Today I went for my yearly summer kick-off bikini wax. I have super sensitive skin and find the only way I can keep the lady garden manicured is by getting professionally waxed. This being said, I'm also pretty cheap (or my other half is..) so I try to limit this event to a few times during the summer. Years ago this wasn't the case. But after having a child come up to me at the public pool asking "Do you have any wax?" While 3 teens snickered off to the side, I decided it was worth the expense. (I don't know who I was more mortified for, myself and my rogue pube or the poor kid who was put up to it and looked like he could crawl out of his skin).
Last summer I really liked the waxing girl, mostly because she only charged me for the basic but took off most of the weeds in the garden or on the garden? I am not really sure how to describe weeds in a lady garden.
This time I go in and it's a different chick. She takes me back and asks me what I'm wanting and I tell her what the other chick did. She says that the previous girl had a very "liberal" view of what a bikini + wax was and was basically wrong. If I want the same situation I had last year I'm going to be paying almost $20 more. At this point, I'm expecting to come out of there with a certain look so I just say it's fine and she seems grateful that I didn't start screaming, which apparently happened yesterday when she told some other chick the same thing. She tells me to just take off the thin paper bikini bottom because "it's not going to help". I then had the most involved waxing of my life. At one point she gave me a tongue depressor and told me to hold it while she waxed. It was...awkward. I of course found a way to make it even more so.
We started talking while she was doing her job and she made a comment that I didn't look like I could be old enough to have 2 kids. I immediately tried to look at my genitals, thinking she was referring to the look of them rather than my overall appearance. Then I thought that was ridiculous and she obviously didn't mean that. She tells me I remind her a lot of Emma Stone, in appearance and voice, and because of the intimate nature of what was going on (and how much I love Emma Stone), I wasn't sure if I should be taken aback or flirt with her. I just said thank you and went on with other conversation.
Later she starts to ask about the kids, their ages, etc. She then stops what she's doing and asks how old I am. I tell her and she says, no way she'd believe that and she thought I was around her age, 21 or 22. At this point I cannot help myself and I ask, "Are you saying this because I have a young looking vagina?" She stopped applying wax, gasped, and slowly says "ohmygod" and then nervously laughs. She then says something about me being her new favorite client and I'm pretty sure she was not saying these things because I have a young looking vagina.
When D.J. asks how it went later, and I tell him, he simply cannot believe I asked her that question. If he had been in the room and seen how involved this situation was, I'm fairly confident he would have realized there should have been no off topics. At any rate, I'm totally ready for the pool, even if I do have an old lady vah-jay-ge.
Edited to add: I asked D.J. again if he really thought it was inappropriate for me to ask the wax chick if that's what she meant. He assures me it was (I disagree. She's a professional who has seen her fair share of vaginas.) Then he says it probably looks young from lack of use.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
This is for you, Sister Wife.
My Sister Wife recently commented that as she was reading "Let's Pretend This Never Happened", every time she read a conversation or argument between The Bloggess and Victor, she heard mine and D.J.'s voices. This is a conversation we had earlier this week.
I'm getting ready dressed in the bathroom.
D.J. : What do you think about me digging in your lady garden?
Me: Ugh.
D.J.: What's that for?
Me: Because digging in my vagina is not a sexy come-on.
D.J.: I thought you'd like it because I said lady garden. You know like The Bloggess.
Me: No, I don't like it because you attempted a lame joke that also sounds painful. And it just goes to show how you are becoming your Dad more and more everyday. Soon you'll have a comb over.
D.J.: My jokes are funny and my Dad doesn't have a comb over. His hair is just really thin.
Me: You can see his scalp.
D.J.: Because his hair is thin.
Me: You can see bald scalp under the hair.
D.J.: Because his hair is THIN.
Me: If the wind hits it it flies up like flap. And he parts it on the side of his head.
D.J.: That doesn't mean anything he's always parted it really far over like that.
Me: Because he was planning on it being a comb over.
D.J.: You don't even know what a comb over is. A comb over is only 1 hair, not a whole bunch.
Me: Says who? YOU don't know what a comb over is. And the only reason you won't admit that your Dad has one is because you are afraid YOU'LL have one.
D.J.: (walking out) You're crazy. And have no idea what a comb over is.
While googling "comb over" so I could prove I was right for the post, we started arguing again because D.J. doesn't understand Wikipedia or definitions.
P.S. DON'T google pictures of comb overs. I gagged several times. It might be possible that his Dad doesn't part his hair quite as far over as the comb over pictures, but it's way too long and he'd look much younger if he cut his hair a good deal shorter. I'm nothing if not helpful.
I'm getting ready dressed in the bathroom.
D.J. : What do you think about me digging in your lady garden?
Me: Ugh.
D.J.: What's that for?
Me: Because digging in my vagina is not a sexy come-on.
D.J.: I thought you'd like it because I said lady garden. You know like The Bloggess.
Me: No, I don't like it because you attempted a lame joke that also sounds painful. And it just goes to show how you are becoming your Dad more and more everyday. Soon you'll have a comb over.
D.J.: My jokes are funny and my Dad doesn't have a comb over. His hair is just really thin.
Me: You can see his scalp.
D.J.: Because his hair is thin.
Me: You can see bald scalp under the hair.
D.J.: Because his hair is THIN.
Me: If the wind hits it it flies up like flap. And he parts it on the side of his head.
D.J.: That doesn't mean anything he's always parted it really far over like that.
Me: Because he was planning on it being a comb over.
D.J.: You don't even know what a comb over is. A comb over is only 1 hair, not a whole bunch.
Me: Says who? YOU don't know what a comb over is. And the only reason you won't admit that your Dad has one is because you are afraid YOU'LL have one.
D.J.: (walking out) You're crazy. And have no idea what a comb over is.
While googling "comb over" so I could prove I was right for the post, we started arguing again because D.J. doesn't understand Wikipedia or definitions.
P.S. DON'T google pictures of comb overs. I gagged several times. It might be possible that his Dad doesn't part his hair quite as far over as the comb over pictures, but it's way too long and he'd look much younger if he cut his hair a good deal shorter. I'm nothing if not helpful.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
In case you wondered, this is a soapbox I'm standing on.
I'm about to rant and ramble so prepare yourself. I got really aggravated this week about an issue that I won't go
into a lot of detail about. But it brought up a question I have...why is it that as adults we are (by we I mean not me, lol) so afraid to stand up for a child, ANY child, because the adult might get into trouble, etc. Why are adults so willing to give another adult who is neglecting or abusing a child the "benefit of the doubt" because what IF the person isn't doing anything? I don't get it. Now, I understand that as a social worker, past DCS worker, past victim advocate, forensic interviewer and therapist of child victims of sexual abuse...I have a bit of an opinion on the matter. But, do you KNOW how many times I have met adults who KNEW, saw physical signs, heard graphic details of abuse of a child and didn't say a word because of some reason. Too many too count. It sickens me that anyone would question good faith reporting of possible child abuse or neglect. I won't even climb on my soap box about child sexual abuse and our lack of responsibility in protecting our children, my back is hurting too much to make the climb for that soap box right now.
I will ALWAYS err on the side of the caution and safety. DCS has criteria for reporting. Sometimes, you make a report and it gets screened out. Sometimes in my role as a social worker, I make a report and I get a letter that it was screened out. But, guess what? I did what I could do. I made an effort to protect a child because something seemed fishy. Off. My gut told me something might not be safe. My job right now is not to protect children, intervene, etc, but I have DCS for that. I know what a thankless job it is to be a DCS worker. I also know how much those workers care for children. How they lose sleep over cases. How they lose tears over cases. There are children I've worked with that I will always remember, as if it was yesterday.
I pray that if you ever suspect a child is being neglected or abused you will make that report. If the child isn't in imminent danger you can even make it ONLINE in the state of Tennessee. It's illegal for them to release your information to the parents, should they be investigated. Seriously, instead of worrying about what "IF" the parent didn't do anything "wrong" think about why that child is hungry, dirty, alone or scared. Do your part. Stand up for those who are too small to use their voice.
into a lot of detail about. But it brought up a question I have...why is it that as adults we are (by we I mean not me, lol) so afraid to stand up for a child, ANY child, because the adult might get into trouble, etc. Why are adults so willing to give another adult who is neglecting or abusing a child the "benefit of the doubt" because what IF the person isn't doing anything? I don't get it. Now, I understand that as a social worker, past DCS worker, past victim advocate, forensic interviewer and therapist of child victims of sexual abuse...I have a bit of an opinion on the matter. But, do you KNOW how many times I have met adults who KNEW, saw physical signs, heard graphic details of abuse of a child and didn't say a word because of some reason. Too many too count. It sickens me that anyone would question good faith reporting of possible child abuse or neglect. I won't even climb on my soap box about child sexual abuse and our lack of responsibility in protecting our children, my back is hurting too much to make the climb for that soap box right now.
I will ALWAYS err on the side of the caution and safety. DCS has criteria for reporting. Sometimes, you make a report and it gets screened out. Sometimes in my role as a social worker, I make a report and I get a letter that it was screened out. But, guess what? I did what I could do. I made an effort to protect a child because something seemed fishy. Off. My gut told me something might not be safe. My job right now is not to protect children, intervene, etc, but I have DCS for that. I know what a thankless job it is to be a DCS worker. I also know how much those workers care for children. How they lose sleep over cases. How they lose tears over cases. There are children I've worked with that I will always remember, as if it was yesterday.
I pray that if you ever suspect a child is being neglected or abused you will make that report. If the child isn't in imminent danger you can even make it ONLINE in the state of Tennessee. It's illegal for them to release your information to the parents, should they be investigated. Seriously, instead of worrying about what "IF" the parent didn't do anything "wrong" think about why that child is hungry, dirty, alone or scared. Do your part. Stand up for those who are too small to use their voice.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
What can you miss in a month?
I've been MIA and I've thought about blogging about a dozen times but things have been going on in the real world that have kept me from forcing myself to do it. Some of these things have been:
A bio-terrorism attack on my household. I'm only partially kidding. It started with, honestly I don't even remember. The most significant thing I can remember was the stomach bug, probably because I actually ended up with it. There was a sinus infection, D.J.'s migraines, but the stomach bug really started things off for me. It was rough and took me like 5 days to fully recover. Plus it made it's way through the entire house, except for Ada the Mae. But lucky her, she had a staph infection that required she take the nastiest smelling (and I presume tasting) antibiotic on earth. After we got over that a week or so went by and then D.J. got some weird virus that started with horrible aching back pain, followed by 3 days of a fever and then coughing. Next came Ada , then Harrison. Then we had a few days of a break and I thought we were in the clear. But my back has been aching since yesterday afternoon and today I'm in so much pain I could scream. It's not looking good.
We also had some renovations done to our house that have made me LOVE my house. I never thought I'd say that but I can envision what it will be like when I've cleaned out the rest of the rooms that I'm working on and how organized everything will be. It makes me giddy.
Finally...this is a recent development...we've been having some issues with H-man. He's been increasing his "No"'s and his back-talking but it's hit an all-time high over the last week. There's been all out apocalyptic tantrums in public, throwing things and yelling at me to leave the house and never come home. He has plans to pick out a bright and shiny new Mommy. It's been taxing to say the least.
Today I was thinking about how worried I was before Harrison was born about messing him up. I would trade that worry for the worry I have now in a heartbeat. I can stay up all hours feeding and changing babies, no problem. That's the easy stuff. Knowing how to parent my kid, how to teach him how to treat others, and that his behavior is wrong without permanently scarring him is throwing me for a loop. We're not big into spanking, but I've even tried a pop on the bottom for back-talk or name calling. No dice. The boy literally laughs in my face when I try to talk to him about making good choices and how we treat people. I feel defeated almost and pray for the strength to keep him from seeing that. Our new strategy is removal. He doesn't like to be left out, so if he can't behave or treat us nicely then he has to go to his room. All his toys were removed after a particularly bad tantrum a few days ago and he has to be good and earn 3 marbles a day to earn something back at the end of each day. The catch to that is that his toys are now all in the guest room and I have out-of-town guests coming in a few weeks. So if he's particularly bad then he gets a toy put in a garbage bag to be donated. He gets several warnings if he is approaching this punishment to give him a chance to right his behavior. I'm feeling less and less guilty each time, so far he's lost 4 toys. Only one was actually something big, the others little piddly things from the $1 bin or goody bags.
I miss blogging, it gives me a space to think about things, process. I'm going to make more of an effort to post.
A bio-terrorism attack on my household. I'm only partially kidding. It started with, honestly I don't even remember. The most significant thing I can remember was the stomach bug, probably because I actually ended up with it. There was a sinus infection, D.J.'s migraines, but the stomach bug really started things off for me. It was rough and took me like 5 days to fully recover. Plus it made it's way through the entire house, except for Ada the Mae. But lucky her, she had a staph infection that required she take the nastiest smelling (and I presume tasting) antibiotic on earth. After we got over that a week or so went by and then D.J. got some weird virus that started with horrible aching back pain, followed by 3 days of a fever and then coughing. Next came Ada , then Harrison. Then we had a few days of a break and I thought we were in the clear. But my back has been aching since yesterday afternoon and today I'm in so much pain I could scream. It's not looking good.
We also had some renovations done to our house that have made me LOVE my house. I never thought I'd say that but I can envision what it will be like when I've cleaned out the rest of the rooms that I'm working on and how organized everything will be. It makes me giddy.
Finally...this is a recent development...we've been having some issues with H-man. He's been increasing his "No"'s and his back-talking but it's hit an all-time high over the last week. There's been all out apocalyptic tantrums in public, throwing things and yelling at me to leave the house and never come home. He has plans to pick out a bright and shiny new Mommy. It's been taxing to say the least.
Today I was thinking about how worried I was before Harrison was born about messing him up. I would trade that worry for the worry I have now in a heartbeat. I can stay up all hours feeding and changing babies, no problem. That's the easy stuff. Knowing how to parent my kid, how to teach him how to treat others, and that his behavior is wrong without permanently scarring him is throwing me for a loop. We're not big into spanking, but I've even tried a pop on the bottom for back-talk or name calling. No dice. The boy literally laughs in my face when I try to talk to him about making good choices and how we treat people. I feel defeated almost and pray for the strength to keep him from seeing that. Our new strategy is removal. He doesn't like to be left out, so if he can't behave or treat us nicely then he has to go to his room. All his toys were removed after a particularly bad tantrum a few days ago and he has to be good and earn 3 marbles a day to earn something back at the end of each day. The catch to that is that his toys are now all in the guest room and I have out-of-town guests coming in a few weeks. So if he's particularly bad then he gets a toy put in a garbage bag to be donated. He gets several warnings if he is approaching this punishment to give him a chance to right his behavior. I'm feeling less and less guilty each time, so far he's lost 4 toys. Only one was actually something big, the others little piddly things from the $1 bin or goody bags.
I miss blogging, it gives me a space to think about things, process. I'm going to make more of an effort to post.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Updated: I gave up cussing for Lent and I'm rocking this shit.
Everyone around me is picking and choosing something of significance to them to give up for Lent. Last year I thought about doing it but was all...eh...about it. So I didn't. This year I thought I'd actually do something to better myself since that's been my #1 goal for this new year.
So I gave up cussing.
Want to know how many cuss words have come out of my mouth today? I can't even count them. They've been slipping out all over the place. Some have been very intentional and not so slippery.
My kids have been annoying the snot out of me, with the older one deciding to be as aggressive and defiant as possible and the younger one getting into everything.
Then I'm Facebook and I see someone selling used underwear and someone else inquiring about the "smell" and I completely went off course. But let's be honest, that deserved some cussing. If I had a penis, maybe I would consider purchasing some one-time-used undies. Maybe. But there is no way in Hell I am putting on someone else's panties, much less PAYING to do so. Maybe it was a joke and I missed it but if so those ladies might need a comedy class.
The whole not cussing thing really goes along with having a negative attitude. I seem to only cuss when I'm in a really negative nelly type of mood. Or if someone is cutting me off. Or selling used Vagina barriers on Facebook.
Updated: After writing this I discovered that the panty selling scheme was in response to another blog written by someone else that had upset some folks. It was indeed an attempt at a joke...I think...I'll be honest when I say that I don't really get what they were trying to accomplish and I won't comment on the whole situation just because that would take way too much time and energy and lots and lots of cuss words. Remember how I gave those up? If you are a member of the group then you'll know what I'm talking about, if not then well, you're not really missing much.
So I gave up cussing.
Want to know how many cuss words have come out of my mouth today? I can't even count them. They've been slipping out all over the place. Some have been very intentional and not so slippery.
My kids have been annoying the snot out of me, with the older one deciding to be as aggressive and defiant as possible and the younger one getting into everything.
Then I'm Facebook and I see someone selling used underwear and someone else inquiring about the "smell" and I completely went off course. But let's be honest, that deserved some cussing. If I had a penis, maybe I would consider purchasing some one-time-used undies. Maybe. But there is no way in Hell I am putting on someone else's panties, much less PAYING to do so. Maybe it was a joke and I missed it but if so those ladies might need a comedy class.
The whole not cussing thing really goes along with having a negative attitude. I seem to only cuss when I'm in a really negative nelly type of mood. Or if someone is cutting me off. Or selling used Vagina barriers on Facebook.
Updated: After writing this I discovered that the panty selling scheme was in response to another blog written by someone else that had upset some folks. It was indeed an attempt at a joke...I think...I'll be honest when I say that I don't really get what they were trying to accomplish and I won't comment on the whole situation just because that would take way too much time and energy and lots and lots of cuss words. Remember how I gave those up? If you are a member of the group then you'll know what I'm talking about, if not then well, you're not really missing much.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Will you be his Valentine?
Referring to H-man, but only joking. The other day when I was waiting at the doctor I was reading an article in Williamson Parent about puppy love and why it's important for your children. In Harrison's 4 years there have been a couple of young ladies that he has expressed interest in. I've always treated these declarations as true and real situations, never teasing or making light of them. I am pretty sure that D.J. thinks I'm crazy and that I should tell him that he's just a kid.
According to Williamson Parent I totally win this debate. I don't have all the ins and outs in front of me but the jest was that kids experience love just as anyone does. Teasing or making fun can really eff them up. That's a quote.
Throughout his relationships with girls, so far there has only been one that he really has gone full force with his pursuit. Miss Megan. She's a little older (not much) and he is all about her. He wanted to write her a love note, out of the blue, so I grabbed a paper, let him draw a picture and let him dictate the note for me.
D.J. was completely appalled that I would let him give a little girl a note that says he loves her, saying that it would make her uncomfortable. I sometimes wonder how the man ever reproduced.
But I thought it was cute, so I did it. Recently I learned about this other boy "Landon" that goes to school with her. She's told her mom that she wants to marry this boy. My heart sank a little when I heard this. My poor, sweet boy! Obviously I didn't expect them to get married, but this is the start of heartbreak. Thankfully he's none the wiser and Megan seems to not be all too annoyed by his crush so let's let sleeping dogs lie.
So when Harrison went with me to Publix on Friday and I asked him if there was anything he wanted to get Megan to go with the Valentine peep he's already bought, he picked out a hot pink stuffed monkey holding a heart that says "I love you". I paused for a second and then handed it to him for safe keeping. Originally he thought she'd really enjoy a Princess Bucket but wouldn't you know "the section" has had no freaking buckets for weeks and I'm not driving 20 minutes to Wally World for a princess bucket.
He has a plan that he wants me to find a box so we can wrap the monkey so she'll have to unwrap it and will be surprised. He also wanted me to tell Megan's mom what he got her but I have to be SURE that she knows NOT to tell Megan. It has to be a surprise. I totally forgot about telling Megan's mom but she'll probably read this so check.
My thoughts on all of this are that I have the most loving sweetest boy in the world. Most of the time (outside of donating new toys to needy children) he's very caring and always thinks of nice little things to do for people. He always asks to write thank-you notes when someone does something nice for him. I hope that he continues to be this way as he grows up. I know that he'll likely get his heart broken with this kind of personality, maybe more so than other little boys. But one day he'll find a great love that will enrich his life and all the heart break will be totally worth it. That's what I believe is in store....wayyy down the road for my boy....preferably someone who is going to allow me to snuggle with him well into adulthood but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
According to Williamson Parent I totally win this debate. I don't have all the ins and outs in front of me but the jest was that kids experience love just as anyone does. Teasing or making fun can really eff them up. That's a quote.
Throughout his relationships with girls, so far there has only been one that he really has gone full force with his pursuit. Miss Megan. She's a little older (not much) and he is all about her. He wanted to write her a love note, out of the blue, so I grabbed a paper, let him draw a picture and let him dictate the note for me.
D.J. was completely appalled that I would let him give a little girl a note that says he loves her, saying that it would make her uncomfortable. I sometimes wonder how the man ever reproduced.
But I thought it was cute, so I did it. Recently I learned about this other boy "Landon" that goes to school with her. She's told her mom that she wants to marry this boy. My heart sank a little when I heard this. My poor, sweet boy! Obviously I didn't expect them to get married, but this is the start of heartbreak. Thankfully he's none the wiser and Megan seems to not be all too annoyed by his crush so let's let sleeping dogs lie.
So when Harrison went with me to Publix on Friday and I asked him if there was anything he wanted to get Megan to go with the Valentine peep he's already bought, he picked out a hot pink stuffed monkey holding a heart that says "I love you". I paused for a second and then handed it to him for safe keeping. Originally he thought she'd really enjoy a Princess Bucket but wouldn't you know "the section" has had no freaking buckets for weeks and I'm not driving 20 minutes to Wally World for a princess bucket.
He has a plan that he wants me to find a box so we can wrap the monkey so she'll have to unwrap it and will be surprised. He also wanted me to tell Megan's mom what he got her but I have to be SURE that she knows NOT to tell Megan. It has to be a surprise. I totally forgot about telling Megan's mom but she'll probably read this so check.
My thoughts on all of this are that I have the most loving sweetest boy in the world. Most of the time (outside of donating new toys to needy children) he's very caring and always thinks of nice little things to do for people. He always asks to write thank-you notes when someone does something nice for him. I hope that he continues to be this way as he grows up. I know that he'll likely get his heart broken with this kind of personality, maybe more so than other little boys. But one day he'll find a great love that will enrich his life and all the heart break will be totally worth it. That's what I believe is in store....wayyy down the road for my boy....preferably someone who is going to allow me to snuggle with him well into adulthood but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I hate coming up with titles.
I hate having to think of a title for a post, especially one that is likely to include lots of rambling, nothing coherent and certainly nothing funny. Just having one of those moments where I think back and wish I had bitten my tongue and not said every single thing that popped into my head. I sometimes feel like the gossip bug has bitten me and the only way to avoid death is to let my mouth run amuck.
I hate gossip, well, not true. I like to hear gossip, it's awful, I know. But I don't like to speak it, don't misunderstand me to say that I don't gossip, that's not what I mean. I hate the way I feel after I've shared something that was none of my beeswax in the first place. I feel all icky-mean-girl-ish. (please not this does not apply to seeing random people and making fun of them with my sister or other partner in crime) My mom gossiped a lot. Having "the scoop" was the biggest deal in the world, I can remember her being almost giddy from such a scoop. Sadly, I myself have ran full of giggles to tell someone of something I had learned about someone else. I mean, literally ran. During my hair appointment for my step-sister's wedding I found out that this big "diamond" ring my mom had been bragging about was a CZ that she purchased herself. I ran through the house when I got back into my mom's room where my sister was getting ready to tell her the news. My loud voice was louder than usual as I spilled the beans and we all laughed, until I saw my step-father sitting in a chair in the corner. Size 10 foot into mouth.
Since then I have tried to keep my mouth shut, some times I am actually successful, others not so much. But at least I feel like crap afterward. That's a step in the right direction. And at least I'm being honest about it. Maybe that gives me some non-bitchy points too. But I'm trying so hard and I'll just have to keep at it. It's hard to shake that old track playing in my mind that if I share something juicy that's what makes your friends like you. If that were true, I'm sure I wouldn't feel like such a jerk. Oh well, breathe in, breathe out and move on sister.
I hate gossip, well, not true. I like to hear gossip, it's awful, I know. But I don't like to speak it, don't misunderstand me to say that I don't gossip, that's not what I mean. I hate the way I feel after I've shared something that was none of my beeswax in the first place. I feel all icky-mean-girl-ish. (please not this does not apply to seeing random people and making fun of them with my sister or other partner in crime) My mom gossiped a lot. Having "the scoop" was the biggest deal in the world, I can remember her being almost giddy from such a scoop. Sadly, I myself have ran full of giggles to tell someone of something I had learned about someone else. I mean, literally ran. During my hair appointment for my step-sister's wedding I found out that this big "diamond" ring my mom had been bragging about was a CZ that she purchased herself. I ran through the house when I got back into my mom's room where my sister was getting ready to tell her the news. My loud voice was louder than usual as I spilled the beans and we all laughed, until I saw my step-father sitting in a chair in the corner. Size 10 foot into mouth.
Since then I have tried to keep my mouth shut, some times I am actually successful, others not so much. But at least I feel like crap afterward. That's a step in the right direction. And at least I'm being honest about it. Maybe that gives me some non-bitchy points too. But I'm trying so hard and I'll just have to keep at it. It's hard to shake that old track playing in my mind that if I share something juicy that's what makes your friends like you. If that were true, I'm sure I wouldn't feel like such a jerk. Oh well, breathe in, breathe out and move on sister.
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