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Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Sometimes I wish I were a man.......

Don't worry.  I'm not going all Bruce/Caitlyn on you. (and I'm not joining the Navy, just love this poster)

I was away this past weekend.  Down the shore, as we call it here in Jersey, doing my favorite thing - people watching.



After a few years battling Lupus and the several pounds that medication put on my body, I've been on a big health kick.  Not so much trying to be skinny, but trying to do what I can to be pain free and around to see my kids grow and bless me with grand children.

OK, fine!  I want to be skinny and hot like I used to be in my 20's - THERE!  I've said it.  :)

It's a body image thing.  Do I look better than I did a year ago?  Yes.  2 years ago?  For certain.  5 years ago?  Damn straight!  I work my not so little butt off daily to try to get back to a smaller sized me.  And not for nothing, I look pretty damn good for someone turning 50 next month!

So maybe saying "I wish I were a man" is stretching it a bit far.  I certainly wish I could think more like one in some ways.

Mainly - Body image.

I know that everyone has their own petty insecurities over their personal body image - but men?  They may say - "Man, I'm fat," they they never let that hold them back.  They'll get out of the shower wrapped in a towel that might not quite reach all the way around them, drop that towel to the floor - flex naked in front of the mirror and strut away thinking, "Yeah, boy... you still got it."
They don't stress over the "moobs" or the beer belly or the excess hairs - they flaunt it.

Too hot out?  Shirt comes off!  Ready for a swim?  No worries about unsightly hairs or belly hanging out.

They don't give a shit!

I want to not give a shit!
The thing is, as a woman, I don't know how to not give a shit.
I mean, I know that not ALL women stress over their appearance & some truly don't give a shit.  I'm not that woman.  I wouldn't say that I stress over my appearance - it's more that I wish things were where they were supposed to be.  I want to keep that unsightly nonsense tucked neatly away.  Present a proper picture of what I think things should look like.  Let's say I won't be strutting around in a string bikini any time soon.  :)  Or ever again!


This is as close to a bikini as I get


I've lost probably 25-30 lbs (and still going) and I look in the mirror and see that my tummy is flabby & riddled with stretch marks from bearing 8 & 9 lb children.  I see that even though my "guns" are great up top and my shoulders look good, I have the bye bye arm on the bottom.  I don't see the positive - I see what still needs to be improved.
I don't have the "I don't give a shit."

This is something I though about quite a bit while walking along the beach and boardwalk with my family.

I noticed other women - some bearing all (mostly the young ones) - some keeping it all tucked away - and I wondered - How do you stop giving a shit?  When does that kick in?  Will vanity haunt me until the day I die?  Or will I finally say, ya know what...I don't give a shit.



For now, I'll just admire those who strut their stuff around thinking "yeah that's right, baby, I still got it!"  Because ya know what... You do still "got it!"

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn

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Friday, August 14, 2015

Ran't on Can't

Yes, I did that 't on Rant on purpose.
It gives it a little flair, don't you think??


OK - fine it's an attention getter for my fellow grammar / spelling Nazis out there.
You're welcome.



I've become increasingly annoyed by the amount of people who throw around the "I can't" line lately.

Really? Can't?
Ever heard of Oscar Pistorius?  Maybe he's a bad example being in prison and all, BUT stay with me a moment, will you? His pending murder conviction aside, this man is a DOUBLE AMPUTEE, former Olympic SPRINTER hopeful. The loss of 2 legs did not stop him from running.  He didn't "can't" - at least not in this instance. (hard to be delicate when you use a poor example).


Clearly my blog posts aren't all well thought out and mapped out - they go from brain to finger - so ride along with me further, won't you?

The hubs and I are foster parents. In truth, which he will agree, I do all the parenting work. In any case - I get a lot of "I can't" from some of these kids about themselves, or their parents. The "they can't" nonsense. No - they/you CAN - you just choose not to. They CAN work. They CHOOSE not to. You CAN read a book. You CHOOSE not to.



Can't doesn't fly with me. It never really did. Mostly because I suffer from a long stream of "I wants" (working on that) and I am ultra persistent (read pain in the ass) and I don't generally stop until I get what I want, I take a break or I don't want it anymore. Can't has never really stepped in front of me because I kick it out of my way. Maybe that's just me.

It's a choice - Crawl under a rock or claw your way up.

Is anyone else out there feeling me on this?

I don't accept "I can't" from my kids. I push the "CAN" and "WILL".

Isn't that the way things should be?

Shouldn't we be pushing our kids to dream big?  To go get what they want & bring it home to mamma for a big GREAT JOB, and to ride that into their future?

When did things get so lax?
When did it become OK to sit back and wait for someone to give you what you need instead of getting off your arse and getting it yourself? When did "can't" become the norm and people responding to "can't" with rewards?

I don't get it.

For me, it will always be can and will.
I will teach my kids the same.

Am I crazy?

Thank you for reading my blog!

~Jenn

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Thursday, August 13, 2015

How'd your dad / brother die? Oh, they committed suicide....

It never rolls off your tongue just like that...It doesn't.

It's more awkward.
No, it's not just awkward it's totally uncomfortable to wonder how to just spit those words out.

What do you say? My dad & brother shot themselves. They took their lives. My dad & brother committed suicide. What do you say? It's been more than 30 years now. You'd think that 30 plus years would set things little at ease.

They do - the 30 years, that my dad has been gone have gotten easier. The thoughts are always there. Just not right smack in the front of my mind like they used to be - but the reminders are everywhere.
This past Saturday was my dad's birthday.
The 27th is the date that Eric will be dead for 8 years.
Yeah, I think about it. It's there. It's always there.

I don't think anyone who's been through suicide ever forgets. You remember. Everything. Every.Last.Detail. Every.Last.Second of Every.Single.Thing that you did when you heard the news.
When the phone rang. When the police showed up at the front door. Every song. Every smell. It stays with you, and you remember how it felt to not know how to say how they died.

...and you worry.
Will it happen again?

I haven't written in a while. Mostly because I didn't think I had anything to say. Then I opened my Facebook news feed and saw that someone else that I know is struggling, in the same way that I did, to not know how to say that their family member took their own life. Died by suicide.

It was at that moment that I decided to write for her and others like her. Like you. Like someone else. Struggling for the words to say - they died by suicide.

To say that they just couldn't take one more second of pain.

As always, with these types of blog posts - I implore you - if you are suffering - PLEASE - do not suffer in silence. Someone will listen to you. Someone DOES care. Someone DOES love you. Someone WILL miss you. Someone WILL struggle with the words - they died by suicide.

Please reach out.

You are loved.

Thank you for reading my blog.

~Jenn

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