Let me tell you the story of MH’s terrible, no good, very bad day.
It actually started off pretty awesome. I had a good visit with my boss, with lots of great feedback. My most favourite member of the management team was filling in across the hall so I got to have a good catch up with him. I got some interviews ready for my latest YEG Fitness piece. Not a bad day at all.
Then a customer called in to discuss his experience yesterday. During this call, he mentioned that he had spoken to me, but he referred to me as “the pregnant lady.” “She’s very pregnant. Huge. Ready to burst.” As I am the only woman on staff, HE WAS VERY OBVIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ME.
FIRST OF ALL, LET US GET ONE THING STRAIGHT;
THIS IS WHAT I LOOKED LIKE PREGNANT
THIS IS WHAT I LOOKED LIKE LAST WEEK
After ranting and complaining to my coworkers, I thought about doing what I always do when my ego is bruised: eat. I eat a ton of shitty food. When I first moved out here, and when my last serious relationship ended, the pizza dudes knew me by name. Some people drink; I eat garbage food. I started flipping through Skip the Dishes, trying to decide what fattening foods I should enjoy, when I closed the app and opened Instagram. I decided to post a progress pic, falling into the social media trap that if it’s on IG, it’s real. Maybe if I could convince the outside world that I was proud of my body, that maybe I could convince myself. I got feedback that ranged from hilarious to empowering. My favourite was from my gym, who made me tear up a little.
For once, social media used its powers for good, not evil! But while all of the rad encouragement was happening, I also didn’t order any junk food. Instead, 2/3 of the crew & I watched the Mae Young Classic (& decided that Candice LeRae is cute as a button) & then went for my Friday night run. By the end of the night, I was kind of kicking myself. I mean, don’t I always tell the girls that words only have power if you allow it? Don’t I have a thicker skin? Does it really matter what a customer thinks (of my appearance)? The only person who should care about how I look is me.
I guess even the toughest humans can end up with bruised egos. When you’re putting a lot of work into something, and someone knocks the wind out of your sails, it’s gonna sting. But you’ve got to handle it in a positive and constructive way. Don’t binge eat nachos; find a way to remind yourself that people who sometimes people just say stupid shit. There’s no ill intentions, they just don’t think before they speak (Dude, I am soooooo guilty of that!). But you can control your reaction. It’s okay to feel hurt, or offended, but don’t let it ruin your progress, whether it’s your health, your job, or your self esteem.
I get asked a lot why I love crossfit. Let me tell you a story.
Thursday, I went to the gym. The workout was tough. I had to scale some of the movements & weights. I was huffing and puffing through the WOD, envious of those who can get there every day, and were executing handstand push-ups flawlessly. Halfway through, I questioned why I was even there. But as they finished, they were rooting for me and congratulating me for making it through. That kind of teamwork, along with the results I see at Crossfit is why I continue to go. We celebrate each other’ successes and support each other. It’s such an amazing thing, to see people coming together to help everyone succeed. That success helps me in my day to day life. The next day, I went to work and had a great shift. Then I really pushed myself and managed to run 0.4KM more than my Tuesday run. When I feel good mentally, it helps me push myself physically. It’s a cycle of wellness.
But crossfit has also helped me embrace my body. I’m never gonna be a size six again. My thighs are always gonna be big. I’m gonna have a booty from squats. That teeny waist and dress size isn’t a realistic goal for me. But part of loving yourself is loving your body. I may never be thin, but I will be strong. My fellow crossfit ladies are strong, sexy, beautiful women. They have powerful bodies that are healthy and ideal for their body type. My goal is to get to their level, but with my body. I can’t worry about a scale number, or the size on a clothing tag. Just my own health. I will teach my girls that being healthy is more important that a body type. As their mom, it’s important for me to be the role model. I can’t have low self esteem & teach them to love themselves. I have to embrace my curves, my thick thighs. It’s been a hard road, but I’m getting there.
I’m so glad that we are now celebrating healthy body types of all sizes, and not a “one size fits all” sort of beauty. We’re celebrating healthy, active, strong women. For the longest time, Nikki Bella was my fitness inspiration. She still is. Maybe I won’t have her body, but I can develop her commitment to fitness, her enthusiasm, the way she supports all women & wants everyone to succeed. I think we all need that type of attitude. We need to love our bodies. We need to build up other women. We need to get excited about fitness & health. I may never be a size four like Nikki, but her journey as an athlete inspires me to continue to work on my own health.
But lately, I’ve found myself really inspired and motivated by WWE Superstar Nia Jax. Her IG feed is loaded with body positivity. She doesn’t look like the average WWE woman. She’s strong, powerful, and unlike the Bertha Faye’s & Bull Nakano’s, she’s presented as more than just a one note monster character. She’s beautiful, she’s smart, witty, and assertive. Nia Jax is not a personality free monster designed to prey on the beautiful ingenues. She’s a fleshed out character, focused on her goals, which is to be a champion. My own daughters are big fans of Nia (and while they rooted for Bayley & Sasha, were LIVID that Nia didn’t get a special Wrestlemania entrance like her opponents. They said she deserved Tinashe singing her theme, and fireworks like the others). They think she’s beautiful, strong, and funny. When I was a kid, she’d be a mute monster. But my girls get to see a powerful woman portrayed as smart, sexy, as well as dominant.
But more importantly, she’s not like most girls. She’s strong, athletic. She is in the best shape of her body type. And representation matters. Not every woman looks like Nikki Bella, and that’s totally okay. Some women are built like Nia Jax. Some women work their asses off like I do with the knowledge that size four is never gonna happen. Instead of feeling embarrassed, women should embrace their healthy. That’s why women like Nia Jax are so important. It’s important to see that healthy and fit mean something different to everyone.
But that’s why I love crossfit. I remember working out at the GoodLife gyms, and hearing the snickers while I was on the treadmill or when I set my machine to a lower weight, as I was a beginner. I heard the giggles in the change room, as if a fat girl had no business there. It kept me out of a gym for four years. I don’t hear that at my gym anymore. It doesn’t matter if I scaled the workout, or finished last. There’s no mockery, just encouragement and acceptance. I’m sure women like Nia hear your mockery too. They see your tweets calling her fat, calling her Nia Snacks, etc. A friend of mine has come back to wrestling fandom after 10 years off and he called her “the fat chick.” His wife (who works in fashion), commented that she looked like a strong, powerful, woman. But those comments are why women like Nia are so important. We need to teach little girls that every woman’s body is different. A dress size or a scale number can’t be your goal (My Fitness Pal said my goal weight should be 118lbs!), but being in the best shape for your individual body should be.
If you’re a woman who is actively working on her health, celebrate that work. Celebrate your body and what it can do. Celebrate your strength, your movements, your accomplishments. Hell, even celebrate that cheat day where you ate a large pizza with extra cheese. But celebrate your body, not the number on your dress tag or on a scale.
It’s been seven years of crazy stories, a name change, three cities, two provinces, 19 million jobs, and for some reason, you’re still reading! That’s awesome! That’s also longer than I’ve ever been able to commit to a human being, a house, a city, pretty much everything but my cell phone company.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my adventures these past seven years. I know I’ve enjoyed every step of them, as they helped shape who I am as a person. I’ve learned to live life on my terms, and that it’s okay to march to the beat of your own drum & do things your way. I’m sorry I don’t have some inspirational junk, but I’m not really an inspirational person. I’m just a regular human, trying to raise a family, be a decent person, and super loves Taylor Swift. But I hope you’re all living life on your terms as well, and I hope it makes you happy.
I guess that’s what we all need to do; live life for us. On our terms, & if people don’t like it, fuck em. Maybe my life isn’t the way you want it to be, but it’s mine and I’m so utterly in love with my life, my family, my job, and my portfolio. It’s mine and I made it for me, my terms, my way. When people feel the need to question your choices, or call you names, you’ve gotta remember that’s all that they have; talk. While you’re out there doing your thing, they’re talking. I used to care about the talk. I tried so hard to bend to please everyone; friends, lovers, bosses. It’s still a work in progress, but I’ve learned that while I’m doing stuff, they’re just talking. While I’m raising my kids, writing my articles, working, exercising, and living life to the fullest, they’re sitting in bachelor apartments calling me a cunt on Tumblr whining about things that don’t matter instead of moving forward or doing something about it. I recently had this same conversation with my middle daughter, when she wanted to return the shoes she asked for because kids would make fun of her. I reminded her that people who talk about you aren’t friends. You’ve gotta be who makes you happy; not your friends, not your sisters, not even me. In the end, an insult is just a word. It only hurts if you let it. Much like Taylor Swift embraced the insults her detractors threw at her & will use those monikers to make a fortune, everyone should remember that the best revenge is living well. I choose to live well & set a good example for my girls.
My girl Pink summed it up so nicely at the MTV VMA’s, in her beautiful speech to her daughter Willow. No matter what you do, people will talk their shit. But every one of us is meant to change the world, whether it’s redefining beauty standards, using their voice for change like Pink, setting an example as a strong female artist like Taylor, or just making a difference to your inner circle. We all have it in us to make things better. But to do that, we can’t alter who we are to fit society. We change to become who we’re meant to be to make society better. So, as Pink said, take the gravel and pressure and become a pearl. Let them whine on Tumblr with their funions. Do your thing; shine your light.
Maybe that’s why I like to keep up the blog; maybe I like reminding myself that while my life isn’t perfect, it’s the life that makes me happy. I get to see how I’ve evolved. I’m not inspiring, that’s Beyoncé. But I hope you’re all living your happiest life too.
Thanks for reading this for seven years. I hope to entertain you for seven more, even if it is just you feeling better about your life because it’s not ridiculous like mine.
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.
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.
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.
Can I just tell y’all how proud I am to be a human today?
Before I get into that, let me give you some back story. A long time ago, in a small city far away, lived a man named Paul Blundy Sr. Paul Blundy was a pretty rad guy. He even has his own Wikipedia page! He was a politician. And a funeral director. But he was my uncle and he was a great man.
His political career had long ended by the time I entered the world, so to me, he was just my uncle who lived on a beach and had big family gatherings (that I once famously ran away from, because even at three years old, MH did her own thing). When I was a young, homeless, pregnant girl with nowhere to turn, my Aunt Barbara took me into her one bedroom apartment and told me stories about her fine husband, a man who wanted to make a difference. I always said I’d meet that kind of man and marry him (oops). He has a park named after him where I wanted my wedding photos taken. Too bad it pissed down rain. Obviously, God also objected to this union. But my family always reminded us that politics wasn’t just uncomfortable dinner talk. It was about us. About people. About change. My beloved foster father, whom I still consider the greatest man I will ever know, always told me that I didn’t need to vote for my late Uncle’s party. It was my job to ask questions, listen and decide who I wanted to represent me.
So, from the time I was a little tiny MHC, I followed politics. When other little girls wanted to be Barbie, I wanted to interview Mayor Hazel McCallion for my lined paper newspaper. This woman took no shit and even in her eighties, walked parade routes and represented her constituents well. I would stay up late to watch CTV News and ask my mom questions. Even though my family was Liberal to the core, Mila Mulroney’s beauty and class while representing her causes always left me in awe. These women made me want to listen and stand up and use my voice to help others. Now that I’m a mom, I want to teach them to use their voice. I hope they can look up to the Michelle Obamas, the Sophie Gregoire Trudeaus and answer the call to action too.
Legit boss
Which brings me to today.
2.5 MILLION people answered the call of a small FB post and marched peacefully. I wanted so desperately to go to my local march, but alas, I had to work. So, I used my social media feeds to spread the word and show support. No one got arrested. Nothing was lit on fire. Just men and women of all races, religions, all sexualities represented. They all peacefully marched to make a statement; that we will hold the Trump Administration accountable to preserve all human rights. And it was arguably the coolest thing ever.
When we use our voices and band together, we accomplish so much. Today, we accomplished so much. To the brave souls that marched, I am so proud to be alive to see you accomplish what you did. To those who couldn’t, but supported; you are amazing. I hope you inspired many little girls today. To the men who joined, thank you for remembering that men of quality do not fear equality. Whether you are a beautiful celebrity or an introvert who was just brave enough to stand outside your door, I commend you.
I became a journalist to use my voice. I wanted to give information and inspire others to use their voice. So, I am using mine to commend every woman for standing up for each other today. But I’m also using mine to make a small request to my fellow human beings, as the next four years will be challenging. But I’m asking anyway. I hope we can all choose to stand up for almost all women. If you’re pro-choice, stand up for your pro-life friend and vice versa. Respect that you may not agree, but can have civilized discussion. If you’re a SAHM, stand up for the career mom and vice versa. If you’re straight, stand up for your LGBT humans. Stand up for each other (unless you are some vile hate monger like Tomi Lahren. Then, treat her with respect, because the high road is a place you’ll never run into her). Don’t turn a blind eye; stick up for each other…
…this includes the first family.
Before you say “No! MHC, they’re horrible,” let me take you to another perspective. Many believe that President Trump is a psychopathic narcissist. If we believe that he is a narcissistic twat waffle, then how do you think he treats his family?! There are plenty of articles about how narcissists raise their families. How they treat their mates. If Alec Baldwin imitating Trump sends him into a rage, how do you think he treats his family?! They are likely prisoners of his delusions as well. Every time you put a jab normalizing the idea of Trump sexual assaulting Ivanka, you’re giving him ammunition. Every time you poke fun at Melania’s nudes, you are empowering him. Now, he can tell them we, common people, think they are whores. They’d be nothing without him. They can’t leave; he’d ruin them and we’d laugh. If you must throw your barbs, throw them at the man who has earned them (& Mike Pence, the Vice President twatwaffle). But please, leave Barron, Tiffany, Ivanka & Melania out of them. You are only empowering the very awful human we wish to subdue. I don’t know Melania or Ivanka, but they present as kind hearted, lovely people, very submissive to their overbearing father/spouse. We can’t claim to want to build each other up and then take our shots at those Trump can take his rage out on.
Today was a wonderful day to be a human. We came together as allies. So let’s continue to be allies. Not just for our selected groups, but for all people willing to stand up for each other. Let’s be the example; the ones who treat each other with respect. The more we allow people like Donald Trump to divide and conquer, the more people like Donald Trump acquire the power to divide and conquer. Don’t give him that power anymore.
I always say that the world would be an infinitely better place if we practiced the lost art of not being an asshole. So, let today be the foundation that we build unity and understanding on, not a footnote in a history book beside a downward spiral.
I have an online dating account. I’ve had it forever. I used to use it to troll creepers. Now I use it to (kind of) try to meet people. I’ve been getting to know the guy we’ll call the stage five clingy soldier for awhile now, but that’s a story for another day, when I feel like talking about my love life. I got kind of burned so I leave my relationships out of my blogging life.
Anywho, back to the actual story. Most of my adventures in online dating look a lot like this:
Or this
Or this
Or this
My personality is rather snarky on a good day & my guard is up after being led down the yellow brick road and left alone in the woods to find my way home alone, but again, another story for another day. But I can be polite too. However, today’s story involves a man I said no to, & why some women struggle to say no.
See, I said no to a guy awhile back. Then he mocked my career. So I questioned his being self employed. After some harassment, I blocked him. Tonight, I was met with him (on a new account) seeking me out and sending this gem.
This is just part of it. There’s a bunch more, including threats to ruin my career, etc. All because I told a guy no.
Sadly, this is a harsh reality women face when they are dating. No can turn into a dangerous situation (here’s a link to a story about 14 other women who found themselves in far more dangerous situations). People ask why women don’t say no/stay with their abusers/go back to their narcissistic exes, well here’s why. No can be dangerous. No can lead to violence. Smear campaigns. Verbal abuse. All because we said no.
The end of my story is simple. I told the guy off, blocked him and laughed about it on Twitter. But for a lot of women, that’s not an option. They’re stalked. They’re harassed. Bullied. And people defend this behaviour. So I decided to share this story as a harsh reminder of the realities that women face when they say no. Not all men do this stuff, but all women have a story like this one. Whether it’s a catcall, a stranger telling her to smile, or the guy who follows her down the street, every woman has a story about a man who didn’t take no for an answer. So, before you say “not all guys are like this” or “why don’t women say something,” take a moment and remember that this is why.
I hope the take away from this story is that threatening to ruin a woman professionally isn’t the way to her heart. Also, that apparently editors are very wealthy. I didn’t know this. When I was an editor, wealthy was not the word I would have used (unless he has pictures of Spider-Man. Maybe that’s why he’s rich?). Perhaps try tact. Or not being a raging doucher. I know, strange concept, but try it, it might work!
Last night, much like all of you, I watched in stunned silence as Donald Trump, a man with no political experience, who ran a campaign of hatred, bitterness and racial division, became the 45th President of the United States of America.
As my 15 year old daughter cried, asking how the smartest woman could lose to an unqualified man & what hope was there for her to succeed, I reminded her that we have to keep trying because we can never succeed if we don’t try. But my seven year old sobbed because what if Mr. Trump builds the wall & her cousin Kristen and Aunt Erica are trapped on the other side? What if her Uncles can’t be married anymore and her Uncle Dan has to go behind the wall? Her older sister said that we needed to ask the rental agency about Aunt Erica’s dogs so they could come to Canada too.
Even Erica’s Dog is confused.
I was floored. I couldn’t imagine being a woman in America right now. Or a person of colour. Or LGBTQ. How disillusioned you must feel. As a Canadian watching from the outside, I read so many statements from people who said they feel like they don’t matter to their own country. They feel betrayed by their neighbours, friends. Victims of sexual assault feel like they will never be believed, as their president-elect actually said that they weren’t attractive enough to be attacked and THIS WAS A VALID DEFENSE. The girl who was assaulted now is less likely to report. LGBT families sit in fear, wondering if their family is still a family in the eyes of the government. And little girls…they watched a woman who wanted to lead be crushed by a man that is grossly unqualified because she might have done something that isn’t really a crime that no one could prove she actually did and sexual assault only matters if you are conventionally hot. And Gold Star families only matter if they are white. This is the new world and it scares the fuck out of me.
As someone who gives too many chances and believes everyone is good, this is such a bitter pill to swallow. The majority of citizens voted for an alleged fraudster who doesn’t pay taxes and ran with a partner who supports conversion therapy. This kind of world, where this man leads a world super power is terrifying. But after I cried for my neighbours and friends and their terrifying new normal, I realized that much like America used their voice, I can use mine.
I’m just one person in 7 billion, but you only need one voice to help another use theirs. And another. I couldn’t use my voice as I’m not American. But I CAN use it to promote goodness, kindness and love for each other. And I will do that.
I may not respect your decision America, but I respect that it was yours to make. For those who are disillusioned and hurting, know that you are loved. You are loved by your friends, your family and even me, some random Canadian you’ve never met. Know that you have value. Know that you can change the world. All you have to do is use your voice. The thing about standing up for others is that it isn’t easy and people don’t always listen. But don’t sit down. Don’t stop trying. Hate only wins when love stops trying. So keep on loving. Keep being good to each other. Show hatred that while they won the battle last night, they didn’t win the war.
I know we all woke up to a scarier world, but we can counter it with respect. If someone you know voted for this government, do not attack them. When you stoop to their level, hate wins. Respect that they chose and treat them the way you would want to be treated. Remember that they are also disillusioned and when we lose faith in each other, that is how monsters sway rational thinking human beings into supporting things they would never dream of. Do not validate their bigotry. That’s what they want. I know it’s hard when your entire way of life is being threatened, but try. Love will always win in the end, as long as we practice to love each other, even those who hurt us.
And finally, I hope that you all choose love. Do something good for someone else today. Be kind to someone. On Facebook, I’ve challenged my friends to compliment the person above them, even if they don’t know them. This is how we drive out hate; with love.
One thing that has changed this year is my ability to step outside my comfort zone & really branch out as a writer and a woman. This has helped me become a better writer and a better, more confident woman.
I had managed to do this back home, but after eight months out here, I was a skittish, fragile, broken person. It was like something or someone had sucked the life out of me, made me feel like I had to walk on eggshells because if I displeased him, he’d leave like he did every other time. I stopped feeling confident in my own interests, because they were stupid to him, all but my writing. But I started feeling insecure at the gym, I had never felt that way before & I don’t now, I stopped talking about it, then I got hurt so I just stopped going. I stopped feeling proud of my work performance, as I was once told that my coworkers only liked me because it made him happy & everyone just wanted to please him. It was like a vampire had sucked every ounce of my soul out of me & I was too deliriously in love and too physically ill to notice. But everyone around me noticed my trip to Stepford & would remind me of the woman they knew in the hopes to snap me out of it.
Literally Never me
No one should be afraid to speak at work, make friends, ask for help, for fear of being abandoned. I felt like I had to hide constant pain and kidney issues because if I wasn’t well, he’d leave me. When he needed me, I was there, but told to stay away. Then I was punished for not being there. I would cry myself to sleep for months trying to figure out what I did wrong, because everything I did seemed to be the wrong answer. The woman who challenged herself and others to do better and be better was being dismantled and reshaped as an obedient girl, and I’ve never been very good at following orders or obeying. I need to conquer mountains and change the world, even if it’s just my little corner of it. I wasn’t a simpering victim; I made the conscious choice to take the trip to Stepford. I allowed myself to be controlled.
I’ve been in counselling for months. It’s helped me see that I have value & I deserve better than what I’ve allowed & will never allow again. By letting go of Stepford MHC, I’ve been able to grow so much over the summer, & I am proud of that. I am so hesitant to say anything negative about people, even when it’s deserved, but Jana Kramer’s People Magazine article made me realize that, like her, I’ve picked controlling men, abusive men, narcissistic men, because I’ve been so ashamed of the fact that my relationship with my former fiancé was violent or my husband used to assault me. Who would want me? I should be thankful that this man came back when he was done partying or cast his latest conquest aside & needed an ego boost because MH would always forgive him. But I kept reminding myself that if he loved me, he’d have never left. And part of making better choices is accepting that this happened & I am not broken or damaged. I am someone who allowed multiple men to hurt me physically or emotionally and I can no longer allow it. As I read Jana’s words, so like my own story, I realized she had nothing to be ashamed of and neither do I. As women, we are afraid to be honest about our experiences. I was afraid that people would think he was a bad person. I didn’t want to hurt this person who had no problem hurting me or my children & was proud of how shamefully he treated us. I was more afraid of upsetting someone than I was being honest. But, like Kramer, perhaps by being open about how I felt those first few months, I can allow other women who have felt ashamed of their pasts feel like they aren’t the only one.
Part of snapping out of it was allowing myself to admit I spent the better part of four years (off & on) in a controlling relationship with someone who repeatedly left me, stalked me for months, camping outside of movie theatres & hotels & using my social media to track my whereabouts for months after the breakup that wasn’t even a break up, I was just erased like I never even existed (including as recently as a month ago, when a friend brought their concerns to my attention, which caused me to contemplate shutting down my blog), repent, repeat. I was so damaged that I told Erica I wanted to apologize for asking him to stop if he didn’t want to talk to me. I had been mean by asking for boundaries to be respected. I allowed him to manipulate me & abandon me & come back. And I put up with this because I thought it was the best I deserved because of my past. But I deserve better and I deserve it from myself. It was up to me to put Humpty Dumpty back together. I needed to put me first. And if you’re a regular reader, you would have read my journey to put myself first. If you’re new, please feel free to go back and read as many of my adventures as you wish.
Part of that involved taking control of my career. I love my store and my team. We’ve turned our location completely around and we’re considered a Glentel success story. I’m so proud of my team. We put in the work and success was found. I took control of my writing career. I pitched stories, did the interviews & many of my stories got rave reviews. I have more money to support my family. All good things. At first, I was afraid to assert my authority. But another manager reminded me that I was the boss and hired on MY merits. Take charge. Be a leader. For once, I was being told to lead, not back down. It was so great to hear.
Actually me
I also took control of fitness. If I didn’t have time to get to crossfit, I worked out at home with Stratusphere Sculpt (a circuit workout). It’s important to me to work out every day. Much of my confidence, my self esteem is tied into fitness. I want to be stronger, physically, mentally, and to do that, I need fitness in my life. Not to mention, I write for a fitness magazine, so it’s important for me to be focused on fitness. It’s important to show my daughters a healthy lifestyle, a woman with a strong self esteem. I need to show them that I can build my career, my body, my happiness, all by myself.
The more confident I became, the more risks I was willing to take in my personal and professional life. I started dating again, met some interesting people (the last guy I dated I did not write about as I did not have permission) & I’ve been seeing the guy (who will be known as the guy until I can come up with a better pseudonym) for a couple of weeks. I’m taking it slow, but it’s exciting. I pitched a story about alternative fitness styles, these are things I never would have considered six months ago, but I’m doing them now. When flipping through the pages of the magazine I’m working with, I noticed that we had a huge opening for alternative forms of fitness. I remembered how my friends balked at crossfit and wanted me to stick to the same old thing; leg day, arm day, yoga. Maybe barre. But what if that’s not you? Maybe you don’t feel like you fit in with fitness because you want to do something else? I mean, it’s not me. I like doing something different. I want to write for people who maybe want to get in better shape but are also wanting to challenge themselve. So I looked up alternative fitness classes and discovered a whole different facet of fitness classes! So, I pitched it to my editor. What about pole fitness? What about incorporating dance? These classes seem like so much fun and anyone could try it. He was excited and suggested I try a class, so even though I am so very white, I am going to attend a twerk fit class and a pole for class…all in the name of journalism.
Eight months ago, I wouldn’t have dared pitch a fitness article to anyone, let alone one that would take me so far out of my comfort zone. But I’m not afraid of rejection & I’m in a position in my career & my personal life where my ideas are respected. I’m finally confident enough in who I am and what I’m capable of to push myself to become a better writer, a healthier person…and to attempt to learn rhythm. But when I look at my life, it’s so much fun. My kids & I have fun. My friends and I have fun. My workplace is fun. Crossfit is fun. And my blog, my writing, my life is super fun. And when life is fun, it’s easy to be happy.
In order to have the life that I want, I needed to kill off the last of Stepford MHC, and if she ever tries to reanimate like in the Walking Dead, shoot that bitch in the head & focus on the evolution of MHC. So, imma keep pushing myself to be the kind of woman I am proud of, one I would want my daughters to be like, not one who is afraid of her shadow like a groundhog. As Erica says, focus on being the sun that I’m meant to be, not the shadow I end up hiding in.
One thing that has always bugged the piss out of me is when women bully and belittle other women. It’s such bullshit.
You know what I mean, those “real women have _____” memes, the “make sure your shorts cover your vagina” memes, the “I can wash your beauty off with a cloth” memes. Please do shut up. Women; we are not in competition with each other. I repeat; WE ARE NOT IN COMPETITION WITH EACH OTHER.
While I am not a fan, as she often perpetuates the idea that being a certain type of woman is wrong; this quote is pretty good
Over the past two weeks, I have read some of the most ridiculous belittling of our Prime Minister’s wife Sophie Gregoire Trudeau. Mrs. Trudeau made a comment that she may need help with her many commitments, raising her family & supporting her husband. While yes, she has a household staff, she has one assistant, but over 70 requests to appear each week. Every charity wants Mrs. Trudeau to appear, speak, give a face to their voice. She cannot answer them all, let alone attend. If she declines, she will be vilified for ignoring. Declining to answer is even worse! She’s in a lose lose situation, even though she just wants to help & use her celebrity status to bring attention to Canadian women.
Women across Canada sharpened their claws, claiming that Sophie was asking for something unheard of, even though Mila Mulroney had her own office & staff to help her with her many causes. Interim Conservative leader Rona Ambrose actually praised former Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s wife Laureen Harper for choosing not to be “splashy,” as if wanting to contribute to your country and use your popularity to help others & have an identity away from your husband is somehow a bad thing.
Mrs. Trudeau is the spokesperson Fillactive, a program designed to help 12 – 17 year old girls develop active lifestyles. She has dedicated her time to advocating for women struggling with eating disorders. She is using her status to shed light on causes that are important to her.We should be celebrating her honesty; that running a home & having a job & trying to do more isn’t easy. Instead, it’s some kind of pissing contest. “What about me? I take the kids to lessons & have to cook the supper! Pity me!” “What about single moms?!” Well, this single mom thinks it’s great that she wants to use her status to help others, that she wants to be more than just Mr. Trudeau’s arm candy. That it can be hard. I always say that if I ever got married again (which isn’t bloody likely), I want to be one half of a tandem, with my contributions recognized & that I’m seen for my own merit. I don’t want to be Mrs. Someone, I want to be Mary-Helen & seen for what I can do. I don’t want to be a shrinking violet who hides behind her man. Yes, i will be proud of my man and his accomplishments, but I would expect him to be equally as proud of mine. I would want my strength, tenacity, passion for my career and family to be celebrated. I would want to be recognized as more than a mate, but as a woman…and also that I have really fantastic skin. I refuse to accept the notion that women cannot be celebrated for being clever & beautiful, or that we need to downplay one to build up the other. I want to be seen as a force of nature, someone who commands her destiny & wants to shine. Mrs. Trudeau is beautiful & bright & should be allowed to shine brightly. All women should be allowed to shine.
Seriously. My skin has been looking incredible lately
But it’s not just Mrs. Trudeau. It’s every woman all the time. If you’re thin, eat a cheeseburger. If you’re fat, go on a diet. Don’t wear makeup? Why don’t you take pride in your appearance? Wear makeup? Why don’t you love yourself enough to go natural? Don’t wear the crop top; you’ll look like a slut. If you don’t wear the crop top, you don’t have body positivity. Don’t go to the gym; Netflix. But now you’re lazy. Don’t want a mate; it’s because you can’t keep a man, but don’t get married, you’re sacrificing your independence. Don’t have kids, but if you don’t you’re betraying your uterus. Just know that every move you make, all other women will be judging you & telling you that you are doing it wrong.
So, I ask you, my fellow women, if you can’t say something nice, shut the fuck up. Build each other up, stop tearing each other down. If you don’t want kids, don’t have any. If you don’t want to wear the booty shorts, don’t wear them. If you don’t want to get fit, don’t. And if a woman admits her road is harder than she thought, admit your road is hard too & find understanding together.
Life isn’t a contest about who has the best pretend life on Facebook or who has the hardest time being a woman. Life isn’t meant to be wasted judging other women for their clothes, spouse, kids, or waistline. It’s meant to be kind, do your best, and teach the next generation of women to stand together & stand up for each other.
So, wear the short shorts. Don the red lip. Have sex with the guy or don’t. Have kids. Or don’t. Get married or don’t. Go on a diet. Wear a size 22. But don’t judge another woman for choosing a different path than what you chose. And don’t ever kick another woman while she’s down because she admitted that life isn’t easy.
The Misadventures of MHC 