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This is just my face

It never ceases to amaze me how people feel compelled, obligated and entitled to say things to you. And often times, the more rude or unnecessary the comment, the more compelled the person is to tell you.

I am especially baffled with this as it relates to how someone looks. 

I have a new baby; he’s amazing. But, he’s a baby. So he’s a lot of work. And I’m not complaining. I (mostly) knew what I was getting into when I became a mom; sleepless nights. Long days filled with unpleasant moments that turn into even longer nights. And repeat for infinity. But that’s alright; he is totally worth it. 

But, can we please stop telling parents “you look tired.”? 

This happened last week at the grocery store. My husband and I were picking up stuff for a party we were hosting at our home. It was cool and rainy, so I decided to wear the baby into the store. Keep him safe and dry. We finished our shopping and while we were cashing out the clerk looks at me and baby, then turns to my husband and says “she looks tired.” 

What?! 

My husband responded with “I’m sorry?” And the clerk repeats herself, “I said ‘she looks tired.'” 😡😡😡😡

Excuse me? SHE is standing right here. You can address her directly. 

Why do we think it’s okay to comment on someone’s appearance? Why? Because here’s the thing: I didn’t actually feel tired. I felt good. I got a decent amount of sleep the night before, the baby slept well, and I was actually feeling pretty good about myself. For the first time in months. 

That comment? Immediate gut punch and ego-blow. Because now I’m only thinking about what an ogre I must actually be and how on earth could I have thought I looked alright? 

What actually upsets me more is that the comment, while about me specifically, wasn’t even directed to me. Even though I was standing right there. Instead, it was said to my husband. Twice. 

“She looks tired.” 

Well, sister, I AM tired.

• I’m tired of people thinking they are entitled to comment on my appearance.

• I’m tired of people thinking they need to comment on my appearance.

• And I’m tired of people not seeing anything wrong with doing so. 

It’s so incredibly rude. And inconsiderate. And unnecessary. And unwanted. 

Because, no. I’m NOT tired. This is just my face. 

This is just my natural resting face. #SorryNotSorry #RBF


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Bully: Just Don’t Be One

December 8th, 2001.  It started out as such an ordinary day.  Hanging out with the boyfriend.  Shopping.  Lunch.  The typical things that college freshman do.

It ended as a day forever etched in my mind.  And all because people can’t use nice words.  Because we are all too self important to take the feelings of others into consideration.

When I arrived home for the evening, I was informed that at the age of 15, my sister’s best friend ended her own life because the pain of being bullied was just too much to bear any longer.  She was a sophomore in high school.  She was beautiful.  She was funny.  She was a daughter.  A sister.  An aunt.  A granddaughter.  A friend.

But kids, they are so cruel.  They teased her.  Called her names.  Tried to fight her.  Did fight her.  Punched her.

She just couldn’t take anymore.

Suicide is never final.  For the family and friends left behind it’s a pain that doesn’t end.  There are so many questions with so few answers.  The lives of these people are forever changed.

If anything ‘positve’ can come from such a tragic event my hope is that it’s this:

Be mindful of the words you use towards others for their impact is far greater than you could ever imagine.  Kindness is always the answer. I believe that so strongly I tattooed the phrase ‘kindness can change the world’ on my wrist.  I look at that phrase every single minute of every single day.  It is a constant reminder that I possess the power to impact others.

I hope I wield that power well.

Peace be with you Emily.  You are gone, but not forgotten, Lady.  I hope you found the peace you were seeking and that as you look down upon your family and friends you see how loved you are.

This One Time at the Keyhole….

After spending time beating myself up for not being able to come up with anything remotely interesting to talk about this week, I took to Facebook and asked my friends and family for help (letting them know upfront that whatever ideas they submitted would absolutely be ripped off, with no type of compensation).  I even went so far as to guilt people to help (I’m awful, what can I say)?

While I was given some interesting topics (someone mentioned craisins: friend or foe?) I decided I felt too bad actually ripping off someone else’s idea.  So, I let the weekend come and go, and still didn’t have anything… or so I thought – cue Saturday night.

Brett’s nieces were over at the grandparent’s house for the night, so we met up with his sister and brother in law for some dinner and drinks.  As per the usual course when we’re all together, we headed on over to our favorite dive.  Brett and I were there a week earlier and it was dead.  Completely.  There was the bartender, us, and two other people – and those two were weirdos.  Seriously.

So, after the poor showing the previous week we were looking for a livelier crowd Saturday night.  And it was a bit livelier.  There was a kickball team there and it seemed like they had been there for awhile, so we went to sit outback (plus, the guys wanted to smoke their cigars).  As the night went on, people trickled in and out of the bar and came outside, chatted with us, etc.  You know, typical bar stuff.

What was not so typical had me speechless.  Our friends left, and it was just Brett and I sitting outside, enjoying the weather before the (predicted) storm hit us (it never did, by the way).  As we’re sitting there, one of the kick ballers comes outside again, and the three of us start chatting.  Mr. Kickball sits down in the chair beside me and slowly reaches his arm out and takes my drink out of my hand!  AND THEN DRINKS IT! Once he takes a sip, he really tried to hand it back, as if we were bff’s all of a sudden and it would be totally fine to share a drink.

Of course I immediately tell him no thank you, and that he can just finish it.  He even tried to argue about it with me saying. “what?  it’s not like I have herpes.”  Uh, thank you for clearing that up, however, rando, I will not be sharing drinks with you – so you can go ahead and keep that.  In fairness to my sticky fingered foe, he did try to make it up to me by offering to by me another drink.  Which I also turned down.

I do think he realized how awkward that entire situation was, though, because he got really quiet.  Sat my/his drink down and then just sort of slowly walked away, kind of watching Brett to make sure he wasn’t about to get beat up for theiving my drink.  This thought was further acknowledged when we went inside the bar to pay our tab and my drink’s assailant rushed out.

After two awkward Saturday encounters there, I think we might need to change the day of the week we go there.  No thank you awkward male humans!

Am I the only person this has ever happened to?  I wouldn’t be surprised if I was, these are the kinds of weird things that happen in my life.

common (dis)courtesy

In a time and age when people want their own way as quickly and easily as possible it still never ceases to amaze me how lazy, inconsiderate and rude people can be. AND THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW IT! Or care. That’s what drives me most crazy.

I know we’re all guilty of forgetting our manners from time to time, but hopefully you try to remedy your lack of courtesy as quickly as possible and offer a very sincere apology.

But recently I’ve noticed a large lack of courtesy – from a particular age group of people, the 20-22 age group. I mean, WTH is WRONG with you?!

Please and thank you are some of the nicest things you can say to people. And what have you done in your short existence that makes you feel so entitled? To everything?!

Here’s a tip – quit being assholes. You’re not entitled to anything except life, freedom and equality. And quit throwing tantrums. You aren’t four. Grow up. And get jobs.

I know it’s hard to find jobs right now. But WORK is hard. Get used to it. It’s hard. Not impossible. And just because you didn’t get the “jobofyourdreams” doesn’t mean you get to give up and spend the next eleventy thousand years complaining about everything. Because let me tell you something, EVERYONE HAS PROBLEMS. And nobody wants to listen to how unfair your life is. Because life isn’t fair.

If it were, bad guys would always lose, good guys would always win, babies would never die and nobody would be starving to death. But bad guys do win. Good guys do lose. Babies do die and people do starve to death.

It isn’t fair. But it’s life.

So remember your manners. Show some common courtesy. And quit being whiny bitches. It’s pissing everybody off – most of us are just too polite to say so.