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The Things We Wait For

November 1, 2012 15 comments

Every semester for the last two years I’ve printed the 1L xxxx School of Law course schedule and kept it tucked inside a notebook hidden in my purse. I’ve been carrying it around as if the schedule were my own, praying that one day it would be.

In a life which I’ve devoted the better part of to raising a family, my hopes to pursue a law degree has been a secret desire buried twenty years beneath the daily conundrum of kids’ science projects, football practices, mortgage payments, the ups and downs of my husband’s business, and my own nine to five job. When you spend that much time folding laundry and refereeing sibling rivalry attempting law school seems more like a pipe dream and less than a reality. Perhaps even more restrictive of this law school fantasy of mine was that bachelor’s degree I lacked but required if my aspirations were to become anything more than an unsettled yearning in my chest. Read more…

It’s Almost G Day Folks!!

I contemplated long and hard about writing this post. I wasn’t sure if I should be embarrassed…or proud.

I think people tend to be their own worst critics. Course, I don’t believe that about everyone. Browsing through my husband’s Facebook newsfeed, you might actually think otherwise. There’s definitely a good amount of tooting-your-own-horn going on over there. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a Facebook account. Heck if anyone wants to read snarky comments about my life every ten minutes on his or her feed. A few hours of that and I imagine people would start blocking me.

Truthfully, I always feel uncomfortable accepting compliments or praise and it’s a rare occasion I’m not kicking myself for something I wish I did better. It’s a little tiring really, flogging myself all the time. Read more…

The Problem With Desire

October 9, 2011 9 comments

It’s a hard thing to want something, and I mean really want something, with all of your heart, and every bit of your being.  So much so you can barely contain the elation in your voice when you talk about it, nor the flutter in your belly attesting to both extremes of excitement and apprehension. You find yourself struggling to keep the knot in your throat from rising just thinking about it, dreaming on it.

Yup, desire can do that to you.

Twenty years  of secretly coveting something for myself; almost a decade’s worth of semesters staggered between raising kids, juggling bills, and the daily grind of nine-to-five; and all the nights spent studying eight hours in one sitting until I was ready to poke my eyes out – I’m finally that much closer to my ultimate goal. But it’s the 11th hour and I find myself questioning everything that got me here, all of my efforts, every what-if and why-didn’t-I, and the actual probability of crossing the finish line at all. Read more…

The Price We Pay

I was recently invited to write a piece for The Write On Project, a fabulous blogging community featuring some really great writers. I’m quite humbled and flattered they extended me an invitation. The suggested topic of the post was guilt. My post is scheduled to post on their site tomorrow morning, but titled as “This Girl’s Road to Redemption”. On my site I prefer the title “The Price We Pay”. I hope you all enjoy it. I wonder if some of you might even relate, especially those of you I grew up with. Here’s to all the other “survivors of our era”.

The dictionary defines guilt as “a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, or wrong, whether real or imagined.” Real or imagined, that sounds about right. Might even be more accurate, at least helpful, if they added a footnote, “Warning: Duration of guilt known to last several years. Atonement not guaranteed.” Now that’s the kind of guilt I know. Come to think of it, I didn’t know there was another kind. Read more…

Are My Children Mentally Deranged?

January 16, 2011 9 comments

Here’s a scene from dinner a few months ago, not quite sure what to make of it.

Mom: Where’s Taylor?

Rodney Jr.: In her room.

Kayla: She’s still trying to get out.

Mom: Of what???

Rodney (nonchalantly): We tied her up. Read more…

Sorry, It’s Just Not Your Lucky Day

December 23, 2010 11 comments

The current economic crisis has left few unscathed, myself included. My husband’s business is rather slow to say the least, but I’m thankful we continue to stay in the black, as opposed to many of our counterparts who aren’t even in the game anymore.

We’re fortunate that I have a great job, receive a pretty adoption stipend, and that I know how to budget up the wazoo. It’s never easy to feed a family of six, all of them hearty eaters, but we make it work. Determination is always a plus.

Sure, we’re lucky enough to manage but every now and then, like when a car unexpectedly needs work done or your son comes home with a lacrosse registration demanding $500 payment, it’s a challenge not to scream, or beat somebody up, or incite some other grand measure of self destruction to express my frustration or mask my desperation. Read more…

Definitely not a Prince Charming

December 3, 2010 9 comments

This morning, as we waited to drive around the gi-normous moving truck hindering a quarter of the block, we watched a new family move their things into our old neighbors’ house.

“What happened,” my husband asked, “where’d they go?”

“They got divorced this past summer,” I reminded him, “she took the boys and moved to Wyoming, he went to Florida.”

“Divorce, huh? Hhmmm.”

My son, who was best friends with one of their sons, sat in the back seat and fiddled with his backpack. We all shared an awkward and unplanned moment of silence for another marriage that’s dissolved into that ever growing group of “tried but just couldn’t make it work” couples.

Believe me, I’m not judging. God knows I’ve been there. I have an ex -husband. I’ve been a single parent before and it’s exhausting, physically and mentally. I’ve even separated from my current husband a few times over the last decade and a half. Marriage is trying, but being divorced has its own demons, too.

I can’t imagine, nor do I want to, starting a new life alone after it feels like you already spent twenty years building it with someone else. I know this happens all the time, it’s a fact of life, and I do believe people deserve to be happy, even if that means you need to be alone, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me telling you the idea of divorce still makes me sad.

My marriage is far from perfect, in fact, at the stage we’re in now, some might even call us unconventional. I’ll refrain from providing details, and no, not because it’s too terrible for print. Lets just say we’re not as close as we used to be.

After a decade of cinematic worthy drama; recovering from the stupidity of our early twenties, sustaining the overwhelming process of starting a business together, praying through the scary times, screaming and throwing things through the worst, it never occurred to me that marriage not only has to learn to survive drama, it also has to withstand things that seem as menial as boredom! Good God, who knew?! I sure didn’t.

Most of the marriages I’ve watched while growing up, including my parents’, either ended in divorce or carry on only to live out a nasty cycle of self destruction. Suffice to say, I didn’t have the best models of relationships to learn from. In fact, I held off on marrying my current husband until we’d already had all our kids and bought our first house, all because I  didn’t believe a sanctity of marriage existed. (For those of you who follow my blog, but, of course, how else would  *ss backwards Maria do it?)

I grew up thinking that marriage was a farce and happiness a delusion and for a long time I dubbed anyone who believed in either or both, weak. No, I am not kidding. That’s how deluded I was, I thought everyone else was the idiot. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say that’s how f*cked up I was.

Fortunately, twenty years later, I think I’ve finally figured it out, at least I’m in the process of. So my marriage isn’t perfect, I probably couldn’t trade my kids off if I offered a money back guarantee, our family is dysfunctional to say the least, but we all love each other, in our own screwy ways. A close friend once told me that my house was the only place she’d ever been where chaos and yelling was a sign that all was well. I took it as a compliment.

I know now that there is such a thing as happiness and some of us are lucky enough to find marriages that do work more often than they don’t. They’re not wrapped up pretty like they were on The Brady Bunch or The Cosby Show. They look more like the blue collared couple, Dan and Roseanne Connor; slightly overweight, fatigued, bearing equally sharp tongued children, and living in a less than sparkly clean house with a mortgage payment that kicks their *sses. That’s us, but we’re also happy.

On my husband’s best day he resembles nothing near a Prince Charming, not even a second rate boot leg, but even on his worst day, I’ve never wanted anything more than him. Maybe that’s the key to how we’ve made it thus far. On a list of pros and cons, even on the days when it’s a narrow split of 49-51 in favor of, we’d still rather be together than apart and for that, I’m blessed.

The voices in my head

November 27, 2010 3 comments

I have to wonder sometimes if I’m the only sane person who has voices screaming inside her head. What an oxymoron, right?

But really, doesn’t anyone else have moments where he (or she) finds himself questioning why in the heck they bother doing what they do? If it matters at all? Don’t the voices in your head just scream for you to give it up, let it go, to just forget it already?! But then there’s that stubborness in you that won’t allow you to stop until you’re done. Some call it tenacity, I prefer to call her the crazy voice in my head and I would like nothing more than to punch her quiet this morning.

It’s Saturday and I’ve already spent the last few hours trying to make sense of exponentials and logarithms. I’ve always thought of myself as a smart girl, but college algebra makes me question my sanity, tests my self confidence, and makes me feel downright stupid.

Add to that I have a ton of other things to prepare for; next week’s out of town conference for work, another research paper due for Business Ethics, FINALS!!, and I still have to do a practice run on fixing Kayla’s hair for her cheer competition next week, but instead here I am stuck on problem #5 on page 370 of Beecher’s 3rd Edition College Algebra.

Great, now the voices in my head are arguing. One is yelling at the other about this being the reality of a mom going back to school when she barely has enough energy to clean the house, another insists things will be okay, and then there’s a third voice who just keeps singing that New Radicals song over and over again. I’m so flustered, I’m not even sure which voice I want to smother. I could really cry right now, that is of course if I had the time, which I don’t.

I only wish I was as good at college algebra as my professor so smoothly explains it every Wednesday evening in room MH 208. Maybe then I could get on with my day and quit wallowing in self pity. I think I’ll make that my early Christmas wish. Dear Santa, if I’m good, will you please help my brain wrap around f(x)=-2(to the power of x) – 1. Don’t forget to show me how to graph it as well. xoxo Maria

Readers, thank you for listening to me vent this morning, I’m not usually this depressing. I still have several more hours of studying to go so….

A Mother’s Declaration

November 23, 2010 2 comments

Life is good, but it can also be very, very trying. You’ll often find yourselves at crossroads that will surely test your judgment and confidence. Sometimes you’ll choose the path laden with smooth stones and simple turns. Those will be the days filled with more good times than bad. Other times you’ll choose the road less traveled. This is where you’ll learn what you’re made of. Life is filled with choices and when you’re in the moment it’s so hard to know if you’re making the right ones. Strive to make decisions that you can be proud of, that reflect who you are and what you stand for.

Remember the golden rule. Treat others as you want to be treated, not how they treat you. This is difficult, I know. People can be terrible and cruel. You mustn’t reciprocate that. How people treat you is their karma, but how you react is yours.

Dream big and don’t be afraid to fail. The world is filled with people who stay confined to the limits set before them. Fear can do that to you. Don’t be one of those people. Live your life with a perseverance to survive and succeed despite the challenges you face. Nothing worth having has ever been easy, but I assure you the taste of success is sweeter when you’ve worked that much harder. You can be as big as you want to be, the possibilities are endless. Your father and I believe in all of you and the potential you possess. Believe in yourself.

Inevitably you will make some mistakes. You’re not perfect and no one should expect you to be, including yourself. Create a compass of your triumphs and misfortunes, a means of understanding what works for you and what doesn’t, but never let either conclude you. Victories can be short lived and tragedies can ruin you only if you allow them to.

Be grateful for everything, however big or small. We’re not guaranteed anything in this life except the air we breathe, but through the grace of God we are blessed with opportunities to make better lives for ourselves and those around us. It’s up to you to recognize those chances. Remember that when you feel you have nothing or no one, you have yourself.

Our family has been fortunate to been able to provide you with material possessions and amenities that have suited to make your lives comfortable. We are neither rich nor poor. Many people have more than us, but far more have less. I don’t regret living in a nice house or filling it with pretty things. I believe in enjoying the dollar you earn, but I hope I’ve raised you well enough to distinguish the difference in values we place on objects verses people. People are what matter, not things. Don’t forget that. When you die you can’t take things with you, but the memories you foster with family and friends are everlasting. If you lose someone you love that new BMW or diamond necklace will do little to comfort you. Be mindful of what you cherish and who you don’t.

We are all born into varying cultures, religions, and families that influence us and have the propensity to carve circles around us. Often these circles are intended to protect us, but more frequently they hold us down. You’ve been shaped by our family that loves you, groomed by our social and ethnic cultures, and blessed by our religion that has handed you down its own values and beliefs, but you and you alone must be the one to define yourself. Stay true to you. Always. You are unique and that is what makes you special. Don’t let anyone tell you who you are or who you shouldn’t be, not even me. Embrace yourself for your differences even if it feels like everyone is telling you otherwise.

I have tried to instill the significance of your relationships with one another. Friends are wonderful, but blood will always be thicker than water, at least in this family. You’ll grow up, move on, go to college, and meet new people. The changes in your life will be constant. You’ll find a better job to replace the old one. You’ll lose touch with friends and make new ones. New loves will become past loves. Throughout it all, your brothers and sisters will always be there. That will not change. Your relationships with one another are forged by childhood memories, the secrets only a sibling could know, and just in knowing that neither time nor distance could ever break the familial thread that link the four of you together.

I know that your father and I have made dozens of mistakes while raising you all, mostly unintentional. Maybe by the time you read this we’ll have made a dozen more. I beg you to forgive us our indiscretions and not just for us, but for you. Throughout your life people will hurt you, betray you, sometimes with malice, other times with ignorance. Forgive them all, no matter the immensity of their offense. Nothing good comes from a grudge harbored from deep within. Anger only serves to feed hate and resentment, both of which lead to self destruction. You must will yourselves to be bigger than that.

And if I haven’t told you enough, I’ve always known you were great. Don’t allow yourself to be labeled by your paycheck, your job title, the college you did or didn’t go to, your social class, the color of your skin, the clothes you wear, or even your physical beauty. These are not the things that matter. Your greatness resides in the goodness in your hearts, in the way you treat people, the compassion and tolerance you offer them, the inner strength that gets you through the most challenging occasions, the ferocity with which you face your utmost fears, and the effort you put into your own lives.

Wherever you are, whoever you become I know all of you will make me proud. Borne of my blood and nurtured with the potency of my love, all of you were destined to deliver nothing less than brilliance to this world.

Letter to my 17 year old self

November 19, 2010 5 comments

Several years ago a few friends and I practiced an exercise where we each wrote a letter to our 17 year old selves, words of advice so to speak. It was awesome, very self-reflective, and showed us just how much we’d learned and been through in the previous decade. I encourage you to try this yourself. Here is my letter.

Dear Maria,

I know you feel alone, like you’ve just lost the rest of your life because you have this baby to raise, but I promise you – it will get better. Just ride this time out, it doesn’t seem like it, but this time will only equate to a very small portion of your life. And your life is far from over.

You will learn to be a good mom. It takes time and I know you are unsure of yourself right now but you will learn.

Finish school. Go straight to college, even if it’s only part time. If you fail a class because you’re having a hard time juggling work and your son, ask for help from the family and take the class again. Make it work this time. Just don’t stop going. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Get a digital camera as soon as you can afford it. Take a lot of pictures. Those digital pictures are going to last a lot longer than the 35mm film. Honest.

You will find the love of your life.

You haven’t even met half of the people you are going to meet in your lifetime. Don’t worry.

You are going to make a million more GREAT memories that you don’t believe you can- but you will! Just be patient.

Save some money in a secret bank account. Make it an IRA plan that you can’t access so easily.

Save more money for AJ sooner, college will be around the corner before you know it.

Spend less time worrying about your weight. You’re not fat.

You are beautiful. You have great cheek bones, smooth skin, and a sweet smile. Enjoy your youthful beauty for as long as you can because when you get older you will regret that you never realized what you had.

Practice safe sex.

Don’t have sex with your girlfriends’ ex-boyfriends, it complicates things.

Cherish the group of friends you have in your 20’s. They will be the best you ever have.

Don’t drive drunk.

Accept your mom for who she is. She’s crazy but don’t ask her to change, don’t expect her to. She doesn’t have to and she won’t ever. The sooner you accept that the sooner you can make amends with who she is to you.

Don’t be sad  about Dad. I know you think he doesn’t love you, but he does. It’s not about you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Some people are just broken.

Hold onto every moment with your baby sister. Make every memory with her last longer. Love her. Take care of her for as long as you can. Forgive her.

Control your temper. Don’t get so angry. The world isn’t out to get you. Think before you react. THINK FIRST. Revenge doesn’t fix anything.

Don’t sweat the stuff people do to you, life really is a circle. You get what you give.

Get into jogging, or running, or walking in the mornings. Make it a habit.

Write it all down. All of it. Everything you feel. Everything you’re afraid of. All of your secret hopes you don’t want anyone to know about. Write it all down. Hide them if you have to but just write it all down. Your own words will serve as your record that you actually did it, you went through it, you got through it. I know you’re afraid people will read what you write but that’s okay. When you get older you will want them to.

When you are 22 you will go through some things that make you question yourself. You will ask this question everyday for several years. The answer is yes. Yes, the tears will stop. Be strong.

Throw less house parties. They are not worth the headache.

Buy a hybrid car as soon as they are available. I’m serious. Don’t worry about how they look. It won’t matter soon enough.

Go ahead and take those risks. They won’t always pay off, but when they do, they will pay off BIG.

Take care of your credit.

Don’t talk back to Grandma. Just listen to her. You don’t have to believe everything she says, you can pretend. She won’t be around forever and you will regret the times you fought with her.

You don’t know who I’m talking about yet but- he will come home. He will.

Don’t be angry when your kids act just like you, they are doing it because you are what they know.

Don’t get angry when your kids don’t act like you, they are their own people. They’re not you. Let them be who they want to be.

Last piece of advice. Remember this one because you will question this time and again for decades to come. Things are going to work out for you. You will be okay. Don’t let your fears stop you from trying or you’ll miss out on all the successess in store for you. Don’t stop trying. Your life is worth it. You are worth it.

Love,

30 year old Maria

P.S. Don’t overanalyze this letter. It’s not a map of your future. It’s just some advice from someone older and wiser.

I think I’m in love

That 1L Torts class last night was…fascinating. I’m in love. A regular dreamy eyed undergrad anxiously awaiting her first year of law classes. Now, on to devoting the next year to preparing for the LSATs. Pray for me. I need it.

By the way, I did manage not to pee myself.

As an added bonus, I’ve discovered male law school students are hot. Either that or I’ve suddenly given everything and anything that has to do with law school instant credibility or more credit than might actually be due.

Whatever, I thought those older male law school students were hot. I hope they still look like that when I attend (or rather if I get to attend – did I already ask you to pray for me?).

Trying not to pee myself

I am leaving in 30 minutes for St. Mary’s Law School and I would like nothing more than to hurl, but I have nothing in my tummy to regurgitate since I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten anything all morning.

I’m like the too excited kid waiting to go to the circus afterschool; completely anxious and useless. Add to that scared. I will be sitting in for the entire 1L Torts class.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it has something to do with finally getting a taste, if only just a taste, of what I’ve wanted for such a long time. Maybe it’s the idea that I have the opportunity to make my dreams a reality if I can just keep my sh*t together. Or maybe it’s because I’ve actually decided to rant this, to say it out loud, laying my heart on the line and making myself vulnerable to my critics. Yup, I think that’s the winning answer.

Did I already mention I want to hurl? I act like I’m actually interviewing, or getting accepted, something more than just meeting with the Director of Recruitment and sitting in a class, but still, I’m so excited I’m trying not to pee myself.

Even his dog knows

November 16, 2010 3 comments

Recently my 18 year old son informed me that returning to the coming spring semester of college “did not fit into his current plans” to which I appropriately responded “and supporting your *ss until you figure out your life does not fit into mine!” Is he sh*tting me?

*Sigh* Honestly, I actually saw this coming. He’s never taken too well to academics and he struggled throughout high school, but still, I thought he knew better than to be a college dropout. This topic is still premature, so I’m hoping he changes his mind – before I wring his neck. If he doesn’t, well, I’m going to pray for the kid because if he thinks I’m going to let him lounge around the house until God knows when he’s got another think coming .

If he wants to live in the real world, I’m going to give it to him. Go to school, get a job, or get out. Other parents, be careful not to judge me or you could find yourselves in a similar situation several years from now.

I refuse to be the typical Asian parent who lets her children live at home rent free, usually encouraging little sense of responsibility, until they turn 35. That may work in some families, but it doesn’t work in mine. You can call it tough love, I call it a dose of reality.

I love my son, don’t even try to to accuse me of anything different, but if he’s going to take this path, inevitably limiting his choices without that college degree, I won’t knock him, but he’s going to get a taste of how hard it is without one early on. I’d be nothing short of a bad mom if I didn’t make sure he realized the full consequences of his actions before it was too late or too hard to rectify things. He can drop out, but he better have a good back up plan, because I won’t be it.

He’s spent the last week staying at friends’ houses, I’m sure in an effort to avoid discussing this further with me.  Following a four day absence, he came home and tried to play with his dog, Hyden, before dashing out the door again. Hyden refused to play with him. Instead Hyden walked over to him and started barking at him incessantly. Each time my son reached out to pet him, Hyden cringed backwards to avoid his hand.

It was as if Hyden was trying to tell him something. Maybe he was saying “C’mon kid, what are you doing? Get your head out of your *ss. Go back to school, or get a full time job, but do something. You’re driving your parents nuts. Ruff!” See, even his dog knows.

I’m so cheap..

November 14, 2010 1 comment

Personally, I prefer to describe myself as cost-efficient, but everyone else tells me I’m just plain old cheap. So I’ve decided to start a series of rants documenting my cheap antics or tips to save money, whichever way you want to look at it.

Enjoy people, you might actually find some of my tips worthwhile and not just crazy.

I’m so cheap … I save and store every condiment packet, napkin, and plastic utensil we don’t use when we eat out. It’s not uncommon to eat at my house and find the table set with varied McD’s, Wendy’s, and Jack in the Crack napkins, ketchup packets, and sporks. One evening when I ran out out of soy sauce for the chicken adobo dinner I was preparing I just used all the soy sauce packets in my pantry instead of buying a second bottle. It still tasted good, at least no one complained.

I’m so cheap … when my youngest son requested Estancia Churrascaria, a fancy Brazilian all-you-can-eat steakhouse, for his birthday dinner I agreed under one condition. For a family of six our bill would be upwards of $200 after tax and gratuities and that’s assuming I limited everyone to drinking tap water, so in an effort to maximize my return I forbade each child, even the girls who were eight at the time, and my husband not to consume anything more than water and one snack prior to dinner that day. No, I’m not kidding. I wanted to make sure everyone was hungry and we got our money’s worth. I’m sure all the gaucho-attired waiters were amazed by how much steak six people could actually eat in one sitting.

Stay tuned for more of my ‘I’m so cheap’ blog segments!

Why I write comical satire

Wouldn’t all the crap in my life be experienced in vain if I couldn’t share my family’s dysfunction with others so that they, in turn, might gain some consolation in knowing at least their lives don’t exceed the lunacy I encounter everyday?

Raising three Democrats and one Republican

Well, not really, but this may end up being the case. In a house full of liberals, the baby of the family seems to be exhibiting early signs of conservatism.

She was mortified when she saw her older brother wear an I Love Boobies bracelet. I tried to explain the purpose of the Keep A Breast Foundation campaign, but she didn’t care. She felt the bracelets and shirts alike were inappropriate.

When she saw the advertisements for the new Tyler Perry movie, For Colored Girls (2010), she expressed her nine year old disappointment that the producer didn’t simply call it For African American Girls. I’m not kidding. I tried to explain that “colored” wasn’t necessarily a derogatory word, but again she countered with “it still isn’t right”.

At the dinner table she refrains from joining in some of our more potty mouth discussions. She says “we shouldn’t talk about those things at the table”.

Just last night the topic of gays and lesbians came up because she was reading my blog page out loud. She refused to say the word “gay”. I told her it wasn’t a bad word and asked if she knew what the word meant. She did and was  compelled to add, “that’s just horrible, mommy”. All I could think was, ‘Oh no, I’m going to have to sit this girl down a lot sooner than I expected and give her a  good talking to.’

I have no clue where some of her ideas are coming from, definitely not from our house, but even at nine she’s so strong minded, I just want to make sure she knows that while it’s okay for her to be conservative, she’s still going to have to learn to respect the way other people live. Wish me luck people because it’s not the easiest thing trying to rationalize with a kid. I may walk out of that discussion with questions of my own.

Follow my rules

October 28, 2010 1 comment

I wandered into each of the girls’ rooms this morning and found that they had posted rules for each room. Here are the ones that made me smile.

  • When you step in my room, you live by my rules.
  • If you don’t like my rules, you better get out.
  • If you don’t follow my rules, well if you know my family by now, you should know you’re going to regret it.

I think this is what happens when you are growing up in my household, you confuse rules with threats. In my defense, the other rules were reasonable (clean up after yourself, no food, etc.) Well, at least my girls have moxy.  🙂

Why does it look like that?

October 25, 2010 7 comments

There’s nothing like buying a new pair of jeans to force you to realize what a fat *ss you’ve become. You find yourself standing in front of the neatly folded piles of jeans for at least ten minutes before you even reach for a pair.

Skinny jeans, boot leg, slight flare, dark wash, acid rinse. So many choices but all you’re concerned with is what size you should be reaching for. You want to grab the 5/6 but realize that’s the size you wish you were, so you start to reach for a 7/8 but remember you haven’t been that size for a few years, so now you start looking for a 9/10 but it’s on the top shelf and you have to ask a salesperson to help you.

Now it feels like a small production because the salesperson has to use a ladder to get your jeans and you start to think, “What if I’m wrong? What if I’m actually an 11/12 now? ” You don’t want to have ask the salesperson for help twice because then you’ll be pegged as one of those women in denial about your size. So in your most nonchalant voice you say to him, “You know, while you’re up there do you mind grabbing an 11/12 for me?” while doing your best not to let on just how much it hurts you to admit that out loud.

Finally with six pairs of jeans tucked under my arm I head off to the dreaded dressing room, where I think women do more self reflection than trying on clothes. I mean, why is it that the lighting in those rooms reveal parts of your body in a way that you just never notice when you’re in front of your own bathroom mirror? You’d think a retail store would want to encourage purchases by using lighting that compliment the shapely figure of all women, not just the perfectly shaped ones. Try dimmer lights Abercrombie!

Note to self: Start an average to plus size woman’s coalition against the inventors of those terrible dressing room lights.

I’ve learned to avoid looking in the dressing room mirror until I’m completely dressed, but out of regretful curiosity that day, I peeked behind my shoulder just as I was sliding the jeans over my buttocks. What a bad idea. All I could think was, “What happened? Why does my butt look like that? It looks so…deflated? And when did it drop? It used to be so damn perky.’

By the time I left the third store empty handed I was tempted to walk into a store that sold those new jeans claiming to enhance your *ss. Of course, after all I’d already put myself through mentally I couldn’t envision walking up to the bored looking sales kid and asking him to point me in the direction of the butt lifting jeans.

*Sigh* One hour later, still no jeans, and all the kids and hubby are blast texting me. I’m having a mid life crisis and all they care about is what time we’re meeting for dinner.

Traffic stoppers

Early yesterday evening there was especially heavy traffic at Hwy 290. Come to find out that at the exit there were two HOT men trying to fix a flat. One of them had taken off his shirt and was only wearing his slacks, the second one continued to wear his shirt but loosely, completely unbuttoned and untucked. Every woman and girl in their car was breaking neck to get a glimpse of these super hot Texas men, including myself. Hubba, hubba. Had I not been drooling so hard I would have had the better sense to join several women in taking their pictures on my camera phone. That’s OK, I’ve locked their images in my memory.

The lies parents tell…

When we first moved to Texas several years ago those ugly Croc shoes were very trendy. I abhor the things. They give me an itch to go clog dancing. So when the girls each asked me for a pair I told them no. They whined and complained that “everybody wore them, even their classmates”. I refused and finally told them that Asians don’t wear Crocs. Since there aren’t many Asians in Austin I figured they would be hard fetched  to prove me wrong. Besides at the time they were only five years old. Needless to say, they stopped asking.

This evening we were at the mall and saw the newest style of Croc sandals with fur. One of the girls stopped to admire a pair, but the other reminded her “Asians don’t wear Crocs remember?”

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