Just Like Fire

Ever since I moved out here, I’ve had well wishing friends asking me when I’m going to come home, back to Windsor or London, with them, where I belong. 

The short answer; never. 

I bought a drill this week. I’m going to hang curtains on my day off. This isn’t my permanent home, I intend to find another house when my lease is up next January, but for now, it’s where I live. I’m going to make it cozy & mine. It’ll be nice. I’m back into running, and it’s still horrible, but the scenery is lovely. And I’m back at crossfit & my hips hurt so much less. I make time for lakefront yoga. You can’t ask for better than that. 

 

If you ever need to find me, check my Instagram. I am probably here @ Beaumaris Lake
 
And I’m not sure what my future holds yet. I don’t really like to think long term, when I do, it blows up in my face. Some people, myself included, cannot handle thinking of the future. For all I know, I’ll end up in Iceland writing for some Icelandic magazine. But I’m teaching my girls to be fearless in pursuit of their goals & to work hard & trust their instincts. I’m doing well as a writer here. I do well at my job. I’ve made some awesome friends. My 9yo has an army of bunnies. The kids are thriving & we are enjoying our lives. 

  
But this is the first spring that I’m not planning to uproot my life. Maybe that’s a good thing. I kept running away from something & the universe kept saying “No!” I thought about running home to the safety of Melissa & Doug & familiar, but I’m not really that person. I’m the person who would rather face the scary new challenge than run away. I ran twice & it backfired twice. Maybe it’s time I accept that the universe has a plan for me & I’ll just let it play out. I’m sure it’s probably really rad. Maybe it involves marrying Seth Rollins. 

  
Recently, I was put in a really crappy situation, but instead of crying and moping or running away like a pussbag little bitch & ignoring the problem, I turned it into a positive. My family is better for it. Struggles are not about crying. They are opportunities to be better, do better. I pity the people who cannot see hard times as a chance to evolve & just bail (or lay down & wallow in self pity & blame your depression). You are denying yourself a chance to be the best version of yourself & you end up disappointing yourself & everyone else & stuck wishing you could take it back & hounding their best friend to try to apologize to the party you’ve wronged like a coward. You’ve denied yourself the best part of you & shown them how much better they deserve. The good thing about meeting challenges head on is you have no regret; you know you tried. I refuse to live like a coward, full of regrets. I’m going to grow & become amazing & be the woman I’m meant to be. 

  
I have no time to waste waiting for opportunities or anything else to knock on my door. I kick doors down. I don’t take scraps; I deserve the best life has to offer, the same best I give out. As my girl Brie Bella says, I run it, I rule it & ill make my own happiness out of nothing because I can. 

   
Yes, the fall & winter were a struggle. But part of forging your own path means that sometimes you’ll trip over a root. There is no well worn ground for me to follow. I’m hacking through the branches & finding my way on my own. But at least I can say my journey is mine. It’s not a path someone made for me or the socially accepted life that was dictated to me. I am living for me & teaching my girls to forge their own paths & not follow the herd. They will be strong & fearless warriors & I’m so proud to watch them emerge as strong women. Never be afraid when there is no path. It’s your chance to create one & build the life you deserve. 

  

Never Ending

About 2.5 months ago, something happened that changed my life a little bit. I’ve addressed it briefly in bits & pieces, but now it’s time to discuss the elephant in the room. 

I have arthritis & I’ve fallen off the fitness wagon. Completely. 

The gym used to be part of my every day life. Now it’s sporadic at best. I haven’t been in almost a month. The holidays & commute threw me off & now it’s fear. Fear of damaging my hips further. Fear of injury. Fear of crossfit. But part of who I am is fitness. I gained 15lbs at my old store. And it’s bothered me. The new gym hasn’t been as welcoming as WLCF. It’s cold & running in the cold scares me. I’ve got a ton of excuses, but not enough motivation. And working near the chips isn’t helping. I asked my friend to send me a pic of his disapproving face to help me get back on track. 

  
I’ve been so mad at my body for betraying me. I’m good to it! I feed it kale! I exercise, cut out most processed junk, etc. Of course, that’s been for two years. Most of my adult life was eating shit food & wondering why I was depressed. Lack of exercise & lots of junk food. Our bodies crave real food, not chemicals, soda & alcohol. The more we put this in our bodies, the sicker & more depressed we get. I’ve felt like shit because I’m eating like shit. So, imma gonna stop eating like shit. I need to stop being afraid of pain and go through it so my hips will get stronger & hurt less. I’ve never been afraid of anything. But permanent injury freaks me out. Who will work? Who will raise the girls? It’s us vs. the World. 

  
So I flipped the script. Who’s gonna take care of the girls if I have a heart attack because of Doritos? Who’s gonna work if my hips get so sore that I can’t stand? Who’s gonna take care of me if I don’t? You’ve gotta love yourself to do the right things for your body. To be a good parent, you’ve gotta set the right examples. So I’m gonna get up and go to the gym. I’m gonna go running (you can view my results on Twitter lol). I’m gonna eat kale. And my body will thank me. 

  

Hello

I think I’m finally starting to settle into my life. 

I’ve decided to make the next focus of my life here to establish a set of friends, more of my own interests & a continued focus on the interests I do have. Crossfit. I’ve started reading, something I used to really enjoy until my ex husband mocked my book choices (while my favourites are classics & The Hunger Games, I often favour VC Andrews style brain trash. However, I’m currently reading Harry Potter). My oldest friend Gleason has suggested meditation & I am enjoying it. I’m doing yoga again.  Sometimes I worry that almost every aspect of my life here revolves around my mate. I must stress how absolutely grateful I am that he was here for me during my transition to Alberta. He has been so supportive. But he’s often my only adult companion. He & I now work in the same building. I do not ever want him to see me as someone he needs to take care of or protect. It’s important to me to keep our relationship, myself & him healthy, which means maintaining separate interests, giving ourselves some space sometimes, etc. I cannot stress how much I fear being dependent on anyone, so I really need to maintain my own identity, and allow him his. This doesn’t mean that I’m not in love & excited for our future, but I always want us to be equals. The best way to do that is to continue to build a strong life for myself & my girls, so that I will always feel like I am doing my best to be my best. I think you should allow yourself time to miss each other sometimes. And, if the two of you are capable of building lives for yourselves, imagine how strong the foundation will be when you start joining them together! 

Also, it’s important for me to start building relationships & a life here. It’s important that I start forging ahead & making this place home. So, I’m doing that. There is nothing wrong with focusing on oneself. I always want to try and learn how to be better, more loving, kinder, treat people better. I want to always be somehow better than I was yesterday, while I get comfortable in my own skin. Most importantly, I am the mother of daughters. I want to teach them that women are strong and capable of doing anything. I want them to see that you can be an independent bad ass, and even when you’re with someone, a good man will support your desire to do well, not hinder you.  But as I focus on making this place home, I’ve noticed I’m becoming a lot more comfortable allowing people into my personal life. I’m comfortable with him interacting with my closest friends (Erica is so happy to have someone to sports with, as I don’t sports), I’m comfortable with photos (but very few) on my social media (thanks to some friends asking my best friend at work about my love life).  I’m slowly letting the walls I built up so high for so long down…

…this is lies. They didn’t come down slowly. They crashed to the ground. 

The past two weeks were the first time in years that I was suddenly without walls. Everyone knew me before I met them. All of my nervous talking too much or just plain idiocy couldn’t be hidden because I was a faceless new person. And EVERYONE knew everything about me; how many kids I have, who I date, when I moved here, my journalism career & I felt very naked & exposed & just plain terrified.  I wanted my walls back. I wanted the safety they bring. But they were gone. I had spent years making sure that all anyone knew about me was parenting, fitness & cell phones. I maintained a very detached personality. People didn’t know about my personal life, my feelings, anything but I had kids, went to the gym & hated geese. But nope. All gone. And that scared me so much.  But after the panic, I felt…okay. Better than okay. I felt pretty awesome. I wasn’t really afraid of anything; losing, being left alone. It was more of a “this is my life now, so let’s keep making it work for me.” I felt confident about things I hadn’t felt confident about in years. Perhaps the fear that holds me back from truly being happy was trapped in the walls that I built to “protect myself” from pain. I still won’t invite people into my relationship, as there isn’t room for you with the kids & penguins and such, but if you ask, I won’t change the subject anymore. I’m going to start letting (select) people in. But vampires still can’t come in. They aren’t invited. 

I guess the lesson here is when you build walls to keep from getting hurt, you keep all the horrible feelings inside. The hurt, the mistrust, the fear. You also make it impossible for anyone to love you, as no one should have to work to tear those walls down. Eventually, they’ll feel like they’ll never get through to you & give up. By letting them go, I feel more confident about my future than I ever have & it’s really nice to no longer have that nagging feeling that it’s all going to go away. 

And somewhere, Erica is saying she told me so. Whatever.   

General Admission

I had an epiphany. 

I SUCK AT TIME MANAGEMENT. 

The root of all my anxiety is simply a lack of time management, or mom guilt. 

I was talking to my best friend Melissa after having a complete meltdown about I’m not even sure. Like, nothing in my life is wrong. I have a pretty rad life, but here I am bawling that my life is stupid & falling apart. But it’s not. My life is good. And I displace my anxiety into irrational fears that have no basis in reality, because those are fears I know, things I’ve experienced & I panic. But as I got talking to Melissa, I realized that what’s bothering me makes a lot more sense;

I feel like I have no time. 

My days are long, so I try to balance my time for my kids & myself. But I feel guilty, if I go to the gym because that’s my time for the girls. But then I get stressed because I’m not taking time for me. When I first got here, I found time for me. I spent time with nature. I went to Crossfit. I went running. I found time for myself. But as school started and then I switched jobs…AGAIN (which I think upsets me for fear of lack of follow through, which I then displace into fears about my personal life, even though I’m actually afraid I’m hurting my long term earning potential by jumping ship so much), I found that I’m constantly juggling time with the girls & time for myself & I am finding less & less time for myself in the pursuit of money, something that doesn’t really motivate me, but I find myself worrying about more and more as winter is coming. 

  
I felt like this once before, back when I was working two jobs & struggling to find time to do anything & during that time, I was doing just what I’ve been doing now; panicking about things that aren’t real; analyzing everything, stressing about the move. Again, because of money. Every time my life focuses on money, I feel like I have to sacrifice pieces of my life to find time for other pieces of my life & in the end, I end up stressing about money, which is my least favourite thing in the world. But because my life has a strong foundation for the first time in forever, I start panicking and wanting to shake the walls to make sure they don’t fall down. Erica called me on it tonight, telling me that I’m almost trying to drive away the people I want in my life (including her) because it’s what I do when I’m stressed out, push people away. But in reality, it’s simply that I feel like I’m juggling my life and dropping balls. I missed my deadline for my magazine because I was working so much & it sent me right over the edge. I came here to write. Why was the thing I hate most (my real people job) getting in the way of my journalism career, time with my family, Crossfit? My trip home might be delayed because of work. The job that makes me money to live seemed to be destroying all of the things about my life that I love most, but I have to tough it out because my resume will suck. I literally couldn’t deal or explain it to anyone. It just came out that I feared change or fear of abandonment. I just couldn’t adequately explain that I felt like my professional life is taking me further from everything most important to me. 

literally me

I’m constantly pushing aside the things that make me happy to try and make more money, which is the antithesis of my personality. My life is about being optimistic & happy & building my best self. The past two weeks I’ve been my worst self (and to those who have listened to my incessant whining & crying, I love you so very much. Thank you for being in my life & loving me) because I feel like I’m sacrificing the best parts of me to support the most important people in my life. But I won’t be a good mom if I’m damaging my psyche to support them. I know that the more I sacrifice my emotional needs, the more I’m damaging my abilities to be a good mom & person. 

This week, I started shifting my focus back to the bright eyed optimist I was when I got here, and was just excited to spend time with my family & my loves. I did this by shutting out everyone. It was very deliberate & not because of hurt feelings or anger. It was a way for me to recharge my batteries so I could be the best MHC I could. I got a massage. I went for a walk near the river valley. I mostly avoided social media (except Snapchat because my kid is using it again so I use it to pretend I’m not just watching her snaps) & all calls & texts. I just needed a break from life so I took it. I’m making it a point that I’ll be in the gym a minimum twice a week. Every night I’ll spend 20 minutes doing yoga & focusing on positivity. And my day off while the kids are in school will be spent enjoying nature & coffee & Crossfit & writing & all MHC things. Why? Because I need to focus on my independence and ability to keep in control of my own life & set a good example for my girls. I’ll focus on my writing, as my blog is generally for me, to keep me sane. I’m glad people read it & love it, but it’s my outlet to help me understand my emotions, nothing more. 

I’ve changed literally every aspect of my life in the last 10 months, sometimes several times. I’ve switched jobs five times. I’ve switched provinces. I went from very high walls to shut people out to tearing them down & sharing my life with someone. I always managed to keep some sort of constant during these changes; like I kept my job when I moved here, just a different store. But now everything is all new. Learning to navigate through these changes can have its ups and downs, especially when you’re someone who struggles with change. I need to slow down & just remain in this stage of my life for awhile, with no need to move from here.  But, if I allow myself to make myself a priority, then I’ll be able to focus on what I do best; being awesome. So, I’m making myself a priority, somewhere after the kids, journalism & the cat because she’s a needy bitch. 

  

Bright Lights

I have a confession to make.

Despite my attempts to get in shape, I no longer weigh myself.

I know I’ve gained a little bit of weight since I moved and attempted to adjust to a new time zone and schedule and gym, etc, but I don’t worry about how much. Instead, I focus on making little changes here and there to ensure that I’m staying healthy. Packing lunches, working out, etc.

  
I used to weigh myself every single morning. My day would be made by what that number said. That was the first six months of my weight loss journey. Every morning, that number. But I realized that I was letting that number define me instead of my progress. My pants were smaller, my face was thinner. I had more energy. My back no longer hurt. I don’t get migraines as often anymore. Why did that number mean more than all of those things? So, I stopped weighing myself and focused on building a healthy body in a way that still promoted body positivity for my daughters.

  
I believe in health, not thin, or “fat positive,” as I keep seeing on Tumblr. I think we as women need to buck society’s image of beauty, as it is skewed on both sides. Being morbidly obese or too thin is not good for you. We need to stop focusing on those numbers and focus on the healthiest body type for us. When I started going to crossfit, I wanted to work to be thinner. After a few months, I realized that wasn’t what I wanted; I wanted my aesthetic to be strong. I like the feeling of knowing I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. When I finish something that a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do, I feel very proud and I love that feeling and I like working towards that feeling of accomplishment. But I’ve also learned that strong =/= thin. I had to change my thinking. So, if my thighs are bigger, or my arms not quite lithe, that’s okay. I will never be the fashion industry definition of “thin.” But, I will be healthy and strong and a good role model for my daughters, as I’m not just embracing my body, I’m loving it enough to put good food into it (most of the time) and work on it to keep it running so I’ll be a part of their lives for a long time.

  
Which is why I ditched the scale. That number was hindering my progress. I was letting it define me instead of why I started working out in the first place; to build my self esteem and like myself better. If that number was hindering my progress, and becoming the source of my self worth. I’ve long made it clear that only I determine my self worth, not my friends, my boyfriend, or a number on a scale. Me. So, I decided that I didn’t care. I’d just keep on doing what I wanted to do in order to feel stronger and be healthier and that scale could just gather dust. As long as I’m happy in my own skin, that’s all that I need.

  

The Danger In Starting A Fire

Moving is stupid. Never do it.

Over the last few months, I’ve gone through a plethora of emotions ranging from euphoric to miserable. This past week has just been beyond stupid. I’ve considered closing my blog because I wasn’t comfortable writing about my feelings & I sometimes wonder if I’m using my writing because I’m rather lonely out here in Cow Province & I miss regular chats with friends back home. I had this grand vision that I would get out here & my editor would love my work, I’d land a full time gig & my new gym would be as awesome as my old gym & everything would be perfect.

Yeah, nope. 

Instead I’ve been miserable at my gym, hating my job & trying to overcome years of mistrust in a day. So, I’m homesick & sometimes contemplate just moving home in the spring (my friend Damanda is sending a U-Haul). But, I realize I’m not giving myself any time to adjust to anything. Like, at all. 

I’m such an ambitious little creature, that I assume it’ll be easy to adjust when most people say it takes a year to adjust to a new community. I get better at trusting people, but it’s a process & I can’t rush that process. I’ll warm up to the gym, it’ll take time. There are some cool people & some not cool people. But I’ll get used to it. It’ll never be as awesome as my old gym, but still good. My new job isn’t journalism, but again, new audience, it’s a process. 

I keep trying to rush to get to the part where this feels like home, but it’s gonna take time. The difference is I’m going to allow myself that time to get used to how things are done here. If you’ve ever switched provinces/states, you’ll understand. Some days it just feels weird. And I just want to fit in with the cow people (maybe I should stop calling them cow people). But I realize it’s not as easy for some people. And I’ve got to allow myself time to get used to my life here. It’s okay to feel homesick. It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s okay to miss my gym & my friends & DECENT DAMN PIZZA. WHY IS THERE NO GOOD PIZZA?! But I kept trying to think it was wrong to go through periods of sadness. My birthday was a great day, but I’ve been lonely ever since. It was the first year it wasn’t a clusterfuck, which was nice. But it was also the first year I didn’t have belated drinks with Melissa, or dinner with Rena & Damanda. And it was just kind of sad. And over the past few days, as things have been sucky, I realized how much I missed having nearby friends who could watch the older kids while I took the littlest to the Voodoo Witch Doctor, as she’s allergic to every medication ever made, or Bree hugs. Or the fact that people here call shopping carts baskets. NO. THEY ARE SHOPPING CARTS.  But I didn’t want to adjust to the culture shock. I wanted to be awesome. Now, I’m going to focus on making Cow Province my home…& maybe stop calling it Cow Province. 

***However, I have only seen geese once, so good job Cow Province****

  
Same with everything else, I need to give myself time to open up, time to build trust, time to get comfortable. And it’s okay to want to do that slowly. It’s okay to not want to rush. It’s okay to have moments of doubt or fear. All of these things are fine. People who love me understand why I’m a bit batty & love me anyway. They get it & will let me muddle through on my own until I get to a place where I can fully trust people the way I want to. But it takes time. 

  
The good thing about time is we have a lot of it. Every day is another day to make awesome. So, that’s what I will do. Make tomorrow awesome. And the next day. And the next. But the only way to make this place home is to work on it. So, I’m going to put up curtains, pictures & BUY A DAMN KITCHEN TABLE NEXT WEEK. I’m very excited about my table. And each day I wake up I’ll feel better & better about living here, until one day, it’s home. And everything else will come in time, so I won’t rush the process anymore. 

  

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.

  

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!

Renegades

I don’t like to talk about my personal life. 

Mostly because it’s mine. 

I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense to anyone else, but it does to me. What is mine I like to keep mine. My personal life never goes on FB. Only a handful of people know when I am seeing someone. Any blog posts pertaining to my love life do not get shared on my personal or blog’s Facebook pages. Years ago, I got burned when I was open about my love life. Now I am not. I am far more reserved. I save that part of my life for me & only those closest to me. I don’t need to publicly shout from the rooftops that I am with someone & in love. As long as I’m willing to introduce you to those who are closest to me (my children), then you’re special to me. The rest I like to do slowly, in baby steps, so that I don’t feel in over my head. I once dove in too fast & was engaged after three weeks & married a little over a year later. I always felt like I was drowning, doing too much, too soon & ignoring the red flags. When I was here before, I knew I was with the right person, but I didn’t understand that you can know you’ve met your lobster but not be ready for the major steps. Maybe I’m a lobster that likes to wade in the ocean & not get flung into the pot. Truthfully, I like to let my partner take the lead on major steps & I can let them know how I feel as we go. I like to know their comfort level beforehand. I’ll have a timetable for the next logical step (ie; meet my parents) & unless they take the lead & suggest it much sooner, I’ll bring it up then. If that makes sense. Mostly because I want to do it right; quickly isn’t always “right.” Comfort level is key & mine is “wading pool.”

 

Everything needs a random Friends reference
 
Also, my taste in men is generally horrible. I once joked that I was going to buy a shirt that said “I attract losers.” I dated men that didn’t see my worth. I dated men who weren’t there for me when I needed them. I dated abusive psychos & my marriages ended when he tried to smother me with a pillow. I generally pick emotionally abusive or generally horrible people, with the exception of my current love, who was always the right person, just never at the right time. But it is now & it’s wonderful. But I also want to do things in the right way, so I’m more mindful of giving space. I’m more mindful of making sure we take things slowly & do things right & when we are ready, not just jump in, because this lobster likes surf. But I’m also protective of my choices & when those closest to me question my affection for someone & my willingness to give them another chance, I get annoyed. I’m a grown up, I know the risks & I am fine. But, I guess it’s the reasons that annoy me. 

“He won’t talk to you every day. He doesn’t even have the decency to send you a good morning text every day. That means he’s not that into you.”

“He’ll have free time & go out with the guys & NOT EVEN INVITE YOU & then leave again because he’ll rather be single & I’ll tell you I told you so…again. You should be his only priority, and you know you’re not.”

Or my favourite;

“You’re dumb & this is gonna blow up because he has no respect for you & I’m going to laugh at you when it does.”

Barf.  

Not all. Not unless it follows with “I am on my way with Starbucks,” because prioroties.
 
Nope. My boyfriend & I do not talk every day. Sometimes I’m busy & doing my own thing, as is he. Besides, we are grown adults, who needs someone to check in every day? Blah. I am not his only priority. He isn’t mine. My number one and two priorities are my daughters & my writing career. Everything else is secondary. If I can’t make someone my number one priority, how could I ask that of someone else? All I ask is that I am one of your priorities, as you are mine. 
Besides, cutesy words are highly overrated. 

(Before you say “MHC, you write novels in greeting cards”. I sure do. Those are actual feelings. Canned sentiment is not)

There are entire webpages dedicated to templates of “Good morning beautiful,” text messages, in case you were wondering about the romance level. It’s not original; nor is it romantic. It doesn’t mean he thought of you, it’s part of the dude playbook. If he wants to go out without me, go out! Have fun. My love is based on free will. This way, I know the choices he makes when it comes to me are 100% his & I respect them. I understand the concern of my inner circle, as historical precedent predicts a sudden and swift exit, and he’s not telling me what I used to think I needed to hear every second to make me feel secure. But I am secure & I know I’m with the right person for a great many reasons, which likely sound so stupid to my friends, but make perfect sense to me;

  • He knows my Starbucks order & brings it to me every time he sees me, & even makes sure my name is spelled correctly on the cup, because I am convinced that they don’t spell my name wrong. 
  • He brought me ice cube trays because I mentioned I didn’t have any & would have to pick some up later to make iced tea. 
  • He has remembered my favourite colour, book & movie for four years. 
  • He laughs at jokes I’ve told a million times. 
  • He listens to me babble away & is almost amused by my obsessive need to be the best at everything. 
  • He sits with me at the hospital when I’m dealing with a family emergency & makes stupid faces at me because he knows I won’t listen to his attempts to help anyway. But he doesn’t leave the room to go smoke, or go home when he’s obviously exhausted. He just sits & makes dumb faces or tells dumb jokes so I’ll laugh for 10 seconds. 

When he asked to be in my life, I asked why I should believe him & he said he would show me. Words are great, but actions are everything. I set timetables to make sure we are ready & he bends them to show me is ready & committed to being with me. He shows up at my door after time apart to show me that he missed me. Any one can type out a text & not hit send until morning, but someone invested will be there when you need them, or remember something stupid you said that would make your day brighter. 

 

I am in love with both
 
I may have terrible taste in men (or so I’m told), but I know I would rather be with the man who brings me ice cube trays than the guy who says the right words. I’ve been with men who know how to say the right words, but they never did the right things. Now, he sometimes says the wrong thing (not lately, but it’s happened), but despite how my friend sees it, I am a priority. He shows me I am a priority in a million little ways; with his time, with his level of commitment to me, by respecting my comfort zones, & even finding it oddly flattering when I write about him (which I never truly feel comfortable doing, but I’m overtired & had an idea which likely read better in my brain) & often texts me to tell me what he thought; once in such a sweet way it rendered me speechless (for the first time in my entire life). 

When given the choice ladies; pick the guy that brings ice cube trays over pretty words. Or if they can do both; pick that guy. The guy who brings the ice cube trays was listening to you & knew you needed them & wanted to make your day easier. That will make you smile far more than a cutesy message (although they can be nice). My father always said pick a man of substance, not a man who knows smooth lines, so I did. Over & over again.  And of all the choices I make in life (which are mostly terrible), it’s the best (not parenting or journalism) one I’ve ever made. 

  

Giants

I often joke that I’ve turned my 8yo daughter into a “crossfit douchebag” & it’s my proudest achievement as a parent. 

Maybe it’s not the GREATEST, but I like it. 

To balance parenting & fitness, I often bring my kids to the gym with me. My teen daughter is preparing to start crossfit soon, as she is getting ready to start her quest to become the youngest WWE Divas Champion in history. And my youngest builds forts out of foam rollers. But my middle child, whom we call the Overlord LOVES crossfit. 

When her dad told her that girls with big muscles weren’t pretty, she cited the “prettiest girl ever” was our West London Crossfit coach Lacey, who was “pretty like a princess & stronger than boys!” She’s already told me a Lacey-free gym won’t be as fun, despite my telling her that the new gym has girl coaches. She says when she grows up, she wants to be pretty & stronger than boys (& will tell you why kale is amazing). 

 

I don’t post photos of my daughters, so you’re stuck with my post-wod selfie with Lacey
 
This brings me to a hilarious story. 

When our cable provider messed up connecting our internet & TV, they gave us a PPV credit, & I asked them what to do with it. The Overlord shouted “I WANT TO WATCH BLONDE LADY FIGHT!” If you’re wondering who “blonde lady” is, allow me to show you!

 

from mmanews
 
That’s right; my 8yo idolizes Ronda Rousey. 

As a big WWE fan, she absolutely LOATHES the character of Stephanie McMahon. In fact, her Stephanie action figure only exists for her Brie Bella action figure to put in the Yes! Lock. When Ronda appeared at Wrestlemania 31 & tossed Triple H & put the hated Stephanie in the armbar, a girl crush was born. Ronda is strong. Ronda is tougher than boys. Ronda could probably whoop a boy. Ronda won an ESPY & BEAT OUT BOYS. Ronda is pretty much the coolest person on Earth to her. Ronda is sooooooo pretty. And after explaining that unlike WWE, Ronda fights for real & the fight might not be long (“because the other girl isn’t Ronda Mommy,”) & we NEVER imitate WWE or  Ronda, we are going to watch “Blonde Lady” fight tomorrow (cue all the sanctimommies questioning my parenting!). 

from mmanews

I also love Ronda; she takes no crap. She showcases an image that women have been told wasn’t a real thing; that strong women aren’t sexy. They are masculine & ugly. The thing the dad told my daughter. I stopped trying to be thin long ago; I started losing weight to be healthier for my girls, but now the goal is strong. Maybe I’ll always wear a size 10-12, but my thick thighs don’t bother me anymore. They are the product of hard ass work & strength. Those thighs can deadlift my body weight & squat in triple digits. And they’re only going to get stronger, as my goal is a 200lbs back squat by year’s end. A few years ago, a woman like Ronda Rousey would have been mocked relentlessly for her physique, called a dude, & yes, it still happens, but when she shuts the body shamers down, we cheer with her. When similar comments were made about Serena Williams, JK Rowling shut them down like a boss. It’s cool to be athletic, strong, & strong women can be beautiful! 

 

It’s pretty much an awesome time to be woman, as we can now be proud of our bodies regardless of size, whether the media agrees or not. Tess Holliday made “plus size” women stand up and say “we are beautiful too, not a fetish or a niche!” (While I think sexiness comes from self love, I’ll give Tess credit) Women of colour are celebrated for beauty, not “exotic looks,” thanks in part to Lupita Nyong’o. And Ronda Rousey made the world see that it’s cool to be strong. 

I’ll get “uh, MHC, body shaming still happens, it’s REAL. Just because it doesn’t bother you doesn’t mean it isn’t a thing.” Yup, still is a thing. I get accused of it all of the time because of my fitness posts on social media, but here’s the thing; you are in control of your body. If you love yourself, no one can shame you. My belly isn’t taut & my thighs have cellulite, but I am strong. And I’m proud of my strength. The definition will come if I work hard. I’ll always have double D’s & big hips. But I also have daughters & it’s more important that I embrace those double D’s & deadlift thighs than I fit in a size three. And no amount of body shaming will make me stop loving my body so my daughters emulate self love. Tess Holliday is successful because when she looks in the mirror, she sees beauty. When Ronda Rousey looks in the mirror, she sees beauty (& the knowledge that she can kick the crap out of anyone who thinks otherwise). You need to see beauty when you look in the mirror (as I’ve said before) & then no one can hurt you. 

 

from usa today

There’s something awesome about women being able to look at any body type & see beauty. My teen daughter is a 00. She will always be thin. She’s often mocked for her thin frame, but I remind her that her body is perfect, as she’s an athlete, a track star. She’s proud of her fast, long legs & doesn’t need to stress about her chest or booty because she’s built to be an athlete, the thing she wants to be. And if her idol, AJ Lee, can buck beauty standards & be a champion, so can she. 

from wwe.com

You can listen to body shamers who tell women they’re too thin, too buxom, too fat, too strong, or you can embrace your body, like women like Ronda Rousey. I love that my 8yo thinks she’s cool, mostly because she is cool. She’s confident & proud, and that matters more than how she looks on the outside.