Friday, January 31

Truth Bombs, True Confessions and It's Getting Real Up in Here

Yes, I know my title is all nerdy and not cool or hip.  I do not care because I am not hip.  
This post is me talking about sensitive stuff I don't actually want to share but I am because I'm trying to be brave, even though I am a total chicken-shit.
Okay, here we go:

I'm Insecure About Work:
I totally pretend I'm not.  I like to act like I think I'm confident and I know what I'm doing.  My superiors have given me an "excels" in self-confidence. I totally don't excel at it. I am obsessed with not making mistakes and being perfect which is awful because I work in retail - nothing is ever perfect.  I hate closing the store at night knowing that the clothes and shelves aren't as straight, organized, and clean as I think they should be.  (Dude, it's a store, it will never, ever, be as organized as I think it should be.)
I hate screwing up and especially little things, like when I can't quite figure out how to transfer a call from the portable phone to a certain number in corporate, when I forget to update my calendar, when I don't get everything done that I want to get done.  Another every-single-day thing.  I keep feeling like a little kid playing in adult shoes when people ask me to make decisions and be responsible for stuff, even though it's my job.

I Am Fat.
Not "quit drinking Starbucks and you'll lose five pounds this month easy-peasy" that many magazines seem to think is fat, but actual fat that comes from a lifetime of combination psychological & physical issues that feed off one another.  I'd like to write about this more because there's the whole "You're only as sick as your secrets" but then again...there's a reason we don't talk about it.  So, yeah.  I'm worried that if I share more on this subject (like, real inside my mind stuff) people will judge/hate me.

I'm Not Sure What to Say:
I find myself editing what I want to say here A LOT.  I find myself more and more getting worried that I might offend someone if I swear too much, if I talk about something too personal, if I get too worked up and argumentative.  On a recent post where I ranted about how women are portrayed in the media, my own husband's reaction when I asked him what he thought was: "I read it."  When I pressed him further, he said it seemed kind of.... and made a cat-claw motion.  (And he's incredibly supportive and encouraging and NOT a caveman-type and that was still his reaction.)
Some of my favorite bloggers and favorite posts are from people being hugely, hard-core honest and totally themselves and often fits into the category of intensely personal shit.  Not a week goes by where Kathy at Vodka and Soda doesn't share some weird shit her body is doing and I totally love it. I that brave?  Nope.  I work hard to have a "fuck it, if they don't like it, don't read it - I blog for me" attitude, but again....worry.  Because sometimes I just want to blog that eating crap gives you poop cramps, but I guess....I worry.  Fuck, I worry about what you guys think of me, okay?

Well, that's it for now.  This is just the very tip of the crazy iceberg.

Wednesday, January 22

Life in Centimeters

There's a saying that most of the world is familiar with:
One Day At A Time.
Yeah...sometimes that seems like too much for me.  Like, getting through a WHOLE DAY would be impossible, a torture, something beyond my capacity to endure. There are times in life when it has to be
One Hour At A Time, or the more concerning (but sometimes necessary) One Minute At A Time.  It happens.

I recently emailed a friend where I mentioned my tendency to be all-or-nothing, an impatient perfectionist who wants to get up and just miraculously have the energy/will/motivation to run three miles a day and do twenty military push-ups.  I don't want life to be a staircase, building and building up, I just want to do it all now and be good at it all now.  
I do know that's not realistic. 
I build slowly.  Sometimes I have good days where I feel energized and I eat well and feel optimistic for the future.  Other days, I am compromising with myself every five minutes to just get through the next five minutes...and entire hours are spent simply convincing myself to get through the next five minutes...again and again.
Some days I take great strides toward improving myself.
Other days, I am taking smaller, shuffling steps.
Some days, I am inching. 
And others...there are some days where I am merely centimetering along, bit by tiny bit, and the best thing I can say is to bargain with myself: "Just get through the next five minutes, Becky." 

***This was inspired somewhat by this post from The Desert Dandelion where she mentions "inching (or centimetering, if that's a thing) toward...." and I was all "YES! That is the word I am trying to use for baby steps.  Except I can't use baby steps, because all I think is "Baby Step Get on the Bus...Baby Step Get on the Bus...."  This is the word for when One Day at a Time is too big, so all you can do is get through one minute.


Sunday, January 12

Choices & Consequences: Garfield Knows What's Up

 How I often feel after eating:

Um....cocoa puffs are not a healthy breakfast and a candy bar & soda doesn't count as lunch.

How I generally feel in the mornings/without coffee/when I get too hungry.

And how I feel about the scale & mirror.

So...generally...poor choices have left me looking and feeling like total crap.
Time for some new choices.

Friday, January 10

(Part) of a Day in Pictures - Day Off

A few months ago, I did a Day in the Life post about working a morning shift.  People seemed to enjoy it and Heather was all "You should do one for your day off!" and I was "It'll be nothing but pictures of me wasting time."  But I still did it, because that's what we do here: random stuff.

Not Shown: 2:15AM - bed

6:45AM - Shawn wakes me up to make him breakfast.  Not actually normal; he's still not feeling great.
I don't want the eggs I made him, so I have Cocoa Puffs while we watch the MLB network.
7:20AM: Yeah, I'm going back to bed.
9:30AM: Shawn goes to bed and I get up for the day, pulling my hair back as usual.
Isabelle enjoys the morning sun.
Coffee: the most important meal of the day.
I often use the morning light and a magnifying mirror to tweeze my brows.
I'm trying to grow them in more, but it's a process and I lose patience. 
Because I can't do just one thing at a time; I'm also watching some Star Trek: TNG on netflix.
Noonish: Drive-thru return at the library.
It is a grey, dreary day for errands.  No filters.
I always look at the cat stuff in Target.  I think Isabelle would love this.
2:30PM: Home - what I bought:
1.) Notepad for work;
2.) File organizer for work;
3.) Post-it's for work;
4.) Cough syrup for Shawn
5.) Hair dye
Since I'm home for the day, the slippers go on and the bra comes off.
Time to screw around making TV characters.  I've been making all
The Big Bang Theory characters and just finished a Daryl Dixon.
Also doing laundry at this time.

Also Not Pictured:
After this, it got on to be about 5:30 and Shawn got up for the day.  We chatted, had dinner and watched a movie, (Major League) and it was during this stretch that I kind of forgot about pictures. I browsed through a book about stress relief stretches and breathing, I laid around being lazy for a bit doing absolutely nothing, built a shoe rack to get the shoes in our entryway organized so I could quit stumbling over all the pairs of sneakers and boots and such.  I screwed around on watching videos and such and now, it's 2:47AM.  I'm wicked tired and ready for bed.
I'll bet you guys all just wish you were as cool and productive as I am. 

Wednesday, January 8

Aw man, now I have to "go" there....

So I'm a feminist, but by definition/practice, it's an "equalist" thing.  You know the drill.  Not a man-mating psycho, but equal-work, equal pay.
Is there a problem with representation of women in government and corporations?  Fuck yes.
It's not just a problem of men vs. women.  It's a problem of EVERYONE should have a voice.  Everyone should be heard.  Not just those who go to college, not just those above a certain age.  Who runs the country right now?  White males with professional degrees.
I don't know WHY we're letting them run the country, but hey.  I mean, you can break it down over the whole history and socio-economic causes and blahdy-blah-blah...but the point is...wealthy white males rule the country and regardless of how it started, it needs to stop.
In Kiss My Tiara, (c2001 - and a God-awful title, I know) author Susan Jane Gilman at one point mentions that the tendency toward white males who are running the insurance companies to NOT cover birth control and to refer to unmarried women who use birth control as sluts/whores, etc. (keep in mind, this was years before the whole Sandra Fluke/Rush Limbaugh fiasco) or who don't want insurance to have better maternity coverage should be dealt with like a trade embargo.  If they're not going to behave nicely and respectfully, and they act as though we're all just tramps...well, slam those knees shut and clamp the fuck up. (To paraphrase.)  In no way do I mean to imply that sex should be traded for favors.  But if someone is out there voting down insurance for birth control, maybe not having sex with that asshole should be the practiced form of birth control.  (Again, paraphrasing.)

So...this is what happened.
I was reading A Blog About a Nova and her most recent links post.  One of those links took me to this page and specifically, the #2 item about Robin Thicke piqued my interest because I had no familiarity with him before the Miley Cyrus VMA bullshit, so I clicked on their link which takes you to an article about Robin Thicke and his epic fuckwaddery.  This page opens with: "If you have ears, you've heard the song 'Blurred Lines'.  If you have eyes, you've seen the explicit video."  And so I'm like ""  So I checked it out because nope, before 1 hour ago, I had never heard of the song or seen the video.

What what's the point, besides my evident obliviousness to pop culture?
The point is that after watching the abomination of that video, I've decided we need to shift gears and have a mutiny.
From now on, women and girls will wear real clothes, as opposed to shorts that end at the vagina. We're going to start having Mr. America pageants (excuse me, scholarship programs - cough - cough) and they will be judged in a series of contests, most notably, the swimsuit competition and lord help those boys if they wear the wrong suit style.
We're going to create video games more like this:
He looks empowered to me.
We're going to expect those men to show some skin - but not too much because we don't want our men to be sluts.  Until we want them to be sluts, then they damn well better be easy.  Easy for ourselves, but not for other women.  We're going to stop marketing yogurt as a dessert, we're going to quit acting like laugh lines are the worst.thing.ever.  We're going to stop running beer commercials where women are featured as decorations and/or prizes.  I want my next Bud Light commercial to have a group of women sitting around, drinking their long necks and popping corn nuts - while fully dressed! - and maybe their ogling the hot neighbor mowing his lawn in just his shorts and he just needs to cool the sweat off his brow with a cold beer, but of course the ladies make him bend over to reach for it in the fridge.  Because fuck no, that's not sexist and it's totally not objectifying him.

We're going to start making movies where a woman vows revenge because her boyfriend was kidnapped and/or killed.  She'll enlist a sidekick who's clever with one-liners and also has a kick-ass collection of bras that don't fucking chafe.  

Boiling it down, Robin Thicke is a douchewad who will apparently do anything to make headlines and gossip, because - publicity, yo. 
Some women will continue to feed into this, because....why, I don't know.  Insecurity, Daddy issues, Mommy Issues, Egomania, Narcissism, Who the hell knows?  (And it's not just men...women are horrible to each other and seem to have that sense that whoever is prettiest is most valuable attitude toward each other) - we need to stop thinking sex appeal is value.  We need to stop letting people (men, women, robots, other) treat other people as objects/plot devices.
We need to be humane.  
We need to kick down the doors to the boy's club and start calling out some of these good 'ole boys on their bullshit and shipping out the dusty old antiques.
As a society, we need to Stop Being Such Stupid Fucking Jerks and Pull Our Heads Out of Our Asses so some work can actually get done for once.  Why is the economy all collapsed and shit?  Because a bunch of good 'ole boys had their heads so far up their asses they couldn't see straight.  Because we have our heads up our asses about fucking Miley Cyrus or what some TV star said as opposed to ACTUAL NEWS.  

But no matter what, we need to turn the tables and start treating men as equals in the sex objects department, because the only way we're going to affect change is to turn the tables completely and see how they like it.  Change the rules of the game and see how quickly they don't want to play anymore.