You’re Not Sorry

It’s time for another episode of “what really grinds my gears.” 


Today: why people need to stop dismissing sexual assault as “just…”

I hear it all of the time. It’s just a cat call. Just a kiss on the cheek (in the case of a reporter at Osheaga last week). It was just a friendly comment. Last year, I tweeted about an old man that catcalled me and numerous men on my Twitter feed told me it was a compliment. I should be flattered. Let me tell you, there is nothing flattering about being catcalled. It’s degrading to both parties. But they’re probably “nice guys” that just aren’t appreciated *cue eye roll emoji*. 

This week, Taylor Swift is making headlines as she is in court, battling a lawsuit filed by David Mueller, a Denver DJ who lost his job after an incident where he allegedly groped her. Swift has countersued for $1, demanding an apology.  While the trial is ongoing, a lot of comments I see online are “it was just a butt grab.” So called feminists who preach about defending women when forced to confront someone who assaulted them are notably silent (Demi Lovato, I’m looking in your direction. Maybe you’re matching on Capitol Hill…?). Feminists stop being feminists when Taylor Swift is involved it seems. No support for her. After all, it was just a butt grab. No big deal. Right?


A similar statement echoed through social media when a fan attending a live event commented that a child had slapped the posterior of WWE Raw Women’s Champion Alexa Bliss. 


The kid was praised, fans wanted to give the kid a high five. She wears such short shorts, she had it coming! Besides, he’s just a kid and it’s JUST a butt grab. No big deal! Calm down feminists, it’s not sexual assault. It’s just a playful slap on the butt! 


Except it’s not just a butt grab. It’s not “no big deal.” It’s not “calm down.” It IS sexual assault. Taylor Swift is an entertainer, but she’s also a human being. She deserves basic respect. She doesn’t deserve to be sued because she didn’t stand for being molested by a DJ. All of the “she’ll write a song about it,” etc. jokes do not take away from the fact that this man allegedly sexually assaulted Taylor Swift. I commend this smart, strong woman for standing her ground, because the millions of little girls that look up to her are watching & she’s showing them that you do not have to dismiss sexual assault as “just a butt grab.”


I’ve been in situations where a guy took liberties. Last year a customer grabbed my ass while throwing something in my garbage can. I was furious, but when I called a friend back home & told him the story, he pointed out it was “just a butt grab.” I wear tight pants to work, right? I kind of accepted it, but I sometimes wonder how many women dismiss sexual assault or harassment as “just…” I’ve even been told by female relatives that as we age, the catcalls stop and we should be flattered that men still find us attractive. But is it flattering when it makes us feel gross? To me, flattering is something that makes us feel good, not super gross. I can’t imagine Taylor felt good, and considering she complained & Mueller was fired. I can’t imagine Alexa Bliss feels good when grown ass men teach little boys to slap her ass and catcall her. It’s not flattering, nor a compliment. We need to stop referring to this behaviour as such and refer to it as what it is; harassment. To those who do these things; it’s a funny story and a high five, but to the women involved, it’s a loss of trust, a loss of personal safety. As guys like Mueller become legends around the bar, women like Taylor become labelled as cold and standoffish, because they’re not comfortable in those situations anymore. Great trade off, right?

If it makes you feel uncomfortable, unhappy, or unsafe, it’s not flattering and it’s okay to stand up for yourself and say that this is not acceptable behaviour. It’s not okay to tell a woman that it’s just a slap on the butt, or just a friendly catcall, be flattered. The more we diminish this very real harassment, the more we embolden others to think it’s okay. I commend Taylor for standing up for herself, not settling, and making this man accountable for his actions. Maybe this will encourage other women to speak up about harassment in the workplace, at a club, or even among friends when a joke went too far. After all, the only way this sort of behaviour will be stopped is when we as a society stop tolerating it, and kudos to Taylor for not just shaking it off, but standing her ground instead. 

Learn to Let Go

Oh, hai. 

I know, I kind of fell off of the planet for a bit. It happens. I know, I fell off of social media (outside of fitness stuff & the odd kids pic on my private accounts) too. I kind of died. I won’t lie; I’m really tired. I’ve been working six days a week until now, and I’ve been dead on my feet. 

Accurate depiction of my life the last three weeks
 Fortunately, I only have three shifts left! Them imma get on a plane because I’m on vacation bitches!

This girl is headed home to drop off the littles for their annual “force their dad to be a dad for two weeks by dropping off the kids and saying ‘these are yours. Act like it,'” trip. I’m only staying a week though. I’ll be catching up with my favourite humans (and getting a bunch of tattoos) and coming back home…alone, after some much needed R&R (I’ll also be jet lagged af, so anyone who wants to meet me at the airport is welcome hahaha). After a gruelling schedule, it’ll be nice to unwind, veg out, and catch up with friends. And while I love my kids and being a hands on mom, having a week to myself will be kind of nice too. But just one week. They’ll be back before school starts. 


It’s been kind of nice to take a break from social media, personal writing, etc. to recharge & refocus. Between my full time job and my freelance writing, I’ve been busy and tired. But my professional writing is improving more every time I submit something and I’m really proud of that (don’t believe me? Check out this article I wrote about my friend Carrie! It’s pretty freaking good if I do say so myself). My performance at my day job is improving too! I’ve hit my YEG stride and it’s great. I’ve made great friends. My coworkers are rad. My summer pretty much rocks. I went on a date with a cute boy & I may go out with him again.  I saw Ed Sheeran and Lady Gaga in the span of a week. I’ve worked a million hours, but still found time to hit a deadlift PR. I’ve been focusing on the writing that makes me money, because who doesn’t love money! 


I think sometimes it’s nice to decompress from the world of social media, and for me, my blog. I like to live my life more and talk about it less. Not to mention a little mystery is nice. Let people miss me for awhile while I do my own thing. If you want to know what’s up, you can call or text (unless you’re one of the 40 people who’s numbers are blocked) & say hi. If not, then you probably don’t miss me that much. It’s one of those superficial “I miss you! We should meet up soon!” when we have no intention of meeting up soon. They’ll say they miss me all over social media, then shit talk me at a party. I have no patience for that kind of bullshit in my life. If you want to criticize my life; I’ll be more than happy to send you a few of my bills that you can pay. If you want to be around me, you’d be there. The end. 


I’m so over the fake happy social media lives and the fake friends who only message on your birthday, or talk about their #perfect lives for the likes. I use social media to interact with people. One thing I’ll stress always on this blog and online is that I am not perfect. My house can be a mess. I don’t stick to my diet. Like, I went to crossfit and ate and entire bag of Doritos while watching the Grudge. My kids don’t always behave. But I do always talk about evolution & growth. Besides, you don’t have to be #perfect to be happy. My life is imperfectly happy, and to me, happy matters so much more than #perfect. If I have to choose between being a #perfect mom, #perfect human, or a happy one with happy kids, I’ll choose happy every damn time. 


‚Ä™Part of my happiness is meeting up with my friends.  For those that know me, as much as I love/hate social media, I do love live travel tweeting. If you wanna follow along, feel free to follow me on the Twitter (unless I blocked you on Twitter, then you can go fuck yourself). I tend to live tweet my travels. Sometimes it’s funny, I guess. As for me, I’ll be enjoying the people who make as much time for me as I do for them, while also inking up my skin, because I can, mostly because I choose happy over cookie cutter, boring, and oh so #perfect. 

Sorry Not Sorry

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but my coworkers are pretty much the raddest people ever. I’m so lucky to work for a company that encourages growth from within, a one team mindset, and celebrates individual accomplishments. There is no “follow my coaching and become a mini me.” My boss encourages everyone to learn from everyone else until they become a superstar. It’s refreshing to see a team so focused on helping everyone succeed. 


The women on the leadership team know we are islands in a male dominated industry. We know we’re the minority. We have our own unique challenges (our trainer, who is arguably the most intelligent and interesting person I’ve met since moving here, was recently given sexist feedback by an ASSOCIATE), and we’ve stuck together. We celebrate each other, stand up for each other, and we’re fortunate to have each other. But most recently, I’ve learned more from one of these amazing women about self love in one night of cocktails then I have in a long time. 

There’s no denying that I’m an odd duck. I talk a lot. I like a lot of nerdy things. I’ve been known to live tweet WWE PPV’s. I tell bad dad jokes. But that’s who I am and it took me a long time to get comfortable in my skin. My colleague marches to the beat of her own drum. She’s unconventional, over the top, creative, and driven. I once said she was like a living meme; she drives the point home in a hilarious manner. At our last training, she said that if she could be an animal, she would be a giraffe. Why? So she could be majestic, but also eat her grass and mind her business. She’s also successful af & super interested in helping the business grow, so I love learning from her. 

As we were downing shots of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey (I may not drink often, but I drink whiskey now. Somewhere my high school bestie is so proud), I mentioned how I was told by a manager to turn down my personality so that I could better fit in. She straight up said “fuck that.” 


She then tells me about how she felt the same way when she had to go to her first manager’s meeting. What if they didn’t like her ideas because she was new? What if she was too over the top? What if no one liked her? When she told her boyfriend, he told her “show them you belong.” So, she showed them she belongs. And she did it by not giving a fuck and being herself. 

I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin, but there are times if I wonder am I  just too much or not enough? Am I ever going to be good enough to get that promotion, find the right person, achieve that 200lbs back squat at the gym? But my coworker’s “show them you belong” mindset reminded me that if I’ve changed everything about who I am to get that promotion, to meet someone, then I’m settling. I should be earning these things on account because of who I am, not through becoming a lesser version of me. If you sell out your authentic self to win a person or a job, then it’s a false victory. I’m not about that. So, instead, I’m going to put on my big people pants & show the world that I belong. 

I promised on Twitter that this gif would be in my next blog post, regardless of context. Pretend it has context

Whether it’s at work, in your personal life, or any other aspect of your life, show the world that you belong, that you are valuable, and that you can be successful and happy exactly as you are (unless you’re a racist or a serial killer, then you should probably go to jail). The best times of your life will come when you embrace who you are and use your strengths to your advantage, instead of hiding them behind a wall. So, shine your light, and show the world that you belong. 

This Town

Time sure flies when you’re on an adventure. 

It’s been two years since I decided to pack up my life and move across the country to build my portfolio. Its been a interesting journey, full of highs and lows, victories and defeats, but through all of it, I’ve met some of the best people and gotten to do some of the coolest things. I’ve accomplished so much and (until the next adventure calls) this feels like home. 

Because it’s home, I have a life here. So, today, I’ll be going to my favourite salon so my girl Tess can brighten up the blonde. If you need a YEG stylist, feel free to email me & I will give you some deets, because there is no better stylist than Tess and the rest of the stylists at my salon. If not, then check out some photos of my various adventures in YEG (without photos of my children to protect their privacy). It’s been quite an adventure, but I wouldn’t trade the friends I’ve made, my beloved coworkers, and the lessons I’ve learned for anything. 



Since we’re talking about Tess, here’s a look at how she keeps me looking fab




The Lumineers ūüėć
I’ve met some of the best people here

It Ain’t Me

One thing I talk about frequently is my love of fitness. I super love it. Fitness is my favourite thing in the entire world. I love running. I love crossfit. I love yoga. But even though I love it, work, parenting, and life prevents me from working out as much as I want. I’m starting to realize that I need to work my way up to “the people at my gym go five days a week! I need to find time for six workouts or imma be a Mighty Morphin Failure Ranger!” 

When I started working out, it was six days a week with Stratusphere yoga. Then six days with Stratusphere Sculpt. But once I started running, I found six days to be too much. I ran every other day. So, three to four days a week. Then I added Crossfit. I went twice a week. During the winter I added some yoga at home twice a week. But as I added intensity, I found I needed downtime. Then I took six months off for an injury and three more because I had lost that WLCF loving feeling, where I would grab my gear and make a 7am class because those were my favourite people, outside of ones that shared my DNA. I’m so fortunate to have captured that again at my new gym. They are the best people in YEG. But sometimes I only get there once a week. And I might not want to run the next day. Then I look at the Fitbit that says I’ve only worked out twice and get down on myself. Then I eat shit…and feel like shit. 


Last night, I decided to FaceTime one of my two BFF’s, you might know him as heavy lifting outlaw Lift Bitches (give him a follow on the IG, you won’t be disappointed. PS I totally named his YouTube channel. Totally remind him that it’s great)! I love having a competitive powerlifter friend. I can talk about my progress, fears, etc. He gave me some real talk; yoga for six days (even bad ass yoga) is a lot less intense than two 5K runs and two WOD’s. Stop comparing myself to the guys in the competitors class and compare myself to last week’s MHC. Is she better? Eating better? Living better? Could I add more weight to my bar? Did I do an extra hanging knee raise before I felt scared? That’s the progress that matters. 


I keep forgetting that in October, I was basically starting my crossfit journey all over again. I can’t compare my progress to the competitors. I can’t even compare myself to WLCF me. I have to only focus on here and now MHC. My workouts have changed. Four days a week of crossfit and a 5K run followed by a half hour yoga cooldown is okay. No, I may not achieve my goal of a handstand push up by the end of the year. I may not hit a 200lbs back squat. But if I keep pushing forwards instead of stressing that I’m obviously not cut out for crossfit because my time was the slowest and my burpees were sloppy and I needed a rest day after a hard WOD, I’ll actually do those things. I need to be proud of the little victories, not kick myself. 

And always remember selfcare.

I sometimes wonder if my desire to be the best is hindering me. I fell in love with Crossfit because it’s a limitless journey to become healthier. Why am I always looking for the quick fix? Why do I feel like “the scale didn’t move this week. Am a fat failure. Break out the pizza.” I also wonder if I’m the only Crossfitter/person trying to be healthy who feels this way. 


So now, I’m going to focus on realistic goals. A realistic workout routine. In a few months, we’ll add a day or two, but right now, this is where I am, and that’s okay. I have to set goals that are right sized for me, not for the guy who can deadlift a million pounds and has been training without stopping for five years. He was probably struggling to get through that power snatch just like me once. But I’m never gonna deadlift a million pounds if I keep beating myself up for not working out six days a week. I’ve gotta trust the process…and myself. 

Love Again

Part of growing as a human means being able to look internally and evolve. 

For me, it means recognizing that over the last year, I’ve sabotaged almost all of my potential relationships. 

I’ve really enjoyed casual dating. It’s been nice to go out, spend time with someone and be picky enough to cut things off if I don’t see it going anywhere. I’ve never been a casual dater. Just a relationship gal. So, this is all new territory for me. An old friend of mine once told me I needed to do that. That’s how you get over toxic boyfriends; you date. Maybe they aren’t the one. But by meeting “not the one” a whole bunch of times, you’ll also realize how much toxic boyfriend was also not the one. You’ll be able to look back objectively and go “man, that guy was a controlling prick. I don’t need that. I want qualities X, Y, and Z.” Sometimes I wish that I could message that old friend and apologize for not seeing it sooner. But he’s moved forward and so have I. We have mutual friends. Maybe we’ll check each other’s FB and see we’ve grown into cool people and reconnect. 

But I’m off topic, aren’t I? Let’s bring it back in. 

I’ve enjoyed my non committal dating. It’s helped me figure out what I do want and what I don’t. Then when I meet someone with these qualities, I can venture into a more serious relationship. But there have been times when I was really into the guy and when he pushed for us to be more serious (meet the kids, meet the family), I kind of balked and the relationships fizzled. I’m a bit gun shy. I don’t trust well. And it’s hard for me to let my guard down around men. 


I was telling one of my good girlfriends about this today. I was getting to know a guy, and I was really interested in getting to know him better. But then he asked for more personal information and I instantly clammed up & asked to keep some boundaries. I gave a high level explanation about how important moving slowly is, and I’ve had some bad experiences with men moving too quickly and then becoming awful people literally overnight. I just need some more time to get to know him while I have my guard up. He said he understood, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is no more interest on his side. That sucks, because he was a really nice guy and I was looking forward to getting to know him a bit better. 

Because I mentioned her, look how cute my friend is
I wonder if this is normal, that feeling of wanting to get to know someone, but afraid that if you let them close to you, they’ll become a bloody fucking lunatic, and then stalk you for years. Or is that just something I worry about? I know I’m capable of long term friendships. I know I can attract a partner if I wanted one. But I feel like I question my own judgement. I mean, I have a neon sign over my head that says “I attract losers.” Am I just assuming that I don’t know how to choose a partner because my track record is a who’s who of the mentally disturbed. But I’m probably cutting out really great guys because I’m so scared that someone is going to hunt me down, tell me they love me & they won’t take no for an answer, and pick out an engagement ring and then stop talking to me two weeks later with no explanation, then stalk me. Or cheat on me with a coworker. Or be abusive. Because that’s what I pick. I have a bad habit of falling too hard, too fast. I look through rose coloured glasses and all of the red flags just look like flags. Now I look through scared bunny glasses, assuming every one will hurt me, so if I stay behind the safe wall, that won’t happen. 


Maybe it’s about balance. Maybe you need to have a combination of scared bunny glasses and rose coloured glasses. Maybe having that independent self and boundaries are important, so when the right person comes, they’ll respect those boundaries and I’ll be able to see if they have qualities “X, Y, and Z.” Maybe those boundaries are important because it helps me see what their intentions are before I’m in over my head and being dragged down, but so in love that I’m excusing the worst kind of behaviour because I’m madly in love and ignoring their true, horrible personalities. 


Now I need to learn how to balance the scared bunny feeling and avoid the rose coloured glasses. Find the “look at someone through the regular, you wear them every day glasses.” The one good thing casual dating has taught me is that “the one” isn’t the guy that walks out, or the guy who doesn’t take no. He’ll be the one who stays, is willing to put inthe work, and look at you through human eyes, not rose coloured glasses. The good thing about all of the “not the ones” is that they’ll prepare you for the actual one, who’s worth letting your guard down for. 

Maybe this is about trusting my judgment again. Letting go of this fear that only psychopaths and narcissists are capable of loving me because there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I need to start believing that really good men would be interested in me. After all, I like me. I have three jobs, three great kids, my bills are paid because I make my own money. I go to the gym, have no criminal record and most people like me. And I guess I’m kind of pretty. On the catch scale, I’m a solid 7.5.  Maybe I’m holding myself back because I’ve allowed myself to believe that nice guys don’t want me, I’m just catnip for psychos. I think it’s time I let that belief system go. There’s nothing wrong with me & I am not unworthy of a great guy. Because of this, I can slowly learn that I don’t need to be afraid of every guy, thinking he’s just going to hurt me. But, it doesn’t hurt to keep your guard up a little. Because protecting yourself is never a bad thing. 

Liability 

I think I’m too damn nice. 

At work last week, there was a sweet old lady who desperately needed help getting phone service. I found a lovely solution for her. She thanked me. I told her to call me whenever she needed help. She’s still calling me. Did I mention she returned the hardware? Because she totally did. But I didn’t want to turn her away. That’s when Boss Man told me I’m too nice to old people. 

In reality, I’m too damn nice to EVERYONE. I forgive people who don’t deserve it. Work late? Sure. Run errands for you? Sure. I just like helping people. I want to be the type of person who cares about others. But sometimes, I realize that I’m kind of a doormat. 

This week I missed the gym every. single. day. Why? Because I offered to help at work. Or help out with something at home. Or take a night shift to help someone out. Oh, and one time I left my house like a grownup and went out for drinks with the best coworkers ever & made a tank top with a friend. But in the end, all of my helping out ended up keeping me from doing what I wanted to do, which was go to the gym. I’m glad I finally put my personal life front and centre, and spent time with my rad coworkers and friends, but the rest of the week I cut short my own activities to do things for other people. This is just what I do. I don’t want to rock the boat, so I try to be helpful and accommodating. But the only person who ends up suffering is me. 

When Hot Topic only has Seth Rollins shirts in men’s sizes, you improvise
It’s been this way my entire life; I try not to stir the pot because I just want to be nice. I don’t want to make anyone unhappy, even though they have no problem making me unhappy or taking advantage of my desire to help people. It’s why friends owe me money, or I let it go when they don’t talk to me for weeks, or make other plans when I’m only down for a week. It’s why I try to be extra accommodating at work. I just want to be nice. 

So, I need to make more of a conscious effort to say no. To remind myself that the kids come first and my needs follow. It’s not kids, friends, coworkers, random customers, then me. I’ll never be happy that way. If I’ve signed up for a class, I need to assert myself and say “No. I’m going to the gym/I have plans.” I don’t need to apologize either. I’m allowed to want my own space and time & it’s well within my rights as a human to put them first. I don’t need to constantly sacrifice to please others. I know I’ll end up backsliding, so I’ll need to remind myself every now and again. You don’t need to be so agreeable. You can stand up for yourself. You can say no. You don’t have to constantly say yes to everything at work or offer to stay late and come early, you can just go to the gym or go home and watch Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children for the 900th time. 


I guess I’m always afraid that if I say no, people will stop wanting to be my friend/date me/I’ll get fired. But that’s stupid; why do I have to constantly sacrifice to please everyone else? Life should be that everyone sacrifices a little bit. Besides, if they really were my friend/loved me, they wouldn’t care that I wanted to pursue my interests. And no human has ever been fired for saying no to a shift swap. I’ll just have to remember this and remind myself that it’s okay to put myself first sometimes. 


It’s okay to be nice. But you’ve also got to be nice to yourself. Sometimes that means saying no & putting your needs first. If they get mad, they aren’t worth having in your life anyway.

Hellfire

If you’re new to the party, let me bring you up to speed; I fucking love crossfit. 

My life doesn’t allow me to love it as much as I’d like, what with the late hours at work, parenting commitments, and even a nasty bout of bronchitis (don’t worry; didn’t call in to work once, still number one in the district for sales…for now). But no matter what, I’ll always find a way to squeeze in one class a week. I want to set a good example for the girls. I want to get healthier. Not to mention my gym crew is the coolest bunch of humans in YEG. I’m seeing progress. I’m building strength. All super rad. 

Which brings me to this past week. Thanks to YEG’s “let’s cram every season into 48 hours,” I have been sick af. The first day I didn’t feel like complete dog shit was today, when a last minute customer came in so I was activating instead. But hey, can’t play with my money. While most people welcome the rest, I’m legit angry because I just wanna go to the gym! 102 degree fever? Fuck it! Let’s go to the gym! However, one of our coaches is 26 weeks pregnant. You cannot go to the gym when you’re contagious with someone with a weakened immune system. She’s a warrior princess, still working hard while creating a human. The biggest part of being a teammate is thinking of others, so for the last week, I’ve sat out. 


But the more I sit out, either because I couldn’t breathe (or smell, but don’t worry asshole that thinks AXE is a single serving can hitting on me at work, I CAN SMELL YOU JUST FINE), or to make sure I’m not infecting my happy place, the more I realize that I literally HATE being a sedentary being. I can’t binge watch Netflix (but I CAN binge play BoTW), I can’t just do nothing. I feel like I wasted a day. I could have gone on an adventure with the girls, or had some patio drinks with a friend, or gone for a run. I’m not good at resting; I always want to be doing, learning, creating memories. 


I’m just not good at being a do nothing sort of human. That’s not to say binge watching Netflix is necessarily bad, I did it through Lemony Snicket’s a Series of Unfortunate Events. But it’s not for me. I want to maximize my little free time by doing actual stuff. I want to accomplish things with it…mostly spend time with my girls (because single moms can be hands on and available) and gains. 


That may not be super exciting to anyone else, but the most important thing I can do as a woman, a mom, and a writer, is to figure out who I am as a human. After discovering, it’s even more important to accept who I am, and that person would rather go for a walk or go to the gym than veg out. When I can’t take in a WOD or go for a run, I feel like I’m letting my body down. When I have a good day at work and a great workout, I feel like the most bad ass woman alive. I’m done apologizing or being made to feel like my interests aren’t exciting. Maybe they aren’t, but they are to me. There are so many people in this world who like to mock my crossfit love, or that I don’t watch TV (except for the wrasslin). People mock that I watch wrestling. They mock that I’d rather go running, or read Gone Girl before I watch the movie. But I don’t do things to please the planetary narrative that it’s cool to be lazy and people who are different are weirdos. I do them to be myself, & I’m quite content to be me. 

When someone tells me crossfit is dumb

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your interests aren’t important, or the things that make you happy are stupid. Just do the thing and enjoy it. I’m going to continue to crossfit and celebrate my progress & feel good about who I am as a human…but first, let me regain the ability to breathe out of my nose. 

That’s My Girl

Let me tell you about my best friend Melissa. 

Total hottie

She’s a mom, manager, wife, fitness guru, and blogger (read her stuff. It’s rad. Also, follow her on Twitter). She’s the most patient, understanding, and all around coolest person that I know. For 15 years she’s been my other half & we’ve been through everything together. Even though I’m like, a bazillion time zones away, she’s still got my back and we talk all day every day about fitness, parenting, family, and really deep things. 


But the big thing we talk about is career. We both work in similar fields and want to move up the corporate ladder. It’s important to us to be successful working moms. We need to be good role models for our kids. We have bills to pay. We’re boss bitches. Yesterday, we both messaged our respective DM’s with ideas we had to grow our businesses. I always get super nervous when I do that. I’m always afraid I’m going to overstep my boundaries, or my idea is bad, or I’m undermining someone. I was walking through WEM (on the never ending search for a Finn Balor Pop Vinyl), and I kept wishing I was like Melissa. I wanted to be logical and articulate and super smart. I wanted to feel confident when I spoke to my boss, not like an awkward weirdo. I admired her for being so brave and bold and cool when she hits me with a truth bomb;


Wait. What?!

Here I was admiring Melissa for being the most bad ass person that I know and she thinks everyone loves me?! What?! I was so confused; how does this confident, cool, level headed, goddess look to weird, scatterbrained, delightfully dim ME as someone people love and admire?! It floored me. But then I realized how women look at each other and then ourselves. 


I looked at my best friend as the coolest person on Earth. She saw me as someone people admire. I saw myself as a big fucking weirdo. She saw herself as Michael Scott from the Office. We saw each other as amazing, and looked down on ourselves. It’s so amazing that so many women are rejecting the idea that all women secretly hate and compete with each other, but why are we selling ourselves short? Why aren’t we building ourselves up while also celebrating how great our girlfriends are. We always joke that there would be world peace is everyone treated each other like drunk girls in a bathroom, but maybe we also need to add that we need to look at ourselves with the same lens we look at our best friend. Maybe then we wouldn’t feel so awkward. We’d be confident. We wouldn’t be competing by way of admiration; we’d embrace self love and build up others. 


I’m not sure if everyone loves me. But I do know that someone I admire thinks I’m confident and strong, so maybe I should respect their opinion and own it. I hope she totally owns being awesome too. We respect our friends; let’s respect their opinions and stop selling ourselves short. Ditch that critical internal lens. Let’s start building up all women; including ourselves. 

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.