This one is for Susan - who said "What's going on with the blog?" and to which I responded - "I HAVEN'T HAD TIME!" and for that I'm truly sorry....
The only way to do this right is to catch everyone up on the past two months which honestly seems like the blink of an eye, when I look back on it. Forgive me if break this up, because at some point, you'll want to sleep or eat or at least use the plumbing.
Mid August, the fam goes on holidays. We need to get away from the stress of the house selling and we decide to do something equally stressful - buy hockey equipment. On the way home to another ball game, one of the boys decides we should go camping. Sure, great idea, we can pitch the tent in the back yard...
"NO MOM - we mean REAL camping!" It was like Surround Sound. So, with a game ahead of me, the camping gear packed away and The Big Guy ready to book a site at a nearby campground, I realize, we should maybe let our realtor know we will be away from civilization for 48 hours. Make a mental note to call in the morning - as I will be up to midnight shopping (thank GOD for 24 hour grocery stores)and packing clothes.
Naturally, I forget to call said realtor in the morning, but instead he calls US! There's another offer on the second house we bid on and now we have to fish or cut bait. We know we want this house BAD, so we put the offer in and hope for the best. The Realtor says we should have an answer by the end of the day.
So by 10 a.m. we are off for our camping adventure - all the while laughing about what we might do with the house if we get it.
"You really shouldn't do that you know," pipes up Second Born Son.
"Do what?" I ask
"Get your hopes up, you'll only be disappointed if it doesn't work out." he replies.
I'm gobsmacked. We just got schooled by the 9 year old.
We set up our site, discuss our plan for the day and eat lunch. After some splash time in the river, we head out for a walk about the park. It's a 45 minute hike and we are on the way back to our site when we look across the valley and see a car remarkably familiar heading down the remote lane to our little campsite. It's the realtor's car.
The Big Guy and I look at each other - not a good sign - it's only been two hours and why would he come all the way here unless it was bad news? We are disappointed and the walk seems much longer as we find our way back to the little tent by the river. WRONG - it's GREAT news - we got the house, he brought the paperwork for us to finalize the deal and initial some minor changes. The camping adventure goes from fun to depressing to FREAKIN' AWESOME. The down side is - we won't move until Nov. 12 - and oh ya, we have to sell our house.
Now my sister had a philosophy. She said the offer on the first house didn't go through with our conditional sale because she feels we were buying the wrong house. So within 10 days of putting an offer on the second house, we have not one, but THREE offers on our little house. It's a whirlwind as we sit with offers around us and The Big Guy is in his glory because, yes people, THIS is what a Bidding War is all about.
In the end the deal is done, we are moving and just when we think there is SOOOO much time, it's back to school, hockey tryouts and just dealing with every day life.
...and it's two months later!
Showing posts with label Truth is Stranger than Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Truth is Stranger than Fiction. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Royal Wedding - Part II Recap - The Saga Continues
All perched on the stairs, the girls did well. Then the music starts - Soul Sister by Train. Unorthodox, yes. Perfect for LS and her groom. Each girl slips down the aisle and takes her place, then LS glides down the aisle.
As long as I've known her, she's had a nervous giggle. She laughs at the most inopportune times. And there she was, a vision of blonde curls and champagne colored fabric smiling and giggling her way down to her groom. We later learn that there is a bet between my two nieces on who will cry first - the bride or the groom. It's pretty much a tie as the groom steps forward to bring her to the minister.
The Pastor is a long-time friend of the family, who immediately puts everyone at ease. He infuses humor and radiates sincerity. The Best Man, who is the father of the groom, appreciates the sense of humor and rests on a strategically placed stool so he can participate in the ceremony, but still be comfortable. Mid way through the service the Ring Bear - the Groom's son, has to pit stop, but makes it back in time for the Family Vows the Bride and Groom have each written. Following the marriage vows, exchange of rings and "the kiss" - we sign the register and the minors follow their parents to a table set up behind the Pastor. Each one has a vial of colored sand and each member of the family pours the sand into a larger vase, signifying the joining of two families.
Finally, it's done. We leave the church and congregate on the steps of the building for a group shot. And another. And another. Then it's the groom's family - and another, and another, and....I lose track. The Bride's family gets in for a shot or two, then the bridal party is hauled off to an orchard where the photographer makes the group jump through dandelions while navigating thistles and at this point I'm resigned to thinking - these dresses are friggin' toast.
After more than a hour of photo time, I take the kids back to the hall where the caterer is patiently waiting. With the service starting late and running a little longer than estimated, we are now over 45 minutes behind. I was given the impression the Bride & Groom are soon to follow and we carry on, and watch the clock mark another 20 minutes. I'm about to get back in the car to locate them, when they walk in the door.
In spite of the huge delay, dinner is excellent. The hall is beautiful with stone and timber accents, wrought iron fixtures and a lovely feeling of the medieval. Also medieval is the MC's ability to keep to the script. We are off track and off schedule immediately following my speech, which happens to be the first one. It started out as a roast, but ended up as a touching tribute to my little sister and her ability to persevere for all the right reasons.
My boys did me proud by doing a mock "swearing in" of their new uncle - asking him to swear on a Bible that he would - among other things "Promise to show them how to drive a motorcycle!" First Born Son then blew me away with a poem he wrote during the meal. As the Bride and Groom needed a song or a poem to be prompted to kiss, FBS simply scribbled on out - and it was FRIGGN' AWESOME! LS wants a copy to keep.
As speeches can get out of hand, the one thing the Bride and Groom asked was that the floor not be opened up for just anyone. The groom's large family would have hours of stories about the childhood of their youngest sibling, and the happy couple felt it would only necessary for one or two people to speak and keep the night moving.
It moved along for those who smoked, as the MC attempted two smoke breaks! Finally the newlyweds addressed their guests and thanked everyone for their support - the Bride's speech showing considerably more preparation and depth than the Groom's whose basically comprised of - "Ya, what she said!" Typical man.
While most Victoria Day weekends are desperately cold, rainy affairs, this one was hot and muggy. In spite of air conditioning, the hall was stifling and the music was LOUD. A combination of the decibels and the beginning of the long weekend meant some guests left early, allowing us to wrap up the dancing around midnight. Given the lack of sleep I and the Bride had, we were not disappointed in the slightest. The highlight of the festivities was the "She Wolf" dance where the Bride and her attendants danced a choreographed number which resulted in the Bride seating the Groom who then "helped" her with her garter.
So all in all - good times, good fun, little glitches, but hey - it wouldn't be a family event without one or two hiccups!!!
CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!
As long as I've known her, she's had a nervous giggle. She laughs at the most inopportune times. And there she was, a vision of blonde curls and champagne colored fabric smiling and giggling her way down to her groom. We later learn that there is a bet between my two nieces on who will cry first - the bride or the groom. It's pretty much a tie as the groom steps forward to bring her to the minister.
The Pastor is a long-time friend of the family, who immediately puts everyone at ease. He infuses humor and radiates sincerity. The Best Man, who is the father of the groom, appreciates the sense of humor and rests on a strategically placed stool so he can participate in the ceremony, but still be comfortable. Mid way through the service the Ring Bear - the Groom's son, has to pit stop, but makes it back in time for the Family Vows the Bride and Groom have each written. Following the marriage vows, exchange of rings and "the kiss" - we sign the register and the minors follow their parents to a table set up behind the Pastor. Each one has a vial of colored sand and each member of the family pours the sand into a larger vase, signifying the joining of two families.
Finally, it's done. We leave the church and congregate on the steps of the building for a group shot. And another. And another. Then it's the groom's family - and another, and another, and....I lose track. The Bride's family gets in for a shot or two, then the bridal party is hauled off to an orchard where the photographer makes the group jump through dandelions while navigating thistles and at this point I'm resigned to thinking - these dresses are friggin' toast.
After more than a hour of photo time, I take the kids back to the hall where the caterer is patiently waiting. With the service starting late and running a little longer than estimated, we are now over 45 minutes behind. I was given the impression the Bride & Groom are soon to follow and we carry on, and watch the clock mark another 20 minutes. I'm about to get back in the car to locate them, when they walk in the door.
In spite of the huge delay, dinner is excellent. The hall is beautiful with stone and timber accents, wrought iron fixtures and a lovely feeling of the medieval. Also medieval is the MC's ability to keep to the script. We are off track and off schedule immediately following my speech, which happens to be the first one. It started out as a roast, but ended up as a touching tribute to my little sister and her ability to persevere for all the right reasons.
My boys did me proud by doing a mock "swearing in" of their new uncle - asking him to swear on a Bible that he would - among other things "Promise to show them how to drive a motorcycle!" First Born Son then blew me away with a poem he wrote during the meal. As the Bride and Groom needed a song or a poem to be prompted to kiss, FBS simply scribbled on out - and it was FRIGGN' AWESOME! LS wants a copy to keep.
As speeches can get out of hand, the one thing the Bride and Groom asked was that the floor not be opened up for just anyone. The groom's large family would have hours of stories about the childhood of their youngest sibling, and the happy couple felt it would only necessary for one or two people to speak and keep the night moving.
It moved along for those who smoked, as the MC attempted two smoke breaks! Finally the newlyweds addressed their guests and thanked everyone for their support - the Bride's speech showing considerably more preparation and depth than the Groom's whose basically comprised of - "Ya, what she said!" Typical man.
While most Victoria Day weekends are desperately cold, rainy affairs, this one was hot and muggy. In spite of air conditioning, the hall was stifling and the music was LOUD. A combination of the decibels and the beginning of the long weekend meant some guests left early, allowing us to wrap up the dancing around midnight. Given the lack of sleep I and the Bride had, we were not disappointed in the slightest. The highlight of the festivities was the "She Wolf" dance where the Bride and her attendants danced a choreographed number which resulted in the Bride seating the Groom who then "helped" her with her garter.
So all in all - good times, good fun, little glitches, but hey - it wouldn't be a family event without one or two hiccups!!!
CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Royal Wedding Part II - Recap - Part II
SIGH - so more than my sister reads this site because I've had a couple of people say "What.The.Hell?"
SO - FINE! You want blow by blow.... pull up a comfy chair sunshine, cuz you are about to get numb-bum.
THURSDAY MAY 20
Leave work early and get the boys packed to head to the hotel. The Big Guy is already gone to pick up the "Wish Tree" at a nearby nursery that we are making double-duty as a wedding gift (Butterfly Magnolia) and decor item. My contribution was research saying it is a Dutch tradition to make wishes for the bride and groom and tie them to a tree. I'm thinkin' "PERFECT" this tree will ROCK! Mom and I spend about an hour and three trips to a ribbon store (two weeks prior) to get enough ribbon for all Little Sister's guests to scribble down their best wishes to the Bride and Groom. Since the Groom's parents are "off the boat" Dutch, we all agree this is a nice way to incorporate something from their heritage without being overly stereotypical.....or have the bride wear wooden shoes....
After check in and settling the stuff in our room, the boys and I are back on the road to the rehearsal only minutes away. The Big Guy has joined us and we are very excited. The minister is caught in traffic coming out of T.O. so we entertain the troops. First Born Son and Second Born Son along with TBG are 'ushers' in that they will help people to their seats, but not stand at the front. Instead, they will join my parents in very comfy leather chairs right at the front of the congregation. The hall is beautiful with the centre aisle lined with large wooden pillars made by C2 (the groom). Each pillar has a large ivory candle and either a soft green bow or chocolate brown bow.
Finally the officiant is here and we have the bride, bridesmaids, groom, best man (groom's father) and ring bearer (groom's son). The sound man is missing, as is the videographer, but it's now roughly 10 minutes to bedtime for my kids and all the younglings are getting restless, so we go on without them.
After a quick snack at a nearby restaurant, my boys head back to the hotel with their father and I head back to LS's house with the girls. We walk in the door and just about weep. Apparently out of town guests didn't clean up after themselves and we are faced with a house in shambles. LS puts the girls to bed and I start cleaning. At 1:30 a.m. we finally fall into bed ourselves, after doing dishes, cleaning, printing and assembling bulletins for the wedding (a job someone else was to do, but "just didn't get around to.")
FRIDAY MAY 21
Morning comes far too early. I hear the sounds of little feet in heels practicing the stride we are using to walk down the aisle IN THE BATHROOM. We all grab a bowl of cereal and head out for a morning of pampering. LS owns a "green/environmental" hair salon and detox spa so we meet our mother there for hair and makeup.
LS and I debate on what style on me makes me look like an alien from "Mars Attacks" and I actually win!!! We depuff the hair a bit and I move on to makeup. My youngest niece "Libby" is the first one in the chair - and will be the last one out as her butt length hair is going to be in ringlets -0h the joys of having a mother who is a hairdresser. I would have run screaming from the chair 45 minutes into the process!
My eldest niece M&M is being transformed from a tomboy into a goddess - but not, thankfully, a tramp. That honor is being left to me. The makeup artist who is working on me is obviously nervous - given that she's doing the "Boss's" sister for the "Boss's" wedding. I come out of the experience with bland eyes and two large diagonal slashes - one on each cheek - which is suppose to be a blush. "You know we are going to have to fix that," LS says to me as we drive away. "Ya think?" I laugh. "Hooker" isn't usually a good look for a bridesmaid.
LS's stepdaughter is ready to go and when Libby finally has her corkscrews on tight, we load back into the car. Mom heads back to the hotel to wrangle my kids (including their father) and they are to meet us back at LS's house.
Ten minutes after we get through the door, it rings. We have flowers - hurray. Ten minutes after that, a photographer. I've been busy running to and from the door, tying sashes and begging little girls not to jump around - REMEMBER THE DRESS IS DELICATE LADIES!!
LS and I rebuild my face and she hopes in her dress. I get a hairy eyeball from the photographer because I'M not in my dress and I quell the urge to take her Nikon and cram it. She gets pictures of the girls, of LS, of my parents with LS, the girls with LS and then me (in my dress) lacing up the back of the dress. These are very tongue in cheek photos and include me with my foot on her butt and faking a Scarlett O'Hara moment with LS out of breath.
She takes pictures of all of us on LS's king size bed (?!?!?) and I'm forced to go into poses that no grown woman should have to do if she's not a gymnast. She gets shots of the girls JUMPING on the bed and with each bounce my mother and I clench our teeth harder, praying "Please God, just let the dresses make it through the ceremony!"
Finally, the photog is ready to leave and I have to ask "Please ma'am, may I have a photo with ma sista, please? Just one, ma'am?" Punishment for not being ready when she wanted me? Dunno, but we squeeze off two quick shots, both of which seem like unnatural poses and prominently feature my more than ample bicep. NIIIICE.
After the chaos of the photo shoot, we survey the damage and see that all four of the bridesmaids dresses are falling down in the skirts because, ironically, formal wear isn't meant to double as lounge wear.
LS immediately hauls out her sewing basket and she starts sewing some puckers into the dresses. At least she didn't have time to get nerves. We jump into the cars and head to the church 15 minutes late (and I'm assuming my sister is in a different time zone to the rest of the world because the minister insists we are 30 minutes late.)
Regardless, we are "in the house".
More to come......(don't you just hate that!!!???)
SO - FINE! You want blow by blow.... pull up a comfy chair sunshine, cuz you are about to get numb-bum.
THURSDAY MAY 20
Leave work early and get the boys packed to head to the hotel. The Big Guy is already gone to pick up the "Wish Tree" at a nearby nursery that we are making double-duty as a wedding gift (Butterfly Magnolia) and decor item. My contribution was research saying it is a Dutch tradition to make wishes for the bride and groom and tie them to a tree. I'm thinkin' "PERFECT" this tree will ROCK! Mom and I spend about an hour and three trips to a ribbon store (two weeks prior) to get enough ribbon for all Little Sister's guests to scribble down their best wishes to the Bride and Groom. Since the Groom's parents are "off the boat" Dutch, we all agree this is a nice way to incorporate something from their heritage without being overly stereotypical.....or have the bride wear wooden shoes....
After check in and settling the stuff in our room, the boys and I are back on the road to the rehearsal only minutes away. The Big Guy has joined us and we are very excited. The minister is caught in traffic coming out of T.O. so we entertain the troops. First Born Son and Second Born Son along with TBG are 'ushers' in that they will help people to their seats, but not stand at the front. Instead, they will join my parents in very comfy leather chairs right at the front of the congregation. The hall is beautiful with the centre aisle lined with large wooden pillars made by C2 (the groom). Each pillar has a large ivory candle and either a soft green bow or chocolate brown bow.
Finally the officiant is here and we have the bride, bridesmaids, groom, best man (groom's father) and ring bearer (groom's son). The sound man is missing, as is the videographer, but it's now roughly 10 minutes to bedtime for my kids and all the younglings are getting restless, so we go on without them.
After a quick snack at a nearby restaurant, my boys head back to the hotel with their father and I head back to LS's house with the girls. We walk in the door and just about weep. Apparently out of town guests didn't clean up after themselves and we are faced with a house in shambles. LS puts the girls to bed and I start cleaning. At 1:30 a.m. we finally fall into bed ourselves, after doing dishes, cleaning, printing and assembling bulletins for the wedding (a job someone else was to do, but "just didn't get around to.")
FRIDAY MAY 21
Morning comes far too early. I hear the sounds of little feet in heels practicing the stride we are using to walk down the aisle IN THE BATHROOM. We all grab a bowl of cereal and head out for a morning of pampering. LS owns a "green/environmental" hair salon and detox spa so we meet our mother there for hair and makeup.
LS and I debate on what style on me makes me look like an alien from "Mars Attacks" and I actually win!!! We depuff the hair a bit and I move on to makeup. My youngest niece "Libby" is the first one in the chair - and will be the last one out as her butt length hair is going to be in ringlets -0h the joys of having a mother who is a hairdresser. I would have run screaming from the chair 45 minutes into the process!
My eldest niece M&M is being transformed from a tomboy into a goddess - but not, thankfully, a tramp. That honor is being left to me. The makeup artist who is working on me is obviously nervous - given that she's doing the "Boss's" sister for the "Boss's" wedding. I come out of the experience with bland eyes and two large diagonal slashes - one on each cheek - which is suppose to be a blush. "You know we are going to have to fix that," LS says to me as we drive away. "Ya think?" I laugh. "Hooker" isn't usually a good look for a bridesmaid.
LS's stepdaughter is ready to go and when Libby finally has her corkscrews on tight, we load back into the car. Mom heads back to the hotel to wrangle my kids (including their father) and they are to meet us back at LS's house.
Ten minutes after we get through the door, it rings. We have flowers - hurray. Ten minutes after that, a photographer. I've been busy running to and from the door, tying sashes and begging little girls not to jump around - REMEMBER THE DRESS IS DELICATE LADIES!!
LS and I rebuild my face and she hopes in her dress. I get a hairy eyeball from the photographer because I'M not in my dress and I quell the urge to take her Nikon and cram it. She gets pictures of the girls, of LS, of my parents with LS, the girls with LS and then me (in my dress) lacing up the back of the dress. These are very tongue in cheek photos and include me with my foot on her butt and faking a Scarlett O'Hara moment with LS out of breath.
She takes pictures of all of us on LS's king size bed (?!?!?) and I'm forced to go into poses that no grown woman should have to do if she's not a gymnast. She gets shots of the girls JUMPING on the bed and with each bounce my mother and I clench our teeth harder, praying "Please God, just let the dresses make it through the ceremony!"
Finally, the photog is ready to leave and I have to ask "Please ma'am, may I have a photo with ma sista, please? Just one, ma'am?" Punishment for not being ready when she wanted me? Dunno, but we squeeze off two quick shots, both of which seem like unnatural poses and prominently feature my more than ample bicep. NIIIICE.
After the chaos of the photo shoot, we survey the damage and see that all four of the bridesmaids dresses are falling down in the skirts because, ironically, formal wear isn't meant to double as lounge wear.
LS immediately hauls out her sewing basket and she starts sewing some puckers into the dresses. At least she didn't have time to get nerves. We jump into the cars and head to the church 15 minutes late (and I'm assuming my sister is in a different time zone to the rest of the world because the minister insists we are 30 minutes late.)
Regardless, we are "in the house".
More to come......(don't you just hate that!!!???)
Monday, May 17, 2010
When More is Simply Too Much
Since when is "more" better?
I prefer to err on the side of "less" especially when it comes to public displays of affection, demonstrative actions etc. unless it is something truly funny. Funny needs to be shared.
But lavish, meh, not so much.
So I'm standing in the bridal salon that I shall not name because I'm still mad at them, waiting for the rolly polly seamstress. In the wall of mirrors I'm watching a tiny young woman leafing through wedding dresses. Honestly, she weighs about as much as my thigh. She's with her mother and while the young woman is very collegiate looking, her mother looks very tired, dishevelled and not nearly as current in her wardrobe as her daughter.
The woman sits in the middle of the room on the bench and watches her daughter fanning through the gowns and I notice she only looking at short, strappy styles. I figure she's having a small wedding and doesn't want to overpower her small frame with a large gown. In my head I'm giving this girl a lot of credit - she's going to spend about half to three-quarters what she would have spent on the larger dress.
I'm annoyed at the mother, who doesn't seem engaged in this time with her daughter. Instead of revelling the time to being with her to pick her wedding dress, the woman looks and acts like she's afraid to touch any of the dresses, and that she's not buying into the idea of the wedding at all. I'm annoyed big time. If I've learned anything in my many trips down the aisle, it's that the wedding is not about anyone other than the bride and groom - egos and attitudes need to be checked at the door.
Then grandma walks in. Wiry white hair cut bluntly that frames her face, makeup stylish appliced and a kick-ass outfit that makes the mother look even more frumpy. Her artisan jewelery plays off beautifully with the chic hand-crafted wrap and dark-wash jeans she's wearing. She looks impecable and carries herself with an air of sophistication reserved for Katherine Hepburn. As soon as the woman walks in, the young girl starts to squeal, and the mother stops talking entirely.
Grandma fawns over the young girl, pulling out various dresses and suggesting various alterations to make the dress "her own". My pleasure at seeing the older woman relishing the time with her granddaughter comes to a screeching halt when the younger female corrects the sales associate.
"Oh, this isn't my wedding dress," she said. "I already have my wedding gown."
dead air
"This is for after the service - and pictures - for the reception," she clarifies. Now I understand why Mom is hanging her head. She can't afford this. And the daughter - a recent grad, can't either. So thank goodness Money Bags showed up.
"I LOVE my dress," she said. "But I just can't imagine wearing it ALL DAY!" she gushes. "I mean it's SO big and SO heavy, I would just DIE wearing it ALL DAY - it's going to be too hot!"
What
the
hell
So you are getting married at the end of June - you've picked your dress - DON'T YOU PICK YOUR DRESS BASED ON WHEN YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED? I felt like asking, "What are you wearing, Angora wool? RAYON? PIG IRON??"
Unless this woman is marrying a multi-millionaire, she is about to start her married life under a grave misapprehension. It's clear she wasn't raised with a lot of money, but money is around her. She is having a wedding with TWO wedding gowns because, after all, didn't Jennifer Lopez or Katie Holmes do that? The cost of having a second dress was over $750 - how much did you pay for your initial gown? Likely between $1,200 - $2,500 - and I'll bet the farm it was closer to the top end amount. So now, you are looking at well over $3,000 AND TAX just for one day.
Because there was no time to order the dress in, the girl was negotiating the cost of alterations and the sales rep was having a dandy time trying to calculate how much it would cost to alter and cut down a sample dress. Grandma never blinked at the cost. She only concurred with her granddaughter - one dress simply would not DO! Mom just sat there like she was watching it all happen to strangers.
I wondered if she had tried to instill a sense of frugality in her daughter all these years, knowing she had limited resources. Had her mother then trumped her and usurped her rights as a mother when she felt she had the overpowering right as a grandmother? Did the daughter see this dynamic and play one off the other? At what point would the grandmother stand down and let this girl see things for what they are? Maybe the girl was embarassed that her mother was not in the same world as her grandmother was, but I daresay, unless her grandmother planned on supporting her for the rest of her life, the young woman's wake up call was going to greet her the morning after her honeymoon.
It's a disturbing trend, young people starting out expecting the best of everything. My parents were the most fortunate of all their friends. They had saved enough money to buy a house when they got married. Many of their friends had to rent an apartment for the first couple of years, finally saving a down payment in time for the first baby to arrive.
Homes were furnished with miss-matched furniture and dinnerware, save for the nicer items they received as wedding gifts. You worked hard and gained throughout your marriage. You had goals and dreams and set targets for yourself, including one day, GASP, buying a NEW car.
When did we decide it was ok to start at top? Newlyweds moving into homes that are fully furnished and model-home ready. Neither of their cars are more than 3 years old. A trip up north or to Niagara Falls is not be considered a worthy honeymoon, and if it didn't include either a cruise or a number of spa treatments (for both of them)it simply wasn't worth writing home about.
Methinks we need to adjust our expectations. Otherwise, what do you have to look forward to, other than a mountain of debt and a divorce decree?
I prefer to err on the side of "less" especially when it comes to public displays of affection, demonstrative actions etc. unless it is something truly funny. Funny needs to be shared.
But lavish, meh, not so much.
So I'm standing in the bridal salon that I shall not name because I'm still mad at them, waiting for the rolly polly seamstress. In the wall of mirrors I'm watching a tiny young woman leafing through wedding dresses. Honestly, she weighs about as much as my thigh. She's with her mother and while the young woman is very collegiate looking, her mother looks very tired, dishevelled and not nearly as current in her wardrobe as her daughter.
The woman sits in the middle of the room on the bench and watches her daughter fanning through the gowns and I notice she only looking at short, strappy styles. I figure she's having a small wedding and doesn't want to overpower her small frame with a large gown. In my head I'm giving this girl a lot of credit - she's going to spend about half to three-quarters what she would have spent on the larger dress.
I'm annoyed at the mother, who doesn't seem engaged in this time with her daughter. Instead of revelling the time to being with her to pick her wedding dress, the woman looks and acts like she's afraid to touch any of the dresses, and that she's not buying into the idea of the wedding at all. I'm annoyed big time. If I've learned anything in my many trips down the aisle, it's that the wedding is not about anyone other than the bride and groom - egos and attitudes need to be checked at the door.
Then grandma walks in. Wiry white hair cut bluntly that frames her face, makeup stylish appliced and a kick-ass outfit that makes the mother look even more frumpy. Her artisan jewelery plays off beautifully with the chic hand-crafted wrap and dark-wash jeans she's wearing. She looks impecable and carries herself with an air of sophistication reserved for Katherine Hepburn. As soon as the woman walks in, the young girl starts to squeal, and the mother stops talking entirely.
Grandma fawns over the young girl, pulling out various dresses and suggesting various alterations to make the dress "her own". My pleasure at seeing the older woman relishing the time with her granddaughter comes to a screeching halt when the younger female corrects the sales associate.
"Oh, this isn't my wedding dress," she said. "I already have my wedding gown."
dead air
"This is for after the service - and pictures - for the reception," she clarifies. Now I understand why Mom is hanging her head. She can't afford this. And the daughter - a recent grad, can't either. So thank goodness Money Bags showed up.
"I LOVE my dress," she said. "But I just can't imagine wearing it ALL DAY!" she gushes. "I mean it's SO big and SO heavy, I would just DIE wearing it ALL DAY - it's going to be too hot!"
What
the
hell
So you are getting married at the end of June - you've picked your dress - DON'T YOU PICK YOUR DRESS BASED ON WHEN YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED? I felt like asking, "What are you wearing, Angora wool? RAYON? PIG IRON??"
Unless this woman is marrying a multi-millionaire, she is about to start her married life under a grave misapprehension. It's clear she wasn't raised with a lot of money, but money is around her. She is having a wedding with TWO wedding gowns because, after all, didn't Jennifer Lopez or Katie Holmes do that? The cost of having a second dress was over $750 - how much did you pay for your initial gown? Likely between $1,200 - $2,500 - and I'll bet the farm it was closer to the top end amount. So now, you are looking at well over $3,000 AND TAX just for one day.
Because there was no time to order the dress in, the girl was negotiating the cost of alterations and the sales rep was having a dandy time trying to calculate how much it would cost to alter and cut down a sample dress. Grandma never blinked at the cost. She only concurred with her granddaughter - one dress simply would not DO! Mom just sat there like she was watching it all happen to strangers.
I wondered if she had tried to instill a sense of frugality in her daughter all these years, knowing she had limited resources. Had her mother then trumped her and usurped her rights as a mother when she felt she had the overpowering right as a grandmother? Did the daughter see this dynamic and play one off the other? At what point would the grandmother stand down and let this girl see things for what they are? Maybe the girl was embarassed that her mother was not in the same world as her grandmother was, but I daresay, unless her grandmother planned on supporting her for the rest of her life, the young woman's wake up call was going to greet her the morning after her honeymoon.
It's a disturbing trend, young people starting out expecting the best of everything. My parents were the most fortunate of all their friends. They had saved enough money to buy a house when they got married. Many of their friends had to rent an apartment for the first couple of years, finally saving a down payment in time for the first baby to arrive.
Homes were furnished with miss-matched furniture and dinnerware, save for the nicer items they received as wedding gifts. You worked hard and gained throughout your marriage. You had goals and dreams and set targets for yourself, including one day, GASP, buying a NEW car.
When did we decide it was ok to start at top? Newlyweds moving into homes that are fully furnished and model-home ready. Neither of their cars are more than 3 years old. A trip up north or to Niagara Falls is not be considered a worthy honeymoon, and if it didn't include either a cruise or a number of spa treatments (for both of them)it simply wasn't worth writing home about.
Methinks we need to adjust our expectations. Otherwise, what do you have to look forward to, other than a mountain of debt and a divorce decree?
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Counting the days....
So we are now past the 1 Month marker regarding the countdown to The Royal Wedding - Part II.
Plans are made, dressings are being fitted, lists have been prepared - along with, ironically enough, a speech from yours truly.
When you plan one of the biggest days of your life, you can't foresee the issues that can arise. You hope for good weather, pray the Best Man doesn't lose the rings, but there are things you just cannot imagine happening on your wedding day.
On the day I married The Big Guy, the main thing that upset him was the popping of the microphone provided by the community centre where we had our reception. To be fair, it was a loud POP, but it wasn't anything we were doing, and there didn't seem to be anything we could do to fix it. He still talks about the microphone.
I've told him there are worse things.
Back when my sister and I were being raised on a farm, we had neighbors with children roughly 5-10 years older than us. Their only daughter was getting married and the family was kind enough to invite us to the nuptials. As luck would have it, my parents alone had an invite to a second cousins' wedding, so we decided that I would take my sister to neighbor wedding and Mom and Dad would go to the family wedding.
Sis and I walked into the large United Church and noticed the church was pretty full, but seemed to be thinned out near the front. Normally as neighbors or friends of the couple, we would be seated nearer to the back, but we lucked out with seats almost directly behind where the family would sit - the 4 empty pews on the Bride's side.
Now I thought nothing of this, because often times the parents and siblings arrive just before the bride. But before you knew it, the organist was playing a rousing march, the bridesmaids were cued at the door and making their way into the sanctuary.
Ok, so maybe her parents and brothers were going to escort the bride to the front - a little avant guarde for the 1980s, but hey, whatever.
NOPE! As the bridesmaids arranged at the front of the church, the groom came across the front of the altar, up the bride's aisle and gently reached for her - walking her to the minister.
What. the. hell? Immediate a murmur rippled through the church as guests on both sides of the invite tried to figure out what happened to the Mother and Father of the Bride, the brothers...and, upon further inspection, the aunts and uncles. It looked like a pie lifter had removed the front section of the church. As the nearest neighbors, people asked my sister and I if we knew what had happened - which as young teens, we were not privy to.
But by the time we got to the reception, the word was out.
The Groom, who was a very motivated, hardworking guy, had a falling out with one of the brothers of the Bride at the rehearsal the night before. The lot of her brothers did not have the same work ethic her new husband had. There had been frustrations in the past - the groom being asked to help with a chore any one of their own three sons could have helped with, he was called upon to do things while their own boys would take days off the farm - you get the idea.
For whatever reason, words were exchanged, the final straw between them was broken and the Bride's parents announced not only would they not grace the nuptials with their presence, the would advise their families to do the same. Apparently word got out to enough of them that roughly 20 people failed to show.
The speech the Groom gave his Bride was one of the more touch, heart wrenching, sincere declarations of love I have ever heard. Without revealing the behind the scenes drama, he told her he had tried to prove his love to her throughout their years together, that he adored her and could not imagine ever leaving her side - he wanted to be there for her. He pointed out that some people have trials throughout their marriage, but if they could get over one of the biggest hurdles at the beginning, then he forecast a beautiful life together.
Everyone cried. Everyone.
I can remember telling my parents the events of the evening. Apparently my cousin's wedding was not nearly as eventful (thank God!) We all shook our heads at the logic used to boycott your daughter's wedding. Especially when you were on the short end of the argument!
Many years later, the Bride became a mommy. Time and a new baby appeared to heal old wounds and eventually she enjoyed a relationship with her parents. How comfortable her husband was with all of this, I don't know. The embarrassment of that day was never discussed again.
But there no photos of this girl with her parents on her special day. Her father was not there for her to walk her down the aisle. Her mother didn't help her get dressed. There was no speech welcoming her husband to the family. Things you can't do over or take back.
Somehow that popping mic just doesn't seem so bad.
Plans are made, dressings are being fitted, lists have been prepared - along with, ironically enough, a speech from yours truly.
When you plan one of the biggest days of your life, you can't foresee the issues that can arise. You hope for good weather, pray the Best Man doesn't lose the rings, but there are things you just cannot imagine happening on your wedding day.
On the day I married The Big Guy, the main thing that upset him was the popping of the microphone provided by the community centre where we had our reception. To be fair, it was a loud POP, but it wasn't anything we were doing, and there didn't seem to be anything we could do to fix it. He still talks about the microphone.
I've told him there are worse things.
Back when my sister and I were being raised on a farm, we had neighbors with children roughly 5-10 years older than us. Their only daughter was getting married and the family was kind enough to invite us to the nuptials. As luck would have it, my parents alone had an invite to a second cousins' wedding, so we decided that I would take my sister to neighbor wedding and Mom and Dad would go to the family wedding.
Sis and I walked into the large United Church and noticed the church was pretty full, but seemed to be thinned out near the front. Normally as neighbors or friends of the couple, we would be seated nearer to the back, but we lucked out with seats almost directly behind where the family would sit - the 4 empty pews on the Bride's side.
Now I thought nothing of this, because often times the parents and siblings arrive just before the bride. But before you knew it, the organist was playing a rousing march, the bridesmaids were cued at the door and making their way into the sanctuary.
Ok, so maybe her parents and brothers were going to escort the bride to the front - a little avant guarde for the 1980s, but hey, whatever.
NOPE! As the bridesmaids arranged at the front of the church, the groom came across the front of the altar, up the bride's aisle and gently reached for her - walking her to the minister.
What. the. hell? Immediate a murmur rippled through the church as guests on both sides of the invite tried to figure out what happened to the Mother and Father of the Bride, the brothers...and, upon further inspection, the aunts and uncles. It looked like a pie lifter had removed the front section of the church. As the nearest neighbors, people asked my sister and I if we knew what had happened - which as young teens, we were not privy to.
But by the time we got to the reception, the word was out.
The Groom, who was a very motivated, hardworking guy, had a falling out with one of the brothers of the Bride at the rehearsal the night before. The lot of her brothers did not have the same work ethic her new husband had. There had been frustrations in the past - the groom being asked to help with a chore any one of their own three sons could have helped with, he was called upon to do things while their own boys would take days off the farm - you get the idea.
For whatever reason, words were exchanged, the final straw between them was broken and the Bride's parents announced not only would they not grace the nuptials with their presence, the would advise their families to do the same. Apparently word got out to enough of them that roughly 20 people failed to show.
The speech the Groom gave his Bride was one of the more touch, heart wrenching, sincere declarations of love I have ever heard. Without revealing the behind the scenes drama, he told her he had tried to prove his love to her throughout their years together, that he adored her and could not imagine ever leaving her side - he wanted to be there for her. He pointed out that some people have trials throughout their marriage, but if they could get over one of the biggest hurdles at the beginning, then he forecast a beautiful life together.
Everyone cried. Everyone.
I can remember telling my parents the events of the evening. Apparently my cousin's wedding was not nearly as eventful (thank God!) We all shook our heads at the logic used to boycott your daughter's wedding. Especially when you were on the short end of the argument!
Many years later, the Bride became a mommy. Time and a new baby appeared to heal old wounds and eventually she enjoyed a relationship with her parents. How comfortable her husband was with all of this, I don't know. The embarrassment of that day was never discussed again.
But there no photos of this girl with her parents on her special day. Her father was not there for her to walk her down the aisle. Her mother didn't help her get dressed. There was no speech welcoming her husband to the family. Things you can't do over or take back.
Somehow that popping mic just doesn't seem so bad.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Spirit of the Games
Who isn't watching the 2010 Olympics? Regardless of where they are held, I'm captivated - although I could do with a little less "behind the scenes"-
"Johnny's grandmother always wanted a grandson who could shoot targets while skiing across frozen tundra and her homemade cobbler was exactly what he needed to aim for Olympic GOLD!"
Yup, that's thick...and deep...
Usually the Olympics are a celebration of hard work, determination, perseverance and the pursuit of excellence - not to mention the temper tantrums.
Sure, I get all warm and fuzzy when I see a Canadian athlete excel - especially when it's the first Gold on Canadian soil (shout out to you Alex!!!) but for every five "warm fuzzies" we get one jackass who makes the Olympics really THE greatest show on earth.
Take, for example, Dale Begg-Smith, the Aussie transplanted Canadian who is the scourge of the technological world. You see, DBS is the lovely chap behind many of the pop-up versus and links to XXX websites that infiltrate your computer...hate him already, don't you?
Add to that endearing quality the fact that he's a total putz. Wealthy beyond reason, DBS is considered the Millionaire Skier who chose to join the Australian team when he couldn't get along with the Canadian National Team. He refused interviews leading into his sport (Freestyle/Mogels) and made himself a global spectacle when he came in second to Canada's Alex Bilodeau. The photos. are. priceless. Look them up. I've seen 2-year-olds react better to spilled ice cream cones.
Jump ahead to this week, where the Men's Figure Skating was decided. While Patrick Chan - who is known for his amazing footwork and artistry wasn't considered much of a threat after his disappointing short program, he was called out by another "well groomed" sportsman - Russia's Evengi Plushenko. Plushenko laid it pretty clear that he believed if you were in the men's class and you didn't lay down a Quad, well then you really weren't much of a man at all, were you?
Again, egos raged and the "Quad King" as he has become known, supported his mature mentality with his actions during warmups - taking three tours of the ice surface, landing two or three jumps and then leaving, stating "That's enough." Talk about diva behavior.
In the end, the judges didn't warm up to the Russian's one-trick-pony act (*Take note Mr. Plushenko - there is artistry involved in figure skating - it is the blend of athleticism and art that makes this sport truly unique. Check in to it.) He received the silver and even that wasn't graceful. He quickly pulled the medal off his neck and skated off for the exit - which he was denied because he had to exit the opposite end of the ice - poetic justice indeed.
And I'm really glad my kids haven't seen these episodes of child-like behavior because it's hard to raise kids to be good sportsmen and take responsibility for their actions when adults are televised acting like morons.
Now, what the world needs is more Nobunari Odas.... A young 17-year-old Japanese figure skater, he executed a fun, entertaining and challenge ode to Charlie Chaplin. But what made him outstanding is what he did when things went bad.
As he landed his final jump in the Men's Freestyle, his leg went out from under him, sending him crashing to the ice. Within seconds, you knew something was wrong and he skated directly to the judges panel. A close up of his skate evidenced a badly beaten skate boot and when he pulled up his trouser leg, a handful of mangled, snapped laces.
The rules say, you have three minutes from the time you notify the judges to return to the ice. He did so with speed and grace, quickly re-lacing and retying the skate and then resuming his routine with style and flare. You honestly never would have thought he stopped. The music ended, he struck his final pose and the audience went wild.
Plushenko, DBS, were you watching? Not likely....
Friday, February 12, 2010
Love Thyself
Because I believe in brutal honesty (see here September 2009 - Happy Birthday!) I can tell you at my heaviest - when expecting my second child, I tipped the scales at almost 210 pounds.
And I say "almost" because I started blacking out a the Ob/Gyn's each time I stepped on the scales.
Now SBS was indeed on the larger side - dressing out at 9 lbs 4 oz, but the fact remains, roughly 200 lbs stayed with me. And lingered. I completely admit I did not help myself. I gained more weight than I should have after First Born Son and it seemed to snowball into the next pregnancy 3 years later.
I never had a weight problem growing up. If anything - it was the other way around - I was too bloody skinny! I look at photos of myself and wince. Nothing but hip bones, shoulders, looooong hair and even longer legs. I remember laying on my parents' picnic table to suntan (don't like the bugs when laying on the ground and they didn't have a lounger) and getting up to roll over and giving myself Loonie-sized bruises.
I remember the day I hit 150 lbs. I remember think at the ripe old age of 17 that I was going to have to keep an eye on my weight - but I had also just stopped growing - topping out a hair under 5'9. My metabolism was so fast I could eat two bowls of cereal for breakfast. You could literally put your finger in the spaces between my ribs. I was a poster child for malnourishment, although I was eating like crazy.
Then I went to college. My German landlady's diet of a full roast dinner with mashed potatoes and desert for every meal (mmmmmm apple dumplings) helped me top out at 160 lbs. I looked a bit better than the rack of bones I was, but after several months of eating like a ranch hand and I slow started getting pudgy.
It didn't get any better when I joined the work force. Faced with being strapped to a desk, the amount of energy I exerted in no way burned off the amount I was ingesting. I looked good the day I got married but I had eating habits that had me going in a downward spiral.
Fast forward to 2006. My crappy back was not doing well - I had been hospitalized for torn muscles. I was two children later and I wasn't dropping the weight and I finally put 2 and 2 together to realize I wasn't far from a doctor telling me I WOULD HAVE TO STOP EATING.
Now, I am the first one to admit - I. am. stubborn. Not outwardly rude to other people but determined enough about myself that if I say I'm going to do something - well, you can to go the bank with it!
I decided I was going to do something. With my mother in tow, I stopped in at Herbal Magic to discuss what it would take (and how much it would cost) to carve my old body back. After discussion with The Big Guy, we decided that the value of my health, self esteem and my lack of vices such as smoking, drinking and gambling (hmmmm I sound boring!) meant that I SHOULD invest in myself and put down the cash. I stepped on the scale and was ashamed when the counsellor announced I was 192 lbs. My mother was in denial - what could I say - I carried it well.
I didn't want to tell anyone I was on a program for two reasons 1. I didn't need the "sympathy" as I didn't feel I deserved it - "Oh good for you!!!" 2. I didn't want to explain to people if I failed - which was the lesser evil because if you know me - you know that me failing to lose weight would have been a bad scene all around.
Within the first three months, I lost more weight than any other client my home office had ever worked with. Why? Because I followed the program to. the.word. I learned more about eating, and portion sizes and food than I had learned in my previous 34 years. The Big Guy was supportive but hesitant. The wife's new body now needed new clothes - wait a sec - we didn't calculate THAT in our decision! Life became about drinking water (oh, so THAT's what I've been missing!) and standing on a scale - which I ALWAYS hated.
Two years later I was 35 lbs lighter and deemed to be "done" the program. However, for an additional $XXX I could stay on as an affiliate member to check in on my maintenance.
Uh - no - while I appreciated the support and guidance - I felt confident in my progress. And since then - I've had a target weight of 160 lbs. In the winter, I've been a pound or two higher, and in the summer, a pound or two less - but I like how I my close fit and can tell without standing on a scale where I'm at.
It's never been about being "skinny" so much as being "healthy" although beautiful magazines would say I'm straddling the line of "full figured" since I can wear anything from a size 10 to 12.
But four years ago I made a decision that I have benefited from ever since. The back hurts less - I can feel better about myself and enjoy a more varied wardrobe.
So in honor of Valentine's Day - if taking care of yourself isn't the best way to demonstrate Self Love, I don't know what is. (Doesn't hurt that "other" people appreciate it too!)
Happy Valentine's Day!
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Definition of "Honor"
I am COMPLETELY pissed off.
Being a kid in this world is pretty tough. Being a teen is even tougher. I cannot imagine what it is like to live in a developing country, or be raised in a family with strict social mores.
But I CAN imagine it is a pretty f*#ked up life you are living when you a young girl, living in Turkey and your father and grandfather start kicking the snot out of you because you dared to speak to boys.
Oh wait - it gets better...
According to media reports, the girl was taken to the back yard of the family's compound and she was thrown into a pit where she was buried a live. To make sure she didn't escape, the family's chicken coop was placed over the grave.
An autopsy report has concluded she was very much alive when she was placed in the ground.
This type of punishment (almost 100% of the time exacted on the females of the culture - makes ya think, don't it?) has been named an "Honor Killing". The reason behind it is that the family has been shamed by the individual and the only way to maintain their dignity or standing is to remove the problem. Apparently this family reported the girl missing to police.
(Gee, Gramps, if we snoop around a little I think we'll find her, oh ya, CHECK UNDER THE CHICKEN COOP YOU SICK BASTARD!)
Growing up I was a girl who chatted with boys a lot. Not in the flirtatious, self indulgent way, but very much as I am now - very comfortable talking to anyone - male or female. Thankfully The Big Guy isn't the jealous type, but then I wouldn't be with him if he was.
I cannot image being forbidden from speaking to boys when I was 16 years old. I cannot imagine knowing I could be punished for doing so. And I cannot imagine how many other young women have been murdered (ya, that's what we are really talking about here) throughout the course of time under the veil of "Honor".
She wasn't bringing boys into the home and sleeping with them. She wasn't doing drugs at the kitchen table. She wasn't stealing or involved in gang related activities. She wasn't bullying friends or a menace to her neighborhood....she was being NORMAL.
What is normal in Turkey is that 200 deaths HALF of the annual total are categorized as "Honor" killings. 200 women and children who have somehow tarnished the family's image to such a degree that the ONLY recourse is to murder then.
I CHALLENGE YOU - if you have a daughter, if you are a daughter if you are a child of a daughter, make your voice heard and DEMAND change. Regardless of religious, social or stereotypical views, these hideous acts must be stopped. I'm looking into Amnesty International to find out what I can do. http://www.amnesty.ca/
Show this to your daughters www.huffingtonpost.com and go to the story about the Turkish Honor Killing. The next time they want to lip you about how miserable their life is - let them see just what misery is. Tell your sons that there are men out there whose desperate need to control their microscopic world is to murder their own flesh and blood for doing nothing more than your son does EVERY DAY.
What kind of backasswards kind of society would accept a child killer over a young person who was developing NORMAL social relationships? As far as the disgrace on the family - one would think murder trumps all.
I would love to hear your thoughts - since I'm the only one who gets to blow off steam here....
Thursday, September 3, 2009
To Your Health
You never realize how important your health is until it's in jeopardy. I personally want to thank everyone for paying their taxes, as the health care portion has definitely come in handy in the past few days.
We spend so much of our day to day lives concerned with the normal stresses - paying bills, working, taking care of our families, that we don't appreciate our health. The old saying is true, "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything!"
It's also remarkable to me to see how people step up to help in times of need. Both family and friends have offered help, extended a hand and offered support. It is appreciated more than you know.
Eat your veggies, take your vitamins and whatever you do - listen to your body. Make sure you push for more answers and don't be afraid to get a second opinion. There is nothing wrong with getting a fresh set of eyes and putting your mind at ease.
Sante!
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Fat Lady Sings for her Supper
Be forewarned....this could curdle your cereal....
"In a recent poll of 50,000 people by Askmen.com, 48 per cent of men said they would dump their partner if she became fat.
"We asked men whether they would consider breaking up with their girlfriend, specifically if she gained weight," James Bassil, the editor-in-chief of AskMen.com told CTV's Canada AM on Friday. "And we found that the response was pretty fairly split down the middle. A slim majority said 'no.'"
On the other hand, 70 percent of women surveyed said they would stay with their boyfriend if he became "husky."
"A lot of people would say that guys are more visual, I guess, when it comes to relationships," Bassil said, adding that male respondents said they would see their girlfriend gaining weight as a sign that she didn't care about the relationship as much anymore.
If there is a silver lining for girlfriends, it may be in the pocketbook. Eighty-five per cent of men said they believe they should pay for the majority of dates, at least until a relationship has been established. "
Forgive me for failing to see that silver lining as anything more than tin foil.
All this tells me is that there are a bunch of fat, self absorbed men wandering around out there who are paying the bill until the "little woman" is finally feeling comfortable in the relationship, then he decides "enough's enough of that!" Why bother footing the bill, after all, she's just gonna get FAT!
Women, who are already more critical of their bodies than men, have always had this well kept secret in the back of their minds for centuries. Why do you think the Weight Loss Industry is alive and well after all of these years?
It's no different than a larger woman covering herself up, fearing the exposure of her body at a beach, pool, or other public place, while an overweight man will parade his girth proudly from one end of the water to the other, and in some cases, packing enough ego to fill a second Speedo.
I've been at both ends of the spectrum. Being overweight isn't just about physical health and appearance - it's about your emotional well being. Hopefully we can smack some of these Neanderthals upside the head before another generation of women is damaged.
"In a recent poll of 50,000 people by Askmen.com, 48 per cent of men said they would dump their partner if she became fat.
"We asked men whether they would consider breaking up with their girlfriend, specifically if she gained weight," James Bassil, the editor-in-chief of AskMen.com told CTV's Canada AM on Friday. "And we found that the response was pretty fairly split down the middle. A slim majority said 'no.'"
On the other hand, 70 percent of women surveyed said they would stay with their boyfriend if he became "husky."
"A lot of people would say that guys are more visual, I guess, when it comes to relationships," Bassil said, adding that male respondents said they would see their girlfriend gaining weight as a sign that she didn't care about the relationship as much anymore.
If there is a silver lining for girlfriends, it may be in the pocketbook. Eighty-five per cent of men said they believe they should pay for the majority of dates, at least until a relationship has been established. "
Forgive me for failing to see that silver lining as anything more than tin foil.
All this tells me is that there are a bunch of fat, self absorbed men wandering around out there who are paying the bill until the "little woman" is finally feeling comfortable in the relationship, then he decides "enough's enough of that!" Why bother footing the bill, after all, she's just gonna get FAT!
Women, who are already more critical of their bodies than men, have always had this well kept secret in the back of their minds for centuries. Why do you think the Weight Loss Industry is alive and well after all of these years?
It's no different than a larger woman covering herself up, fearing the exposure of her body at a beach, pool, or other public place, while an overweight man will parade his girth proudly from one end of the water to the other, and in some cases, packing enough ego to fill a second Speedo.
I've been at both ends of the spectrum. Being overweight isn't just about physical health and appearance - it's about your emotional well being. Hopefully we can smack some of these Neanderthals upside the head before another generation of women is damaged.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Ivy League Material?
Recent conversation with Second Born Son at Swiss Chalet, enjoying a celebratory dinner for passing swimming lesson.....
Second Born Son: Thanks for dinner Mommy!
Momma Bear: You're welcome Bud. I'm very proud of how hard you worked. You know, it makes me think, I wonder what would happen if you worked that hard at school?
SBS: I'd probably get better marks.
MB: Uh huh.
SBS: ...and then get into better schools....
MB: That's right!
SBS: ...and then I'd be able to get a job at the til!
MB: (stupified - chewing on her chicken)
Second Born Son: Thanks for dinner Mommy!
Momma Bear: You're welcome Bud. I'm very proud of how hard you worked. You know, it makes me think, I wonder what would happen if you worked that hard at school?
SBS: I'd probably get better marks.
MB: Uh huh.
SBS: ...and then get into better schools....
MB: That's right!
SBS: ...and then I'd be able to get a job at the til!
MB: (stupified - chewing on her chicken)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tori is Found
It was with mixed emotions (mostly relief) that I heard the news early Monday morning that Tori Stafford had been found.
My heart dropped when I found out where.
The Woodstock child was found three months after she went missing after school in a rural area on the edge of Mount Forest. I live in Mount Forest. This has been my home for 20 years.
I watched the progression of this case with a mix of sadness, anger, fear and disbelief. But for some reason, I felt they would find her. There would be a conclusion for the Stafford family. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, because I cannot imagine the type of Hell it would be as a parent, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle to think that my child was out there somewhere. Bad enough to know she was gone. Unbearable to think that you don't have closure. No goodbyes...?
Naturally, the national media is playing this out like Mount Forest is the dumping ground for dead bodies. 20 years ago a young girl was murdered by a friend of her family and disposed of outside of town. Once every twenty years for a community the size of Mount Forest isn't unbalanced. As you can see, I find myself defensive of my town.
I am glad Tori was found here for a couple of reasons. One - if my child was murdered and had to be kept somewhere waiting to be found, I would want him/her to be found in a peaceful woodlot, marked by a pile of rocks so that a brave police officer could easily located him/her.
Two - because the families in my community need a wake up call to remember that we are not insulated from the evils of this world. Love your children, hold them close, and teach them how to be safe.
That is Tori's legacy.
My heart dropped when I found out where.
The Woodstock child was found three months after she went missing after school in a rural area on the edge of Mount Forest. I live in Mount Forest. This has been my home for 20 years.
I watched the progression of this case with a mix of sadness, anger, fear and disbelief. But for some reason, I felt they would find her. There would be a conclusion for the Stafford family. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, because I cannot imagine the type of Hell it would be as a parent, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle to think that my child was out there somewhere. Bad enough to know she was gone. Unbearable to think that you don't have closure. No goodbyes...?
Naturally, the national media is playing this out like Mount Forest is the dumping ground for dead bodies. 20 years ago a young girl was murdered by a friend of her family and disposed of outside of town. Once every twenty years for a community the size of Mount Forest isn't unbalanced. As you can see, I find myself defensive of my town.
I am glad Tori was found here for a couple of reasons. One - if my child was murdered and had to be kept somewhere waiting to be found, I would want him/her to be found in a peaceful woodlot, marked by a pile of rocks so that a brave police officer could easily located him/her.
Two - because the families in my community need a wake up call to remember that we are not insulated from the evils of this world. Love your children, hold them close, and teach them how to be safe.
That is Tori's legacy.
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