I’ve been in and out of women’s locker rooms since probably the fifth grade. That adds up to approximately 18 years of seeing half or totally naked girls/women. As I’ve transferred from the high school locker room to a locker room at a public gym I’ve noticed some things.
First of all lets be honest . . . . we all look. Whether we mean to or not, sometimes you see something surprising like nipple rings out of the corner of your eye and you do a double take. Sometimes you see someone with super ripped abs or a really nice body. I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve checked out a girls butt before because it was amazing. And more often than any of us would like you see someone who is either really old or really chubby. And it is these people who walk around butt as naked.
So with a birthday approaching in a few short hours, I have some vows for the gym I’d like to make as I age.
•I will always wear shower shoes.
•I will groom all parts of my body
•I will never wear underwear that comes up to my armpits
•I will always wear cute underwear. Or at least not grandma underwear.
•If my boobs hang down to my knees, I will wear a sports bra
•I will not have a conversation with a complete stranger while they are fully clothed and I am not.
•And when I am old and wrinkly and still going to the gym, I will strut around butt ass naked without a care in the locker room.
December 16, 2009
December 10, 2009
I Am NOT Tiger Woods
I am amazed that two weeks into the Tiger scandal, I still cannot get enough. It’s all disturbing and disappointing and yet I cannot stop reading about it. Which led me to reading an article by Jason Whitlock, whom I typically think is amusing and entertaining while giving us an interesting view into the world of sports. But I have a hard time with his recent article regarding how the Tiger scandal is about more than sex. Whitlock seems to think that it, or at least the public’s outrage, is about race.
Whitlock frequently stretches to make any issue into a race issue. He thinks that the country is upset because it was a mixed race man, who let’s face it, most of us think of as Black because it’s easier than listing all his ethnicities, cheating on a white woman. I don’t care if you’re green or purple or blue or any combination thereof, my indignation has nothing to do with the color of their skin. It has to do with the fact that a man cheated repeatedly on his wife. Even worse is that according to many of the women that have come forward, Tiger had some sort of ongoing relationship with these women.
I personally have never met either Tiger or Elin. I have no idea what they agreed to before getting married. For all I know they agreed to have an open marriage or they’re swingers. I would assume however, that even a non-traditional marriage means that you don’t publically humiliate your spouse and children. Some people want Tiger to speak up and tell us all what is and has been going on in his marriage. I have no problem with them keeping their private life private. In fact, I hope that they do. The less I hear about how good Tiger is in bed or whether or not he prefers to wear a condom the better.
Do I think that Tiger asked to be put on a Tim Tebow type shrine as Mr. Perfect? Not at all. Regardless of whether or not you asked for a pedestal, you know when you’re on one. And that means that your decisions and actions are going to be looked at and scrutinized. We as the public put Tiger on a pedestal. We helped to create that iconic image. And as always, we’re disappointed when our icons fall off those big ass pedestals. I’ve never aspired to be like Tiger Woods. I don’t even have the energy to aspire to golf like him. And despite knowing that no one is perfect, including idols, it is disappointing to find out that they’re just as human as the rest of us.
So yes, Tiger has had multiple relationships with women outside his marriage. Based on Elin’s coming after him with a golf club, which I find incredibly amusing and ironic, I’m guessing that even if the marriage was open, public humiliation wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. Here’s the thing that really gets me though. After two weeks, I still can’t get past this one tid bid. Tiger Woods went to Stanford, which is notorious for not bending its academic standards for athletes. The guy is worth a billion dollars. Yet somehow the supposedly smart guy with more money than he can possibly spend didn’t think of buying a second phone? A “little black phone,” if you will. I guess brains, money and good looks aren’t everything after all.
Whitlock frequently stretches to make any issue into a race issue. He thinks that the country is upset because it was a mixed race man, who let’s face it, most of us think of as Black because it’s easier than listing all his ethnicities, cheating on a white woman. I don’t care if you’re green or purple or blue or any combination thereof, my indignation has nothing to do with the color of their skin. It has to do with the fact that a man cheated repeatedly on his wife. Even worse is that according to many of the women that have come forward, Tiger had some sort of ongoing relationship with these women.
I personally have never met either Tiger or Elin. I have no idea what they agreed to before getting married. For all I know they agreed to have an open marriage or they’re swingers. I would assume however, that even a non-traditional marriage means that you don’t publically humiliate your spouse and children. Some people want Tiger to speak up and tell us all what is and has been going on in his marriage. I have no problem with them keeping their private life private. In fact, I hope that they do. The less I hear about how good Tiger is in bed or whether or not he prefers to wear a condom the better.
Do I think that Tiger asked to be put on a Tim Tebow type shrine as Mr. Perfect? Not at all. Regardless of whether or not you asked for a pedestal, you know when you’re on one. And that means that your decisions and actions are going to be looked at and scrutinized. We as the public put Tiger on a pedestal. We helped to create that iconic image. And as always, we’re disappointed when our icons fall off those big ass pedestals. I’ve never aspired to be like Tiger Woods. I don’t even have the energy to aspire to golf like him. And despite knowing that no one is perfect, including idols, it is disappointing to find out that they’re just as human as the rest of us.
So yes, Tiger has had multiple relationships with women outside his marriage. Based on Elin’s coming after him with a golf club, which I find incredibly amusing and ironic, I’m guessing that even if the marriage was open, public humiliation wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. Here’s the thing that really gets me though. After two weeks, I still can’t get past this one tid bid. Tiger Woods went to Stanford, which is notorious for not bending its academic standards for athletes. The guy is worth a billion dollars. Yet somehow the supposedly smart guy with more money than he can possibly spend didn’t think of buying a second phone? A “little black phone,” if you will. I guess brains, money and good looks aren’t everything after all.
When Beauty Rituals Backfire
When I was at home in Montana this past Thanksgiving, I was given the task of going through my closet there and getting rid of anything I didn’t want or boxing up what I did want for storage. Along with my American Girl doll, some prized stuffed animals, and Cabbage Patch kids were boxes full of photos. Here’s what I learned from pictures: a) I was pretty stinking cute as a toddler, b) I took a ridiculous number of pictures in junior high and high school (and still do) and c) I had the hairiest eyebrows ever!
While I didn’t appreciate it at the time, today I am eternally grateful for the beauty torture ritual my mother started me on at an early age. That’s right, the waxing of the eyebrows. I was in sixth grade when my mom took me to get it done for the first time. As I recall, I was going in for a hair cut and she somehow managed to slip this little piece of torture in at the last minute. All I remember is that it hurt like hell. Here’s the problem with waxing, I don’t dread the first side. That never seems to be an issue. But after you’re done waxing one side of whatever body part you may be waxing, you have to make it even. I think you’re body releases extra pain receptors once the first side is done because now you remember how uncomfortable or painful it really is.
Despite hating the eyebrow waxing ritual for its physical pain and the mocking I received from friends at the time (all of whom later ended up waxing their eyebrows), today I am grateful that my mom cared enough to torture me. Now days, I just wax my own eyebrows. It’s cheap and easy. The problem with this is that I am not a professional waxer. And occasionally the wax gets away from me.
Last night I decided an eyebrow waxing was in order. I had plugged in the wax and then forgot about it because I was watching a movie. Two hours later, the wax was a bit more pliable that usual. And may have gotten into more brow than I intended. You know what the problem with wax it? It’s kind of like gravity, what goes up must come down. Or in this case, what wax goes on must come off. Somehow. While I probably could have gotten it off some other way, I figured it couldn’t be that bad, right? Try telling that to the matching bald spots I now have in both my eyebrows.
What really amuses me is that I managed to ruin not one, but both eyebrows. I seriously have a little bald spot in the middle of each brow. While it’s probably not noticeable to someone who isn’t observant (i.e. boys), if you’re looking at them it is definitely noticeable.
Alas, the good thing about hair is that is always grows back. Unless you have alopecia. In the meantime, I’m stealing a move from the “I’m going bald but don’t want to own up to it” play book. That’s right, I am calling in . . . . the comb over. Where I am desperately trying to get the remaining eyebrow hair to strategically cover up the bald spots.
Alas, there is nothing I can do but will my hair to grow faster. And really, it could have been worse. I could be missing the whole brow. Now wouldn’t that make for an interesting photo to find years down the road?
While I didn’t appreciate it at the time, today I am eternally grateful for the beauty torture ritual my mother started me on at an early age. That’s right, the waxing of the eyebrows. I was in sixth grade when my mom took me to get it done for the first time. As I recall, I was going in for a hair cut and she somehow managed to slip this little piece of torture in at the last minute. All I remember is that it hurt like hell. Here’s the problem with waxing, I don’t dread the first side. That never seems to be an issue. But after you’re done waxing one side of whatever body part you may be waxing, you have to make it even. I think you’re body releases extra pain receptors once the first side is done because now you remember how uncomfortable or painful it really is.
Despite hating the eyebrow waxing ritual for its physical pain and the mocking I received from friends at the time (all of whom later ended up waxing their eyebrows), today I am grateful that my mom cared enough to torture me. Now days, I just wax my own eyebrows. It’s cheap and easy. The problem with this is that I am not a professional waxer. And occasionally the wax gets away from me.
Last night I decided an eyebrow waxing was in order. I had plugged in the wax and then forgot about it because I was watching a movie. Two hours later, the wax was a bit more pliable that usual. And may have gotten into more brow than I intended. You know what the problem with wax it? It’s kind of like gravity, what goes up must come down. Or in this case, what wax goes on must come off. Somehow. While I probably could have gotten it off some other way, I figured it couldn’t be that bad, right? Try telling that to the matching bald spots I now have in both my eyebrows.
What really amuses me is that I managed to ruin not one, but both eyebrows. I seriously have a little bald spot in the middle of each brow. While it’s probably not noticeable to someone who isn’t observant (i.e. boys), if you’re looking at them it is definitely noticeable.
Alas, the good thing about hair is that is always grows back. Unless you have alopecia. In the meantime, I’m stealing a move from the “I’m going bald but don’t want to own up to it” play book. That’s right, I am calling in . . . . the comb over. Where I am desperately trying to get the remaining eyebrow hair to strategically cover up the bald spots.
Alas, there is nothing I can do but will my hair to grow faster. And really, it could have been worse. I could be missing the whole brow. Now wouldn’t that make for an interesting photo to find years down the road?
December 9, 2009
Everything I Need to Know About Shopping I Learned From My Mother
Two of the best skills I have in life I learned from my mother. One – always look for the rack that says “SALE” on it. Two – how to do sale math.
My mom once told me a story about shopping when my brother and I were pretty little. After entering the department store, I told my brother that we had to find the racks that had S-A-L-E on them. That lesson went down pretty easy. The next lesson was slightly more intimidating.
Growing up, math was not my strong suit. In fact, I sucked at it. So I remember being super annoyed while shopping with my mother and her deciding to teach me how to figure out the sale price of an item when it only had the 25% off sign on the rack. Really Mom? I have to suck at math all week long in school and now you’re trying to make me do it on the weekend too?
As it turns out, sale math is not that difficult. And the little tricks she taught me have served me well throughout my life. Of course, I still calculate sale prices using elementary school math. I figure out what 10% off would be, because all you have to do is move a decimal, and double or triple accordingly. Yes, I could do 30% in my head but it is so much easier elementary school style.
To this day, I have no idea what time Train A and B will meet when they leave their respective stations going some unknown mph. I remember nothing from calculus and couldn’t calculate the sine of something if I had a gun to my head. I can however, do sale math like a champ.
My mom once told me a story about shopping when my brother and I were pretty little. After entering the department store, I told my brother that we had to find the racks that had S-A-L-E on them. That lesson went down pretty easy. The next lesson was slightly more intimidating.
Growing up, math was not my strong suit. In fact, I sucked at it. So I remember being super annoyed while shopping with my mother and her deciding to teach me how to figure out the sale price of an item when it only had the 25% off sign on the rack. Really Mom? I have to suck at math all week long in school and now you’re trying to make me do it on the weekend too?
As it turns out, sale math is not that difficult. And the little tricks she taught me have served me well throughout my life. Of course, I still calculate sale prices using elementary school math. I figure out what 10% off would be, because all you have to do is move a decimal, and double or triple accordingly. Yes, I could do 30% in my head but it is so much easier elementary school style.
To this day, I have no idea what time Train A and B will meet when they leave their respective stations going some unknown mph. I remember nothing from calculus and couldn’t calculate the sine of something if I had a gun to my head. I can however, do sale math like a champ.
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