Monthly Archives: May 2014

Getting Back on My Feet

I wrote a post a little while back called Shoe Porn.  That post got a lot of “likes’.  I’m guessing there are many foot fetish people and just plain porn lovers out there, so they might have been disappointed after reading my entry.  That’s ok, I got some traffic, and that’s always a good thing.

No, my issue is more about wearing the shoes I love.  ImageJust look at those babies.  Beautiful, towering accessories for your feet.  Shoes do more than just cover your piggies and guard you from the elements.  Shoes decide your day.

How am I feeling?  Do I need a “pick me up”? I know, I’ll put on my heels….

After 5 recent surgeries to my pigits (piggie digits) I am not able to put those lil suckers anywhere near my hooves.  You’ve heard of your “dogs barking?”  When I get anywhere near one of these beauties, I’ve actually overheard my dogs, aka pigits, growl.  Yep, evil, low down depths of your sole (ha ha) growling.  I try to fight them off, but they are relentless.  They will fight to the death.  It appears my days of taking a walk on the wild side are dwindling.  I’ve tip toed around the issue long enough. 

It’s a death really.  I mourn the wonderful days when I towered about the “little people”, able to trot up stairs in my glorious stilts, gliding across any sub terrain with the greatest of ease.  You know, heels actually do your legs a lot of good.  Scaling a flight of steps builds those quads, and mine used to be pretty solid.  Used to be 3 years ago.

Fast forward to today.  Image  My shoe NOT of choice.  Easy Spirits, babeeeee. Yeah.

I can still run up the steps, still cruise through all kinds of rough road.  But sadly, not with the grace and flair that I’m used to.

I flat foot it around this town putting one foot in front of the other like nobody’s business.  I put a smile on my face while slowly dying a fate worse than death inside.  I make it sound traumatic and short of bordering pathetic because it is for me. 

Yes, I have to listen to the naysayers, the “don’t you feel better in flats” little annoying comments from friends and family.  I put up with it, but inside I die a slow stiletto death. 

I’m hopeful, like in most aspects of my life.  I hold on to that small glimmer of hope that one day I will again be able to slip my mangled, gimp feet into a beautiful pair of platform pumps and feel the earth rise to meet me.  Because probably for the first time in my heel walking life, the earth rising to meet me will mean a direct face planting, resembling nothing short of a clown’s circus act at a second rate carnival.  It won’t be pretty, that’s for sure.  But it’ll be due to the fact that I’m back on my skyscraper loving foot gear once again and I’ll be ready to take on the day with a renewed sense of accomplishment and skill. 

Who wants to be the first to sign the cast?

 

 

 

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Being a Mom

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about being a mom.  I must admit that I didn’t take it as seriously as I do now.  (Sorry Shawn) Early in my “motherhood”, I was trying to learn this new responsibility and everything that THAT included.  I’m not going to go into the things that I could “no longer” do.  That’s not what this blog post is about.  I want to write about the actual act of being a mom.

Being the ripe ole age of 50, I’m lucky enough to get the opportunity to look back on my life as a mom and see where I went wrong and what I did right.  Now that’s obviously my interpretation, and if you talk to my kids, they might have a different take on it, and that’s fine.
Interpretation does take on many faces.  This face is mine…

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I’m sorry, I think that picture is hilarious, as are some of my “mom” moments.

I think it’s difficult to actually “feel” like a mom until you’re able to enjoy the fruits of your labor. I get to see that in two of my three fruits.  Ha ha.  Couldn’t pass that one up either…

When your kids reach a certain age, and believe me, that age is different for each child, they start making you feel proud about the way they’ve turned out.  It’s like a work project that started so many years ago, you barely remember when it first began, but you’re finally getting to see it come to fruition.

I don’t necessarily gauge my children’s adult worth on any certain life event or lack of event.  I measure it on the kind of person they’ve turned out to be.  How they’ve chosen to live their life and how they treat others and themselves.

I’m pretty damn proud.  I get to sit back and watch the direction they’re taking their lives and see their hopes and dreams become reality.  That makes me very proud.  I like to say I live vicariously through my children.  I didn’t have the gumption to do a lot of things that it turns out I’m pretty sorry for at this time in my life, but I’m so glad that my kids are taking chances and seeing a future filled with opportunity and hope.  I get to hear about plans for the future and nothing makes me more proud of being a mom than that.

My little fruit is well on his way to being a good person, but he still has a long way to go.  I don’t know how long it will take, but I’m confident that he will become just as awesome as the other two are.

My work is far from done, but I’m happy just being a mom.

 


I’m gonna go there….

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This is the beautiful face of Michael Sam, NFL draft pick of the St. Louis Rams.  I’ve been reading recently about the backlash surrounding his kiss after receiving the good news from the Rams.  The “kiss” in question was to his boyfriend, Vito Cammisano.

Don Jones, a Miami defensive back tweeted, “Horrible” and “OMG”  and was fined and suspended.  Another retired NFL player tweeted that the “kiss” should NOT have been shown on ESPN, there were small children watching.

Obviously Don Jones is an idiot, even if he felt that way, it wasn’t cool to tweet and he knows that.  He had to act all “bad-ass” to show his friends and probably fellow players that he wasn’t cool with it.  Because it’s okay to “feel” any way you would like.  You do not act on it.  How many times have we hated our bosses?  Disliked family members?  There are reasons, I’m sure, why certain people rub us the wrong way or cause us undue pain and or suffering.  This person, Michael Sam caused Don Jones none of that.  I hate even saying his name, because to me he is no one.  He is nothing.  He’s a small minded, insignificant human being.  He won’t make a difference in the world.  He’ll be nothing more than he is now, an ridiculous conglomeration of skin and organs with the ability to tweet. Period.  Nothing more.  We will forget about him.  I already have.  Don who?

Having said that, I’m more concerned with the comment made by Derrek Ward, former NFL player.  He couldn’t believe that ESPN showed the “kiss” with little kids watching the draft.  Why?  This whole bullshit of keeping our children in a bubble, not letting them see or be allowed to “experience” something that may or may not be comfortable for “older adults” is absurd.  It’s one thing to keep your children from R rated movies or cell phones when they’re too young to trust with technology.  It’s another to think that two men or two women kissing on TV or ANYWHERE for that matter will tarnish their childhood and scar them forever.  Wrong.  Like it or not, this is 2014.  We no longer allow prejudice.  How DARE you, as a black man, allow prejudice in this day and age.  You must have experienced a certain degree of prejudice in your life.  How can you now keep that closed minded way of thinking alive by making comments like you have?

Being gay is not a choice.  Being black is not a choice.  YOUR ARE BORN THAT WAY.  Yes, this is my opinion, and since I live and breath in the United States of America, I can still have that opinion.  I’m not hurting anyone saying that.  I believe you are born liking men or women, or both.  I believe you are born black, or asian, or whatever. Because YOU ARE.  Can this not be enough to accept?  We are born this way.  I was born being attracted to men.  Would it be okay for a lesbian to put me down because of it?  Nope, it’s considered “normal” to be heterosexual.  There are lots of heterosexuals that are anything BUT normal, I can tell you!  And there are homosexuals that are abnormal.  Who cares?  Who the hell cares?  If you aren’t hurting me or my children, live your life.  Be a good person.  Make a difference for the better of humanity.  There’s enough bad people and sad events and horrible happenings in this life of ours, we need to think twice before voicing the profanity that is prejudice.


Raised Eyebrows

I know a little bit about a lot of things, but one thing I’m sure of:  LADIES, MAKE SURE DO YOUR EYEBROWS.  What do I mean?  Well, here’s an example of someone (me) without an eyebrow…

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Practically non-existent. 

Now here I am WITH an eyebrow…

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More believable.  Practically pleasant looking. 

So let’s take a full face look…

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You’ll notice I have vary sparse, light eyebrows.  Without filling them in, they cannot “frame” my face.  Think about your face like a painting, with your eyebrows being the frame.  Yes, the picture might be pretty, but the frame completes it. 

Are you having trouble getting your point across to somebody?  Maybe you lack the proper eyebrow…

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Have you been excited yet perplexed by somebody…

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It’s hard to tell with any certainty what I might be thinking without my brows. 

Husband doesn’t “get” you?  Annoying co-worker doesn’t take you seriously? 

It might just be your eyebrows. 

So the next time you need to make a point, make sure you got your eyebrows on girl.  It might just be the difference between getting what you want quietly or getting a “raised eyebrow”. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


This Woman’s Work

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Growing up with very little self esteem was difficult.  I think low self worth keeps you from being who you want to be and really doing what you should be doing.  Wearing a “kick me” sign walking down the halls of high school didn’t help either.  It’s true.  The girl on the left side of the picture above was teased and bullied in school.  But this post is not about bullying.  It’s about my worth.  Mine and every woman’s worth.

Finding your worth might be a long, lonely road.  Realizing that you make a difference in somebody’s life, maybe many lives.  Recognizing that every day things that you do and take for granted make so many lives easier and happier.  Sometimes waking up every day is difficult, filled with so much pain.  Work by definition is the exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something.  We as women produce and accomplish every single day.   We provide love and a safe haven for our children.  We have consideration and empathy for our fellow human beings.  We care for our families, our significant others, even complete strangers.  We continue to make a difference, yet I think many don’t realize it.  A kind word or friendly smile can turn grey skies blue.

We as women have made a difference.  Our work is never done.  It’s our job, our adventure of sorts.  I don’t think we take it that seriously, but we should.  On this, the eve of Mother’s Day, lets reflect on all the times that a woman made our lives easier, more secure and made us feel more loved.

Happy Mother’s Day, to ALL WOMEN.

Please watch the video, This Woman’s Work by Hope Murphy.  This girl has a beautiful voice.  She gives me chills and was the inspiration for my post today.

 


This Woman’s Work


The Point of No Return

Life is a journey.  It takes us on ups and downs, like a roller coaster.  We ride the coaster because there are some good, exciting parts that keeps us going even after we go through the bad parts.  Optimism.

Sometimes, the coaster is a drag.  It’s slow, it has no exciting parts.  You’ve waiting forever for what you thought was going to be a fun time, and it was a dud.

That’s where I’m at right now.  I’m on a dud roller coaster.  Yes, I’m guilty of continuing to get back on the coaster, knowing full well that it’s boring as hell.  There are no adventurous turns.  I’m in the dark most of the time.  I’ve paid full price to get on the ride.  No discounts.  There are no refunds.  It’s too late.  I’m sitting in the seat and there are no seat belts.  Hold on, get a good grip, you’re on for the duration.

I have to admit, sometimes I want to jump from the ride mid-stream.  I want to get the hell off the ride, not caring where I land or where my mangled body will end up.

Those feelings are getting more frequent.

I think I’ve reached the point of no return.  The fear of what will happen after I jump is not as bad as sticking with the boring ride.  It’s getting to that point.

I’m listening to Nina Simone, Feeling Good.