Wednesday, January 31, 2007


There is this message board that I used to frequent that I have since given up on over the last year. The reasons are pretty simple, its full of angry, simpering people with issues and axes to grind. It got out of control years ago, but I stayed, thinking that at some point it might get better. It didn’t, and I bounced. These days I try not to associate myself with things that intentionally irritate, rile or piss me off. The folks on there are welcomed to stay, for my purposes though, its just too damn negative. That’s really not the point of this post, but I do have to give some sort of set up to the story.

In a weak moment a few days ago I decided to skim this den of debauchery and anger, you know wondering if some of my old buddies might be lurking. In fact, the boyfriend’s cousin is on from time to time, and we don’t nearly get a chance to talk enough for my taste. He always has a thought provoking thread or two, and that I really like. Anyway, I came across this posting from a guy that I have only met once in person, but as with message boards, I know more about him than I probably should. He is also a blogger and sometimes I will read what he has to say. He has quite a following from what I gather. In any event, something set him off and he was ranting about women and their body issues. How when we question what we look like or we dont strut around like we rule the place men dont find us sexy, they find us pathetic. The jist of the thing was how what men find sexy is confidence.

I don’t personally have any issues with that assessment, sure confidence is sexy, but I don’t really think men know what real confidence is. I think they believe that the puffed up sex vamp behavior that is clearly a put on is really female confidence. You know, the girl you see wearing her club tops to work with meat squishing everywhere trying desperately to walk like her feet aren’t in two stiletto vices? Yep, her. The one alluding to sex in every convo, the one flirting with every man in the area, or better yet the one tossing her hair and bouncing around like a stripper pole is going to magically spring forth from the ground. Yep, that’s their idea of confidence.

Some of us figured that act out back in 9th grade after a few mini skirts and low cut tops got the guys drooling, but really is that confident or just good acting? I don’t really know any women who go through all that bullshit for themselves. The point he was trying to make is that when we are all just wandering around taking care of business in our homes and families or are concerned that perhaps we have put on a few pounds or desire a new hair style, we are at our lowest level of confidence. That switching and tossing is when we are in command. To him I say in the kindest way I know how, “Go fuck yourself”.

I don’t want to get into this guys illustrious former career in the porn industry, or the fact that his fiancĂ© knows nothing about it and I wont even bother going into how some of that feeds into women’s feelings of not measuring up. I don’t hate porn, but I wont pretend that it doesn’t warp a lot of men’s ideas about women and healthy sexual behavior. I will however address the fact that men are idiots. I don’t know why this continues to boil up every time a woman doesn’t feel good in her skin, but let me tell you we ALL have issues with our self esteem, (ahem penis size) and it goes a lot deeper than confident=sexy.

Back in the days, when I was young and naive, I too thought that if I just whored it up a bit that people would see me as strong and confident. I got a ton of attention, but what I never got for it was self esteem or respect. When I see girls and grown women playing Jessica Rabbit now, the whole scene just reeks of insecurity. I wonder what must she think is so painful and damaging about the real her that she needs to cover it in an obvious disguise? I didnt feel good that way, and I cant imagine that they do either though of course you tell yourself otherwise.

My friend themakeupgirl and I had a discussion about this in regard to Mariah Carey and her choice of outfits. I love Mariah and I am a die hard stan, however when I look at her, I see pain and confusion. We agreed that at a certian age you should have acquired life tools that show you how to be sexy without being naked. She would still be fabulous without all the T&A if she just knew how. She could be very confident in her voice and her writing, but those outfits clearly dont give that impression.

I am confident in my work life, I am confident when I am taking care of my son. I am confident in a pair of jeans or fixing a doorknob. I am probably more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have been and yet if I am not playing Vicky Vamp for a man then I am suddenly not confident. I don’t want to launch into a tirade about it because I am just not sure it even warrants one. I like getting dressed up, I like being cute, but whether or not I am confident shouldn’t be contingent upon my style of dress or my seductive (or lack thereof) behavior. Does anyone else think this is just plain crazy?

I have heard that argument in regard to what is sexy a thousand times. I just know that they aren’t the same thing and I am tired of trying to explain that to men who think the way to confidence is with your face down and your ass up. Women have a lot to contend with, from images, to messages, marginalization and degradation. It occurs every day. We are discounted in our homes, on our jobs, out in the street and then we are supposed to look at ourselves and go, I sure am confident and that means I am sexy.

Men just need to call a spade a spade. If what you mean to say is that a woman who has no inhibitions or doesn’t seem to care that she is either half naked, being ogled, or is being thought of as less than a person because her ass is hanging out then just say you like that. But don’t get it all twisted up with confidence because that is a totally different issue altogether. Real confidence comes from inside and isnt wrapped up in a frilly package all the time, and sometimes its just being you, and loving that you, and yes that is sexy.

As long as we love who we are without pretense or judgement then confidence is there. All the extras are just that...extra. I may wear heels when I feel like it, and I may not always like what I see in the full length mirror, and maybe sometimes I think my comfy jeans and my favorite t-shirt are the sexiest thing I can wear, but I dont lack confidence in fact I am plenty confident, what I am not is an actress.

Friday, January 19, 2007

5 Things You Dont Know About Me...Avinsday Version

So I got tagged to do 5 things you don’t know about me over at 99 Products, but then I realized that I have a totally different audience here than I do over there and thus a totally different set of things that you guys don’t know about me. Its weird I know, but I also wanted to tag a few folks that don’t read 99 Products such as Bmoresthoughts, Glib Girl, Charcoal Ink, Thedj'swife and 44 Black. Yes I am talking to you guys so get to it.

1. I have always wanted to be different so my hair has been every color under the sun and I used to do things just to mess with peoples minds. Up until I turned 28 I had a tongue ring, a nose ring and several tattoos. I am such a tattoo nut that I used to be a part of a body modification online community. I still have the tattoos and the nose ring (worn infrequently) but the tongue ring had to go. I am still secretly a huge admirer of large interesting tattoos.

2. My 13 year old son is two full inches taller than I am even though he was born 3 months premature. His birth weight was 2lbs 8oz and he was on oxygen and an apnea monitor for the first year of his life, now he is taller than most of the kids in his school.

3. My favorite song in the world is "Let the Beat Hit Em" by Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam. That song has to be almost 20 years old now and every time it comes on I want to get up and dance. You could call it my theme song.

4. I know bits and pieces of a few foreign languages, Spanish being the strongest of them. I actually understand and speak Spanish well enough to get buy but the others are more like "where is the bathroom" in Italian or the numbers from 1-10 in Hebrew. I also understand and speak a little Greek and I am dying to try it out on a trip to the Mediterranean.

5. Almost all of my ex-boyfriends have received a "Dear John" email as their break up notification. Its not cause I am rude, its just because I am so much better on paper. Okay maybe its cause I am rude, but frankly at the point we are parting ways I am really not all that interested in how its done or how you take it. Emails are fast, effective and don’t have that whole messy conversation element to them.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Stop Snitchin

Why is there always one office snitch? You know the one. The one girl who is always listening to your conversation, or the guy who claims not to like several people in the office and then you see them chatting out in the hall. Well every office has one. Call them the big mouth, call them the gossip, I just call em, office snitch.

There is one particular person in my office who stays dry snitchin every day. How do I know? Well this particular snitch is always minding everyones business other than their own. They are quick to say what you have been doing all day but you cant even figure out what they been up to. They are always sneeking looks at your damn computer screen, or listening in on your phone conversations. My snitch always smiles just as I catch them ear hustling its very unnerving.

Today the snitch was actually hold up behind closed doors with a person that the snitch has on MANY occasions said they cannot stand. They have spent countless hours complaining about said individual, but thats not really important because the snitch hates EVERYONE. Or at least they think that no one is working as hard as they are. Then you see them pop up talking to the higher ups, or kissing butt. Its not like the higher ups dont know that who the office snitch is, but I guess they have to entertain all that nonsense just to be fair.

After commiserating with the one person they talk the most shit about, the snitch quickly switched gears and started bitching about someone else with them standing not 20 feet away. That's a pretty damn bold move, I mean what if the person overheard them? Where I come from, that shit will get you hurt or beat down in the parking lot after dark. I couldnt figure out if the snitch was out to gather more information on the person or to find out more alleged dirt about others. Anyway it was unsettling, and I started thinking about that whole ghetto nonsense with the "Stop Snitchin" T-shirts which is nothing like this but did make me giggle just a little. What if I printed up a whole mess of those shirts with the big red stop sign except they looked like this:

So what do you think? You could customize your company in the blank. I wonder if the office snitch would wear one? Probably just wait to see who wears it and run and tell the boss.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Fashion Missteps at The Golden Globes

Some folks just need a come to Jesus meeting when it comes time for an awards show. Time and time again there are folks who just cant get it right and then there are folks who usually get it right and then forget to make that oh so important left turn at Albuquerque. I lot of folks got it right this year but let me just point out a few that didnt.

Take for instance Cameron Diaz. I know one thing she wont be bringing back this year...Justin.
She looks like she got attacked by a disgruntled costume designer for Gone With the Wind. There are more ruffles on that thing than at southern cotillion...and get some bronzer already for the love of Mike!

I love me some Meryl Streep...however she was looking extra frumpy last night. Exhibit A clearly shows her wearing a large sack with some twine wrapped around it. As for her makeup, she needs to get the makeup team from The Devil Wears Prada on retainer, cause the patch and spackle job they did for her on that film was flawless.

Then there is Vanessa Williams who Dia lovingly referred to as The Cowardly Lion. I don’t know, it looks like she got a hold of one of Beyonce's old "Work it Out" wigs to me. Lets not even discuss that fur. I mean honestly she is beautiful and all that extra hair and fur are just doing way too much.

Speaking of Beyonce, homegirl's homage to Flavor of Love was just disturbing. By the way chica you can lay off the grease, you are going to the Golden Globes not the Golden Gloves. There is just no reason to be that shiny and slippery looking. themakeupgirl wanted to smack her, but I told her all that grease would just make her slide off.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Monday Ignorance Televised

I don’t know that I love NY, but this show is some comedy. As a full fledged reality TV addict, I am excited to see what happens on this show full of rejects. From what I’ve seen so far its full of rejects. The show started last night but I had been taking peeks at the previews for a month, and let me tell you it’s a hot ass mess. New York looks like a drag queen, and her mother…all I can say is wow. Whoever decided to name this broad Sister Patterson was truly off the mark, aint a damn thing church going about her.

99.5% of the dudes on this show are gay or DL and if they aint gay they are just bammas and cornballs. The best thing on that show is Chamo, who is NY’s stylist and perrrrr-sonAL assistant. I am hoping he is going to get lucky on this show, I mean why not bet on a horse that has a chance of actually winning. No pun intended on the horse/NY weave situation. Anyway, I actually lost brain cells watching that trash, but sometimes its good to remind yourself that life isn’t that serious.

Then as if I couldn’t kill anymore of my brain in an evening, I watched The White Rapper Show. Yes, yes I know don’t start. I don’t expect it to be any less ignorant than ILNY. I don’t care, go write to Jessie if you are mad about it. I don’t even know what to make of this show other than to say that it was pure comedy. The personalities are just insane, its like watching Making the Band all over again except Chopper is screaming “Ghetto Revival” every three minutes instead of “C-H-O-P-P….” anyway you understand its just as annoying. I understand brand marketing but damn, if you don’t know what you are talking about, then neither does anyone else.

There were/are some promising folks on there…none of the women mind you. Persia isn’t terrible but she can’t take down anyone but the other women and that King of the Burbs idiot. Who coincidentally bitched up the second Persia started in on him, which is never a good sign. I am positive there will be more fights but I hope Persia leaves her “sidekick” in her luggage next time.

Neither of the other two girls have it in them to stick around…and looks like next week the British girl (who couldn’t rap her way out of a hefty bag) is gonna start screwing one of the contestants. Damn, can yall be in the house 5 min? There was a twist ending that I didn’t see coming which kind of made me wonder about what the hell Search and Ego-Trip are doing with these delinquents but never mind the point is not to make sense, its to entertain and I am wholly entertained. I cant promise I will do a review of this chicanery but I might check in from time to time when it gets interesting or there is another fight….shit I might be doing a review of this thing after all.

100% USDA Grade A Bitch

So my stepbrother darkened our damn doorstep last night. I don’t know why he even bothers to visit. He is the phoniest bastard on the planet with all his "heeeyyy Avin" and shit. I think he only continues to do that cause I seem to be the only one in the family not completely snowjobed by his fake ass ways. I don’t fuck with him, I don’t talk to him, and I don’t have to. Basically, he is a con artist. Always has been from the time he was young, and even though we weren’t really young together, (there is a decent 10 year age gap) nor did we grow up in the same household, I have always known that he wasn’t about shit.

At 20 he came to live with us and proceeded to treat our house like his own personal Playboy mansion. I would come off the bus to him hustlin some bitch with a bad weave out of the house or trying to clean up the Jacuzzi area or just basically acting a monkey. I didn’t tell on his ass most times, even when I caught him and Fonceilia (yes you read that right) in his room. I was like 10 so what the fuck did I really care?

Then shit started going missing around the house. Little shit like alarm clocks and irons then it started being big shit like checkbooks and drivers licenses and jewelry. I came home one day to a knock down drag out fight between he and dad and he didn’t return after that.

Then the bounced checks started rolling in, and they informed us that he had been picked up for passing bad checks with some dude using my dad's checkbook and ID. That was his first trip to the clink. He got out, took up with some new girl with an equally stupid name and proceeded to hand out invitations to his wedding at his sister's (not me) wedding reception! Him and Kikoko or Misono or whatever the fuck her name was were being mad ignorant with it too, not that handing out invites at a reception isn’t ignorant already.

Then he and Mykiko or whatever, split up and we get a call that he is back at the "gated community" for credit card fraud. Anyway from there it was just a string of shit, gambling debts and jail, stealing from his mother and jail, robbing someone on the street for their company bank deposit and jail of course. That time the cops came banging on our door and who should they get but me. I don’t know jack about my stepbrother other than he is a thief and a con, so all that D.O.B, current address, height and weight shit was lost on me. I gave them my dad's number at work and went back to bed (fuckin 7 am and I worked nights) I didn’t have time for that shit. Then he lost his mind and did the ultimate, this fool robbed a damn bank. Why they didn’t set the jail on top of him and throw out the key is beyond my comprehension, but he got somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 years, I think he only served 5. Fucking bootleg justice system.

So he reappeared from his "stay" and everyone started acting like he was all good again. I of course know better, but you know all that debt paying and shit had them confused. My dad let him stay with us AGAIN. This was during that year where my ex-husband was in Korea, and I worked at a job that paid me cash. I let them know early that if one dollar was missing out of my money that I would call the cops before he could finish saying his new girlfriend's name.

Anyway, he came and went without incident and managed to take up with this 19 year old girl and get her pregnant almost immediately. Poor thing, I shudder to think about that poor little girl and her mother sometimes. So he got a job working for his mother AGAIN, because he is too good to do work that doesn’t require him to wear a suit and tie everyday (non degree havin asshole) and his mommy is rich. She pays for his car and his apartment and his child support and he uses his paycheck to gamble and impress stupid women.

So I didn’t hear much about or from him for a long time, till he showed up unannounced at the house one day and managed to find a way to finally try and con me out of my cash. He parked his shit can vehicle right up under the spare tire on my Rav4 and I didn’t realize how close he was as I was leaving. I "TAPPED" his car producing zero damage. This is where I fucked up. I told him I tapped the car. Con artist must have seen dollar signs and started immediately bitching about how his hood was damaged.

Now, the car was a joke to begin with, so I don’t even know how he managed to pull that off with my dad, but some how he did! He convinced dad that it would cost $800 to fix his hood from the damage I supposedly caused. Dad wrote the body shop a check and proceeded to ask me to refund his money. My mother actually wound up paying it which had I known she was going to do, I would have begged her not to. I couldn’t afford to pay that clown $800 for a non existent scratch. Well, I coulda gave him $20 a month for 3 years but didn’t even see how that was fair.

6 months later we are going to his grandmother's funeral, and Con-job is following us when I notice something interesting. There hasn’t been any body work done to his shit can car. Not one bit. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get that money from the body shop dad wrote the check out to. I wouldn’t have been so mad about it, but that fool was planning on robbing me like that and instead robbed my mother! I pointed that shit out too. I wanted everyone to know they had been had yet again.

So another year or so passes and that bitch shows up at the house with his new flavor of the week woman. Yet another attempt to impress a bitch with shit you don’t own, but never mind all that. This asshole actually has the balls to bring up the car incident and talk about how I destroyed the hood of his car. Yall can already guess how this went cant you?

I lost my fucking mind. Seriously, if I coulda fought him I would have right there but instead I commenced to cussing his ass out and rolling out every last one of his con jobs, arrests and misdeeds in front of Quintessha or whoever. I let loose on his ass and I cant even tell you how many bitches and motherfuckers he was that night. I think he really believed he had gotten away with it and no one knew. I set his ass straight on that shit, and I let him know then that he might be able to fool everyone else, but I knew he was a bitch and a thief from way back and he would never get another fucking dime out of me or my mother, trust and believe. I even added for good measure that he should go cry to mommy about how mean I was to him, maybe she would pay an extra month of his rent at 35 years old. I know, cruel but necessary.

After that I washed my hands of him. I don’t engage in conversation with him, I don’t have need to be in the same room with him, and I damn sure don’t give a fuck about nothing that happens with or to him. We are done, and I am good on him forever. Oh yeah I think that was the visit he stole more checks from my father and had his account bouncing again to the tune of $2000. If I had to bet I would say something was missing from the house on last nights visit too, but I cant call it. They wanna keep pretending he isn’t a thief or a liar, then that’s on them, but he has no more times to mess with me. None.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Black Folks And Weight Loss

I don’t know what it is about trying to lose weight in a black family but it is far from easy to do. I wont say all, because I have a bunch of girlfriends who’s families constantly pressure them to slim down, but for a lot of us changing the way you live isn’t the biggest hurdle its overcoming the influence of your family.

I had an incident this weekend where I immediately became the “diet villain” when I had a hypoglycemic attack. I am hypoglycemic, so I am well aware that I need to eat with more frequency than the average person, but this time it wasn’t my fault. This time I was attempting to help someone put together a massive Sleep Number bed and had mentioned not once but twice that it was time for me to stop and get something to eat. I was ignored. They just kept right on working while I became increasingly sick. I finally just deserted them and went downstairs for some juice (against my damn diet plan) and a glucose tablet. Suddenly I am a jackass for letting it get that far.

Granted I could have left them when I first mentioned I was hungry and fading, but I figured that since they all harp on me about eating constantly, they would understand that I wasn’t just being greedy and I needed to eat. Nope, no one got it. So while I am sitting at the foot of the stairs, sweating profusely and feeling dizzy, I hear them (them being my mother, my father and “the boyfriend”) talking about how irresponsible I am about my own health.

Now for my mother this has everything to do with what this diet allows you to eat. She basically doesn’t believe in this whole cutting out carbs bit, so to her my diet is just stupid and dangerous. Granted, it might be both of those things if I didn’t eat other things to keep me energetic and full, but to say its cause I am not eating carbs is just crazy.

For “the boyfriend” its about losing my figure. The figure I cant stand mind you. The one where I huff and puff and squeeze myself into jeans that should fit, or skirts that used to fit. Everyone knows that black men like curves, and I am not talking about doing away with my curves, but basically so what if want to lose weight? I don’t like being thick and uncomfortable if I can be thin and happy. I know this sounds rude but really, its not about him or his preference about my body.

When we met I was a 4 and he was liking it just fine, now suddenly I am not right unless I am a damn 12? Get the fuck outta here with that. Seems like he can go to the gym every night and beat himself into a new size but if I do it I am suddenly Nicole Ritchie and attempting to starve myself. The thing that really upsets me about that is that at some point thick becomes fat, and the whole conversation might turn into how I have managed to let myself go which I have heard men say about women numerous times.

So I was then forced and by forced I mean brow beaten into eating a bowl of beans and rice, also not on the aforementioned diet plan which made me angrier than I have been in a long ass time since what I asked for was an apple and some of the left over chicken in the fridge to get my blood sugar level elevated. Then I was made to feel like a jackass again for not promising to quit the diet altogether.

This my friends is no isolated incident. Every attempt I have ever made to lose weight has been met with distain and ridicule. I have been chastised for not putting sour cream on a potato. I have been yelled at for not wanting fried chicken in favor of baked, I have gotten rolling eyes and shaking heads when I say I am going to go run. I have even been given excuses why I shouldn’t exercise and trust me they are all stupid and just plain crazy so I won’t mention what was said about it. I have also had immediate family tell me that I am “not supposed to look like that anyway” that I guess being thin.

This isn’t just my mother, this is aunts and uncles and grandmothers and family friends who all think the minute you embark on a diet you are turning your back on your blackness. Suddenly being curvy isn’t good enough, or you are making some sort of statement about their health. I am doing neither, I just want to be happy in my clothing.

My mother constantly complains about her size, yet she isn’t going to do a damn thing to change it. She wont change her diet, she wont work out and she just expects it to magically fall off. When I take a proactive approach however, I am being stupid or irresponsible.

Its not just me either, one of my best girlfriends catches shit every time she gets back on the wagon, yet they have no problem patting her on the hips and asking what she has been eating. Another friend has a totally unsupportive husband who actually mocks and belittles her diet, even doing things such as bringing fatty foods home to eat in her face. I am sure they have all been told how dumb they are too. I just wish folks understood that wanting to look good isn’t stupid and having the guts to do something about it is far from irresponsible. I don’t know why dieting is such an affront to your family members if you are black?

So for all parties involved (who don’t read this damn thing anyway since it also falls under the stupid and crazy catagory) and who think that its stupid for me to want to lose weight or I don’t know how to help myself. I want you to know that I am just fine and I am going to continue my diet. I have managed to live on this earth for 30 years without doing myself any real harm and I will continue to live the way I see fit. I don’t need any of your nagging, neck wagging, eye rolling or snide comments thank you, and I don’t give a flying fuck why you think its important to chastise me about it. Worry about your own damn lives and let me live mine and stop trying to screw with my happiness. I was black before I started this diet, and I will still be black long after, and its time for you all to grow up. Go listen to Fiona Apple’s song Extraordinary Machine, and maybe you will figure out that I am not quite as helpless as you all wish I was.

Friday, January 05, 2007

R-E-S-P-E-C-T What The Hell Does That Mean For Me??

I swear there is no justice in this world. I've been slowly realizing that lately. I mean, I always knew shit was generally fucked up but recent developments have made that reality glaringly clear.

Ever since I moved home I have been realizing just how spoiled my son is when he is here. Beyond all the video game BS and the fridge stocked with all sorts of teen goodies, and his ability to pretty much come and go through the neighborhood at will, there is the issue of his damn room. Now the room is always a mess, but that’s a teenager thing, not a spoiled kid thing. What I speak of in terms of his room is his ability to basically hold up in there like Osama.

I get home from work about 6:30 every night and I never have to wonder where he is cause his ass is in his room. Door locked, chillin. Not doing homework, not interacting with his grandparents, just chillin in his damn room doing god knows what. Now 90% of that time is spent watching the damn cartoon network. This I know because he can recite every show that was on and discuss at length what went on in these shows, but that’s not the fucking point. The point is basically that he has been afforded a level of privacy that I am just not able to attain.

A 13 year old! I mean it boggles the mind. My mother NEVER goes in his room, she just calls for him at the foot of the stairs and he either comes down...or doesn’t. Now that in and of itself infuriates me because when I was his age if my mother called me I better haul my yellow ass downstairs in a fuckin hurry. See my mother is old school in the way that if she decides that she needs you, and she decides to either whisper it, yell it or even think it, you best get your ass to her attention. This old-school attitude however has not translated to my son. This lil bamma can do just about anything he feels, and if she calls him, its merely a suggestion and not an order.

This of course totally undermines my authority and if I happen to call him or mean business then I am being harsh. In addition, while his room is completely off limits mine seems to sustain more foot traffic than Grand Central Station. Every night I come home someone has been all up in my room, just touching shit. Shit is moved, or missing or askew every fucking day of my natural life. EVERYDAY. Its ri-gotdamn-diculous! Now I am not a neat freak, and I understand that this is her home, but for all intents and purposes, the room I sleep in should be my damn room. Free of foot traffic and prying eyes and touching hands.

For instance, every day I come home this damn chair is back in front of my TV. All my lil beauty products have been moved about, and lets not even get into the closets. My closet is forever being re-arranged by someone who aint me. Then there is this god awful lamp, whose purpose I have yet to decipher. Its just there, and though I managed to shove it into a corner, it always winds up somewhere in the middle of the damn floor or blocking access to my dresser. Shit is just fucked up consistently. There is no "I had to go in your room for xyz" there is no warning, just total access all day every day.

I am one of those folks who knows what they touched and when, so when I get home and all my shit is fucked up or moved around yet again I know it sure as fuck wasn’t me that did it. Not to mention that the Comcast idiots, in an attempt to remedy our internet issues, went and put the damn router in my room. They did finally move it, but not before they rifled through all my shit and unplugged my damn Tivo. I swear there is nothing sacred, private or off limits about my damn life.

It wouldn’t be so damn bad if I could find my shit once its been moved. That shit to me is insane. I put things in places that work for me not for visitors. If my bills are on the desk then I want them right there on the desk, not in a shoebox on the floor under my bed. Yet the boy has dishes, glasses, phones, a computer with internet and a locked door that is treated like the quarantine ward at the hospital.

But when I speak up or try to correct it I am wrong. Its hard as fuck trying to keep peace in this place, cause my issues with him turn into fights with his grandparents who seem to think their darling little cherub can do no wrong. I mean am I so wrong for wanting my own privacy and trying to get my son to spend less time hold up in his room? Half the time living here is like prison with better food. I get chastised for not eating the prepared meal and wanting to (heaven forbid) buy my own damn meal. I get shit on for wanting to actually leave the house one day out of the weekend to see "the boyfriend" and I have to report my comings and goings like I am on fucking work release. Someone explain it to me, cause I don’t get it. I thought I was afforded some type of respect at this age but I guess that just doesn’t happen when your ass moves home.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

The Return of No White Stuff

Okay so the new year is here and I am going back on my Oprah Bootcamp No White Stuff diet. For those that don't know, I decided to do this during the summer with great results. I lost 20lbs even though I wasn't able to keep up with the rigorous workouts. There are 8 in a week and though my math sucks, I am smart enough to know that means I have to work out twice in a day. I have enough trouble trying to work out every day of the week.

Anyway it works, but its not partcularly fun, but I have a decent amount to time to get down to my fighting weight and I am more aware of the pitfalls, cravings and hallucinations. Sugar deprivation is by far the worst so I need to have enough snacks on hand to combat my cravings.

I also need to eat enough food to make it from one meal to the next. Lots of different fruit helps and so does water. Also, making sure that you aren't stuck eating something you know you shouldn't when you are starving is important too. That's how you wind up drinking lemonade or eating a can of beefaroni instead of a salad or veggies.

So I of course will be charting my progress here along with thedjswife and Dia who are also back on board. Themakeupgirl is also joining in with a slight modification to her plan that includes some whole wheat. I am anxious to see how the next month turns out so wish us luck!

I also meant to mention that if any of my fellow bloggers or readers want to join in I will send you all the information and I will add you to the group. The more the merrier I say!