What's with all the skinny hate?

Every time I log into Facebook, I see where someone shared some sort of post about curvy girls.  I get to read about how curvy girls are better, or how only dogs like bones, or how skinny girls have to starve themselves, or that I'm just a skinny bitch.  I can't count the number of times I've been told I should go eat a cheeseburger/sandwich/etc.  Skinny girls have feelings too!

I hate the times when people try to pretend that Marilyn Monroe was plus-sized.  Seriously, look at her pictures.  You can see collarbones and sometimes even ribs.  According to her dressmaker, her measurements were usually around 35-22-35.  I get called a skinny bitch, but my waist has never been anywhere near that 22 inch mark, even when I was modeling.  People have claimed that she was a size 16.  Sizes were different 50 years ago, but she still wasn't exactly able to wear clothes off the rack. 

I'm sick of it.  Sure, mainstream media is biased and prefers thin, blonde, and rich.  Instead of just complaining and posting stuff on facebook putting someone else down to make yourself feel better, why don't you put down the fashion magazine?  Why don't you turn off the TV if you're so tired of all of the thin actresses?  If you hate the skinnies, then why are you trying to diet and be one?  Don't tell me it's societal pressure; you're trying to rebel against that same societal pressure by spreading the skinny hate.

It's okay for you to say, "Real Women Have Curves" or "Real men like curves; only dogs like bones" but it's not okay for me to say it loud that I'm thin and proud?  You can call me a skinny bitch, but if I call anyone a fatass, I'm a horrible person and need to shut my mouth because it's a condition and not their fault.  I don't go around calling people fatasses, but if I wanted to, I would still censor myself.  I can find much meaner things to say about people I want to put down than just the obvious appearance things.  If I don't like you, it's for a real reason, not just your appearance.

Real women come in all shapes and sizes.  You can be a size zero or a size 24 and still be a real woman.

Screw you guys and your whole "real women have curves" movement.  My real body has made and nourished three children. 

You don't get more real than that.

Poor People

I am writing this using my phone in the local WIC office. If you didn't already know, it's a government program designed to improve the nutrition of lower income women, infants, and children.  Oh wait, that means you're reading a blog written by (gasp) a poor person.  I love the way people look at me differently when they realize I'm a member lower class.  Poor people aren't supposed to be literate, are they?  We're all supposed to be a bunch of horrible, uneducated parents who dress our children in rags while we buy and sell drugs, get our nails done, drive Escalades, and collect welfare checks.  We're supposed to take advantage of the system and put our kids in daycare even though we're all a bunch of Peg Bundy-esque couch potatoes who have never worked a day in their lives. This may be true for some of us.

The truth is, I'm kind of smart.  I might not have a PhD, but I went to community college, own a home, drive a Taurus (named Boris), and I've never used the TANF system.  My kids might wear rags, but it's only because I choose my battles when they'd rather wear an old and dirty Spiderman costume than the nicer stuff I got from a consignment sale or with gift cards I earned for surveys.  I've always worked, sometimes two full time jobs at once, and was back at work within a couple of days after giving birth to my last two children, baby in a Moby carrier while I packed orders for my ebay store.  Hell, I don't even have cable TV and the thought of fake nails or daycare makes me feel a little queasy.

I've veered off topic again, haven't I?  The WIC system was started with good intentions.  I took advantage of a free breastfeeding class while pregnant with my oldest child.  I was 22 and had never been around breastfeeding, but I knew it was best and wouldn't do anything else.  I was completely clueless and was the only person in attendance.  I learned so much about breastfeeding and how boobs work.  I probably wouldn't have been successful if it weren't for that wonderful, patient teacher.  For years, I thought about going back and thanking her, but I had since moved and couldn't remember her name.  A few years later, our WIC office got a new nutritionist that seemed vaguely familiar.  I knew I had seen her or heard her voice before, but I'm no good with names or faces.  I finally noticed the plaque on her wall from my former county and it clicked.  She had been the teacher! 

Today looks like a slow day, but sometimes this place is has so many examples of bad parenting. Sure, let's fill a sippy cup with Mountain Dew, encourage the kid to drink it, and then hit him for acting like a kid high on a caffeine/sugar/chemical kick. That sounds like a GREAT idea!  Then we can jerk them up by one arm when we're called because we're too busy talking on the phone to pick them up properly.  Let's leave the baby screaming in an infant seat while we text.  Don't get me started on infant seats. That's a whole 'nother rant.  Let's show up and demand to be seen, even though we don't have an appointment or we missed ours by an hour.  I wonder if the WIC employees ever want to hand out vouchers for sour milk.  I know I would.

Baby Showers

I don't particularly like baby showers.  Due to my new-mom-itis, I allowed family to throw baby showers before my oldest, Kaiya, was born, but I didn't particularly enjoy them.  Granted, I was appreciative of all the gifts, the food, and the effort made, but the rest of it was just pretty bleh.  Loads of people trying to impress their opinions about birth and child rearing upon a expectant mother, along with making jokes about how fat she's become.  I've encountered comments like this at baby showers:

"Oh I know you said you were going to TRY to breastfeed, but here are some bottles for when you come to your senses" I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"I bought some diamond earrings for when you get the baby's ears pierced.  The doctor can do it for you."  No.  No.  No!
"I only bought a gift for one baby.  You look like you're having twins!" The expectant mom almost cried.
"I bought you some gauze and Vaseline for after his circumcision.  Snip snip, hahahaha!" I almost vomited, then wanted to cut a skank.
"Here are some earplugs for when you let your baby learn to soothe herself." I wanted to slap someone.
"Don't let that baby ruin your life.  It's going to try to manipulate you for her own benefit."
"I can already tell you'll have to get a c-section because you're little"
"Anyone who says they're going all-natural is crazy.  You'll learn."

See, baby showers invoke a violent response in people like me.  Still, my bestest friend is having one this weekend and I'm going.  It's not supposed to be your usual baby shower, one with a keg and a bluegrass band, but I'm sure the mainstream mommies will show up with their impassioned cries for "me time", rice cereal, epidurals, and sleep training.  This is the reason why I have no friends with kids. 
 

Kids' Bowling

Did you know that school-age kids can get two free games of bowling every day this summer?  You can sign up here.  I'm not getting paid to plug them; I just think it's pretty awesome.  You can get a family pass for $24.95 so that up to 4 adult family members can bowl free all summer.  When they ask who sent you, enter in mamersnc@gmail.com and there might be a chance for me to win a prize.

We'll be taking advantage of this deal.  Wouldn't a kids' bowling team be so cute?  Tiny, slick, and smelly rented shoes and nerdy little bowling shirts with screen printed logos!  The Dynamic Daleks?  Splendid Sycorax?  Tiny Time Lords?  Junior Jedi?    A summer sporting event that's indoors, away from the sun and bugs!  And it's (almost) free!  I shouldn't mention the bowling alley food.  I know it's toxic, but can you resist those cheap soggy nachos?

Who's coming with me?

Facebook

When I was younger, the internet was my escape.  I could go there and no one knew me.  None of my classmates, no one in my family, and none of my neighbors knew me.  I wasn't doing anything really wrong.  Just general mischief, message boards, napster, AOL cerver, and trolling.  It was great, unless you remember the sounds of the old 56k modem, all-night CD download times, and the fact that it cut off every time the phone rang.  Almost everyone you encountered online was literate, intelligent, and capable of a good debate.  Back then, everybody was afraid I was being stalked by Captain Howdy and anyone with a computer was a secret sex fiend, out to ensnare a 16 year old girl who carried a paint can.  Thank you very much, Strangeland.

Now, everybody is on the internet, regardless of literacy levels.  It can be a great thing, but at the same time, EVERYBODY IS ON THE INTERNET!  My parents are on craigslist buying vehicles, my kids are on PBS kids playing games, and great grandmas are setting up facebook profiles.  It's gone from a place where I was separate from everyone and everything to a place where everyone can find me.

I can't post about beer and burritos on Facebook without someone telling my parents.  Someone alerts my family if I mention using a power tool.  I'm almost thirty!
This brings me to the fact that I can find you guys, too.  I have 330 friends on Facebook, which pales in comparison to some, but it's enough for me.  Most of them are people I know and value in real life, but a good deal of these people are just online train wrecks.  I keep them around for when I feel like my life isn't so good and need a reason to smile.  That's my inner troll coming out.  If you have a Facebook, you have at least one friend who constantly posts about how horrible their life is and how it's not their fault, but you can trace the events leading to their current condition.  Oh no, you just had your third baby and have no idea who the dad is?  It couldn't be related to the drunken, half-naked party pictures you posted 9 months ago, proclaiming the fact that you were on the prowl!  The person who posts photos of their drug use and then laments the fact that they got sacked from their job after a drug test always entertains me, as does the single girl who takes relationship advice from Taylor Swift.

This is me around the time I discovered the internet.

Huge Ferocious Mutt

This morning, Tanith, the 18 month old tiny terrific terror, ran off into the bedroom after breakfast.  I caught Tanith sprawled across the floor, face to face with Alcide,our gigantic evil 50 pound German Shepherd-Husky shelter mutt, having a conversation.  She then stuck a Cheerio up his nose and laughed.  When I went to get it out, I found a White Rabbit wrapper jammed up the other nostril.  He sighed and laid back down. 

We got him two years ago from the animal shelter.  He was underweight, dehydrated, and very sick.  He was afraid of everything and let our toy poodle boss him around.  It's amazing to me how many people have remarked that he's a big scary dog.  He barks when people walk past his fence, but runs in fear when they approach.  This is a dog who has hurt more people while running from a thunderstorm than by biting them.  Someone even let him out of our chain link fence and called animal control about a big wild dog with a green collar.

2 years ago, Tanith and Ronin.  "Naybe he wikes me!"

Homeschool Rant #3: school fundraisers

See those buttons to the right of the page where you can donate a dollar or a penny or a million dollars?  They're not mandatory at all, yet I still catch crap about them.

"You mean you want me to give you money to educate your kids?  Shouldn't that be your responsibility?"

Yes, but I'm constantly being inundated with requests to buy cookie dough, books, bags, delicious doughnuts, candles, candy, raffle tickets, carbonated beverages, and other random crap from your public school child.  Save the soup labels, box tops, and cut the corners off the pancake mix for my child's school!  Doesn't my tax money help pay for their education? 

With our fundraiser, you can get some original one of a kind artwork and maybe even the story behind it.  Or not.  And I'm not going to send my kids over to your house with puppy dog eyes and an order form attached to a clipboard. 

We're going the cheapest route possible, not buying a set curriculum, getting everything used, planning to re-use the same learning materials between children, and DIYing whenever possible, but the first few years can get a little expensive (not to mention stressful) for most homeschooling parents.  Sure, I could do it all myself and put everything together on my own.  I tried that, and between my jobs, three kids, and the actual act of educating the children, I started going a little batty.  A person can only handle so much before she starts thinking about ways to put a saddle on the mutt and using him to raise the children.

And now for the gratuitous cuteness: