Why I Cannot Be All About That Bass.

"I'm bringin booty back....go 'head and tell them skinny bitches that."

This is complicated and it is so for a lot of reasons. The first is that the thick girl part of me, the never been less than a size 10, thighs for days part of me really wants to be like, "HELL YEAH!" when I hear this song. I want to say "FINALLY an anthem that sticks it to the skinny girl size 2 propaganda!" Also, this song is SO catchy and cute, which is I suppose why all the little girls in my daughters kindergarten class are singing it and therefor my daughter comes home with some new off version of the chorus every week. While the main reason I wouldn't be jamming out to this in the car with my kids is because there is a little language and I am sort of a stickler about that, I think the message is actually really bad. Dare I say, just as bad as the skinny girl size 2 propaganda we see everywhere all the time as girls and women.

First off, despite its seemingly positive ideas, the song is really contradictory. Lets take a look:

1. "All the right junk in all the right places," which means that junk is important, especially when it's where it is supposed to be.
2. "Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top," which means junk shouldn't matter at all.
3."My mom always told me don't worry about your size, boys want a little more booty to hold at night," back to junk matters.
4."I won't be no silicone stick figure Barbie doll", indicating that there is in fact something wrong with being super thin.

Clearly the message is all over the board. You are perfect, but I'm bringing booty back and boys like it, so if you don't have it perhaps scratch the perfect part. The video depicts one "not about the bass" female seen here:

She is a thin, attractive female. She is wearing what looks to be a plastic dress which I imagine is meant to indicate that she is plastic or fake. This sends the message that thin somehow equals fake, which is a negative message. The reason I don't think this is any better than a Victoria's Secret billboard or music video with half naked writhing women is because:

1. WE ARE STILL TOTALLY OBJECTIFYING WOMEN. We are not singing about intelligence or ability or heart, we are STILL SINGING ABOUT BOOTY. Does it matter if it's big or small? Did we need ANOTHER song about the body type of women EVER? Making another song about body image or type is just reiterating that the body of a woman, whatever it is, is important and meant to be noticed.

2. IT IS NOT IMPORTANT. YOUR BODY WAS MADE TO MOVE AND LOVE AND BE LOVED AND ENJOY LIFE REGARDLESS OF JUNK IN YOUR TRUNK OR ABS OR SMALL BOOBS OR FAKE BOOBS OR THIGHS THAT RUB TOGETHER OR THIGHS THAT HAVE GAPS. YOUR BODY WAS NOT MADE TO BE GAWKED AT AND JUDGED BY YOURSELF OR ANYONE ELSE. (Read that again).

3. What about the little girls, or grown ones, who are built small? Who are naturally thin with no junk anywhere? What are they supposed to feel about themselves according to this?

You may think I am digging or overreacting and you might love this song because it feels "empowering". You may find it harmless and scream the chorus out the car windows with your kids and all of that is fine. But all these "harmless" ideas add up. This song, plus the fact that every female cartoon character is built like a brick house with DD's, plus walking past the ads in mall windows, plus >insert every day life experience for a young girl here< and it isn't harmless anymore.

I have to tell my daughter to change CARTOONS on Netflix because the girls are drawn so ridiculously and all the same and I don't for a moment want her mind to even PASS OVER the thought that women are supposed to look like that. I refuse to turn on anything other than certain Pandora stations in the car because I can't be okay with my kids hearing the content of pop music. I work TIRELESSLY to not talk about my weight or how frustrated I am with my face in front of my kids because I don't want them to think ANY OF IT MATTERS. I am not perfect- I miss the mark all the time but WE HAVE TO TRY. Open your eyes. You have been fooled and you probably know it if you are reading this but your kids don't and when they hear a happy, upbeat, poppy sounding song they will learn it, and sing it and be absorbing every bit of it because that's what kids do.  

We are wasting brain space with this garbage.

That is all.

Disneyland is Magic.

A month ago, if I had seen a blog post with this title I would have not only disregarded reading it, but also judged the writer as someone who is most likely ridiculous and in need of some "real life". I am unashamed about this truth, for you see I was of the opinion that Disneyland is nothing more than a people/money trap, set by a mouse. It was a place you went to spend way too much money from the time you bought your ticket to the last churro and bottle of water purchased waiting for fireworks. Everything in between was just lines and waiting and sweaty strangers with screaming spoiled children and a few mediocre rides thrown in.

I was wrong.

I'll say it again.

I was wrong.

I wasn't totally wrong, it costs a lot of money to do Disneyland right, and there are a lot of sweaty strangers with chocolate candy faced children touching every railing, wall and prop in sight. Not the place to be if you are particularly concerned with the spread of Ebola and other deadly viruses. Actually, I witnessed a small child of about 3 projectile vomit into the bushes while in line for Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, and his mother simply wiped him off with a wet nap and went on about the line. I was outraged and made my children triple hand sanitize after our turn but lacked the oomph to actually say anything to either of the matching Mickey shirt wearing parents...but that is niether here nor there.

What I assumed when people, grown ass adult men and women, tried to tell me how magical Disneyland was, was that there was something wrong with them. What life living, routine driving adult could possibly sit with a straight face and talk to me about the "magic" of an overpriced theme park? These people need to grow up. That is what I thought. If you are reading this and you just happen to be a person who shared unashamed with me the joy Disney brought you, I thought you needed a dose of reality. Sorry, but it's true.

You see I am an uptight individual. "NO!" you say, "Not you with all your tattoos and awesome funky wardrobe- you must certainly be spontaneous, wild and free with the heart of a small child!" While I understand your appreciation of my clothing choices, this is simply not true. I suppose I had good moments when  I was a little girl. There are pictures of a Christmas when I had to take a nap in between all my presents, and smiling hanging upside down on the monkey bars etc. I had the best moments I could have considering a lot that was going on in the background of my life (which wasn't really the background at all) as a kid. I don't want to get into all of that here, I just need you to understand that I don't have an inner child and I would bet it has something to do with a less than gratifying childhood. I always wanted to grow up so when I finally did, there was no little person joy left. It sounds sad I suppose, but it is what it is. This all to say, I knew it was impossible for me to feel like a kid.

Also important to note, I have anxiety. I do not do well with "thrills" and generally I seek to stay as far away from them as humanly possible because my thought life creates enough "thrill" in my brain to never need a ride to do so for me EVER. I don't like being out of control or unsure of what will happen next, so roller coasters and what not are simply not my bag. Hadn't been on any sort of ride in a really really long time and was sure that doing so would induce sheer panic and warrant use of meds, which I really avoid at all costs.

"OKAY ISSUES HAVER, GET ON WITH IT!" you say.

So day one, my family and I arrive at California Adventure at approximately 8am because my kids were up and ready to go at 5am and what in the world were we gonna do sitting around in a hotel room? Lucky for us, they just so happened to be handing out early entry passes so we hopped on in to an empty park and headed straight to Tower of Terror. I know- really great first choice for the panic queen right? It was awful. It's dark and you don't know if you are going up or down until the doors open and you're 13 stories up and then you fall and up and down like that for what feels like ages. But I did it. And I laughed when it was over and we went back later and did it again. It was just as terrible the second time but I still did it. Secondly, we headed over to the Radiator Springs Racers. I don't even like the Cars movie, but I pretty much thought it was the coolest thing to happen to my life ever. It was like for a moment I lived in Radiator Springs and we got to race the car beside us and all I could think was how great it was to feel lost in something.

The next few days at Disneyland mimicked this. I rode Space Mountain and spent the entire time in prayer, but rode it again later and had a blast. I got ridiculously excited about all the old school animatronic rides where Pinocchio and Alice and the Little Mermaid were brought to life. I met Jack the Pumpkin King and really thought for a moment he was not a fictional character. I saw a live performance of Aladdin that made me laugh so hard I cried. I watched my life flash before my eyes on Mickey's Ferris Wheel of Death (not the real name) where my husband kept his face in a provided barf bag and my kids and I sat as still as possible while our gondola swung in a way that felt completely unnatural. I paid $25 for my daughter to get her face painted and $150 for chicken nuggets with princesses. I helped my kids trade pins with staff members and watched them light up at every turn.

I felt like a kid. I figured out, in those 3 days, how to stop being so damn serious about everything and just pretend. Granted, I had some highly anxious moments when it was too loud or too crowded and I did have to take some breathers, but mostly it was utter magic.

Take away:

1. I am not to old or too uptight to get lost in childish nonsense.
2. Childish nonsense is good for the soul.
3. I can ride scary things that I have no control over in the dark and not die or have a panic attack.
4. Sometimes somethings are worth every single penny you spend.
5. Aladdin is the greatest Disney movie of all time and needs its own animatronic black light responsive ride.
6. Between God and Walt, all things are possible.

She.

She is gray matter
Epicenter of thought and being
She is less than a foot
From your heart
But She is miles and miles
Away

She is an open bar
Cigarette smoke in the air
And the slow burn of whiskey
In Her throat

She is a wandering eye
Throwing pearls to pigs
Writhing in sweat soaked sheets
Happily resigned

She is a monstrous beast
Slack jawed mouth full of teeth
Row after row
Saliva wetting everything
With the fever of fear

She is a silent tsunami
Growing growing
And falling upon you
Only to drown you
In the darkest corner of Herself

She is vicious
Jealous for time and attention
She asks for moments
And steals days
She takes days
And makes them years

Who you are
Is not who She is
She is dangerous
A wild self serving beast

But even so
She is not without hope
She, meet He

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

Romans 12:2

Mid Life Crisis and the Trouble with Nostalgia

 A few days ago I wrote this:

"If time was to be traveled, I would walk fiercely, head down, heavy footed for a marathon of miles and more. Blistered and bleeding I would trudge through both muck and mire patiently, steady and with purpose. I would carry with me no intention of changing the future but only the desire to live again as someone untied, loosed from the responsibility of adulthood. I would embrace every whimsey, dance the night away with the wild nonsenses and play dot-to-dot with stars. I could have you by my side, or her or him or no one at all but the strings of life would have been momentarily cut leaving me suspended with nothing but myself and silence until I say otherwise. I would battle the monsters instead of succumbing to them. I would see them honestly, as they stood, ready for battle but weak and already defeated. I would not resign to the imprisonment of the giant sadness or the constant picking and whispering voice of the enormous fear. I would see the unforgiving fault in needing to be needed and step back in order to wait for a want that presents itself with patience and respect. And should that never come, I would simply spend more nights with whimsey and the wild nonsenses.

I would understand that on my own, just these two feet and the matter between my ears and the painted beautiful mess of my soul, I am worthy."

While I think it is in good heart (and obviously brilliant), when I wrote it I was feeling almost blinded by nostalgia. I think I have mini mid life crisis' approximately every six months and although that statement in and of itself is funny, this is no laughing matter. It is not literally funny, because it means that I am feeling bound up and trapped, looking for something to loose me. It means that the moment, the day that I am in isn't enough, and that is serious business because the day is all that any of us have.

When I get this way, I become not only nostalgic, but dreamy and fantastical. I give my imagination WAY to much mileage and simply sit back to enjoy the ride. Again, the problem here is not imagination or fantastical thoughts, but that all those moments spent lost in what will never be reality are moments of real life that I will never get back. I disengage. And not only that but I get mad at my kids or my husband for needing me because I just want to be somewhere else.

I hate admitting that.

I've been in this particular mid life crisis for about a week, maybe 2 if I'm really being honest, and wouldn't you know that God came a knocking today in the form of my dad, who had just "happened" to be listening to the radio and there just "happened" to be a guy talking about marriage and relationships and life and capturing the feeling of newness even when what you have is old and how important it is to work for that. (Ugh, work).

So then he says to me, (my dad), something along the lines of, "We get all ooey gooey when we are nostalgic because nostalgia does that. It has a way of tricking us into remembering things the way we wanted them to be."

MAN he is so RIGHT. I already knew that but I needed to hear it today.  I needed to hear it because I need to be PRESENT. And it is simply impossible for one to be present when one is living inside a song or movie or memory or dream. (More specifically something by Dave Matthews, Pretty in Pink, being 19, a well lit studio apartment with tons of windows and a claw-foot tub- adults ONLY.)

I don't know where I meant to go with this, but I hope someone takes something from it, because I needed to get it out of me. Off to go live my real life now. Which is full of ABUNDANT BLESSINGS by the way. I mean really, who do I think I am?