From Here to Zero

I’m a strong believer in my personal privacy.

I post pics of my kids on my social media, but never on my blog because while I choose to write about my life, I also respect that they do not choose to do that, so I don’t post their names or photos. My number one pet peeve in life is those parents who post literally every personal milestone of their kids lives (photos of them on the potty, telling stories of them smearing poop on the walls) on social media. I try to limit stories about my kids to when they are doing hilarious things. Adversely, I blog about my personal life, as I write to sort through my own feelings. I’ve been through a lot when it comes to my interpersonal relationships and I know I still have some growing to do, I still need to learn to trust better and I need to stop fearing the idea of a legally binding lifetime commitment because fear only holds us back from truly being happy. Writing about it helps me find my way. But I never post it on social media (that’s not true, there are TWO photos on my Instagram).

There was a random mention of my significant other on my Facebook on my birthday, when I excitedly wanted to show off his adorably thoughtful present to me. When I first moved here, I was beyond excited to find penguins in the West Edmonton Mall, as penguins are the most awesome animals on the planet. One night, when I was dreadfully homesick, he sent me a text message, telling me that I would adjust, it would be okay, he loved me so and he would do whatever it took to help me feel at home here, including find me a penguin to be my pet. My penguin may be cuddly and stuffed, but the gesture was very sweet, and now my penguin sleeps with me at night (judge me, I don’t care). I had a couple of people ask me about my significant other and overcthe past few months, some of my closest friends challenged me on my comfort level about my relationship because I never mention it online. But it’s not for a lack of faith in my romantic life that keeps me mum on the details of my romance online or to the masses, it’s quite the opposite; I keep it mine because it’s mine.

 

Isn’t he the cutest?!
 
It’s not a secret who I am dating. My friends and family know who I’m seeing and his friends and family know as well. But the seriousness, the depth of our commitment, the things that are personal are not for public domain. Obviously my closest friends are in the know (So Erica, Melissa and the Gleason Table), but I really don’t feel that the general population needs to know the ins and outs of my love life. That is mine. It’s a part of my life that is very important to me, much like my career and my children. Obviously, I wouldn’t post my job satisfaction on the internet, or personal things about my children, so why would I post things about my love life on the Book of Face?

I used to, but I also see that before I was VERY insecure about my relationship. I was always afraid the relationship would fall apart, so I thought if I said I was happy, then I would convince myself I had nothing to worry about. I see now that was actually stupid. I was inviting the peanut gallery into my relationship. That brought about mistrust, which combined with my insecurities and his fear of long term commitment (and mine) prompted the relationship to implode. I see people all the time on FB talking about people poking into their relationships and telling their friends/family to mind their own business and I often think, then don’t constantly put your business out there with memes and statuses and stuff. But, during the evolution of MHC, I realized that in order to be a decent partner, things needed to change. One of the things that needed to change was my reliance on the acceptance of others. It doesn’t matter if my friends like my boyfriend; I am in love with him. It doesn’t matter if he posts a million cutesy things on Facebook, in fact, we rarely interact on social media. We communicate away from social media. We talk, we text, we cuddle. I learned that to keep a relationship healthy, you need to keep your relationship in house. Facebook does not need to know that I love my boyfriend: he does. Every time I see these over the top FB declarations of love or passive aggressive statuses or the constant switch from “single” to “it’s complicated” to “in a relationship.” Yuck. Why do you need to convince the planet you’re in love? 

 There are exceptions to every rule. I have some friends that post the odd cute photo & they radiate love & you feel happy for them. My two favourite coaches at my old gym are those people. My friends Nic & Sarah as well. But again, these are vacation photos, rare snippets in time. Not an all out assault of “LOOK HOW IN LOVE WE ARE.” They are sharing small snippets of their lives, which is the point of social media. It’s about small pieces of your life, but the story is for you alone. Sometimes I think about how people like Blake Lively & Ryan Reynolds recently had to cut a friend out of their lives to protect daughter James’s privacy. Jennifer Aniston & Justin Theroux had to hide their wedding plans & take their guests cell phones to protect their privacy. WWE interviewer Renee Young put fans on blast because a harmless photo of her & fellow broadcaster Corey Graves taken on her birthday was misconstrued, followed by insulting comments asking about the whereabouts of her longtime boyfriend, WWE Superstar Dean Ambrose. She chooses to keep their relationship private, and fans get angry that she isn’t sharing photos. All these people want is to enjoy their private moments. Then we regular folks abuse the very same privacy by putting it all out there to be analyzed & get angry when people do. 

  
Maybe someday I’ll feel comfortable sharing snapshots of my life. Maybe not. But until I reach that place, I choose to protect my personal life & my children’s privacy. You do not need to know when my child used the bathroom. You do not need to know the intimate details of my personal life. But the little bits I do share, I enjoy sharing with you, as I enjoy those rare snapshots of your life as well. 

  

Broken Windows

Oh nothing. Just chilling the night before my birthday. 

I wanted to sleep, but that wasn’t to be. Instead I found myself stressed out about work & frazzled…until I stopped. 

Yup, I said eff that. 

I used to be a superstitious sort, believing in astrology & whatnot & I’d let all of that destroy my happiness. I’d let a bad horoscope or a psychic reading allow doubt to seep into my mind. I’d let the opinions of others affect my faith in myself. That would force doubt into my mind, breed mistrust into my relationships, my faith in myself, etc. I refuse to allow this. I no longer believe in fairy tales, I no longer believe in fortune tellers; I believe in me. 

This past week, I’ve let all of my fears about my job & whether I can truly provide for my family temporarily stunt my faith in myself. I was so consumed that maybe I’m a poor leader that I wasn’t seeing the big picture; my store is thriving. I have another job offer if I want it. I showed my editor that I am the strong & capable writer I said I was. I managed to get to the gym feeling like death. My kids are doing well in school. I didn’t see the little victories among the fear. I allowed this to keep me awake & create insecurities about who I was as a person, my job, my parenting, my writing, my relationship, etc. But the thing is, I have no reason to be afraid of anything, because I’m in control of my future & I am a total bad ass. 

  
I will not allow one bad week to define me. I will not allow past pain to cloud my happy future, or the nasty comments from friends at home to let insecurity & self doubt cloud my reality, which is what I’m doing. My company is not going to fold three weeks into my promotion like Target did. If I hate my job, I should quit & find a place that makes me feel less frazzled. I am not going to fail as a writer, I have worked too damn hard & will continue to work hard. He is not going to go away because he loves me & only me & I trust him as he’s kept his word every day since he asked for another chance to love me. Whatever happened before stays dead and buried by the Detroit River where we left it. I will not carry that baggage. I do not need it anymore, I would rather focus on loving him now instead of worry that he’ll leave. He didn’t stop loving me for years, he won’t now. The fears that I’ll never be able to fully commit myself to another person because of my failed marriage was left in an old house in Walkerville. I will not carry that burden anymore. From now on, I will look at my relationship for what it is; a part of my life that I share with a man that makes me happy (& I hope makes him happy). I am going to do well at the gym. My old coaches didn’t make me strong, it was me doing that work. But I’ve been so worried that I don’t have that support that I let it hold me back. I do not need that support; I know what I can do & I’m going to do it. I am a strong & successful woman who is going to conquer the world. I don’t need superstitious talismen or my friends or even my partner to validate my existence or my work or my future. If I can pack up my life & move to a city I had literally never set foot in to conquer the written word because I had a foot in the door, then the rest is easy. 

I’m about to enter another year of life. I intend to make it successful & positive & full of love. Each year, my life just gets better. But for that to happen, I’ve got to let go of insecurities & focus on growing as a person. So, tonight, I decided to focus on ditching all of that old pain. No more what if I can’t, just reminding myself when I succeed, I’ll laugh at how silly I was to think I couldn’t. I’ll look at those white jeans and focus on fitting in them by Xmas. I won’t think about what he did before, but how he loves me now. And every night I’ll remind myself that I am completely in control of my destiny & I choose to be happy every second of this coming year. 

I know that I don’t look happy, but I had worked six days in a row & just really wanted to show off my cute hair.

My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon

Let me tell you a little story. 

I go to the same Tim Horton’s every single day because Canada. Every day a well dressed man holds the door open & proceeds to flirt with me. I politely tell him I have a boyfriend & I’m not interested & maybe go away. So, today, this happened;

  
Because naturally “no” means “please sir, grab my ass.” Duh. 

I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but I also understand that I suck at it. While I believe that all women deserve equal pay & treatment, I also sort of victim blame. I’ve lost a lot of weight & I am confident in my skin (I’m still trying to lose that last 15lbs so I’m in the normal range of the BMI). One of the things that frustrates me is the lack of fitness lately because I pride myself on getting in shape. But I also know I dress in a manner that some men catcall. I believe you can wear whatever you want & you shouldn’t be catcalled, but I also understand I’m in the minority. I play up my cleavage, I wear tight ass pants. I know I’ll get attention, both positive & negative, but let me make one thing clear, you DO NOT EVER TOUCH ME. 

  
I’m not touchy feely on a good day. I don’t like people hugging me (unless we are close friends or I gave birth to you), so I especially do not want some creepy bastard putting his hands on me. But then I got thinking, maybe the creepy bastard doesn’t actually realize he’s a creepy bastard! So, I decided to help. Here’s a helpful list of rules to help you for future dealings with me (or any other woman):

1. Do not EVER touch me. 

2. In case of any confusion, please see rule number one. 

3. Repeat rule number one. 

4. My name isn’t baby. I am not a baby, and even if I was, I most certainly not your baby. 

5. My name isn’t sweetie, pumpkin or honey. Those are foods. 

6. My parents gave me a name. Stick with that (the only exception to this rule is that my boyfriend calls me Dollface sometimes. But I’m sure we all have friends who call us by a nickname). 

7. If you had a daughter, would you want a strange man interacting with her the way you are treating me right now? If not, don’t do it. If you don’t have a daughter, you have a sister or a mom. Would you like it if a random stranger slapped her in the ass? 

8. The friend zone isn’t real. If you choose to remain friends with a woman after she’s declined your advances, then you made your choice. A woman doesn’t owe you anything because you listened to her or were a good friend except a thank you. 

It’s not hard guys. It’s about basic respect. I shouldn’t have to have my boyfriend with me every second to keep you from hitting on me (and just so we’re clear, had he been there today, it would have played out the same, because he respects my desire to take care of myself. He probably would have laughed at the creeper limping away covered in tea. That’s about it) & I’m sure every woman feels the same way. I’ve heard the best pick up line is not acting like a total douche. Try it sometime. 

  

Fire Meet Gasoline

Have you ever had a moment where you’re like “eff this, I’m going to move into a hobbit hole & cut off communication with the outside world forever?”

Because that’s me right now (well, not really. I don’t eat enough to be a hobbit & I like human interaction too much. Also, living in a hole would freak me out because claustrophobic).  

I feel like I’m failing in my professional life. My rep sent me the most disrespectful email, complete with claims that I’m irresponsible because I didn’t come in on my days off & explain something. The other quit because I am “mean.” It’s impossible to work when your team respects you so little that they feel comfortable calling you names in the body of a corporate email. But I feel like quitting will seem like I can’t hack it. So, I cry because I had to leave my kid’s birthday party to deal with something that I’m not 100% sure means I’m a bad manager. But two weeks in & my team says I’m a bad manager. I’m too hard on them. I expect too much. I don’t really know what to do. But, maybe I’m too sensitive because I actually take it personally. It’s reached a point where I loathe my job. And the logical part of my brain says, “if you hate it, quit!” But I don’t want to be a bad person & leave my company in flux. Sigh. 

However, my week of stupid has helped me realize something (actually, I realized it last night after I met Seth Rollins. None of this has anything to do with anything, I just wanted to point out that I met Seth Rollins, because I am a giant child);

 

I AM SUCH A GEEK
 
Maybe it’s because I’m a woman & we’re taught to apologize at work a lot, but I struggle to accept my feelings, or my difficult days as valid. 

I would like to stress that this is not a learned behaviour from my inner circle. I have great people in my life & they love me. This is just a weird quirk I’ve noticed. As my professional life continues to challenge me & I continue to struggle to settle into a routine here, I find I don’t talk to my friends or love as I should. In fact, I’ll do everything but; I’ll make small talk, I’ll crack wise, anything but express fear that I’ve made a mistake, or my writing career isn’t going well & my professional life is a mess & I feel like a Mighty Morphin Failure Ranger. I always make an excuse. Today, while talking to one of my best friends who finally demanded I talk about why I haven’t been texting much or talking much or whatever, he asked if I had called my beau to express why I’m so frustrated with my job & that I’m lonely & homesick & I basically said he’s working & busy & felt badly enough about his schedule & I shouldn’t bother him. This isn’t something he does to make me feel that way;  If anything; he’s the MHC whisperer. He loves me even when I’m being overly dramatic & whiny. He gets me when I’m in a tizzy & knows how to make me feel better without being a condescending dickbag. He’s the one person on this planet who knows how to deal with bitchy, frustrated me in a way that makes me feel loved & respected.  But I simply said “he’s so busy & he works so hard & I’m not going to bother him with my overreacting to my professional annoyances & my missing my friends. These things are stupid.”

This applies to all of my friends. Damanda is busy at the law office, Melissa is swamped with work & her own life. Sarah is working with her husband to get her business going. Gleason Table has a family & a power plant. I can’t bother them with my petty annoyances at my non-important job. They have important stuff to deal with! All of my friends are amazing. They would totally listen to me rant. As would my brother. I’d do the same for them. But instead, I’m like “Nah, I got this,” and then cry. 

Maybe it’s because for years I felt I had to cultivate an image of someone who never gets angry or upset. Maybe it’s because my alleged best friends stopped talking to me when I went through a weird phase a few years ago where I was so dissatisfied with my professional & personal life that I just became a huge downer. They basically told me had I faked it & just kept my feelings to myself, we’d still be friends. Maybe I just need to feel like I can handle everything myself, like no one can kick you while you’re down if no one knows you’re down. Or somewhere, I just decided that everything I feel that isn’t happy is actually stupid & unimportant & therefore isn’t worth discussing. People love positive MHC. I love her too & I strive to be that person, but because I like who I am; the rest of y’all can deal. I am awesome. But pretending that I don’t have weeks where I feel scared, lonely, inadequate or insecure isn’t good for me. These emotions are actually normal. It’s okay to feel them. They are valid. It’s okay to talk to someone you love about why you hate everything & let them help you figure out your next move. It doesn’t make you less bad ass, I swear. 

Now, you’re probably thinking “MHC, this was a terrible life lesson, you’re just writing, you’ll never actually give up on the idea that you’re the eternal optimist or actually build a support system!

But, admitting you need to work on something is step one. I need to recognize that being grumpy does not detract from my eternal optimist, happy sunshine shines from my behind personality. Not to mention walls that one has put up aren’t so easily torn down. They come down slowly, a few bricks at a time. And I’ve done fairly well in letting people in past them, but there’s always a couple of bricks we hide behind. And those who love me will understand that I’ll probably write about my feelings before I’m ready to talk to them. They get it. They’ll let me sort out my frustrations on my own & let me decide when I need someone to talk to & help me figure out how to get through & that I need to muddle on my own for a bit. But they respect that this is my way & to let me figure out for myself what I need. 

So, I’m going to sort out my professional life while also learning how to sort out that it’s okay to be mad, sad, or just plain bitchy. Maybe I’ll watch Inside Out with the littles & learn what happens when feelings have feelings, because feelings have feelings too. 

  

Over My Head

I hate all forms of negativity. 

It drives me nuts. I will actually will myself to be happy, even when everything around me is awful & stupid & I want to punch something. This has been the last three weeks of my life. There are random snippets of awesome mixed in with stupid, but the more I fixate on proving some kind of point that I’m totally kicking ass at this “I moved across the country, now watch me be a super success,” the more I want to sit down & cry. 

Literally me.
 
I’m tired of fighting with the dad as he lays the pity trips on the girls about how he might not come for Xmas, because he can’t afford it & has no job (seven counts of sexual harassment & misconduct will do that), even though I’m paying to fly him out here for Xmas. Every extra cent I have goes to ensuring he can see his kids. I even offered him a way to never pay child support again if he wanted to move closer & be a parent. But then I get the blast of how I don’t care about him & I’m selfish & boo hoo & I know it shouldn’t, but it gets to me. I get personally offended when he doesn’t call on the first day of school or when he tries to worm his way out of visiting, making the kids cry. Like, why can’t you put aside your pettiness & be a freaking dad? I know I shouldn’t care, but I keep trying to help him be involved & I am always the bad guy.

Then there’s my job, that adds more responsibility (as now I may be traveling to our sister store twice a month), which I should be grateful for, but I’m just tired. This means more time away from home. This means more time away from writing, which frustrates me so, as I’m working so hard on an article that may never see the light of day because my editor doesn’t return my emails & won’t give me an official Greenlight to work on it, but wants me to write it. I’m jumping through hoops, so I blog more almost for validation, like please someone think I’m talented. My schedule lends me little free time, so I spent most of my day off scrambling to put a birthday together for my six year old because I had literally done nothing. That brings working mom guilt. I used to be good at time management. I used to be queen of making my kids birthdays the best ever. I barely have my kid’s party planned & I still don’t own a table. Oh, and I forgot to make anything. Like, at all. It’s in two days. In the age of Pinterest moms, I’m pretty sure I won’t be winning any mom of the year awards any time soon. 

And of course, this is all exacerbated by the fact that I’m lonely af. My birthday is in 10 days & it’s the first time in six years I’m not working/in school/caring for a newborn. I know four people in this city. One is super pregnant. The others are working (& you literally cannot be upset with someone because they have to work, you just can’t. It’s so rude). I know the kids & I will have a blast (until WWE ruins my life later on in the evening), but it just makes me feel so incredibly lonely.  

*sniffles*
 

I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me, but I’m just so freaking lonely. Sometimes it feels like my boyfriend is my only companion & then I feel guilty because he has friends & a life & I really don’t. And I don’t want to be a drain on him or rely on him as the only adult I spend time with. It’s bad enough I feel like a broke ass because he pays for everything & I would like to feel like I somehow improve his life & make him happy & not poor. But I miss having my inner circle. I want my best friends with me on my birthday. I don’t want to wait until November to see them (if I can swing it, as I’m also trying to make sure the dad can see the girls for Xmas), I just want my best friends here for my birthday…

…I want to go home. 

Yes, I’m a huge Debbie Downer right now & that actually pisses me off. I hate negativity. I’m the happiest person in the whole wide world. So there. But I thought this would all be easy. I’d be a good cell phone boss lady, and right now I don’t feel very good at it. I’d get a writing job easy peasy. I’d make friends like I did in London. But I feel like I’m sinking under a ever growing tidal wave of self doubt & loneliness & I just want to feel like I belong here or that my presence in this stupid cow province meant anything.  

I also understand that I’ll be fine in a couple of days. I’m super bad ass & I don’t need anyone to make me feel better. I just feel guilty that I was so unprepared for my kid’s birthday & lonely & kind of like an island. But even the happiest girl in the world is allowed to feel sad, or homesick, or like an island in the universe with no one else on it & the rum is gone.   

But the fact that I’m whining actually pisses me off more than my recognizing that these feelings are perfectly valid.  Hence the late night blog rant. I recognize that it’s okay to feel this way, I just won’t allow it, because I am amazing & I will just power through & smile like the happy little creature that I am, because that’s the expectation I’ve set for myself & I’m determined to succeed here, even if right now it feels like I’m drowning. 

  

Wildest Dreams

I can only describe this week in one word;

Stupid.

Yes, this week was stupid.

Every single thing about my week (professionally) was super stupid. Between hiring and interviewing and being challenged by my editor, I honestly just kind of wanted to punch something in the face. Add in the realization that I’ve gained 10lbs since I moved here because my fitness mojo has been all off and you had a down right bitchy MHC (just ask one of my reps when he told me “I think I know why you’re gaining all of your weight back,” while I was eating a piece of banana bread. He’s still alive, I promise).

Fortunately, my spirits were lifted today with a series of events that made today not stupid, from snuggles with my five year old, and early access Pumpkin Spice Latte and a helpful pep talk with Matty the Bastard, my journalistic BFF. I even got my replacement cell phone boss lady phone, complete with a screen protector, because apparently you break ONE phone with your ass and Sony doesn’t trust you or something.

 

DO NOT put a Sony Z3 in your back pocket. Just DON’T DO IT
 
I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on myself to be successful, and that caused me to make rookie mistakes that a nine year journalism veteran like me should know not to make. The hiring process at my store had me on edge. I mean, hiring the right person feels like it should be some kind of precise science and hiring the wrong person could spell disaster. And if I screw up either of these things, then I pretty much uprooted my family for nothing!

(If you’re thinking, Gosh MHC, I feel like you’re being a little bit melodramatic. I’m going to assume you’re new)

This made me pretty much the least tolerable human being for most of this week. I don’t like venting to people about why my life feels stupid. Hell, I don’t even like it when my significant other tries to pay for milk (although it’s very sweet and I need to learn to be more appreciative of his attempts to do nice things for me and not just flip out because I’m independent God damnit), so I’m especially not going to go crying like a little baby because I’m feeling overwhelmed about stuff that is largely made up and actually stupid. I need to handle stupid stuff on my own, without being melodramatic or crying. Why? Because I’m a grown ass woman, or so I’ve been told.

Instead, I decided to focus on finding GOOD in this situation. This involved changing my thinking. If this magazine doesn’t work out, there are others. I wouldn’t be the first writer to realize the first magazine offer I got isn’t the right one for me. I need to think of my editor calling me out as a positive thing. After all, she must see some potential in my writing to challenge me to do better. Otherwise, she would have just cut me loose. Freelancers are easy to come by. I should be grateful that she is trying to get my best out of me, because when she gets it, I’ll be a better writer! It’s okay that I’ve gained a little, this helps me remember why I started going to crossfit in the first place; to get in better shape and be healthier. Maybe I needed that bitchslap from the scale to get some motivation mojo, as I’ve been so bummed that the new gym isn’t as welcoming as my old one. Also, the girls will be in school, so I won’t feel guilty that I missed a month of their lives so I feel like if I go to the gym before work, that makes me a bad mom.If anything, I’ll be teaching them good habits that make me a good mom. I was chosen to be the boss, I need to act like it and start making decisions and standing by them.

But most importantly, I need to stop thinking that everything I do here, good or bad, means this whole thing was for nothing. I did this to better my family and that’s what I’m doing. I’m gaining management experience, which I can use to continue to move up in the world and earn a better living for my daughters. I’m growing as a writer and improving every day. I’ve made some rad new friends and I’m really happy with the current state of my life. I just need to stop worrying that if I don’t become the most successful person that I know, then I’ve somehow ruined my life. My success as a person is not defined by how quickly I became the best writer in Western Canada. My success as a person is defined by my being a good person and role model for my daughters, so that’s what I’ll do.

Success is rad, but success comes when you work for it, not stress over it. So, I’ll put in the work and the effort and the success will come when the work is done and in the interim, I’ll take stupid days and find the positive, even if it seems like there is none to be found.

  

Style

Happy birthday ASH Multimedia!

Five years ago, I started this little blog to help endorse my ex husband’s photography career. The photography & the husband are gone, but after 511 posts, over 65K views & five years, I’m still writing & that’s kind of rad. 

I don’t even recognize the person I used to be. I look at old photos and wonder who that woman is. I don’t recognize her (not just because I’ve dropped 100lbs) & I’m so glad. I love the person I found while muddling through life & finding that my life needed many things; passion for my career, a commitment to being a role model to my daughters, all the Crossfit, and the strength to stand on my own & become the woman I always was meant to be. 

 

The five year evolution of MHC
 
I no longer fear being my overly determined, impulsive & flighty self. I no longer fear being left to deal with life on my own. I no longer fear anything, except for geese, because they are terrible. I don’t take life too seriously anymore; I’m not going to make it out alive anyway. Now I trust that the universe will put me where I need to be & I’ll sieze those opportunities & make them my bitch. I’ve finally hacked away all the poison friends, relationships, self doubt & fear & have only the good left. And I love it. 

NEVER take life seriously

I used to think that I needed to conquer the world (this is lies, I still want this), but now, I just want to work towards my goals & make my daughters proud of me. So, I’ve decided to build my life on three basic rules. All I need is this;

1. Something to work for (whether it’s to be a better writer, or a better mother, a better girlfriend, Crossfitter, or human). 

2. Someone to love & love me in return (my children, my friends, my mom & brother & my beau, whom I have always loved & always will)

3. Faith in myself & my path, whether it’s the one that was well worn, or the one I forged myself through the mountains. 

The rest are details that mean little to me. I may never be a staff writer (this is lies, I for sure will), or a wife again (which is so low on my list of priorities, under “get root canal”), or a size six. But I will always be MHC & that’s the most awesome thing ever. 

Thanks for hanging out with me & my kooky life for five years. I’m sorry if you applied any of my ideas to your life & probably screwed it up for you. Might I suggest Taylor Swift or Beyoncé as a role model? They’re much better at this. I hope you don’t recognize yourself from five years ago because you’ve grown into the person you were meant to be. I hope you’ve found joy, happiness, & you’ve found the love of your life. 

I look forward to what the next five years will bring…

   

Show Me Your Fangs

I have a confession; I waste a lot of time on social media. 

When all of your friends are two time zones away, I get lonely, so I waste time on social media. My favourite places to waste time are on George & Brad Takei’s respective FB pages. Today he posted a hilarious meme that had me cracking up;

  
Don’t worry, all the Tumblr Social Justice Warriors were out in full force, explaining how Barbie was designed to fulfill men’s fantasies & create an unrealistic standard for women & He-Man was half alien (no he wasn’t) & little boys know the difference between a doll’s body & a real one because it’s make believe & girls shouldn’t have Barbies or Princess a Dolls because they teach them how to be damsels in distress. 

Let me tell you that all of this is bullshit. 

When I was a little girl, I played with Barbie. I had Dr. Barbie, Rock Star Barbie, and yes, I was gifted Reporter Barbie at the age of six. I didn’t see Barbie’s waist or hair & think “I have body image issues!” I was excited that she had a bad ass job & after work, she could dress up to go out with my Jordan Knight doll. 

Anyone who thinks Barbie is somehow hurting little girls makes me sad, because Barbie gets a bum rap. Barbie has had 150 careers, owns her own house, her own car, stables, an RV, a moped, among other things. No disrespect to the men out there that do respect women and their career choices, but I’m pretty sure a doll designed to fulfill the desires of men wouldn’t be an independent bad ass who owns her own stuff & works hard. What I learned from Barbie is that girls can do damn near anything they want. My daughters play with Barbie (although the younger two prefer Ever After High) and they always liked that Barbie was a vet, or a nurse, or a pilot. Yes, there are cooking sets, or beach dolls, but all people eat & go to the beach. That’s not sexist; that’s liking to eat & go to the beach. 

 

even Barbie understands the importance of converged journalism
 
What grinds my gears is the idea that boys wouldn’t feel body image pressure from a toy, but girls are fragile flowers that must be protected. Boys have body image issues too. While I don’t feel that the media or celebrities have the power to make you feel badly about yourself, as you choose how you feel about yourself & have the power to change it if you don’t like it, saying a little boy wouldn’t feel inadequate because it’s make believe play (you know, like BARBIE) is silly. Personally, I don’t get it because everyone on Eterna looked like He-Man, even Bo, that dick that pined for Adora. Maybe Eterna’s schools have a heavy focus on PE. 

 
Every super hero for boys is ripped. Did Captain America have the dad bod? Nope. What about Chris Pratt, who women say “got hot” when he got in shape for Guardians of the Galaxy? Men are bombarded with images of the triangle body. Again, I don’t think a magazine or a celebrity can give you body image issues, you have them because of you & only you can learn to embrace them or fix them, I’ve said this before. But if you did believe that, then why wouldn’t you believe that a toy could also affect a little boy as Barbie would a girl? 

  
At the end of the day, no toy, no magazine, no celebrity can make you feel badly. No words can hurt you unless that’s how you already feel about yourself. People call me fat, crazy, whatever, but I choose to love myself & focus on being healthy with a eating healthy & the odd treats in moderation & Crossfit. Words only hurt if you give them the power to hurt. But if He-Man is make believe & kids can’t learn body image issues from toys, let’s stop saying it about Barbie, as she’s cut from the same plastic. 

and we can finally focus on something important!

Away

I used to be that person who was way too open with my life online. Then I got burned & now I’m not. 

My personal life isn’t “out there” on FB, with memes & sap. I’m not that girl anymore. There have been random tweets, but again, this is rare. In fact, I don’t even think I tell my friends when I’m dating someone (aside from my closest friends). I’m very guarded about my life, whom I trust, because it’s something I struggle with. This is why it weirds me out when people put their personal lives all over the Internet.

WWE Superstar Darren Young took some heat from fans this week when he posted screencaps of an Instagram DM (which can still be found on Young’s Twitter), where a cameraman for the E! series Total Divas sent a shirtless snap to the former Tag Team Champion. He then sent back a photo of his partner & put the man on blast for trying to “break up his happy home.” Young defended his airing of his dirty laundry in some other tweets after fans called him out on his poor behaviour. As my friend Matt Bastard & I discussed jealousy & whether it means a lack of trust in your partner, I thought this whole thing was sad & really embarrassing for Darren Young. 

  
I used to be a bit jealous. Not much, but there was one friend of my boyfriend’s that made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was the fact that they used to date. Maybe it was the fact that she was overly flirtatious. I’m not sure. But it bugged me. Now, I’m indifferent. Somewhere along the way I became more confident in who I am as a person. This helped me realize that he loves me. It doesn’t matter if she’s pretty, if they used to date, if they were neighbours, or if she hypothetically showed up at his house naked. He loves me & chose me. And he respects me enough to be faithful to me. I’m sure he notices pretty girls, but in the end, he loves me & chooses to be with me & demonstrates this with his actions.  And I need to be confident in his choice & trust him. After all, my being insecure in his choice makes him feel like he needs to do more to prove that I’m his choice. My questioning his choice makes him question it. Lack of trust brings more mistrust. Now, I understand that he chose me because he loves me & I have no reason to question this, because I know he feels it’s the right one. So, instead of being insecure; I’m proud to be the woman he chose. 

I’m sure lots of women hit on him. He’s a good looking, intelligent man who works around people all day. I’m sure girls send him flirty Facebook messages & texts. But he loves me, so it doesn’t matter. However, I would question his character if he put these women on public blast, instead of just politely telling them he has a girlfriend. This would show me a lack of respect for people on his part & an even less respect for me. If you need to put a human on blast to prove your home is happy, then your home isn’t that happy. I don’t know Darren Young or Nick Villa, his partner. But I do know that they don’t seem terribly secure, as they had to put humiliate a stranger to validate their love. Maybe this cameraman wasn’t aware that Young was in a relationship. I’m not married, I don’t wear a ring. I’ve had men ask for my number because there is no obvious indication that I’m with anyone. So, I tell them & life goes on. A simple “thanks for the invite, but I have a boyfriend,” would have sufficed. Maybe they could have become platonic friends? Now, some poor guy has been shamed & humiliated for what could have been a simple misunderstanding. 

The only thing I took away from Darren Young’s tweets was that his relationship appears to be full of insecurity, jealousy & a lack of trust. So much so that he needed to humiliate a total stranger to prove how “happy” he is with his partner. Anyone who needs to go to such immature lengths to showcase a happy relationship can’t be that happy. The fact that these two make such a public front to appear happy makes me think their private is actually stressful. 

A little bit of jealousy is normal, everyone who loves someone might feel a small pang of jealousy from time to time. It means you are protective of your relationship & (when discussed) can help you & your partner find a comfortable place. But when your jealousy & possessiveness leads to you attacking someone & hurting someone else to defend your “happy home,” then you need to evaluate your partner, because there is obviously no trust there, and you can’t have a successful relationship when you’re looking over your shoulder wondering who’s looking at your mate. 

  

Raised On It

So, anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been reading about the Ashley Madison hack and I find it completely hilarious.

I’m not one to revel in the misfortunes of others, but watching guys like Josh Duggar, who for years have tried to make LGBT families, divorcees and anyone who doesn’t fit into their traditional mold of marriage feel like they are somehow deficient try to squirm their way out of this makes me giggle. Watching them try to blame Satan for their hypocrisy warms the cockles of my tiny black heart.

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However, the fall of the Ashley Madison website brings me a personal joy for a more personal reason. During my year as a newlywed, my former husband & I had a million and one problems, most of which stemmed from the fact that we were far too young and not ready to be married. But he worked midnights and my roommate and good friend had discovered that this website was real. So, we looked it up and were horrified at the number of people we knew that were on this site trolling for affairs, one of which was my ex husband. In the infancy of our marriage, maybe even before we had said our I do’s, had been looking for an affair. I chose to stay with him for the next seven years, and I’m glad I did as we later had two beautiful children, but the shock and betrayal stayed with me, as our marriage was marred by a lack of trust, which was pretty valid as he cheated on me pretty much all the time. After our first year of marriage, I discovered that the weekend he sent me to visit friends in our hometown was so he could meet a friend in a hotel for a tryst. About two years ago, he admitted to me (while heavily drunk) that he had slept with the stripper next door. I received an email from his former friend’s wife confirming they had been sleeping together while I was pregnant and on bedrest with our second child. And he was once banned from working as a photographer at two separate bars in our old hometown for sexually harrassing the staff. These all stuck with me for years, negatively impacting my future relationship. I would remember the female friends who weren’t platonic friends, the comments about how if he didn’t think I’d get mad, he would be trying to get with our female friends, or the time he propositioned my best friend to have a three way with him and our friend Sarah. It bothered me so much that I didn’t know how to trust a man who said he loved me and it took three years of therapy to feel okay and accept that not every man on Earth was out to hurt me or cheat on me.

I sent an email to the creator of Ashley Madison and blasted them for providing this service. I asked them how could they sleep at night knowing that they were making it easier to break the hearts of so many trusting souls. The reply I got was that maybe I should have been a better wife and lover, and my husband wouldn’t have wanted to stray, a sentiment he would tell me when I would put him on blast for his flirting, or whatever I caught him doing (that he would always say was misunderstood, or he was misunderstood, because he was the victim and why wouldn’t I just do *insert sex act here* and he wouldn’t have to want to cheat?).

This is why I laugh when I see the cheaters on Ashley Madison squirming and crying about their privacy.

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I feel for the victims, and by victims, I mean the actual victims. The spouses who used the tool on Wired and got the unfortunate surprise of “Guess who’s email address was compromised?!” or the stammering conversations where they explain their behaviour. I don’t feel the tiniest bit badly for the “victims” who’s privacy was breached. Oh, I know the dark side, this could happen to anyone and boo hoo and credit cards aren’t secure and the like. But a bunch of horrible people are going to be exposed for betraying their spouses and I’m glad. I hope they feel violated and like their integrity is compromised and awful. You know, the way their spouses have felt for months when they have suspected for months that their partner was cheating, or when they found out the truth.

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I have had a few friends who have said to me that since I was a staunch defender of celebrities like Jennifer Lawrence when they had their private photos leaked online last year, I should take the same stance on this. I disagree. There is a big difference between private photos that were meant to be viewed by one person privately (such as Jennifer Lawrence’s photos for then partner Nicholas Hoult) and cheating on your mate. While yes, cheating isn’t illegal and having your credit card information compromised totally sucks, you were betraying your partner, and in the case of a guy like Josh Duggar, you were doing it while condemning other people for not living life according to a belief system that you yourself weren’t following. So, I don’t feel totally badly for these “victims,” just the people they have been victimizing, for having to learn that the person that they are with actually sucks in such a public way. Even if you didn’t pick anyone up on Ashley Madison, you had an account, the intent was there and you sir or madam are a raging douchebag. Your partner deserved a million times better and you should feel violated, because you are walking a mile in their shoes and I hope you wear them well.

  
Maybe I’m biased, because I know how it feels to find out that your spouse has an account with a website designed to help him cheat on you and I know how people like Anna Duggar feel. I hope Anna Duggar takes her kids and leaves him and finds happiness with a man who recognizes how beautiful and special she really is, but I doubt her religion will allow it. Ironically enough, her church will likely badger her with the same answer that Ashley Madison gave me and she will stay with her unfaithful husband. If she does, let’s not shame her or call her stupid. We are not walking in her shoes. We don’t know what her “church” has done to devalue her. But for all of those who are scrambling to “save” their marriage and blaming the Ashley Madison hack, I don’t feel one bit sorry for you, because you already destroyed your marriage when you strayed (or attempted to stray) from your partner; it’s just now everybody knows you were doing it.

  
And to those encouraging people not to check the list for their partner; I disagree (although I haven’t for reasons that make sense to me). Chances are, you won’t be shocked by the answer. My Texan bestie looked up her own email & hubby, even though she knew the answer just for the lolz. But most people who are checking are either;

a) bored like me or

b) confirming an answer they already knew subconsciously, an answer they have every right to know.