feminist Wrestlemania party in NOLA with her and the girls while we all sport Bayley ponytails), and she agreed that this one passage didn’t feel that great. It perpetuates the myth that women only do things to attract the attention of men, or need to be validated by men to be happy. For some, that may be the case, and I won’t judge them. I used to, but then I realized that I was part of the problem. If they aren’t hurting anyone, then more power to them. But why does it have to always be about wanting to attract a man? Why do brilliant and inspirational women continue to tear down other women?!


I take selfies. I post em on Snapchat. I never used to. If you look at my old FB photo albums, there was maybe five photos of me in 100. There is maybe one pregnant photo of me. Why? Because I was called fat and ugly every day. I woke up to hear about how I was skinny when we started dating and now his wife was a pig. He didn’t sign up for this. A few years later, one of my best friends told me that I was pretty in the face and didn’t look fat from the “tits up” so I could reasonably find a man. I was constantly told how unattractive I was because I was fat. So I started working out. I started running. I started crossfit. First it was to shake the nagging voice that said no one would love me or be my friend because I was fat. But then, it was because these activities made me happy. And the more these activities made me happy, the better I felt about myself. I wasn’t a size seven (the magic dress size that I equated with being acceptable to be seen in public), but I was confident. I was happy. Confident, happy MHC didn’t want to be in the shadows. She wanted to be visible. So I started using that front facing camera. I’d post the odd one to FB or IG. But it was a huge step for me to stop hiding behind a camera and hoping no one looked at me. Humans should want to be visible, part of the world. Now, there are photos of me & my girls, my friends, of me. My teenager was also brutally bullied in grades seven and eight for being too thin and too different. She and a good friend started taking selfies as a way of accepting themselves. For many women, that selfie is about empowerment, taking control of their self esteem and we need to stop dismissing photos as vanity & a cry for validation from men. If it’s not for you, don’t do it. There’s lots of things in this world that I do not do. I don’t watch Canadian football. I don’t listen to Nickelback. I don’t understand Zumba. But I’m not gonna trash humans that do. Just let people do their thing and you do what makes you feel good inside. 


So, take your selfies everyone. You’ll find no judgment here. Don’t let anyone or anything make you feel badly about yourself or like you are somehow less intelligent, less interesting, because you took a photo with your front camera. And if you are one who belittles someone for taking a photo, stop that right now. You can’t bring up your self esteem by passive aggressively belittling someone else. 

The Sound of Silence

I get asked the same question a lot; “when do you find time for yourself?”

When men ask, they specifically mean “how are you going to find time to sleep with me and cater to my every need while I ignore yours (or at least this has been the case of every man I’ve ever known)?” When my friends ask, it’s because I haven’t spent any time with them in weeks, mostly because I have no time. I guess I have spread myself pretty thin. I’m working on four different pieces for three different publications. I work full time. I’m raising the kidlets. I’m getting better at getting the gym in there. But I could understand why an outsider would think I never have “me time.” 

The truth is that I’m finding more and more that my “me time” is running. Yes, running. That thing that I used to hate is quickly becoming my personal time. Don’t get me wrong, I still love me my crossfit, and my post WOD yoga, but running is the best for clearing my head. 

I work a lot. I’m kind of a workaholic. I love my family & I want to be the best kind of mom. Well, it’s hard to be the best kind of mom when you’re constantly trying to squeeze 100 things into one 24 hour period. I’m answering emails on the way to work. I’m coming up with ideas that I think are great (spoiler alert; are probably weird) & story pitches while signing permission slips and hearing about how Kiara is mad at her boyfriend because reasons and Jade took the boyfriend’s side and now the teen is in the middle and “OH MY GOSH MOM. YOU HAVE NO IDEA.” That’s a lot of information to be cramming into one mind. When I go running, I get 35 minutes to decompress. I listen to my running playlist and enjoy the music, while getting a great sweat sesh in (arms too, thanks to Stratusphere FitGloves!), and no one is calling or emailing me or asking me where their phone charger is. It’s just my alone time. 

All of my bomb playlists
I can understand why this wouldn’t seem terribly soothing to some; running is sweaty, tiring, and just kind of gross. But it is the one time of day that I get to disconnect from life and recharge. It helps my self esteem, as every time I finish a bit better than the day before, I’m pretty proud of myself. I feel accomplished and proud (& then I text my best friend, who’s started her own blog that I think you should all read) & tell her and we share our common interest. I find that my professional writings come together much better after I’ve gone running. My closing shifts are better after my morning run because I’m in a positive headspace and I’m more focused. I eat better because I don’t want to undo my run with the frappucino or Thai Express. I’m stronger at the gym. There is literally no downside, as no one regrets their workout!


I know I need more of a social life (I miss my friends too hahaha), and there is more to life than family, work, and fitness. But it works for me. I’m the happiest I’ve been since I lived in London (and my life was family, work, fitness). It works for me. Maybe I need to stop letting everyone tell me what works for me & let me just do what works…& this works. Running is my alone time (as crossfit has coaches and a class hahaha). Fitness is always going to be my downtime, whether it’s to relieve stress, or just to be happy, fitness is my key. And anything that helps me feel good inside, look good outside, and keeps me healthier longer, can only be a good thing. 

Green Light

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m not one for complacency. 

I can’t just sit in the same place, with the same life, the same relationship, the same friends, the same old TV shows, etc. I’ve been known to chop off all of my hair just because I could. I moved across the country on a whim. Sometimes I contemplate jetting off again. I look at jobs in Vancouver or Victoria & contemplate moving. Sometimes I think about packing up and moving to New Brunswick. But this is the longest I’ve stayed in one spot since I got a divorce. Perhaps there’s enough adventure here in the province of cows to settle my gypsy heart for awhile. I’m still discovering cool buildings and interesting things. The photo below I took while waiting for my favourite co worker before the Lumineers concert. Edmonton is a rad place y’all. 


But I still get bored and want to switch things up. I want to change my hair, my look, meet new people and introduce them to my old people and build a tribe. I want to learn a million new things and then share my knowledge with others. I want to constantly grow and evolve and expand my horizons. But I can’t just pack up my life and find a new city every time the urge strikes me…can I? 

No. Kids need roots. I need a support system. But I also need constant change. Maybe not constant change, but constantly working towards goals. I’m feeling very complacent in my life right now. I love my day job, but right now, I’m not seeing a lot of room to grow. I know there will be, but right now, I’m in a holding pattern. I am fortunate enough to have a manager across the hall that can help me learn everything to know about manager-ing, which is nice. When you have someone in close proximity who’s super rad at their job, you take the time to learn. My biggest mistake at my old mall was not taking advantage of the opportunity to learn from someone who’s really good at their job. I love freelancing, and I love fitness, but I’m at my best when I’m working towards a goal. But what goal? What’s something that could help me feel super motivated and help me accomplish something without just packing all of my shit and moving halfway across the planet?

I found my answer today while mindlessly scrolling Twitter en route to work (PS if you’re not following my boring ass on Twitter, you probably should do that);


Yes! A triathlon! I write for a fitness magazine, obviously getting healthy and staying healthy is important to me (PS; check out YEG Fitness. It’s pretty amazing). And I loathe running, but I need to do something on days I don’t go to crossfit. I was much better at staying motivated when I had a goal to work towards. Now I do. I’m going to train for a year, then my friend & I are gonna tackle the Edmonton triathalon (give him a follow over at Lift Bitches)! This also inspired me to look at buying a bike and riding to work on nice days. I’d save money and really enjoy it. Of course, I haven’t ridden a bike in a long time, how hard can it be? 

So, tomorrow starts my preparation. Eating better, working smarter, and working towards this goal. I can’t wait to show my littles how to work towards a goal and stay healthy, and I’ll save money by packing a lunch every day. I write for a fitness magazine and go to a great gym, I have a bunch of resources at my disposal to get ready. Not to mention that working towards a goal will improve my self esteem! I’m really excited about it. 

A year is a long time, but it’s just the right amount of time to get ready. By going for a long term goal, I’ll be less likely to get discouraged. And I have a friend to keep me accountable. All exciting things, and this excitement will bleed into the rest of my life; improving my work performance, my writing, and my interactions with others. I’ll get in better shape. There is literally no downside! It’ll be a great challenge and I can’t wait to tackle it. 

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here

A few months ago, I was invited to meet with the editor of a newspaper to discuss a freelance position, one that could turn into a full time position. I rushed from work to the meeting, only to find that he forgot. The next day, we had a great chat, but I got the feeling that he didn’t really take me seriously…probably because he had no idea that my post secondary institution was a real school and flipped through my writing samples nonchalantly with no real interest. 

I left the meeting feeling flat. Not unhappy, but not feeling super jazzed about it. I didn’t really think about it at all actually. I kept on doing my thing. Writing cool stuff, getting to know cool people, selling phones and generally being awesome. I figured maybe it wasn’t my place, or my time. He’s a great writer and human, I just wasn’t the writer he was looking for and he was up front enough not to waste either of our time. So, I was rather surprised when this editor contacted me the other day and asked me if I wanted to do some work for him. It wasn’t a puff celebrity piece either. It was real news, with real meaning. This person I thought had no interest in my body of work took me much more seriously than I thought & I feel honoured that he thought I could write this piece. I intend to knock it out of the park. 


I think sometimes we forget that not everyone receives information the same way as we do. I’m an overly enthusiastic person; I sometimes misread calm and tranquil people as cold or detached. I’m sure they misread me as a vapid valley girl. The most important thing is to not get offended when people don’t respond the way you’d like. I could have taken his questions about my education as a personal slight; but it was obvious genuine interest. By not letting it get to me, I didn’t burn a bridge and now it’s become opportunity. 

I used to be so afraid that things wouldn’t work right when I wanted them to that I would make a mess of the things I truly wanted. Now I’ve learned to just go with it. Things didn’t work out? Oh well, pick yourself up and try from a different angle. Bad run? Don’t stress; just take a different route tomorrow. Did the editor not ask you to work on something right away? Don’t stress; just keep on building the portfolio. It’ll all work out when it’s supposed to. It may not be on my timeline, but it will be when it’s right. 


By not forcing life to adhere to my timeline, I’m accomplishing more than I ever thought possible. My writing career is growing, my day job is amazing & my team of women are so very bad ass. I can deadlift more than my body weight and I have a bunch of great friends and an active social life…


…okay maybe not the last one. But you work full time and raise a family, while freelancing and working out six days a week and tell me how social you are. But I’m getting it done. I’m living my happiest life and it’s all because I’m allowing life to happen when it’s supposed to,  not because I’m afraid it’ll all go away. 

I can’t promise I’ll know what project I’ll be working on next, but I can tell you it’ll be awesome and it’ll arrive at just the right time. 

Turn it Up

Today, I’m gonna write a piece I call “the Ballad of Bayley.”

Last year, I told you about my teenage daughter’s love for Sasha Banks, today, it’s my younger two daughters and WWE Women’s Champion Bayley. 

The character of Bayley is arguably the most relatable character on TV. She’s a fan that got to live her dream. My 10 and 7 year old adore Bayley and everything she stands for. They once waited in the snow for six hours, in their hugger shirts and Bayley tassels just to catch a glimpse of their TV best friend (and hugs. Their goal in life is to get a hug from Bayley). My Twitter feed is dominated by photos of them in full Bayley cosplay. Bayley’s character was dismissed as being “Just Bayley.” She wasn’t special; just ordinary. But this mantra of “Just Bayley” was so important to her fan base of little girls. My own daughter is painfully shy. She struggles to make friends and when picked on for her small size and quiet demeanour (she’d rather read and do math than play sports), she decided she was “just her,” and that was enough. After all, Bayley was just Bayley and she became a champion. Being yourself is cool! While adults complained about Bayley’s character and direction, kids got the message; Bayley is herself and that’s enough, and if you just be yourself, you are enough. 


When Bayley made her way out at Wrestlemania 33, my two small girls squealed with joy, as their hero was finally living her dream. They sat in their Bayley gear and side ponytails, imitating her entrance. They cheered her on loudly from home, and big sister even joined in (after her beloved Sasha Banks got eliminated) & all three jumped up and down and cheered when Bayley retained her championship. They cried with her, their best friend won. My oldest, who wants to be a wrestler herself, said that she couldn’t wait for her moment like that, while the little two were so happy that their best friend Bayley won and when they got to school, they could talk about it with their girlfriends. 


Which brings me to why I adore this character so much. It isn’t just because she’s a good role model for my girls, or she’s relatable. It’s because I feel like she’s an overlooked but key reason why so many female fans are watching WWE. Yes, you have the Bella Twins, who introduced wrestling to the mainstream, and Sasha Banks and Charlotte, who made history, but Bayley is just as important, because she’s just Bayley. 


Just two years ago, my girls & I were among just a handful of women who watched WWE. This past October, we were among dozens of little girls with their side ponytails and tassels, screaming the lyrics to Bayley’s entrance song. While yes, there were other women who helped usher in a new era, the character of Bayley opened up a new world to little girls that had been previously excluded from. I remember when little MHC wanted to play wrestlers with her brother and his friends, with a Miss Elizabeth action figure in one hand and an Andre the Giant in the other and the boys laughing, saying girls can’t play. Teen MHC was mocked mercilessly for my HBK posters on my wall, while the boys said I only watched pay per views with them because I wanted them to like me. My own girls were picked on at live events by grown men because they chose Nikki Bella & AJ Lee shirts over male superstars. But the character of Bayley allowed little girls to feel included in a world they were originally banned from. The world of NXT, originally for die hard fans, became the world of Bayley. Each week Bayley brought her brightly coloured world to the ring, another little girl realized they belonged too.  Bayley allowed little girls to feel like they belonged, and she did it by being just Bayley. 


Representation matters. You can preach equality all you want, but unless you can see it, it’s not there. There are a great many women who helped pave the way for female fans to find role models, but for little girls, it took a best friend to give them a hug and tell them that they belonged anywhere they wanted to be and they deserved it by just being themselves. I sometimes think that we as adults get so caught up in our perception of promo quality or what we think that we miss the lesson; that it’s okay to just be you. Because of that, I think we don’t realize just how important or powerful a character like Bayley truly is. No gimmick, no catchphrase. She’s just like us and that’s just enough.