(Image Source) Last month, my mom was admitted to the hospital for a list of reasons: kidney stones, a urinary tract infection, dehydration, anemia, and the flu. When my brother Joe called to tell...
Yesterday started off tough. I had a headache most of the day and then got my period. The icing on my crap cake was the ache of missing Jos.
K, being both my Knight and Sunshine saved the day. He played counselor, comedian and waiter. By the evening, after a nap, I was up and we opened gifts, drank sorrel and ate a delicious dinner prepared by mother-in-law. This Christmas... was good.
No shhhh-ing necessary. The obvious can be said aloud. I've got a big nose.
"You've got a bird nose." So my prominent nostrils were described by my college boyfriend, L.J. Upon registering the look of hurt in my eyes, he also added, "And I have a pig nose. So?"
It was a level of bluntness I wasn't prepared to hear. My heart felt like it was going to burst.
It's not like he was the first person to say I have a schnoze. I knew it. I often complained of it's large size.I fantasized all through high school of getting a rhinoplasty (As an aside, they had to call it that? RHINOplasty? Way to make it just that much worse.). Even family members told me I had drawn the genetic short stick in this area. My grandmother...
Saw this meme liked by a friend on Facebook and immediately did a double-take. What the hizzy does it even mean? It sounds almost right, but is horribly, stupidly wrong. Why on earth would I want a guy who promises nothing? *Nothing*?!? Not friendship, honesty, loyalty, love, respect or fidelity? And what does trying to give me everything mean? I don't need everything. I don't want everything. Except friendship, honesty, loyalty, love, respect and fidelity. But that phrase doesn't really work photoshopped over a random, heavily edited picture of a couple to be shared a quadrillion times.
Caught this segment from On The Media with WABC-NY's Bill Ritter and was... repulsed? Disgusted? I'm not even sure how to describe my reaction. Listen for yourself:
On the day of the Newtown tragedy, I flipped on the TV to CNN and watched clips of chubby faced elementary students attempting to describe the sound of gunshots. Mics were stuck in their faces, and they were usually standing in front of their shell-shocked parents. It felt voyeuristic and intrusive. Yes, they were witnesses, but their accounts added very little detail, no substantive information. It did up the emotional ante, which of course leads to higher ratings. When K got home, he immediately flipped the TV off. I'm glad he did.
Although I have watched...
I was raised Pentecostal, of the holy-roller variety that placed great emphasis on modesty, particularly (dang near exclusively) on women. Pants on women were a no-no, but at times accepted for modesty reasons (with the classic, fugly sweats under skirt combo). I managed to hold fast to my jeans because I think my parents honestly didn't agree with the rule, and also, I weighed 100 pounds when I finished high school. In other words, my teeny tiny self was deemed to not be a temptation, no matter what I wore.
I've been thinking of these types of modesty standards a lot lately. In a spate of unrelated stories across the interwebs, people are warring about the supposed indecency of bare legs, peek-a-boobs and the booty's contour in Juicy...