Love, Yourself (September)

Dear Jia,

In September you started trying to see yourself through someone elses eyes. Working on building your self esteem became important. It's still important.

You went to Kristine's baby shower and you had so much fun being out and around other people. You and Kristine got really close during her pregnancy. Don't let that relationship go away. It's very important for you to stay connected to family.

Things were looking up...

But then Sookie died, and it took something out of you. Things started to get worse. Stop blaming yourself for things you can't fix. You can't prevent every death. Loved ones will die. You need to learn how to properly grieve.

This month you weighed 253 pounds, and you started comparing yourself to others. Only compare yourself to yourself. Everyone is different. Also, keep in mind that you have a man who finds you unbearably gorgeous. That seriously has to count for something.

This is what you looked like in September 2010. I know that you think you look super fat in this picture, but I also know that you love this picture. It's the first pic in over six years of you and your sister. And your hair (aside from the roots) looks amazing.

So take a picture of yourself today, September 2011 and post it tomorrow along with the progress you have made.

Love,

Yourself

Unsilenced

Rape.

It can happen to anyone.

It did happen to me.

And I survived!

Scars remain.

Something was taken from me that I can never get back.

But I will not let those scars be for nothing.

They will serve a purpose.

I can use my story to help others.

I spoke out!

I am not a victim.

I am a survivor.

And you are too.

----

Hi, Welcome to My Blog

With all the guest posts I've had recently I've noticed a lot of new readers lately and in case they stop by and go, "Why the hell do I care that this chick went to Colorado last month?", I'd like to point y'all in a different direction and let you know what my blog is all about.

Me.

Yeah, I know, it's kind of obvious.

I'm not a niche blog. I'm not even a blog. I'm a person who writes a blog.

I'm getting distracted.

Point:

See a smaller version of this image on the sidebar?

If you click it you'll be taken to a page that tells you everything you need to know about me, Untypically Jia. Because yes, this is a personal blog, because everything here is very personal to me (even the stupid crap).

In the guide you can see where my mental illness story really began. You can see how infertility has impacted my life. You can find out details of my hope to rebuild self esteem (both for myself and my fellow bloggers). And I've even included my most popular posts (which will either make you laugh or totally offend you).


I also wanted to say to all the newcomers, welcome! You are now my friends. 

It's a burden that you'll never live down.

Colorado Recap (Part 4) Makeup and Big Metal Chickens

One thing I was determined to do while in Colorado was to take better care of myself. I wanted to get back to taking my vitamins everyday, drinking more water, and start doing my hair, wearing makeup and whatnot.

I used to be real good about things like that back in high school - I loved getting all gussied up just to later on prove that I'm still just as awkward and unladylike as possible.

But at least I looked good being strange.

And I still do.

I told my sister, "You need to reteach me how to do my makeup."

"Are you kidding me?" She answered. "I barely put mascara on, you're the one who was always good at makeup and hair stuff."

I was?

Pretty soon she'd be telling me that I've had a big ass my whole life.

She did.

And then proved it with pictures.

Whatever. Baby got back. Or something.

I did keep my promise to myself, and brought along my big ass makeup box to keep at it every day. Unfortunately I also developed a bit of an addiction and spent WAY too much time and money at Walgreens picking up the latest Wet N Wild Color Icon eyeshadow palettes.

With my new bold red hair I decided that I loved color and I wasn't going to shy away from it anymore. Big ass be damned, my face was gonna get attention - and the good kind.

Purple and Blue Shadow, Shimmer Lipgloss

Green and Gold Shadow

I got daring and let my hair down (literally) and wore black eyeliner for the first time ever.

And then with support from Twitter and my sister, I got bold and gave myself bangs

And with every new look, every new morning I felt better. 

And feeling better about myself made it easier to deal with going off my medication.

I remembered how good I felt when I'd lost 16 pounds. And I remembered how it was easier to deal with my depression and my OCD when I felt good about myself.

So as with weight loss, eyeshadow, lipgloss and a curling iron will be pieces to my new prescription of living furiously happy.

And speaking of living furiously happy . . .

My sister and I came across this piece of awesomeness while out shopping.

I had been reading Kristine older blog posts from The Bloggess, so when I screamed, "They have big metal chickens here!" she knew exactly why I was so damn excited.

Kristine: Oh jeez.

Me: It's like I've found buried treasure!

Kristine: But instead it's a metal chicken.

Me: Take my picture with the chicken!

Kristine: Are you seriously thinking of buying that?

Me: His name is Henry.

Kristine: Oh jeez . . . It has a broken beak.

Me: It just makes him special. And if I don't buy him, who else will? Will the next person understand his specialness?

Kristine: How are you going to get that on the plane.

Me: Oh.

Kristine: We're not going to be the people who bring a metal chicken as our carry on.

Me: But we could easily be those people.

Kristine: How much is it?

And there was where the line was drawn. I'd only carried so much money with me to Colorado, and I'd spent most of it on eye shadows. I had to say goodbye to Henry with hopes that someone else appreciated him as much as I did in those few moments we had together.

I sent the picture to Matt and he texted back:

Matt: That is awesome. I seriously hope you bought it.

Me: I didn't have enough money.

Matt: It's okay baby, we'll get you a big metal chicken someday.

Colorado Recap (Part 3) - Sisterly Bonding

Once the parents left for their cruise, Kristine, the baby and I settled into our own routine. We'd get up, take care of the dogs, take care of the baby, and pick an event for the day which either consisted of eating out, shopping, or me taking a nap. Then we'd have dinner, water Motherly's insane amount of plants and watch tv until we fell asleep.

It was a good time. Relaxing. And it gave us a chance to get to know one another again.

Kristine and I haven't always been close. I was the baby of the family when I lived in Utah, with only my older sister (who's ten years older than me) to deal with. So when I moved in with Motherly and suddenly I had a baby sister to contend with (and puberty) well . . . things weren't always easy. A great deal of my memories of our teen years together consisted of her being a royal pain in my ass. But we were sisters, that's how sisters work.

But looking through old pictures and videos I forgot the good times. The times when we would make up dances to Ace of Base in our backyard. The times when we'd sit together on Christmas mornings and open our presents, tossing wrapping paper at each other. The time when she buried me in the sand at the beach (boobs and all). And the time that we both accidentally got drunk at a Christmas party and spent the night dancing with an electronic Santa.

Kristine: We used to be best friends.

Me: Yeah, I guess we were.

Kristine: I looked up to you so much. I wanted to be just like you.

Me: I'm an asshole, aren't I?

High school of course made it harder. We'd just lost Grandma and we had different social groups. By the time she became a sophomore I was already done with school, in a long term relationship with Matt, and working full time. It was hard to find time to spend together.

Time was one thing we weren't lacking during the trip though. And I'm glad for that. I got to know my sister again. I got to see what an amazing mother she is. And just like old times, we got to watch girly movies together, do our makeup and hair together, and act like complete morons.

Colorado Recap (Part 2) - And Then We Gave an Ape a Lap Dance

Yes, I'm still recapping my trip to Colorado. I was there for 2 weeks, and I actually did stuff for at least three of the fourteen days I was gone, so there's some blog posts in there somewhere.

The day after we landed in Colorado the folks woke us up with the news that we were going to the Zoo! Which is always awesome to here at first because um . . . yay . . . penguins and shit! Everyone loves the zoo! Scratch that. Everyone loves the idea of going to the zoo. Like me. I LOVE the idea of going to the zoo. I love animals and taking pictures and being outside. Until I remember that I'm a pale ass Irish redhead and it's the middle of August.

I did get some good pictures though. Which will pretty much sum up this entire post.

Family - happy and not yet sunburned.

Super excited to see the animals.

Motherly Monkey

Alright, this one deserves a story I suppose.

So when Kristine and I were little, the folks took us to the local zoo up in Utah. We teased Motherly because one of us caught her scratching her armpit and she looked like a monkey. It's a moment in history that she will never live down.

I made her do this pose anytime we stopped by anything that said "monkey" or "ape".

She returned the kindness by screaming "Snake!" when she saw a metal art sculpture of a snake outside the reptile exhibit. I screamed and ran half a block away, the family laughed, yada-yada-karma-blah-blah.

Grandma and Grandpa showing Trey the monkeys

Trey is almost as tall as a penguin

Kristine and I aren't even half as tall as a polar bear

My favourite picture of the day.

None of us could turn down giving an ape a lap dance

Not even me

We returned home burnt, exhausted and irritable. Seriously, by the end of the trip the baby was passed out and the rest of us were wondering why we were even there. Kristine and I could have easily gone off on our own, but me keeping pace with the rest of them was just not happening. We darted for the parking lot, forgetting that it was ninety something degrees outside and we were in a black car and didn't think to park in the shade.

Kristine, the baby and I were stuffed into the back seat and we were immediately reminded of the road trips we took growing up. Only this time no one was screaming, "She's touching me!"

---

Part 3 - Coming Soon

UPrinting Giveaway *Closed*

I'm actually pretty picky when it comes to advertising on my blog. 

I only advertise for things I have or will use myself, so when UPrinting offered to host a giveaway for my readers I was totally on top of that. Cause seriously, who wouldn't want 250 flyers with their blog posted all over it? Sure business cards are all the rage these days (and UPrinting can set you up there too) but I think nothing says "Party Over Here" like a big flashy (and free) flyer.

There are a lot of printing companies online. But UPrinting offers many services such as flyer printing, greeting cards, window clings and tons of ways you can increase business and blog traffic. Don't forget to check out their club flyers.

How You Can Use Your Flyers:

• Host an AA Meeting with Pizazz!
• Start Your Own Garage Band!
• Have the Coolest Garage Sale on the Block!
• or something normal like promoting a business or hosting an event.
• And More!

I personally would use flyers just to say, "I'm flashier than a business card but not as inconvenient as a poster."

But that's just me.

Giveaway Information

What You Could Win:

250pcs. Flyers for one winner 

4.25" x 5.5", 4" x 6" 

14pt Cardstock Gloss, Front Only Printing

nightclub flyer templates and business flyer templates also available for download 

3 Business Days Turnaround, *Free Shipping

To Enter:

Leave a comment below letting me know what you would use your flyers for.

For extra entries like/follow UPrinting on Facebook and Twitter and leave a separate comment telling me that you've done so. (One comment each for Liking on Facebook and Following on Twitter).

This giveaway will end September 21st at Midnight and a winner will be chosen Thursday morning.

***Limited to *US residents 18 years old and above only.

---

Congrats to Stephanie!

This giveaway is sponsored by UPrinting, no monetary compensation was given and I will receive a party flyer for hosting. For more information about flyers, please visit Uprinting.com.

Colorado Recap (Part 1) - I Hate Flying

This post really is just for posterity sake I suppose. Either that, or when I get old and lose my memory and say, "What the hell was I doing in August of 2011?" I can look online and go, "Oh that's right, I went to Colorado." But then again, who knows if the internet will still exist when I'm old. We'll probably have computers installed in our brains so I'll already know all of this stuff anyways.

That's if I survive the great Zombie Apocolypse of 2021.

Basically what I'm saying is that you can just ignore this post.

Unless you're super passionate about Colorado.

Or you're secretly stalking me and you want to compare notes.

Anyway . . . 

Unfortunately the TSA agents could have cared less about feeling me up. They didn't even grab at my sister. I am pretty sure we were mistaken for a lesbian couple though. One of the people checking us in said, "Are you together?" And we said yes, because we were flying together. They looked at the baby and smiled and said, "Well good for you." Except I'm pretty sure they didn't say that. But they said something similar and neither of us realised it until hours later.

We got to the airport about two hours early. Because my sister says I'm a nut job I'm organized. Unfortunately we also had a ten month old with us - something I did not factor into my plans of getting to the airport on time. So we had to try and keep the baby occupied by walking everywhere and getting some lunch to kill time. And we killed time. We killed so much time that we heard, "Last call, boarding for Denver, Colorado," and we both yelled multiple curses as we ran for the plane.

We were the last on the flight but thankfully it wasn't full so we got decent seats in the back where a very kind flight attendant managed to ignore us the entire time until she came by with a garbage bag for the trash and said, "Can I get you anything else?" I replied, "Yes, you could take our drink orders like you should have done forty minutes ago." And she smiled and took them. Southwest, I think your hiring process needs to be a little heftier. Cause if that plane went down and we were trapped on an island - that chick would have been the first to be eaten. Clearly she wouldn't be good for anything else. Except bait.

Luckily Kristine and I were the only ones who were pissy on the plane. The baby was pretty much perfect.

He even crashed out the last fifteen minutes or so which was odd because the turbulence was insane!

Just one more thing to remind me that I wasn't going to have sex for at least two weeks.

---

Part 2 - Coming Soon
(you don't need to read that one either)

My Decision to Go Off Anti-Depressants

Image via Pinterest

I decided to go off my anti-depressants.

Does that come as a shock to you? You're not the only one. Before I made this decision I weighed it in my own mind, did a great deal of medical research and of course I asked the opinions of friends and family members. Some of those friends were friends in my online community and a common perception from the online world was that I was doing better. My blog posts seemed positive, clearly something was working.

But it wasn't. It really wasn't.

It took a lot for me to consider going on anti-depressants to begin with. I had to go through a major mental breakdown and an entire year of self exploration before I felt ready. And to be completely honest, I didn't feel ready even then. Not really. I was doing well. I had lost 16 pounds and was feeling good about myself. I was making new friends, going to the gym and trying my damnedest to conquer my ever growing pile of laundry. (Seriously, how do two people create such a massive collection of dirty clothes?)

But during this great time of upward motion in life, I had a pit stop of emotional backtracking that had to do with my Dad. That pit stop caused me to admit that, yes, I needed therapy. And I sought it out - while at the same time seeking out medication for my depression. I honestly didn't think that the therapy would help on it's own. But it did. And for a while I thought, "Wow, these pills are good!" But never once did I ask, "Is it the pills? Or the therapy? Or a combination?"

After months of side effects, dosage adjustments and medication switches I did start asking myself those questions. I noticed that things had changed and I didn't like the changes. I had gained back a lot of the weight I had so proudly lost. I had cut myself off from friends, family and Church because of side effects which included insomnia, stomach issues, and tremors.

The only days I felt good were the days I went to therapy.

And I stopped blogging about the bad days. Because I felt like since I was on medication, if something wasn't working, then I was obviously doing something wrong. After all, wasn't medication the last stop of this mental illness journey?

The bad days got worse and soon I realised that the medication was working, but not in the way that I wanted.

I felt emotionally numb. 

People call anti-depressants "happy pills" but they do that ignorantly. Anti-depressants don't make you happy. They help regulate brain chemicals that can help you deal with depression on a scientific level. And they don't work for everyone. It also can take some time to find the right medication for you.

Anti-depressants also cause a large number of side effects and while some people can take one medication and have no side effects and feel great, others (like me) can go through a number of medications, dosages and time and deal with a fistful of side effects and then some. In the end, I decided that the side effects weren't worth it. That perhaps I prematurely jumped to medication instead of giving therapy time.  

That's not to say I don't believe some people (and maybe even myself in the future) need medication to live and function normally. But now does not feel like the time to me.

So I decided to go off the medication.

I tapered off of the pills very, very slowly as no one should EVER stop anti-depressants cold turkey or against doctor's orders. It's a personal decision that needs to be made with medical consultation and a great deal of thought (and even prayer).

I've been off the medication now for almost three weeks, and I'm feeling good.

(Though I may have developed an unhealthy addiction to makeup recently.)

And I'm telling you all this now because I need my readers to know my barefoot and honest self. And I could never forgive myself if someone ever said, "Jia's doing just fine, what's wrong with me?" Because heaven knows I've said shit like that about myself when comparing to other people.

And it's because of other bloggers that I got through the worst year of my life. It's because of bloggers that I new medication and therapy were real, solid options. It's because of bloggers that I know I have those options in my future, should I ever need them again. And it's because of bloggers that I know life is not perfect, the grass isn't always greener, but sometimes . . . it can be so wonderful.

I still have mental illness. I am still depressed. I still have obsessive compulsive disorder. 

Medication didn't fix me. And that's okay for right now. Because right now, I'm doing good.

Can You Keep a Secret?

I'm back!

Actually I've been back for a whole week but that week was spent sleeping, getting reacquainted with my life and trying to figure out the best "come back" blog post for you all to read.

I couldn't decide what to write about.

Should I write a giant ass summation of what I did during my summer vacation? Should I write about the things I learned? Should I post pictures of how frickin' cute my nephew is? Should I post the recipe for Motherly's famous semi-homemade salsa?

These things kept me up at night.

(Only not really - seriously, I slept a lot this week.)

And then something amazing happened today that reminded me how much I missed Matt while I was gone.

And I realised that maybe you missed his humorous antics as well.

---

Conversation between Matt and I about fifteen minutes ago:

Matt: *approaches me whispering* Hey . . . when Whiskey comes back over here, you should stick this sticker on her nose and see what she does.

Me: Okay. You do realise that you're whispering, right?

Matt: Yeah.

Me: And you're whispering because you want me to pull a secret prank on the basset hound, and you don't want her to know about it. You don't want the dog to know what you're saying . . . so you're whispering it to me.

Matt: *sigh*

Me: Cause you know, if you said your plan really loud, Whiskey would be all, "WTF man, I totally heard that!"

Matt: Yes. I whispered. Because I wanted to keep a secret from the dog. Yep. I seriously have no argument for this. I actually just did that. 

Me: I really, really missed these kind of moments.

She can't hear very well anyway.

Guest Blogger : To Be Horny Teenagers Again

Samantha from My Life as Wife

The other night Kris and I were lying in bed just enjoying the peace-and-quite. The little man
had just went to sleep after being a crank-ass all day. (I swear, I love him but geeze when he
doesn't nap I want to shoot myself.)
Suddenly, I started giggling hysterically and was instantly shushed by the hubby.

"Be quite, you're going to wake him up!" Kris threatened.

Still, the giggles kept coming.

"What is so damn funny?" he asked me.

"We're. So. Tired. We. Don't. Even. Want. To. Have. Sex." I spit out in between gasps of air.

Now, we are by no means nymphos but I will say that we have had a healthy sex life especially
back in the good-old-days.

We spent the next 10 minutes talking about our wilder memories from way-back-when. (For
the record people, we are only 23 and although we are not as creative as we used to be;
sometimes, you have to pick a nap over hankie pankie when you have a 6-month-old.)

The story we couldn't quit talking about? A summer trip to Boston where we snuck into the yard
because the vacation home was tiny and packed with relatives.

Next thing I knew, we were dragging a blanket outside, cussing and laughing whenever we
banged into something in the dark, trying not to wake up the baby.

"This is not as glamourous as I remember..." I grumbled while swatting at mosquitoes.

"Maybe if we fold the quilt in half for more padding?" he suggested.

Something kept stabbing me and not in the way I was hoping to be stabbed.

"Kris hang on a second," I said. "There's a stick or something..."

I pushed at the stick AND. IT. PUSHED. BACK.

"Honey wake up!" Kris was shaking me.

I had fallen asleep in the middle of our conversation and was dreaming. The "poking" I was
feeling? The damn dogs were stretched out in the middle of the bed.

To be horny teenagers again...

--- 

Samantha is the author of Life As Wife. She has a degree in Print Journalism and Political Science. Engaged in high school and married in college, Life As Wife follows Samantha's nontraditional journey and documents her job as a writer, wife and new mom.

Guest Blogger : Depression

By Christina from Shiny Object Syndrome

 I have always been a bitch. I used to enjoy the title and I used to be the one that got things done, whether it was in a nice way or the not so nice way. When I got into high school, I realized that this attitude was a problem and it wasn’t one that I could control on my own. Many people go through issues that have to deal with anger, depression, and anxiety. I was reacting to my problems with just being mean. Maybe those “Mean Girls” just need come counseling like I had.

My Sophomore year of high school is when I started my first set of anger management. I loved going every other week. I was able to get a lot off my chest and seemed to do okay. I didn’t even need medication at this point, just someone to vent to. However, this ended abruptly a year later when I saw him at the vet’s office and he acted as though he didn’t know me. I know there is confidentiality – but, I said ‘hi’ first and that should have opened it that it was okay. Some how I just couldn’t handle the guy I had been spilling to for over a year not acknowledging me. I know they have lots of clients, but come on.

I decided to stop bothering with counseling for another two years. I thought it was pointless and figured I can be happy on my own. I was bound and determined to do it on my own. But, you know what? Sometimes you just can’t do it on your own no matter how hard you try.
My freshman year of college breezed by. Okay, breezed isn’t exactly the right word. It was stressful, it was hard, college opened up a different world. I made it through without anyone’s help and that last until middle of my sophomore year of college. I had a one night stand. I got pregnant. I miscarried. Even though I know God knew what he was doing and telling me if I continue to be dangerous with my decisions there are consequences. I still was sad. I had college to finish, but what about that baby.

I went back to counseling. But, still they didn’t think anything was bad enough for any type of medication. Which was fine by me… I am terrible at taking pills every day. This set of counseling lasted about three months. Usually, when the summer comes around I feel better and I ditched.

I was fine (relative term here) again until spring semester of my senior year of college. I was tired all of the time. I mean I was sleeping 16-18 hours a day. I was skipping class. I was skipping meals (all I was hungry for was oreos and I was eating them by the package). I was calling into work. There was a major problem. I was depressed. I was put on Wellbutrin.

I started sleeping normal 6-8 hours, I was eating again, and I felt better. I didn’t have any side effects from the drug – thank goodness. I hear that I am a lucky one. I had an amazing psychiatrist. Life was perfect. And so after four months (summer was back), I decided I was done with the meds. Well, that was until I had student teaching in the fall which was stressful and life was back down by November I was having outbursts of anger, crying, and wanting to sleep – but, I couldn’t.

For the following three years, I was on medication from October to March. This is what worked for me. Turns out that I most likely have a Seasonal Depression. Which, I find strange because I love snow. I love winter. But, that has nothing to do with it. The insides are on a different level.

For the last two years I haven’t been on anything. I have a boyfriend that listens to me and deals with my anger. I have a baby that always smiles back any time I need a pick me up. But, sometimes I still think that I am a bitch. Especially when Ricky and I fight about things that really don’t mean anything. I have been thinking about help lately. At least before the winter comes if it is already getting bad now. Then again, I keep wondering if money weren’t a problem for us – would I be so stressed and angry all the time?

Depression is hard. Anger is hard. You cry over nothing inconsolably. You get angry over a penny and you know you shouldn’t be, but you still are. I’ve been there. Life is a journey that is worth living and if you need a little help, get it. That is my only advice for now, but I am always there to help anyone who needs it. I also believe that I still have remnants of post partum depression, but this post is long enough.

--- 

Stellar Stina blogs usually about poop catchers, brain farts, and the boob tube. You can read her daily tragedies and reviews at Shiny Object Syndrome.

Guest Blogger : He Holds the Key to My Cart

By Danica The Library Ninja

We speed-walked under the huge fans at the entrance, tummies grumbling, brain-gears grating against one another, nails on a chalkboard.

"Do you think we need a ca--" I begin to weakly mutter, but my husband is already past the pyramid display of neon cereal boxes. I catch up to him at the discount reams of cheese.

"Ok honey. We definitely need milk, toilet paper, toothpaste, batteries and dish soap. Then whatever you want for dinner tonight. What are you thinking? I know. Don't look at me like that. I'm hungry too. Yes, you're probably more hungry than I am. So lets hurry. Come on."

The promise of food fails to motivate either of us, though we entered with such hopes and dreams. In true American fashion we wanted the food in our bellies 15 minutes ago. Probably too much of it, too. We deserve it. We've been slaving over YouTube videos and Twitter and gossiping all day. I've had nothing but Diet Coke for 5 HOURS. This must be what the Holocaust was like. (This is what happens when a history teacher can't get a grip.)

Thank goodness that "survival of the fittest" thing is so 800 years ago. We'd have been voted off the island for sure. That's how they did it, right?

"A LOAF OF BREAD!" he exclaims, caressing a loaf.

"What?"

"A loaf. Of bread."
... "You want a loaf of bread for dinner?"

"Yes. No." (lowers head, trudges on.) The Deli section looks promising. I find a refrigerated stand as he is drawn to the meats.

"Oooooooooooh salsa! Chips and salsa. My favorite. Lets do this. I can snack on this all week." I'm loading up my arms with the largest tub as he walks over. "Babe. They have rotisserie chickens for $6.--"

"Ohmyword is that SUSHI?!" "Babe! A cheese ball and crackers!" "2 for 1 Coke on sale!" "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh I justwannaeat!"

Aisle after aisle. Shelf after shelf. We alternately sprint and funeral march along the boxes and jars, fighting the passionate excitement and disinterest with each new product. We abandon the Wheat Thins with the stacks of pasta sauce in favor of some Mac n Cheese. Sorry Wheat Thins. It's nothing personal. I mean, it's the Cheesiest.

The one-aisle stand with the Mac n Cheese ended with a frozen pizza/wings combo on sale. So that's where I left him. Cold and alone, far from his own kind. Well. Karma is a bitch, because soon my full, tired arms were freezing against the pizza box and I was no closer to filling my aching stomach. My husband was quickly becoming a grizzly bear, arms full of food he can't eat, weakened by walking the cold grocery store aisles.

"Ok," the adult voice in my head said to me, "It's time. Go check out now. This is ridiculous."

We dumped our treasures onto the conveyor belt with glee. I swiped my card without looking at the total. I knew I wouldn't like it. We skipped to the car (ok. I skipped to the car), and soon we were hauling the load onto the kitchen counter. I surveyed our bounty with equal parts horror and delight.

• Family-size Frozen Pizza and Wings
• Frozen Cheese Bread
• Chips and Salsa
• Mountain Dew
• Diet Coke
• Microwave Popcorn
• Margarita Mix
• Snack Pack Vanilla Swirl Pudding
• Tube of Cookie Dough
• Plastic Straws
• String Cheese
• Chocolate Frozen Yogurt
• Chips Ahoy
• Milk

Now. Math isn't easy. But how many of those items were on my original list?

Scroll up if you have to. Good. One. One item. And how many irresponsible spending decisions? Oh. All of them, you say? Correct. Ugh. Correct.

Marriage means you get to become the happiest, most embarrassing version of yourself. I'll take it!

---

The Library Ninja is a marriage expert, after doing it for three weeks straight. She drinks too much caffeine and quotes The Office with precision. Check her at Library Ninja, Teach Me to Quote in the Ways of The Office, and Twitter via @Danica_Holdaway.

Guest Blogger : Lists

By Jaime from Just Jaime Jeez

So hi. I'm here to babysit you and make you feel special and cared for as a reader. I'm Jaime.

I have a couple lists for you to read. They are as follows:

Worst Day Ever Gone Decent

• You shit your pants, but everyone else did too! Wait.....
• You shit your pants, but lightning strikes your front yard! Wait....
• You shit your pants, but you're in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon and this is a testament to your devotion! Win!!

(Apparently, I can think of noting worse than shitting your pants, but seriously, can you?)

Fat Kid Moments

• When someone finds your stash of candy. And chocolate. And the good crackers. And soda. And...
• When you realize you accidentally ate your kid's helping of dinner. How was I supposed to know he'd want it?
• When you eat the cake even though it has clearly been half-eaten by the dog. So what? The other side was untouched. This is just smart.
• When you don't have enough hands so you shove it all in your mouth. And then reload. And now it's a process. 

Nicknames I Call my Kid

• JigglyPuff
• Squirtle
• Nugget
• Hombre
• Muffin
• Croissant
• Pie
• Poptart
• (basically any pastry)
• Gargamel
• Heathen
• White Devil
• Whitey
• The Darkness
• Charzaar
• Duck
• Monkey
• Koopa
• Latchkey Kid
• SpongeBob EliPants
• Guppy
• James Earl Jones

Have a good day!

--- 

Housewife and mommy of one schweet babay. He is a Goofy Goober. Jaime likes to eat and make things and laugh as much as possible. She doesn't know how to spend a day without using a Sharpie. She thinks B-rate movies are pretty much best. BEST. And she doesn't really like Halle Berry or the way she walks, but she does like bubble-gum flavored mouthwash. She does the blog thing at Just Jaime Jeez and/or you can (blindly) follow her on Twitter @jaime_weilacher

Guest Blogger : That Fat Girl

By Angela from Nine More Months

"That fat girl."

I remember the first time someone made me cry by calling me fat.

It wasn't in grade school. Not middle school. Not even high school.

It's not that no one ever made fun of me back then. Actually, I was teased hard for as far back as I can remember. Back then I had a bit of a different coping mechanism. I fought back, verbally, physically, whatever I could do to make it sting less. I can't say that I made the best choices, but when someone is trying to hurt your feelings you don't exactly want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Kids can be pretty mean. Brutal even. But it wasn't a child that made me cry.

It's still pretty vivid. 

I was 8 months pregnant, working a retail job. As part of the dress code we had to wear these lovely unflattering aprons. I was brand spanking new, and they threw me on the sales floor in the middle of the holiday season. I was doing my best to help a customer find the products she was looking for, and trying to make sure I let her know the correct promotions. She made her way to the cash register, waiting in line for a nice chunk of time, of course. She became pretty irate after one of her items didn't ring up at the price that I told her it was. When the cashier asked her who helped her, she pointed right at me and said "That fat girl right there."

Really?

The usual clientele in that particular store are the women you would typically see on your favorite Bravo TV show, but this lady was far from the usual. Not that being super attractive would have given her the right to be derogatory. Maybe she just had a nasty demeanor in general, and was taking it out on me. Maybe the hustle and bustle of holiday mall shopping had taken its toll on her. Regardless of the context, still pretty inexcusable, am I right? It's not like we weren't going to give her the price she was told. The customer comes first, after all.

I was very pregnant.

After the customer had left and the cashier had very nicely explained the correct promotions to me, I took my break and headed to the back room for a nice cry. Maybe it was just hormones, or the stress of a super busy day, I don't know. Looking back it seems a little silly to have let something so trivial bother me so much. 

That was the last time someone made me cry by calling me fat. However, for whatever reason I still had that day in the back of my mind. I was still "that fat girl."

Here I am September 2010. Five years after the "incident," those words still fresh as ever. I had been trying to lose weight for years, but could never quite break through. A few months later, I realized I was doing it for all of the wrong reasons. I stopped worrying about what other people said about me or to me. I didn't care about what I looked like or how much I weighed, and I didn't think it was anyone else's business to care either. I found an awesome group of women on twitter known as #mamavation and I made permanent changes towards a healthier lifestyle. 

Almost a year later, my life has completely turned around. I no longer feel the sting of her words. "That fat girl" is long gone, and she's been replaced by "that confident girl." Not because I'm thinner, but because I have come so far and made myself so proud with everything I've accomplished. And while I may never be a size 0 zero, or even a size 6, I will still be happy in my skin, and I'll never again let someone get underneath it.

---

Angela is a retail slave and young mom of two insane boys. When she's not busy working or cleaning up after her kids you can find her begging for adult conversation on twitter at @ninemoremonths or rambling on at ninemoremonths.com. 

Guest Blogger : Dealing With Your Husband

By Michelle from Chemically Inclined

You know, all hubbys have their moments. Moments where they are acceptable and can be taken out into public where people see the goofy, charming man you married. Then when you joke around with other ladies about how difficult he can be, they laugh with you, but in their minds they are thinking:

"You have NO idea what I deal with."

Oh yeah? How about we call a spade a spade and just be fair.

We all have to deal with our husbands crazy *fillintheblank*

(And here, I guess I should put a disclaimer that says something about how us women are crazy too, but come on we have hormones to blame and are we really that bad? Seriously? Think about the answer before you blurt it out Mister!!)

Anyway, my husband's drive-me-crazy-I'm-pretty-much-tired-of-hearing-you-talk-about-this-talk-about-it-one-more-time-and-I-might-stab-you thing is what he calls "preparedness".

Anyone else in this boat? 

For those of you that don't know, preparedness involves having everything ready in order to survive any foreseeable disaster. And when I say any, I mean ANY! We are prepared to leave at a moment's notice in case there are swarming locust coming to devour the flesh from our bones and we do have a location that we should be safe from said locust. Don't like the locust illustration? This sentence works for just about anything, just replace the bold-ed words with whatever you like, and the 'bags' we take with us are pretty much the same. Turns out, in order to survive almost anything, you just need like 10-15 things. Who knew right? Do I know what they are? No sorry, I had stopped listening already.

Side note: These bags are also useful for if we get trapped in a tornado shelter during the aftermath of a tornado (this is actually awesome considering we live in Tornado Alley, so he gets props for this scenario.)

I know, those of you out there are wondering what I really have to complain about because this sounds like a logical hobby. Well, the only problem is that I don't like living my entire day with this mentality and he does. Kind of like when he got COD Black Ops and it seems like he was going around the whole day (game on or not) in a war zone? I can't see you, but I know there are ladies shaking there heads going "OMG yes, my husband did that too!!" Yeah, it's kind of like that.

But you know what? This craziness allowed me to have supper the other night. A more normal part of his preparedness is stocking up on food. What isn't normal is the amount, but that still really doesn't bother me. Well, the other night I was making what was going to be a amazing, delicious, fast and easy meal when I suddenly realized I was missing most of the ingredients. Well, crap. Nothing in the cabinets, nothing in the pantry. (This wouldn't be a problem if I wasn't the only one who knew what a grocery store was, but that is aWHOLEnother issue.)

Then it dawned on me, I was going to go on a recon mission into his preparedness lair and fetch out whatever I could find. Turns out, he had everything I needed, no recon mission required. A smile and a kiss later and supper is back on, and I am reminded that no matter how much my husband drives me up the wall with his crazy 'hobbies' he's still pretty useful, most of the time.

(And, geez, wouldn't it be a pain to have to retrain another one?)

---

Michelle is an Environmental Chemist by day and a Mommy/Wife by night. She spends all day doing her part to keep this world as clean and healthy as possible just to come home to a dirty kitchen and piles of laundry at night. Irony at its best! You can find her at Chemically Inclined and @ChemInclined on twitter.