Fashionista

I am not overly interested in fashion.  I keep up to date on the what-not-to-wear type of items but I refuse to spend more than $25 for a pair of jeans, I love my hoodies, and pretty much live in jeans and wife-beater tank tops.

But last night I had a dream about fashion.  I can't remember everything about it, but I do remember this...in my amazing perfect fashion world...shoes were always perfect.  Then I awoke to find that Crocs still exist, so clearly...reality set in.

I have, until recently, hated shopping with a passion.
I have, until recently, avoided purchasing any clothing that showed anything other than my feet and cleavage.
I have, until recently, hated fashion and fashion related things enough to scoff at just about every model and style that has come out in recent years.

See...if you've read much you know that I hate fat jokes, fat comments, and people making others feel fat in general.  Its bullshit.  I might be chunky but I'm not psychotic, a cheater, violent...well except in blog form, stupid, or ugly.  All of which are things that are far harder to change than being fat.

So please allow me to do 2 things today.  #1 and most importantly, say a big fuck you to all the skinny bitches who make everyone else feel bad about themselves.  Please recall the Marie Claire incident.  Uhg.
I was talking to a friend today and they mentioned some friends who are 'gym rats' (which made me gigglesnort) and how they put everyone down if they're a little over weight.  I hate that.  Don't ride my ass because you don't like how I'm built or you think you're better or hotter than me because your body fat index thingy is lower.  Kiss my fat ass!

When your ticker kicks out from being over run and over worked out and over whatever'd like so many 50-something hard core gym nazis do...I'll be kickin back havin a beer, pattin my buddah belly and makin it to 70.

#2...allow me to state, that though I hate people who make other's feel bad about their body type...I have adopted a new attitude about my own body.  I coasted through on all sorts of excuses over the years...bad knee...no time to work out...slow metabolism...etc.  Truth is, I over eat.  Er...I did.
In the last 2 months I have retrained myself to eat proper portions.  To watch unnecessary calorie intake (...drink diet dew not diet sundrop...dew=no calories, not the same with sundrop...that kinda stuff), I wont even touch pop unless its diet and has no calories or carbs.  Just decided what my old Weight Watcher's leader said is actually true...nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

Now, I have no desire to look like this:

Yeah...that's gross.  Get some fucking McDonalds you toothpick!  PS...for as skinny as you are up top...you appear to have a serious case of office ass!  RUH ROH!  Better hit that Treadclimber!

That being said, I want to be a healthier weight.  I have a baby boy to be here for...for a minimum of the next 18 years...preferably more.  I have to be able to keep up with him 24/7 and quite frankly, he wears me out sometimes...so getting in better shape is not just something I SHOULD do, its something I MUST do if I am going to survive being a free mom raising a little monster man!  (That's right, I said "FREE MOM" because I refuse to be lumped into the group of single moms who use the term single mom as a negative thing).

I've started watching my food intake and what I intake...I'm TRYING to walk although the weather is not cooperating much...and I pretend like I'm doing my P90X videos every now and then. 

All this has lead to 2 other things:

#1  I have gone from looking like this a few months ago:

To now looking like this, quite literally today:

My total weight loss as of this morning was 41 lbs.  KICK ASS!!!

#2...yes...I have, reluctantly, accepted that I...of all people...am becoming a Fashionista.

God love my mom and dad who took me shopping for new clothes after I LITERALLY walked out of my jeans in front of them....but they started something and now I want more.

I have seen the light and I understand the concept behind dressing to uhm...impress.  

In any case.  I'm patting myself on the back...giving a swift crotch kick to those who make others feel shitty about their bodies...and reminding everyone that if I can do this...you can too...cuz I am one LAZY bitch. 

Fun shit

Had a shoot for fun today.  Here's a couple from it:

One More to Bitch About

So I COMPLETELY forgot about CRAZY BITCHES in yesterday's post!  How could I??????
I spent so much of my life dealing with crazy bitches!  Maybe I've just been institutionalized to the idea of crazy bitches...

*rubs imaginary goatee and in a German accent says:  Very Very Interesting...*

BITCHES & Hos...is it Hos or Hoes?

Ok not really hos er hoes.  Just bitches.  Yup.  Blog about bitches.  Who woulda thunk it?

Bitches like me?  Wait...what...?  ;)  Or bitches that just say "Wait...what?" waaaaaaaaaaaay too often...think of the Southpark episode where Cartman says "Hella" all the time...YUP!  It's kinda like that.

I promised my mom a blog about bitches and the sizes, shapes, and types they come in.  My mom?  Why yes...my mom...THE bitch, the woman who raised me right and taught me everthing she knows about living up to the B word in all it's man controlling, woman crushing, god like power wielding glory.  How, does one end up promising a blog about bitches to their mother, you ask?  Well, it went something like this:

We (my parents, Moose, and myself) were at dinner the other night and what sounded like the word "bitch" came out of the mouth of my precious 16 month old.  Yup.  The kid says maybe 80 words and that's apparently one of them.  The table fell silent for a brief second and then my father burst into hysterical laughter.  At this point I realized that it was quite likely that Moose really HAD said that word.  Awesome #1.  This is not the 1st time I heard this word come from my sweet sweet baby boy's mouth.  A few weeks back I dropped something and swore he said "bitch".  I actually, without thinking that a 16 month old's comprehension and Q&A skills are not fully developed yet, asked him "did you just say bitch?"
He shook his head yes in huge up and down motions and said "yup" and walked away.  I will never really know if he knew what we were talking about or not.  I will always wonder!

So back to how this turned into a blog post.  In a Gilmore Girls like exchange immediately following my father bursting into maniacal laughter, my mom and I bantered something like this:
Me:  Bitch!  What kinda bitch?  Like Son of a bitch...because he totally is!
Her:  Dumb bitch?
Me:  No!  Wait, who?  Cuz we know some dumb bitches!  Not me, of course!

This continued.  My dad interjected.  I noted that there is such a vast variety of bitches and announced that I would blog about it.  Mom said she looked forward to it and here we are!


So back to bitches.  As I stated there is a HUGE variety of bitches and subbitches.  But I will go through just a handful.  Now, if you're new to the blog, this sort of post happens every now and then...please feel free to check out the post about crazies and the post about stupidity found here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/04/levels-definitions-of-crazy-21st-cent.html
and here:
http://www.accordingtoabby.com/2010/05/how-not-to-look-stupidfor-dummies.html

For the sake of time and keeping your eyes from burning out of your head (plus nap time, wont last forever) I will stick to my favorites of the bitches to talk about.
The Dumb Bitch
The Sneaky Bitch
The Mean Bitch
And my favorite, The Hardcore Bitch.


For starters you have to understand that bitch crossover, also known as bitch-fusion, occurs quite frequently.  Take for example the Dumb Bitch.  She is likely, to at times in her silly life, THINK that she is being a sneaky bitch when in reality she is just upping her ante on the dumb scale...and at times coming off as a Mean Bitch.  So bare with me, understanding bitches can be...well, a real bitch.

The Dumb Bitch
The dumb bitch is the most annoying of the bitches.  Also known as The Dizzy Bitch, she has her head so far up her ass she rarely knows which way she is pointing and sees the world through shit tinted goggles.  Shit tinted goggles give one a skewed view on things, like what is going on around them and their importance in, uhm...well the entire universe.  A Dumb Bitch usually has an over inflated ego, talks too loud, talks too much shit, and generally looks...you guessed it...dumb.

A Dumb Bitch will also misread a situation.  Dumb Bitches frequently believe that they are wanted in places and situations where they are not.  They tend to push their asses, be they boney or fat, into places where they do not fit and end up coming off in the most gagtastic way you could ever imagine.  Think of a girl who's somewhat attractive...acting like a beast...yeah suddenly, she looks more like this to the people around her:

or better yet, like this:

The Dumb Bitch acts like an idiot, thinks its cute, and simply does not see that there's nothing cute about being a dumb bitch.  As for the internet...the dumb bitch is the girl who posts the pic of her kissing her middle finger sticking up.  Klassy with a capital K.  They're hopeless.

The Sneaky Bitch
The evilest of the bitches because she is a bitch simply for the purpose of doing bad things, The Sneaky Bitch is the one to stay away from.  Sneaky bitches, are by definition, sneaky.  Crazy like a fox, these broads have a way of using the power of the bitch to do things to and for people that always ends up as trouble for someone involved.  Sneaky Bitches are best known for activities including but not limited to breaking laws, sleeping with married men, getting promotions at work that they don't deserve (at least not because of their "work performance", and under-handing their friends when it comes to anything that they want.

Sneaky Bitches have NO MORALS.  None.  I repeat...NONE.  Watch your back, ass and other orifices around them!  They will walk on your face and not even check to make sure their shoes aren't dirty or their heels aren't too sharp!  The Sneaky Bitch downfall is that there is always another bitch out there sneakier than they are, and they LOVE one upping each other.  Putting 2 of them in a room together is like watching Betta fish tear each other apart.  Interesting from a biological standpoint but scary and definitely not something you want to be too close to or stare at for too long, kinda like the sun.
Sneaky Bitches often make mistakes that bring them down to the level of Dumb Bitch...so if you find yourself tangled in a web with one of them, just try to hold your ground and wait it out...enough rope, they always hang themselves.

The Mean Bitch
The Mean Bitch is exactly what she sounds like.  She's mean.  Why is she mean?  Usually because she's miserable.  Wait...what?  But you said mean not miserable!!  But the 2 go hand in hand.  Think about the mean people you've known in your life...99% of the time, their life sucks.  Cheerleaders are mean in high school to unpopular bland girls because they have a false sense of self esteem.  Skinny girls are mean to fat girls because they fear that they might gain a pound or 2.  Fat girls are mean to skinny girls because they're jealous.  Most Mean Bitches are mean because of jealousy.  If a Mean Bitch has a pseudo happy relationship built on tolerating each other...and along comes Romeo and Juliet in the middle of a hurricane they're struggling to ride out, the Mean Bitch will jump on that horse and ride it like she stole it.

Mean Bitches love to stir up drama and say and do things specifically to hurt others.  Careful because Mean Bitches will lie just to cause pain to someone, but rarely do they think of the reprocussions of their lies.  The simple fact is, Mean Bitches don't care what the reprocussions are.  If they did, they wouldn't be mean!  Leap first, then look, that's how they live.  You can't let Mean Bitches get to you.  Remember, jealousy has an ugly head and when it rears it...it can cause a shit storm but when the dust settles, they're simply not worth the time or trouble of giving them a second thought.  In the end, the only friends Mean Bitches get to keep are those too weak to stand up to them and their mean ways, or those even more miserable than they are.

The Hardcore Bitch
She is the bitches  bitch.  The bitch that all other  bitches want to be but secretly hate.
The Hardcore Bitch doesn't give a fuck about you, your sister, your mother or father, your dog, what color you shit this morning, or how much oxygen it takes for you to maintain your pathetic existence.  The Hardcore Bitch has a very small core of people that she cares about.  She will defend them to the death and tangling with her is a bad idea because she has the ability to be all the other bitches combined but is usually of a high enough IQ and great enough street smarts to outwit others without causing herself much flack.

The Hardcore Bitch says fuck, a lot.  She flips people off.  She will look someone in the eye and say, "I don't care", tell someone off that she doesn't know, and has likely been to jail more than once.  The Hardcore Bitch is a rare breed of 'Don't give a fuck' mixed with 'Smarter than shit'.  They kick ass and leave piles of dust in their wake...but never take names because the names aren't important.  They burn bridges, don't give second chances, and never back down from a fight if they know they're right.

So next time you call someone a bitch, think about it.  There are a lot of kinds of bitches they could be, and calling them one, just may or may not be an insult!

Finished Product

So this is it, on my pasty white thigh.  The final product of 17 years of emotions culminated into one piece of artwork that will walk with me through whatever my future holds.  

It's gotten mixed reviews from those close to me.  Some love it, one hates it but only because he misreads its meaning.  I will always hold it close to my heart, as close as one's thigh can be to their heart, that is...

The detail work is amazing.  It was finished for me by Spider of Spider Tattooz in Sycamore, IL.  Check him out.  He's a nice guy and a phenomenal artist :)

A Real Man...

Lately I've watched 2 of the epic couples that I talk about every now and then, crumble to what resembles a bad soap opera or flash back to high school spats in the hallway between jaded lovers.  My own marriage included.  *GASP!*  Yeah.  Life is rough, blah blah blah, adapt and overcome.  I'll leave it at that.  

As I laid on the couch tonight with tears streaming down my face (yes, the giant mega-biatch does occasionally leak from the eye sockets) NOT for myself but for my son who's truly the one suffering in this current situation...I started thinking about what type of men I want in his life for him to look up to.  

The men who have stepped up already, I have the utmost respect and admiration for.  My father and my sister's friend have both been amazing influences on the Moose.  My dad has spent more time with him in the last month than I can even begin to calculate and the relationship between them is amazing.  My son actually chose to sit with my dad tonight at dinner, not me. Imagine my surprise!  If you know us...then you know that's INSANE!  The kid never leaves my side.  We're connected at the hip.  I would sooner lose my legs than be without him.  The kindness and love shown to Moose by others has truly touched me.  He is a very lucky boy in many respects.

Now for starters, this is not a slam against anyone.  Clearly, I chose to breed; and I chose my mate.

But as life moves on, depending on what path it takes...which seems to change as often as the tides, I will presumably bring into the little Moose's life...men, on some level.  

So I got thinking about what makes a man a man.  On a level beyond that which shady silly immature broads measure a man...

A real man.  This is what I came up with...so far.  I'm sure there is a large list of criteria that no one will be able to meet...but this is a start.

A real man is not measured by the size of his penis.  Partially because a real woman will 1 of 2; not judge him based solely on that and 2 of 2; can work with what she's given, within reason.  A real man is not measured by the size of his heart but by how he uses it.  You can have the biggest kindest heart in the world but if you open it to the wrong people and close off the right ones you are clearly not capable of embracing real love FULLY.  

It's easy to look in the eyes and say "I love you so much!" but to make the actions to show it; well...that's not always easy.  And a real man can, when the time really calls for it, swallow his pride and back up his words with actions to not only say to someone 'you are important to me' but also show them that they are.

A real man is not measured by the number of friends he has but by what type of friends he chooses and the loyalty of those friends.  And loyalty is not earned or shown by instigating fights or stirring shit up; but by backing a friend up quietly and consistently despite the decisions they make.  Loyalty is understanding that sometimes it's easy to say one thing to save face when in reality you're feeling differently; and a true friend can see that, and respects that.  A real man demands respect from his friends, both for himself and on behalf of those he loves.  And when he is not shown the respect that he deserves, he is not timid about lighting the bridge and watching it burn because an empty place to build a clean new bridge is a far safer way to get where you're going than a rickety old bridge rotten and full of holes.

A real man, while not being overly dramatic, is not afraid to show a little emotion now and then.  Choke up.  Let a tear go.  The world won't end.  This is one place I have quite a bit of respect for some men.  And tear filled eyes at just the right time, can mean the world.  And they did.

A real man isn't afraid to say "I need help".  OH. MY. GOD.  Did she just say that?!?  Yes I fucking did.  Man up a little.  It's not going to make your dick shrink!  Trust me.  We ALL need help now and then, in one way or another.  The difference between the strong and the weak is that the strong acknowledge that need and are STRONG enough to ask for it, get it, and better their lives.  While the weak sit sinking ever deeper in their own problems until they feel like they've been under water for 30 years.  Even then, when sitting upon the rocks far far at the bottom (yes that's my poetic way of saying at rock bottom...which isn't just a great bar in the Chicago burbs...) the strong will reach up and take the hand of those reaching out to help them...while the weak will sit, arms crossed and staring straight ahead as they drown.  Sadly, often taken others down with them.  It can be as simple as reading the instructions *gasp* or as complex as seeing a doctor about something you don't want to face...the simple truth is, we all have points...seconds even in our lives, where we get to decide if we will be strong or weak.  Strong does not mean standing on your own when you're clearly standing in the deep end.

The list goes on and on, so much so that my head is spinning at the idea of having to find some sort of critiquing method for choosing who is involved in my son's life and to what extent.  My taste in men, questionable.  Perhaps the Moose would be better off raised solely by women.  

Honestly, no one will ever be good enough in my eyes to be a role model for my little man.  

Mother's Song
a Traditional Lullaby(read by Jennifer Garner)

My heart is like a fountain true
That flows and flows with love to you.
As chirps the lark unto the tree
...So chirps my pretty babe to me.

There's not a rose where'er I seek,
As comely as my baby's cheek.
There's not a comb of honey-bee,
So full of sweets as babe to me.

There's not a star that shines on high,
Is brighter than my baby's eye.
There's not a boat upon the sea,
Can dance as baby does to me.

No silk was ever spun so fine
As is the hair of baby mine.
My baby smells more sweet to me
Than smells in spring the elder tree.

A little fish swims in the well,
So in my heart does baby dwell.
A little flower blows on the tree,
My baby is the flower to me.

The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball,
You are my sceptre, crown and all.
For all her robes of royal silk,
More fair your skin, as white as milk.

Ten thousand parks where deer do run,
Ten thousand roses in the sun,
Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea,
My babe more precious is to me.

A real man feels those same emotions for his children.  He holds them close and dear and treasures all the moments this short life has to offer him with them.  

My son is one of the 2 men in my life who are my world.  Living up to my expectations for role model for him...well, some of the greatest men I know have fallen short.  It takes a real man to raise a real man.  Or maybe a real woman to raise a real man, I have no doubt of my ability to raise a strong independent man of honor.  16 months old, he's already making me proud!  He could probably teach most men, a thing or two...

Sifting

I've spent the last few days sifting through old belongings.  Storage is being consolidated from 15 areas to one area in the house and hell if it isn't a chore and a half.

I bust open one box today and it was a blast from the past!  1996!
The age of combat boots and baby doll dresses; Antonio Sabato Jr, and that hunky blonde guy from Dead at 21 who killed his career by appearing in Barbed Wire as the blind guy.  Yup.  Those days.

It got me thinking about how much some things change and how little others do.
Love changes.  At least for most people.  For me, it went through phases but I do have to admit that the last 5 years have been as wild a ride as the early days.  That fire that burns when things are awesome and those insane gripping chest pains that riddle your entire being and paralyze you when things are bad...yeah.  I've run through them all in recent years and even more so in recent months.  As one person once said, sometimes things are "back of the hand to the forehead" dramatic at the time they occur but as your head clears and the dust settles you realize maybe things aren't as lost as they once seemed.

Friends change.  Whether you've known them for ever or a short while...people seem less fake when their all hormones and hostility in the days of Junior year.  We wear our hearts on our sleeves as teens and it's so easy to spot those with hidden agendas or the just flat out nasty human beings.  As people get older they get better at masking who they really are, and some of us want to see the good in people...that rarely ends well.

Girls, as a general rule, do not change.  Those who would walk through fire and fight the devil himself for the ones they love; still do.  Those who refused to be walked on; never will be.  Those who feed their ego by bashing down others, will continue to feed their bruised self esteem by trying to cause pain to those around them.  Those who were known to cheat on their boyfriends, go after other girl's boyfriends, and generally act like trash; will likely continue to do so into what can only be called adulthood because of the number of their age.  And those like me who are willing to fight their asses off for what is right...don't ever stop, don't ever back down, and don't ever give up.

Boys change very little.

Cars change.  At least for those of us lucky enough to get out of our beat up Camaros (no matter how much we love them) and upgrade to something a little...more family and career friendly.

Change is good.  But change is bad.  I love to hate all the changes life throws at me but I wouldn't go back and redo most of them given the chance.  They have all hand walked me to where I am now, which might not be exactly where I thought I would be...but it's a place to be proud of, even on its roughest days.

So I traded Antonio Sabato Jr in for Opie from SOA:

I traded my Camaro for an SUV.  But my combat boots have been spit shined and polished tonight while my baby boy sleeps quietly on the couch...and I have a cute new dress to go with them.  Maybe my grunge days are over or maybe it's time to get back in touch 100% with that hard ass bitch I used to be.  What will tomorrow bring?  Can't say for sure; but like all other days, some will rise...and others will fall.  I'm movin' up.