It's a Shame

I have been a 'big girl' for as long as I can remember.  And I never really had any issues with that.  I was me and I was happy, and people literally called me cheeks because I smiled so much, and my cheeks looked like chipmunk cheeks.

Then one time my mom was talking to someone, I don't really remember how old I was or who she was talking to.  All I remember is that she was telling them that my not being self concious about my arm fat and wearing sleeveless tops made her feel less self concious about herself.  And while that's great for her, I realized that there was something I should be ashamed of about my body.

Then I got over it, and moved on, and loved being me and my size.  Then, after two pregnancies, I'm at this weight and body shape that I cannot get comfortable with. I can't be comfortable or proud. And there's really very little reason as to why I'm having such trouble with it.

I was never made fun of.  I was never put down.  I did all the things I wanted to do while I was growing up.

And the girls at Curvy Girl Guide have started this new own your weight thing.

And I physically can't.  And the problem with this is that I've never not owned my weight. I've never not been proud of myself and my body.  And now I am.

I am ashamed of my body. I hide my weight. I cannot own my weight/body because I am NOT okay with it.

And writing this out has made me realize that if my weight is this much of an issue for me now that I really need to focus on that, like seriously.

Poppa's Formation

It’s time for you all to know a little more about how I got to be literally Momma Resa.

The shortest story goes something like a dark club, a kid free weekend, a bonus check and lots (and I do mean LOTS) of Redbull and (cheap) vodka.

The longer story includes a guy that I recognized from work, but didn’t know. A cousin who was supposed to be my consciences.  And me going home with the boy I recognized from work.

The longest story, I’m going to spare you all the details and just give you the interesting tidbits.
He was my “uncle’s” nephew (we are NOT blood related, like AT ALL.).  He was on a break from his wife. He has multiple kids by other women, few of which he sees. He is not even that good looking. I had gone almost two years without any booty (nookie, da goods, whatever.) I’d drank way too much, like WAY too much.  I should have listened to my cousin. And I don’t remember much of the night Poppa’s conception.  He said he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life. He lied. I don’t believe in needing a man’s support (because I’m stubborn and independent, but mostly stubborn.) I haven’t heard from him since I found out the sex of Poppa, which happened around Christmas 2009.

I was going to do it all story blog, make it seem was more interesting. I realized this does NOT need to be one of those kinds of posts.  So it’s just the nitty gritty.

PS- I felt the need to let you all know about this, and eventually about how Cat came around. Because when commenting and posting and just all around relating in the world I have this background that influences what I say... So anyway. 

The Past & The Future

As I was cleaning out my blogger dashboard of all these randomly useless blogs that I’ve created and left standing cold and alone in the rain I ran across this post. 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2007

.... Deep Thoughts about my future

I'm one of those people who has the crazy thought patterns where they start thinking about eating something for lunch and the next thing you know theyre thinking about the people who live in India and worship cows and how sad their lives must be because they don't get to eat cheeseburgers big ol' greasy ones from McDonald's.

I give that small disclaimer so that you understand how, while I was sweeping the bakery, I started to think about posting this blog and I got to thinking about how I always thought I'd be married by 21. I'm turning 21 in under six months and I'm not married. I know HOW RUDE of me. My generation is truly outrageous, truly truly outrageous (that was for the Dane Cook fans). Anyhow, I just always figured I would be. There's nothing wrong with not being. I just thought i'd be one of those people who would find their true love at 2 and a half and be ready to get married as soon as they graduate high school, and really have already started a family. Instead in the world i call reality, I am about to turn twenty one, havent been in a real relationship in years. The guy at seven I thought I was going to marry is about to get married to a girl who isn't worth his holey underpants. And I'm going to be hanging out at home this friday night with my mom. Not that I dont love my mom.. its just not quite what I'd like to be doing on a Friday night.

I have made a concious decision though. If I am not in a serious relationship by my 28th birthday I'm going to look into getting artificially inseminated. I want to be a mother before I'm 30. And if I can't do it the classic way, then I'll go the more unnatural way. I'm alright with that. I've already told my mom that too. So she can prepare herself for all the bullshit grandparents have to put up with when their kids aren't from the A+ American family.

Alright.. it's too late for this much thought.. i need to sleep.

Thanksgiving, Better late than Never

Thanksgiving was delish.  Everyone ate, gave thanks and enjoyed the company. That said I had a helluva experience with my Granny on Thanksgiving.

She told us about when her and my Pa started dating.  They’d known each other a while, and she’d hated him.  He was older and annoying.  Anyhow, she told me there was this boy she’d been seeing and I realized when she was talking about it, that Omigawd, my Granny was a teenager! Somehow in my delusional state as a grandchild I’d forgotten that at some point my grandparents were teenagers.  You know the squeaky kind where the girls are all giggly and the boys are all silent and stoic-y (well Pa was always like that).

For the first time, ever, I saw my Granny like Barbara Jean (Or maybe they called her Barbie. I‘ll call and find out.) not Granny.  I had a revelation, before all the stories of when my dad was little, and while she was pregnant with my aunt, and living here and there, and however many ‘war’ stories (she is so very apt to tell) she was Barbara (just plain ol’ Barbara) (I called and asked like it was out of the blue.  She doesn’t know about blogs. They would only confuse her. No point in going there.)

So above all else this Thanksgiving I am/was thankful for getting a chance to see who my Granny was BEFORE she was Granny.

***My dad’s parents have always gone by Granny and Pa. My Nanny (Granny’s Mother) married my Grand Daddy (Pa’s Father, AFTER the all their kids were born).  So my grandparents are STEP siblings. And all this happened when my Granny was about 12. 

PS- I'm sorry for being so late with this. During the week was Thanksgiving and a helluva head cold.  And then Black Friday came, and the weekend with 2 sick babies. But now I should be back and at 'em. At least I hope so. 

Thankful For Blogging...

I’ve always been a creative soul.  When I was growing up my dad tried to get a family music troupe going. Needless to say we didn’t go far.  As I got older writing was required for school (anyone know about FCATs? Yeah Floridian here.  If you’re unaware you must past the FCATs in order to graduate from middle and high school.  And the FCATs are Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test.)

And then, once I’d passed my FCAT I got into fan fiction (and at one point I had a “lyric” fight with one of my best friends in high school.  And someone actually wanted to pay for my lyrics. Didn’t do it, but I should have. I could’ve been the next Taylor Swift, or the first Taylor Swift since I’m older than her. Oh except that whole singing thing, as previously mentioned, not so great at that. Anyhow!)

During the rest of my high school career I wrote.  And I had a blog here and a blog there, but nothing wonderful and great.

But now, as I’m really starting my life (with 2 kids and no man) I’ve found that blogging, and the unique friendships and connections that I make through it really help me get through the rough patches.  Not to mention that I get a little scared having to admit that I had 7 Redbull and Vodkas too many the last time I went to Thong Thursday.  Blogging keeps me from going to Thong Thursday (and this is a great thing, I got BB thanks to a Thong Thursday, but that’s a whole other story).  Blogging helps me get through to the sunny side of whatever I might be going through.

And that’s why I’m thankful for Blogging.

This post inspired by Bloggy Mom's Writer Workshop.




PS:: HAPPY THANKSGIVING Y'ALL!!!!!!

Her-Story

There are a lot of things about me you don’t know, so I’m going to (randomly) post little snippets about me, and my life. Because (basically) it’s my blog and I wanna. So neenner neenner.


I went to a Lutheran College for two years. No I am not Lutheran, I’m nondenominational charismatic.  I was once told it sounded like I an std instead of a church denomination.  And that my be true.  But it is what I am, and how I was raised.

You might be wondering what exactly is nondenominational charismatic? What does that std like name mean? Are there people I might know who are that? How does this relate to the world? Blah blah blah, and basically I put this in an easy, not to technical or lengthy way.  It means I’m a Christian, and I don’t recognize with any certain denomination (sounds like a church ho, I know). And I believe that signs and miracles still happen (There will be no debate on this subject. Because it is not something that I will debate. These are my beliefs. I don’t attempt to convert you, and I expect the same courtesy from you.) 

Anyhow, for two long, crazy years I went to a Lutheran College.  Mostly because I didn’t have instate student status, so I may as well go to a private college and they had really great dorms.
The teaching was adequate and (some of) the people I met were A-mazing!
My first roommate was great. She really helped me be a better person, even though we went through some really really crazy (like you wouldn’t believe how crazy) stuff for freshmen.
And my roommate my second year, she was great. She is like the bestest librarian ever! And talk about a bibliophile, oh man. She loves her some books, not to mention penguins.
In addition to roommates I met my “person” as they say on Grey’s. Yang & Grey are each other’s person. And this chick, she’s so my person. She’s like the only person I could be a person with. She’s my Jazzy-Jazz, my J master, my Jazzy Faye. The girl I would lay down life and limb for. And when I first met her, I hated her. And her gorgeous hazel eyes, and great boobs, and her height. But we’ve gotten past all our jealousy issues, and I love her. And she’s godmother to both of my kids. And I swear I wouldn’t be with her if I were gay, but I still love her. (Basically because we can get sick of each other… kinda)

And in addition to all of that wonderfulness up there, all those great people. I met Dr. Neal Migan. Who is this person you may ask? This man I sound so reverent about, I’m not married to not a spouse. He is married, so not a boy toy or fling. He was my English professor. (Just another reason he was not a boyfriend, you know besides that whole being married with two daughters thing.)
He taught my English composition 101 class, and I ended up taking his English composition 301, my sophomore year. Of all the professors I had I remember him with the most clarity. (That totally goes back to this post.)

Well that’s your snippet about me. Oh in case your wondering. I was going for a business degree, international marketing. At a Lutheran teaching school.  I really should have looked into it (the school) better. Haha.