It’s been a while so let’s talk about SEX….ism!

Peeps. I know it’s been like, forever, right? I won’t lie. I’ve been busy at work and life sometimes, can just be overwhelming. So, why am I writing today of all days? What made me take time out of my day to actually log in and sit down and feel like I need to blog about something and think you will read it? Because I’m mad. I’m actually really mad. And I’m about to rant to you about why. So sit back and get comfortable!

In the last month or so, I have been noticing a lot of headlines talking about sexism and “girl power”. How women are paid 0.78 cents on the dollar compared to men. How we shouldn’t walk alone at night ever, no matter where we are. How we always need to keep an eye on our drinks while out at a bar with the girls. How when we make a remark about how upset we are feeling,someone might ask us if we are PMSing. I get it. It’s degrading and not to mention, it’s annoying. I’ll be the first person to agree that sexism is still an issue even in today’s modern society no matter where you are from.

That is only in part of what is bothering me.

Recently while on my break at work, I was perusing a popular website with mostly upbeat, positive videos that have strong messages. While on said website, I did see a video about a woman with the headline “She removes her dress on stage in the name of feminism to prove her point.” I have to say, that headline alone caught me. I start to watch and the video starts with her telling us about her daily morning routine. Her hair, make up, moisturizer,  flat iron, bronzing cream etc. She goes into elaborate detail about getting dressed and the clothing she wears including spanx and making sure she looks a certain way. She continues on a lengthy tirade about how she has counted the minutes of her daily routine and has said that in that time she has spent dolling herself up, she could have learned a new language. She ends the video by removing her dress to show she is wearing a tank top and spanx looking shorts. Removes her makeup and messes up her hair to show her “true colors”. During this video, she does say how society makes her wear make up, makes her wear spanx to hide her “mummy tummy” and makes her exercise so she stays a professional size 10. The woman also tells her child in response to why she wears make up that society says she has to look a certain way. At the end of the video, people applaud and cheer as if she has accomplished something world changing.  And this is why I’m pissed.

You can watch the video for yourself  here

I’m going to have to call her out on some very serious accusations about so called society and feminism. What she did, wasn’t being a feminist. What she did was place blame and feminism is about having choices and having a voice. What the speaker did was place blame and appear to be helpless in a world where for some strange reason, she has no choices. Society is not to be blamed for choices we make. Even in a world as cruel as ours can be at times, we still have free will. Does my wearing make up mean I have low self esteem? Or that society is to blame for me going to the drug store and buying mascara? Or what about me blow drying my hair? There is nothing wrong with taking pride in how you look and feeling good for you! When I put my mascara on in the morning, my thoughts are not ” I hope people notice I put in an effort.” My thought is ” I LOVE how I look and feel with this on!” The speaker also did mention that grooming is not a marketable activity. I would beg to differ! I would like to see someone apply for a job and not be groomed. Actually, I have and I never did see them again. And I can tell you that dressing well is also a form of good manners. You wouldn’t wear sweats and have greasy hair if you were going out with your significant other, would you? Of course not. Because you care about yourself and them. It’s not about society. I have gone to work without make up and felt just fine! I have embraced my looks and all of it’s imperfections and come to terms with it. But that’s me. Not society.

My point is this: Feminism is about equality. It’s also about having a voice. Society may make some strong suggestions but it’s up to us to give in or not. The next time you are about to praise and share a well produced video where the audience applauds and the speaker says its in the name of a worthy cause, take a moment to look at it from all the angles.

What do you think? Do you think the speaker was fair in her arguments? Have you been a victim of sexism?

Food, glorious food!

I think everyone has their ” go to ” recipe when it comes to dinner time. Some people is a quick pasta or a hearty salad. For some it’s a take out menu or a walk down to their favorite spot. Personally, I love to cook. I don’t do it to be great at it, I do it because it’s fun and I can take some time to focus on something else that isn’t work all while sipping on a glass of wine. My go to meal is balsamic vinegar & garlic encrusted pork tenderloin. ( I don’t know why I use the word encrusted. I hate that word. You can’t even use it outside of culinary talk because it sounds so gross! Go ahead! Use it in a sentence. Try not to be disgusted with yourself.) I love this recipe because its a fail safe and there is no measuring involved! BONUS!

Mmmmm! Dinner is served!

Things you will need:

4-5 garlic cloves, finely minced or crushed or from a jar. Who cares as long as you have garlic.
Balsamic vinegar
Coarse salt ( or whatever salt. It’s salt. Who cares.)
Freshly ground pepper
Olive oil

First thing is first,preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Then take your pork tenderloin and rinse it. Rinse it under cold water and blot it dry with some paper towels. This helps ensure the meat will brown evenly.

Now trim your tenderloin of the silver skin you may see. You can do this next step 1 of 2 ways, you can either marinade your pork over night or while you are at work all day or you can just add everything in and skip that step. If you have time, take your tenderloin and add in some olive oil, balsamic vinegar & garlic. Enough to coat it nicely as it doesn’t need to swim in the oil and vinegar. For the garlic, I usually tend to use 2-3 cloves but if you are feeling especially adventurous, go for 4-5. Chop it up and rub on tenderloin or buy the jar of pre chopped garlic like I do and save some time and your hands won’t stink of it for a week. I usually use a shallow tupperware or a ziplock and fold it over so the entire tenderloin is fully covered.

Next step is to sear the tenderloin. Take a pan, heat it up, throw in some olive oil and sear the meat on all sides while coating with some balsamic vinegar until all sides are well cooked. Don’t forget to season with salt and pepper!

Now that your pork has been seared, put it into an oven safe dish and toss it some more olive oil & balsamic and let that baby roast for a good 25-30 minutes and flip over half way through. Once it is out of the oven, transfer to some foil and wrap it up like a baby in a blanket and let it rest for 10 more minutes. Trust me! This is crucial if you want it to be juicy and tender.

Now that it’s ready to carve, slice it up and serve with wild rice and some fresh salad!

 

Dimples are cute! Unless they are on your thighs

We live in a body obsessed society, let’s face it. These perfect bodies are splashed on almost every page of every magazine you open these days, on every channel and in every movie. We see women flaunting their figures of perfection in skin tight dresses and sky high heels. Perfect skin, hair, nails, clothes.. where does it end and how can I keep up?!

Artist Daniel Soares pasted Photoshop toolbar stickers on these H&M posters as a nice little reminder that not all is as it seems

I started thinking about this when I was flipping through my latest issue of Cosmo and noticed these women in their skimpy lingerie offering me ” The 50 best sex tips to drive him wild” article. I couldn’t help but notice I was examining the girl in the article photo like a doctor. Looking for a flaw on her perfectly tanned body that didn’t seem to have any kind of imperfection anywhere. Now when I look at myself, I see many things wrong. Skin is too pale, my arms are long and weird, I have really ugly toes that resemble Fred Flintstone and the thing that bothers me the most when the warmer weather starts to creep in, my cellulite.

I don’t have much cellulite. But the fact that it’s there drives me nuts. I usually assess my wardrobe in the summer by length so anything 2 inches below my cellulite is appropriate. I self tan, use anti cellulite creams, use a dry brush to massage the skin, do home remedies. Sure they work for a little while, but its not a lasting effect. But did you know that at least 80% of women have cellulite? 80%! That’s a huge number! Short, tall, skinny, curvy, fat, athletic, models, actresses, anybody and everybody. It doesn’t matter what your body type is, cellulite doesn’t discriminate. So what exactly is cellulite and how the hell do I get rid of it?

Simply put, cellulite is the bumpy, dimpled, cottage cheese like skin that shows up around your butt, stomach and thighs. DELISH! It’s fat that has pushed through the connective tissue meant to hold fat cells in place. Women are cursed with vertical connective tissue (men’s tissue is crisscrossed) which allows fat to sneak through much easier. As we get older and have more weight fluctuations, that connective tissue gets stretched out. They’re not as elastic and more fat is able to sneak through the gaps. The end result is that bumpy skin we see which is called cellulite. If women and men are built differently, I’d guess there would be bigger reason for getting cellulite, right? Turns out, there is! The purpose of cellulite is to provide insulation, cushioning and temperature regulation. What’s more, it indicates you are receiving sufficient calories to carry a pregnancy full term. Most doctors and scientists (the ones who don’t work in the beauty and cosmetic industry) have begun to think of cellulite as a characteristic developed in puberty, like boobs! It’s that inevitable. So basically, cellulite isn’t that bad! It means we are healthy and our bodies are doing what it should.

I hear ya, girl

So why is there absolutely no fix for cellulite? No permanent solution to get rid of this bumpy braille like skin? I started to ask myself this when I realized that every cream or expensive spa treatment on the market was just a band aid solution. Maybe there is no fix because nothing is broken. It’s only when we feel totally ashamed of our perfectly healthy bodies ( and having cellulite is proof your body is doing what it should ) that we start to spend insane amounts of cash on something that can’t be cured. Maybe that right there is a sign that it shouldn’t be cured and we should just accept our bodies as they are. Perfectly imperfect with every little dimple to prove it.

If women and men are built differently, we’d guessthere’s a biological reason for getting cellulite, right? There is. The purpose of cellulite is to provide insulation, cushioning and temperature regulation. What’s more, it indicates you are receiving sufficient calories to carry a pregnancy full term. Most doctors and scientists (the ones who don’t work in the cellulite industry) have begun to think of cellulite as a characteristic developed in puberty–like breasts. It’s that inevitable. – See more at: http://www.austinpost.org/article/cellulite-obsession-and-why-we-should-cut-it-out#sthash.Rt2KrrZ8.dpuf

Cellulite is fat that has pushed through the connective tissues meant to hold fat cells in place. Women are cursed with vertical connective tissue (men’s tissue is crisscrossed) which allows fat to sneak through much easier. As we get older and/or have more weight fluctuations, those connective tissues get stretched out. They’re not as elastic and more fat is able to sneak through the gaps. Thus, we have cellulite. – See more at: http://www.austinpost.org/article/cellulite-obsession-and-why-we-should-cut-it-out#sthash.Rt2KrrZ8.dpuf

Cellulite is fat that has pushed through the connective tissues meant to hold fat cells in place. Women are cursed with vertical connective tissue (men’s tissue is crisscrossed) which allows fat to sneak through much easier. As we get older and/or have more weight fluctuations, those connective tissues get stretched out. They’re not as elastic and more fat is able to sneak through the gaps. Thus, we have cellulite. – See more at: http://www.austinpost.org/article/cellulite-obsession-and-why-we-should-cut-it-out#sthash.Rt2KrrZ8.dpuf

Cellulite is fat that has pushed through the connective tissues meant to hold fat cells in place. Women are cursed with vertical connective tissue (men’s tissue is crisscrossed) which allows fat to sneak through much easier. As we get older and/or have more weight fluctuations, those connective tissues get stretched out. They’re not as elastic and more fat is able to sneak through the gaps. Thus, we have cellulite. – See more at: http://www.austinpost.org/article/cellulite-obsession-and-why-we-should-cut-it-out#sthash.Rt2KrrZ8.dpuf

When did I become Humpty Dumpty and other thoughts while shopping

Spring is finally in the air and what better way to celebrate than shopping for some new outfits! That probably would have been my level of enthusiasm had I found anything in my 4 hour shopping excursion on this past Sunday.  I woke up feeling like I needed some color in my mostly black, white and beige wardrobe for work and took to the local mall. I finally have the time, some extra cash and the weather seemed to be in my favor. Everything was going my way until I went into the changing room…

Let’s start by first assessing the “average” Canadian woman. According to Macleans magazine, the average Canadian woman is 153 pounds and is 5’3 tall and makes about $32,500 a year. I would say I am fairly average. I am 149 pounds, 5’6 tall and make a little more ( not that much more…)  than the average salary. So why can’t I find anything at my local mall if I’m so average? When did it become so hard to find something to wear? It seems to me that maybe the average retailer is not so “average Canadian” friendly. Not so long ago, there was that whole shit show of a PR scandal with Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jefferies ( who closely resembles some type of Orc out of lord of the rings ) who openly admitted that women of a certain look, size and body shape just don’t belong in his stores. More recently, home grown store lululemon was also accused of hiding their bigger sized yoga pants off the sales floor in order to discourage women of a certain size from wearing their product.

You actually don’t have to look that hard to see what I’m talking about. If you are like me and like to window shop online, just click for a selection in size 6 and you will find that there are almost 1,500 results in the search. Bump up the size to a 10 and that result drops to a mere 600. Which means that retailers are making it harder and harder for the average sized girl like myself to scrounge for clothes to wear.

Why can’t I find pants that fit?

I spent the better part of my day on Sunday at the local mall looking for work appropriate pants. Not leggings or demin although I probably could get away with some dark demin but in a corporate office, I wouldn’t want to take that chance. Leggings can work but on a daily basis when dealing with clients from government and Parliament, it may not be always the most appropriate look. I dress fairly casual. Mostly black skinny pants, dressy top and a blazer and bling it up with some jewelry. Nothing too fancy but nothing too laid back either. I won’t name the retailers that I visited but let’s say I hit up every clothing store for women in the mall and came out empty handed.

My first stop had a huge sale going on. SWEET! I can probably find at least 3 pairs of pants in here and maybe 2 new blouses. The sales girl was happy to help and sent me off with an arm full of clothes to try. Discouraged after the first 2 pairs of pants were too small, I went to the next size up. Still a little snug fitting and would probably be uncomfortable if I had a big lunch. Again, next size up. This time, the pants fit like pair of worn in sweats. Sure they were comfortable but I looked like I was the after photo in a weight loss commercial wearing her before pants. ” Do you maybe have something in another style or cut that would be a better fit? I can’t seem to find anything that isn’t either painted on or baggy” I asked the fitting room girl. She quickly sized me up and said ” I might have something but we may  not have your size.” Ugh. Great. Fine. Just let me try and get this over with. Sure enough, the pants are far too tight. Can’t even get them over my knee caps.  So off I went to another store, then another and again, another. Same story, different brand. After trying on what seemed like every pair of pants in almost every size in every fucking cut and every design ( even tried pants I thought were ugly as sin but if they fit, I didn’t care ) I was willing to give up. My second to last stop has always been a fail safe. Sure their prices are a bit higher but I usually love their selection and style and love their bright colors. I went around looking for ANYTHING in what seemed would be my size. There was 1 pair of pants in particular I couldn’t wait to try on. Totally my style! Straight leg, subtle matte dark leopard print with a higher waist and zip closure on the side. SWEET! Still work appropriate and I can have some fun with these. As soon as I got them just to my hips, I couldn’t get them any higher. Fuck. Not this shit again. I called the fitting room girl over for some help and asked her for the next size up. “Hmmmm… That’s actually the biggest size we have.”  I think my jaw dropped. ” Are you serious? This is the biggest size you carry? Do you  mean for this pair of pants or in general?” ” No in general. We don’t carry anything over that.” What are you KIDDING me?! I’m not plus sized, I’m not obese, I’m certainly not fat. Sure I’m not a size 4 anymore but when did I get to this point? ” I guess we just don’t carry anything for your shape.” I closed the curtain to my dressing room and thought “What shape is that? Humpty dumpty? When did I become humpty dumpty? What the HELL is going on here?” I felt like shit and headed to my last store. The last store I hit up I will name. I went to Michael Kors hoping to find something. At this point, a $200 pair of pants is better than no pants at all… Well, in some cases 🙂

I was surprised to find that Mr Kors actually does carry a plus sized line! Did you know that?! Me neither!  I asked the girl why don’t they advertize they carry bigger sizes for the average girl. ” Hmm I don’t know! ” Of course she wouldn’t. She’s still a size 4 and has yet to face this common dilemma. Still, at almost $400 for a pair of pretty red pants, still out of the question even if they do fit.

I certainly am not alone in this battle of the fitting room. More and more women are finding it hard to find clothes that fit and are flattering. So ladies, let me end with this:

We aren’t the issue. The fashion industry is. So while it may take us longer to find that perfect fitting pair of jeans or pants for work, a blouse that fits like a dream or even bra that doesn’t give you quadraboob, let’s take a minute and realize that the fashion industry has yet to catch up with our OBVIOUSLY perfectly shaped bodies and the only conclusion I can come up with is that the fashion industry is still designing for the heroin chic era.  So maybe the designers aren’t so fashion forward and we are just way ahead of our time.

Happy shopping, ladies!

Why you gotta be so catty?

There are many things that can ruin a good day at work. Spilling your coffee on yourself, missing a deadline, fucking up an important document or farting really loudly when you thought nobody was around only to see a co worker behind you. Once, I bent down to get a file from a cabinet and split my pants right along my ass. Had to call Andre to pick me up.

An0ther thing that can ruin your day or week or even your job, is a cat. No, not the cute furry ones that purr and want to snuggle. I’m talking about the catty women that lurk around every corner of every office in the world. The catty ladies that sometimes come wearing a smile and treat you like their equal only to tear you to shreds when you show a moment of weakness. I’m sure men can behave in a catty fashion as well but for some reason, I think women may be better equipped for this particular behavior.

Catty behavior can be defined as subtly cruel and malicious/ spiteful / catlike; stealthy. Why are women SO good at this and why do we seek out other women? Especially in the workplace? I did some googling and found that 45% of American workers say they have experienced workplace cattiness. To make matters worse, 40% of the tormentors that are women tend to prey on other women 70% of the time. I think this speaks volumes about the number of women in the workplace that have experienced or even taken part in catty behavior.

I have personally experienced women being catty to me on more than one occasion. Women I barely knew. Sometimes it’s a sideways glance, other times it’s a snarky bitchy remark that stems from nowhere when the 2 of us are alone. Sometimes it’s a rude gesture in front of others to what I can only assume is to show me who’s queen bee. I think my recent favorite example of cattiness was when someone stopped me to see my engagement ring in front of a busy boardroom packed with people. She gazed at it and smiled. Looked up and told everyone my  news only to add in a much louder speaking voice ” Is your diamond real because it doesn’t look like it.”

So why do we do this? Is it envy? Insecurity? Competition? Maybe it’s because as we grew up, we were taught these qualities were less than desirable and to keep it under wraps so we were never taught to deal with these emotions in open way. But women by nature have a desire to connect with one another. So why are we being so catty? Is it because we as women are better at reading each others emotions so it makes for easier prey? So we don’t seem weak in a male dominated office setting?

Are you reading this and maybe feel guilty for a previous catty encounter? Or are you reading this and know someone who has done something totally bitchy to you in the office and you secretly wish that she would choke and die at her desk? I am guilty of both, I must admit. So I am going to take this opportunity to use my past bitchiness for a moment of reflection and to figure out the type of coworker I want to be. You never know! That woman I always hoped would choke on her lunch could be someone who could offer me help on a future project and further my skill set and that maybe one day would help land me my dream job.

I think its high time that women start to respect one another. Not just in the workplace but all places. Women have worked too hard and worked too long towards gender equality just to mess up our own efforts by our own hands. Wouldn’t it be the same amount of energy to promote and support in any way I can to my fellow female colleagues than it would be to judge them? Let’s face it, we wouldn’t be where we are today if it weren’t for other women paving the way for us.

The next time you encounter catty behavior, take a second and think about where she’s coming from. Is she being rude just to be rude or is she having a hard day and she missed her deadline and you just happened to be in her war path? That catty lady may just become an ally you thought you never had.

From Montreal to Ottawa and never back again

Montreal will always have my heart

Living in Montreal is totally a different world. You can walk anywhere in the city and find new places to visit, you can hop on a bus or metro anywhere and go from point A to point B in a more than reasonable amount of time for a reasonable fare. You can pretty much get any kind of food any time of day at any point in the city, rent is cheap, the nightlife is amazing and the beer and wine are sold at your local corner store. The vibe is European and summer in my favorite city is always memorable. Picturesque parks, french bakeries, the best cappuccinos I have ever had are all on the same block. Any moment spent in Montreal will be a memorable one.

But like any city, Montreal has its flaws. The once glamorous city and Canadian financial hub is now crumbling like week old french bread, the bridges are literally falling on people and killing them, roads are swallowing cars whole in the downtown core and the politics are a total shit show. The PQ government is more concerned about what you write on your Facebook page than the people being denied care at the local hospital because of what language they speak.

2 years ago, I had a thought. ” Why am I still here if all I do is bitch and complain about Montreal?”  I have no real ties holding me back like a child in school, a house to sell or a lucrative career. Sure my friends and family were in Quebec but I could always visit.  That’s when Andre asked me to move in with him and I decided to throw caution into the wind and give Ontario a try. It’s only 2 hours away and it’s not like I’m moving to a different country, right?!

So we loaded up a u-haul and took off to Ottawa. A fresh start, a new apartment and a new province!

I moved to Ottawa wearing the proverbial rose colored glasses and immediately assumed  that because I am coming from Montreal and spoke English and French, I will be getting a government job in 2 minutes flat and will be making $80K a year. Keep dreaming, kid.

The job market isn’t what I thought but I managed to work my butt off to get a decent job with decent pay. The rents are much higher than they were back home but the roads are smoother and the people are friendly.

But Ottawa is a beige city. By beige I mean bland. There isn’t a local gem of a cafe where you can sit and sip a beautiful cappuccino while reading your book and people watch. You also can’t walk from one end of the city to the other and pass little dive bars along the way. There is no metro system and the local fruit store is Loblaws. There are no french bakeries that you can hit up on the way home without looking for parking or driving to the other end of town. Let’s also not forget the poutine. After almost 2 years I have yet to have one that reminds me of home. Ottawa is a government city that maybe fun forgot. Don’t get me wrong, you can still go out in the Byward market and let loose at Mercury lounge or Zaphod’s or go have a few drinks at the Clocktower Brew pub. The bike paths are scenic in the summer and Rideau Canal skateway is beautiful in the winter.

My new home

Montreal has its perks but living in Ottawa is much more calm place with a more grown up vibe. Here, we take the time to do the scenic drive and we aren’t rushing from one place to another. Ottawa is beautiful, open and Canada day here is something else. I had never seen so much red and white in all my life!  Back home July 1st is moving day for most of the city and Canada day is celebrated but not with as much patriotism as Ottawa.  Sure there might be a few fireworks at the old port but not much else. Back home, it’s St-Jean de Baptiste that’s celebrated, not the Canadian heritage. Ottawa is a big city but with a small town feel. I guess being beige isn’t so bad after all.

Our roads are smooth (for the most part), snow removal is quick, people speak in both languages and there are art museums around every corner. Ottawa is a city of the arts and everywhere you look, there are families and a real sense of community.

Ottawa may only be a 2 hour drive from Montreal, but it really does feel like a world away.

Girls of a certain age

It’s so much fun being a girl sometimes. We get to wear pretty clothes and shoes, we get to play with makeup and do our hair. Whenever I do something weird or what Andre might find annoying, I quickly say “it’s a girl thing” and that usually ends the conversation and all weird actions are justified. Including sitting on the sink with a magnifying mirror to examine each and every pore and scrutinize every fine line that wasn’t there the day before.

It also kinda sucks being a chick sometimes. The cramps, finding shoes that don’t kill your feet but still look cute, finding jeans that don’t give you that weird mom ass, the constant over analyzing (maybe that’s just me) and the pressure to look good and do everything well all at the same time because you’re a woman and naturally, you should excel at everything or else you might be a failure.

The other time it also sucks to be a girl is when you reach a certain age. That age is anywhere between 25 and over when you don’t have kids. When most of your girlfriends are settling down with either marriage or babies or a combo of both, it’s only natural for people to start asking you when it will be your turn. Especially when you are showing zero interest in following the crowd.

“Oh! Don’t worry! You’ll change your mind!” That sentence has been uttered to me more times than I can count. I never really say anything after because I’m too busy trying not to punch you in the face. Seriously. There’s a good reason why I get so worked up about this particular subject, trust me.
Having children is not just a lifestyle but it’s also a decision to change the lives of many. Not just the ones having the kid. It’s also a lifestyle that isn’t for everyone regardless of the fact that their vagina is in fully working order.
I once made the unfortunate mistake many years ago and asked an acquaintance about when she planned on having kids in a room full of moms and moms to be and her response changed the way I saw the entire conversation to this day. “I want a child more than anything but my body just won’t allow it.” I felt like a total asshole. Here I am sitting next to a girl about my age, in a long term relationship, perfectly healthy looking, asking her about when she wants to have kids and she tells me what might have been something incredibly personal and she chose to bear her secret and her heart ache with me, whom she barely knew. Right at that very second, it hit me. Why do we, as women, ask such a personal question in the most nonchalant manner? Who am I to assume you are fully capable of carrying a child or to assume your spouse or partner is able to provide that for you as well? Do you assume because I look healthy and have a vagina and I’m over 25 I should just automatically want one or have one already because everyone else seems to be?

This is not in my future.

I realize how lucky I am. I am healthy and could have a child if I pleased. I realize how lucky I am because so many women in this world would do anything to be able to carry a child and here I am with absolutely no desire to have that lifestyle.

When you openly admit that having kids may not be for you, it’s as if you have committed the most heinous of crimes. People always seem to say the same things like don’t worry that will change or you will eventually, never say never! But why is that? Is it because from the time we ourselves are babies, we are given toys of babies to burp, play with and change? Given mini strollers to push around the house with your plastic baby to take care of? Have I been groomed to have a baby all along and there’s something wrong with me? I don’t coo over babies or stare longingly at little tiny clothes and yearn for the midnight feedings and losing sleep. Having a baby isn’t for everyone, let’s face it! There is no trial and you can’t just quit it like a dead end job.

My thought is this: In a world where we seem to be open about everything and anything and willing to share details on social media outlets of almost every aspect of our lives, why are we not open to women who are willing to say “this just isn’t for me” and question them like prisoners? Why is someone’s preference on how they want to spend their lives so questionable because she’s a woman of a certain age? I feel like as women, we are all on the same team at the end of the day and the only other person that knows how hard it is to be a woman, is really another woman.

Maybe the next time before you ask someone about when they are planning on having kids, my unfortunate moment might or might not pop into your head. But regardless of what someone’s answer is, just remember, having kids is a choice and no matter what someone’s choice is, as women, we should support one another.

Yay! You’re engaged! ….So what’s next?

It’s a moment every little girl dreams of. The moment her prince charming gets down on one knee and opens a delicate little box to show her a beautiful diamond to ask for her hand in marriage and they hold hands and ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after. Or at least that’s what Disney movies taught me.

But in reality, that shit takes work. And by work, I mean dating your fair share of losers before you’ve found your prince charming. I know I have. I once agreed to go out with this persistent little weasel looking guy who was 100% not my type but he wouldn’t stop asking. In a moment of mental weakness, I thought much like George Costanza and told myself “well, if what I do is always wrong, then the exact opposite must be right!” So out I went in my favourite pair of dark denim Gap jeans and a fresh white t-shirt, make up and freshly washed hair to meet Mr.Weasel at a popular Mexican restaurant. We meet outside and get seated right next to the window and order our drinks. Within minutes, Sir Weasel face leans in and in a gentle voice (as if to lessen the burn of the impending insult) “You know, you would look great in some much more feminine clothes. I can take you shopping for some skirts and dresses tomorrow if you want.” I guess the look on my face said more than I ever could. I quickly snapped “You’re going to give me lessons on clothing? You’re wearing khakis like you’re about to sell me a used car.” Our evening was off to a less than enthusiastic start. The waitress comes to take our order and I said I had stomach issues and left. So much for the Costanza theory.

I finally found my guy and after a few years, he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. It was a perfectly beautiful, romantic moment just for the two of us to share. A truly memorable and incredible moment! But what nobody tells you about being engaged: it really IS just a moment. And once you let the news spread of your special moment and newly engaged status, that’s where all the questions begin.

So, when is the big day! How many carats is your ring? Where did he get it? Where will you honeymoon? Do you want my photographer’s number? Oh I have the perfect place for you to have your reception!

Let me just say this to start: CALM. THE. FUCK. DOWN! I got engaged 20 minutes ago, I do not have a date. Yes I know all about my ring and no, I don’t want your photographer’s number. It’s been 2 days since my man put a ring on it and it’s already nuts. Disney failed to mention this aspect.

I guess my point is this: In a society where we all want the next best thing right this minute, we tend to overlook the daily joys of life. Marriage is a choice. It’s a journey, not a destination. Shit. That was pure fucking poetry, Tara. No wonder he put a ring on it! But really, we tend to always be looking ahead to the next big thing coming. When you’re dating, when are you getting engaged? When you’re engaged, when are you getting married? When you’re married, when are you having a baby? When you have a baby, when are you having the next one? Why are we in such a rush to get to the next best thing and not stop and enjoy the moment? My moment is right now and now has been since Saturday. When will my “now” end? I don’t know. Whenever I fucking feel like it and whenever I decide to let people in on another amazing moment that is about the 2 of us taking a big step, together. Right now, I couldn’t be happier and I think that’s all that really matters.