It's in the Cards

At the New Year's Eve Masquerade we went to, a tarot card reader was there in hope that guests could see what 2012 held in store for them. Obviously we did it for the hell of it (Tom and I are both far too cynical to set much stock in cards, palmistry, fortunes, Ouija boards, mystical spirits, etc.) and because we were in a jolly party spirit. Plus, "everyone else was doing it" and it was free.

My reading was pretty accurate with the exception of one huge falsehood: I'm pregnant. At least, that's what she said -- that I either was already pregnant or would become pregnant very soon. Clearly a lie. But I'll have to admit, she read me pretty well. The rest is quite accurate ...

* I'm private but public. She likened this to being like a politician (is that good or bad?!), further clarifying by saying that people will feel like they know me very well and I'll divulge what seems like endless information about myself, but the true depths of my self, the most inner parts of me, are reserved for loved ones only.

* I'm a real lady (Oooo!) -- meaning I know how to act and behave appropriately in every situation I find myself in.

* I stress about money.

* I like a clean house for company but also have a natural messiness about me. I might still have clothes on the floor in the bedroom behind closed doors. I try to be a very tidy and clean person, but sometimes I just pile my clothes on the floor and the dishes in the sink.

* I have a very healthy ego, meaning: I know my worth.

And this last reading, the last turn of the card, spoke to me loud, very loud. The entire scope of my personality and the decisions I make in my life and the way I interact with people all comes down to this one aspect of my self. I know my worth. And it took a stranger to make me realize this truth. Oh friends. If only I could grant this knowledge to every person in the world. If people would stop underestimating their capabilities, we could do SO much. If everyone knew their worth, we would be unstoppable. I love the idea of every individual tapping into all the happiness that comes from being at peace with one's self.

Of course, I don't feel like this every waking moment of every cotton-pickin' day. I have days where I hate myself and doubt every.single.thing I do; my body is fat, my face is boring, I should be a better daughter, why did I go back to school? But that's normal and it passes. I'm not saying this to brag (I hope it doesn't sound that way) because it's not a matter of pride. More, it's something that brings lasting happiness and clarity. I wish it for everyone, the peace that comes with a strong sense of self.

"To be beautiful means to be yourself.

You don’t need to be accepted by others.

You need to accept yourself."

~Thich Nhat Hanh

A List of Things You Should Never Do to Your Face

Look what my sister-in-law did.
And it inspired this list.

1. Never shave anything on your face. And I mean anything -- not sideburns, not mustaches, not those couple-of-chin-hairs. You're a girl and that means NO five o'clock shadows or stubble. This also means that you will have to use depilatory cream, wax, pluck, or laser hair removal. And if you have some facial hair that's bothering you, don't be afraid to nix it in the appropriate manner. And don't be afraid to talk about it. We are mammals, after all.

2. Never over pluck your eyebrows. Better to have a few stray hairs than to look like an eyebrowless freak. You want to have brows that fit your face, meaning as close to natural as possible, just cleaned up around the edges. When in doubt, see an aesthetician for an initial "shaping" and then you can just maintain it. Plus, as we age our eyebrows become thinner and they won't bounce back from a vigorous sprucing as they do now. Remember your granny's penciled on eyebrows? Someday that could be you ... if you over do it.

3. Never sleep on your face. The human head can weigh as much as 12 pounds. Ask yourself: would you lay a 12 pound weight on your face? Of course not; that's a sure way to wrinkle yourself up during beauty sleep. But if you find yourself constantly waking up smooshing some part of your face, you should invest in a satin pillowcase. The smoothness will help eliminate waking up with angry red marks on your face.

4. Never leave without schmearing some SPF on your pretty face ... and really, that SPF should be in your moisturizer ... and you should be using that moisturizer at least every day. Nothing damages skin like sun. Do you really want to look, at forty, like a handbag and hate yourself? Or do you want to look like Nicole Kidman at forty? Stay away from sun damage. Protect your face. I can't say it enough. Sure, it's fun to get tan and look like you're just so carefree and loving life. Well you won't be loving your cracked old lady face in 10 years if you keep doing that shit. We're going for life long beauty, not just beauty when we're young and our faces can take the heat.

5. Never "invest" in permanent makeup. Makeup is supposed to make you up; it is NOT a permanent fixture, it's a fashion statement. Your face is your face, flaws and all. It is beautiful and unique to you. Don't screw it all up by adding something that doesn't belong. And remember, what is once in fashion can be out just as quickly. You don't want to be stuck with eyeliner and look "soooo 2011."

That's my advice.
And while we're at it, I challenge each of you to go an entire week without wearing any makeup.
Because something you should ALWAYS do is show off your au naturale beauty.

Shopping Cart Mystery

My new neighbors (man with scary uni-bomber beard and generic looking woman) have a shopping cart in their driveway. It's "parked" on their property but it's touching our house. That's what I hate the most about the shopping cart: the way it leans into our side of the house like it's been drifted there by the wind. But that's not the case because clearly there are NO supermarkets near enough for any wind not of Katraina-esque proportions to move a cart to my neighbor's house. It isn't even parked with a purpose, like they may have just "borrowed" the cart for some home clean up. Why is this happening? Why would they need to bring a shopping cart home with them? They have a car. They have a home. What other purpose does a shopping cart provide other than carting objects home -- which the car takes care of -- or carting around your objects because you don't have a home. Plus, I'm fairly certain that the local Smith's would consider their shopping cart being found outside the confines of the store or parking lot, theft. I'm living next door to facially hairy thieves.

I'm going to give it a few days and see what they do with it.

What Happened Was ...

My friend posted this as her status on Facebook:
"So sick of Utah winters!"

And a friend of hers, we'll call him John Doe, replied,
"so move"
(Just like that, no punctuation, no capitalization -- you should know that anything in quotes is an exact replica of the original.)

My comment immediately followed:
"I hate it when people say "so move." What, like we lose the right to complain just because we live here? The huge task of quitting one's job, finding new employment, and leaving friends and family is OBVIOUSLY the BEST option and 100% plausible because we have one day where the weather pisses us off, right?

I'm with you, Jane Doe. Winter sucks ass. And I reserve the right to complain about the weather no matter where I live. If I live in California, I might complain about it being too hot."
 
At this point, some people cheered ... well, they liked my comment. And I was feeling pretty pleased with myself at standing up to the statement "so move" because it angers me so much.

Little did I know that John Doe is an insecure ass and felt the need to lash out ...

"I hate when people blow things out of proportion.

I lived in UT for 16 years, I know how winters are and I'm in phoenix so I obviously know how hot summers are.

If they moved, they have the option to see _other_ family and friends. So, it is ...an option to get out of the "Utah Winters" (yes that is plural for _more then one_ indicating shes not sick of "one day where the weather pisses us off" but rather the whole season.

If someone posts there "thoughts" they expect to see a "response" whether its something they agree with or not. The fact that you got "upset" because I said "so move" is pretty sad."

Again, this is quoted word for word, typo by typo, excessive quotation mark by excessive quotation mark. I'm thinking of sending it off as a suggestion for The Blog of Unnecessary Quotation Marks. Now, let me explain a few particulars of the situation. Jane Doe is a coworker of my husband's. A sensitive coworker. Normally I don't supply such sassy comments on an acquaintance's status because you never know how it'll be taken but Jane and I had been friends on Facebook for a while and I thought she would understand. I did not, however, anticipate the super sensitive response of John (who seems to be a family member ... perhaps the sensitivity is a genetic defect.) Why am I telling you all this? Well, I want you to know why I couldn't respond. Why I had to swallow my pride and remain mute. Why I couldn't shame this John Doe into tears with his poor grammar and lack of originality. Why I couldn't rebut, in all my wordy, indignant, self-righteous glory, as follows:

"John Doe -- I'm so sorry you think that I was upset at you (stranger that I don't even know)! I was just annoyed with your worn out sentiment of "so move." And I was trying to show Jane that I am completely and absolutely supportive of her right to complain about whatever she wants. It had nothing to do with you so please stop trying to make this about you. It's about Jane and how bad winters suck.

But since you opened it up for argument, I would say that I'm happy you no longer live in Utah, because then I don't have to run the possibility of bumping into you at the grocery store where I might say something like "I hate these carts" and you would promptly tell me to leave the grocery store for the one up the street. Also, I would like to point out that your attempts to belittle my comment and its validity fell far short of convincing me of your point of view -- whereas mine obviously struck a chord with you. It's my sincere hope that this means you won't throw out whatever dribble is coming out of your mind and then expect that people won't challenge your statement. I'm glad that you put "upset" in quotation marks, because I am, in fact, not upset by you. I'm more so offended at your inability to communicate with other humans. It gives faint hope for the future of the species.

Of course it's an option for her to move. I never said it wasn't. My exact words were "the BEST option" meaning that I'm rating her possible options and deeming "so move" not number one. Do you see the difference? Also, it snowed today, so I took it upon myself to think that she was indicating her irritation with Utah winters because of the weather today, which is why I said "one day." Obviously someone who moved because of the weather conditions of one day would be schizophrenic.

"There" means a place, hypothetical or otherwise. Given the context of the sentence, I believe you meant "their," the possessive plural. Which reminds me, I do not need a lecture from someone as grammatically challenged as you that "winters" means more than one. And while we're at it, it's "than" not "then," you trilobite."

It's depressing to think that he thinks he bested me.
But I'm big enough to just walk away because I know the reality of the situation: he's an idiot.

Blog of No

It's Monday night.

I'm channel surfing (Monsters vs. Aliens again) to pass the time and the puppy is snorting and attacking the sofa next to me to pass the time. I'm waiting for Tom so that we can watch "Salt" which we rented from Redbox on Saturday night with "Easy A" and we really need to return it so that we don't pay a gazillion dollars for renting a movie that is only supposed to be a dollar. We are consistently bad at returning things on time. Case in point, Netflix. We have had the same DVD, unopened, sitting on our coffee table since April of 2010. 2010. At least Netflix doesn't charge a late fee. Or what about "Flight of the Conchords" Season 1 that I borrowed from a coworker approximately three years ago. We still haven't watched it.

But I digress.

In addition to channel surfing I'm checking up on various websites, one of them being Blogs of Note. I don't always love them but I still enjoy the suggestions and occasionally I find fantastic blogs that I immediately cherish. This is how I found Bugheart and Diary of an Indy Grrrl. My point? Well, while I don't always find a new favorite, I rarely find things I hate. And then this beauty was granted "blog of note" on January 28th.

The Tiny Leaf
(Did you click on the link yet?)

See the problem? There are no posts. The author has had them all removed. And then, in the solitary remaining post, she declines being a blog of note, expressing her with to "remain small." I find this ironic. Does this woman not know that she is writing ON THE INTERNET? A place where anyone and anything can find what you're writing and read it to their hearts content, with or without your approval or knowledge. She is concerned enough about readers to say her text and photos are copyrighted but her wish is to "remain small." I can't help but wonder, if her true desire was to stay unknown, why wouldn't she make her blog private? She notates that occasionally her posts "will come and go" which strikes me as schizophrenic. Is she just trying to tempt us into checking back on a semi-regular basis in hopes that we will finally be able to read all those super special secret posts that were deemed worthy by Blogs of Note? Well I'm not biting. I hate all that shit. Any people I meet in my life -- including internet people -- that play hard to get or try to be cool by being aloof are immediately filed under persona non grata. Blogs are about open expression, free access and sharing of thoughts. If she doesn't want to participate, I'm not going to play by myself.

And Blogs of Note: I recommend removing The Tiny Leaf from your list. After all a blog is by definition "a website that contains an online personal journal with reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks provided by the writer; also: the contents of such a site." (Thank you, Merriam Webster.) Considering that her blog now lacks all of the above, it has essentially negated its own existence.

Delete.

Fuck the FDA

With the recent recall of Similac baby formula, I started to wonder, where the fuck is the protection for the consumer? You may not know this, but the FDA has no legal power to force a company to issue a recall. The great idea is that all-wonderful capitalism will force a company to do a recall because if it harms the customer, it harms profits, and so a recall would be beneficial for both parties -- therefore, no power to the FDA. I see several things wrong with this. Since when has the corporate entity been invested in the best interests of the consumer? Case in point, McDonald’s. I know they may claim that they only provide food that is popular with the public. I call bullshit. How is upping the portion size popular? No one likes to be fat -- and it sure is hard to fight the fat when you’ve got skinny models eating huge hamburgers like it’s an everyday occurrence. How is using sub-par quality food the desire of the eater? It’s not. The company doesn’t seem to take into account the fact that eating more, eating more often, and eating high fat protein with carbohydrates, effects the health of the general populace.

Now, I will take a moment to say that as consumers we have to be smarter, we have to fight that urge (that all of us get at some time) to eat shit like chicken nuggets made from chicken goo and French fries that are only 80% potato and hamburgers that are supplemented with ammonia soaked tendons to fight rampant e-coli. We’re part of the problem too because we are, after all, the ones who keep buying it. But a family of four with two working parents doesn’t have time to worry about where the food is coming from or what its potential added ingredients are. They’re too worried about paying the bills and getting food on the table. Period. Worrying about the actions of a major food corporation is a luxury. Take me for example: I’m a DINK (double income, no kids) household. We both have our undergrads and are preparing for graduate school. I take ballet lessons, at the price of $380 a quarter, for fucks sake. I have all the time in the world to ponder the state of the FDA and the world in general. But I guarantee you if I worked 50 hours a week at two different jobs and we had two little kids to feed, I would be picking up a bag of burgers for dinner on Monday, and maybe $5 pizza on Friday. Why? Because it’s quick and dirty. And that’s all I have time for.

Why doesn’t the company say to themselves, gross -- I would never want to eat that, or have my kids eat that so the consumer wouldn’t want it (even though we apparently will eat anything for a cheap buck). But no. There’s some strange disconnect that goes on in the corporate brain that only has one focus: profits. If it’s cheaper to make chicken nuggets from processed bits of chicken livers, feet, tendons, and whatnot, full steam ahead. I hate these companies. I hate how they've taken something as simple as eating and turned into a numbers game. If revenue is to increase, and you expect that increase to be larger than population growth, that means you’ve got to have every individual eating more. How do you do that? Supersize and $1 menus and 2-for Tuesdays -- which gives us all more food than we need and yet still with a genetic imperative to eat, EAT, EAT! I find myself thinking about ‘The Jungle’; that great work of Sinclair’s that was so fierce it changed an industry and I wonder how did that happen? Why can’t it happen again? Where is our momentum as the repressed class? Make no mistake: we are the repressed class. The tippy top, the upper 9% of the income bracket, they hold all the cards, and we just while away our time in Middle Earth. The CEOs and shareholders of these corporations have lost touch, or perhaps they just don’t care; either way … something needs to change.

Our life expectancy for the current generation of children is less than mine. Aren’t we supposed to be living longer and longer? Not dying young of diabetes complications.
How do beetles get into baby formula exactly?
Why has dinner at the table died a slow and painful death?
Since when did cheap hamburger become a diet staple, and a baked potato suddenly became too damn difficult?

The FDA has several internal problems as well. It’s been essentially cut off at the knees by lobbyists and prior CEOs appointed to key positions within the organization. How can someone have the consumers interests at heart when their house, lifestyle, yacht, maid, prostitutes, are paid for by the very companies they are meant to oversee? It’s impossible. I don’t think these people are necessarily lacking in moral character. That much money blinds you. And they’ve been rewarded by the company for years, they feel loyal to them. That loyalty may be displaced but it’s hard to deny the hand that feeds you.

To those people out there who call for smaller government -- I say piss off. There is no organization with the power to infiltrate and enforce policies within these huge corporations except for the weight of an elected government. And I want safe food. Of course, I have no answers. I just can’t think of a better way to get better food into the mouths of all Americans, rich and poor alike, because I know we’re part of the problem; we’re the feeding end of a hungry hippo that can’t seem to stop opening its collective mouth, even if it’s for complete shite. But even still, knowing all that I know, my humble cry is: Government! Regulate!

Getting What You Want

Yeah, let's talk about being happy. Let's talk about what it means to "get what you want" and the struggle to get. Let's talk about materialism, in all its glory, and let's talk about the meaning of life.

I will open the discussion.

I ate expired soup today. Why was it expired? I have no idea -- apparently when you stuff your face with anything and everything for a two month period you skip over 100 calorie soup. Then it just sits in your pantry and goes bad. But I ate the soup, and I ate it with the looming date of November 29th 2009 heavy in my belly, and I started thinking about my life. I have so much food in my house that we literally NEVER run out. Even when we have "nothing to eat" there is PLENTY to eat. Plenty. This abundance of food makes me ponder the relevance of being on a diet, because to me, being on a diet is essentially waste. I eat smaller portions, true, but I also have to let rampant amounts of food go bad because I just didn't have the caloric allowance to eat that cantaloupe or eggplant or cheese pizza. And apparently, 100 calorie soup.

What is the point of dieting, anyway? I'm a small person. I look fairly decent clothed and not too scary naked. But to our current society "being on a diet" is like saying "I'm cool." Because it means you have self control and a life good enough that you can complain about eating TOO much. And in my mind dieting is synonymous with materialism. Even though you're doing the exact opposite (saying "no more" as opposed to gathering more and more objects) you are showing a certain lavishness, a certain type of fabulosity that only translates to being thin=more clothes=fashionable. It's a strange cycle that in a natural world could not exist but we live in a world with 9 year old twinkies and cheese from a can and diabolical corn breakdowns.

I'll tell you why I diet. Because I want to be thin and because I want to be healthy. Way healthier than is really necessary for my desk job, but nevertheless, I strive towards seeing a beautiful model-thin self in the mirror. This is not to say that I'm not happy with myself; I am. I'm truly thrilled with the way I turned out. I was a very insecure tween but somehow I blossomed and never looked back. I learned at a young age that mistakes were forgivable and that changes could be made and you could rise triumphant as whatever you wanted. I accept my flaws as challenges -- something to continuously strive to make better. And also, something to laugh about with my friends and commiserate with them. Flaws, after all, make us human and not divine. Who wants to be perfect? It's probably dreadfully boring. What do you DO each day if you can't work towards a better life and a better self? And it's fun to use your inner-eye and speculate on the future; the future can't be different or better if everything is already Utopian.

But when does the "fun" striving-for-change switch to "my life isn't good enough" and crushing waves of inadequacy? I'm not really sure. I'll be sure to let you all know when I get there. But I can see how it is easy to start thinking more about the getting and not about the here and now. Life, to me, is a two act play happening simultaneously. Act One is now, Act Two is the future. You can't enjoy the story, the journey, the plot, unless you watch Act One -- because otherwise you won't know what the fuck is going on. You won't know the characters, you won't understand their development, you won't, basically, like the show. And if the show is YOUR LIFE ... don't you want to like it? So in order to like it you've got to watch Act One.

My Act One consists of struggling with my weight and my puppy and my marriage and ballet and my career and my family and my mind and my writing and ... so many things. But. The point is -- I'm enjoying the NOW and looking forward to the future, the impossibly bright and hopeful future that will be everything it's supposed to be if I can just sit still through Act One. So I'm not going to become too bogged down by my inadequacies, and I'm not going to obsess too much about the sugar cookie I ate for breakfast yesterday, and I'm not going to worry about the job I don't have and the money I don't make, and I'm not going to stress about the people that don't like me.

Scarlett said it best: "I'll think about that tomorrow."

And today I'll think about all the good things in my life:

A family I love,

My husband and best friend rolled into one,

A puppy to cuddle,

Friends I can rely on,

New challenges,

And a full pantry.

Satisfied?

When I was in High School, I did NOT take psychology. I wasn't that interested...and I also figured best not to wade in uncharted waters. But once at University, I took a 1010 course in sociology and then an advanced course titled 'Sociology of Gender.' Fascinating stuff, sociology. Of course, it's a 'soft science' based on the general, not the specific, but it is nevertheless, fascinating. And, being a feminist, I love to ruminate on the sociological effects of being classified as "female" because I know how much of gender is reared -- not biological. I for one enjoy the constraints of girlhood; I love pink. I love getting dressed up. I love shopping. And so on. And if you were to ask my mother she would tell you that I loved those things as a small child, nay, an infant. She always tells people about how I loved dresses as a little girl. My mother is not a girly girl. Where did my ultra conformist feminine personality come from? Who knows. Perhaps I am simply more willing to go with the societal flow.

I am happy as a girl.

That is not to say that I am constrained by my gender, or by the gender of other people. I will stretch outside of my comfort zone to non-traditional territory. For example, many of you know that my husband did not work while he went to school and I was the bread winner. It did not bother me, but it did bother others. Maybe "bother" isn't the correct word; people thought the situation worth commenting on. And by commenting, I mean make snide remarks about how he wasn't employed even though he was not employed by choice, and a student, and we made plenty of money. These comments pissed off my gender sensibilities. WOMEN stay home all the time. WOMEN are unemployed often, or do intermittent work with no career path in mind. MEN do not comment on this situation.

Why don't they comment? Perhaps because they think it benefits them, or the family, or the wife herself. I for one do not think the cost is worth it. For those of you who know me personally, you know that I enjoy being busy, and yes, my opinion is slightly jaded towards being a "working woman." Part of this is because I know myself and I know that if I stayed at home I would be insane. Said insanity would then drive me to an asylum of some sort -- just to get me out of the fucking house. That is what I call self preservation.

I suppose this rant is coming from a head full to the brim of thoughts about wifedom and domesticity. Because, like I said, I don't mind my gender assignments, but maybe that's because I'm not trapped by them. Tom allows me to do and BE what I choose, and I in turn allow him the same. I'm reading 'The Feminine Mystique' and let me tell you; the mind reels. In the late 50s, after emancipation, during civil rights, even extending out to the hippy era, women all across the country were falling for the happy housewife. This myth that women are better in the home than in the work place. And women all across the country were tricked into thinking that college, even high school, were only as good as the husband it would catch them. Education was a means to an end; that end being a husband and family. Birth rates skyrocketed as women believed that their sole and best purpose was to procreate. Women were "happiest" at home cleaning and raising kids and taking care of their husbands and reading drivel and selling away their own dreams. (Does this sound familiar to anyone? Hello, Utah? Are you listening? Utah is still, to this day, a place where women stay home to raise a family and even though they are some of the most educated women in the country, they aren't doing anything with it. Perhaps this cultural phenomenon is tied with Utah's high methamphetamine abuse...) Sometimes I wish I wanted kids, simply because it would be an easy out. Throw my passions into my children, into motherhood, and worry about their well being rather than my own future. But that's not fair to me or to my hypothetical kidlings. That is not what would make me happy.

I think Carrie Bradshaw said it best: "Perhaps as women we've been given too many options...now we're unable to make a decision." The women's movement empowered women to think that they could do and be anything they wanted because they had been given the right to vote. But sometimes I think -- men always had the right to vote and they don't feel as though they can do or become anything. So maybe we got the wrong idea; our dreams got so big we couldn't possibly attain them and to make the failure less painful, we stay home, stay small, stay safe. I'm not meaning to bash stay-at-homes by saying this. In fact, Charlotte, in the same episode, said, "The women's movement is supposed to be about choice" which I believe. I believe in doing what makes one happy and obviously this is something I wrestle with in my own brain quite often. And I still have a difficult time putting the thoughts down in a comprehensive manner...

I guess what I'm really trying to say is: what will satisfy me?

Ring Ring

Remember the game "Telephone?" You know, where you say something to the person next to you and then it gets whispered around the room and at the end everyone laughs at how much the sentence "I went to the store" turns into "I think you're a whore." Hardy har har.

Yeah, not so much funny as an adult.

I know that gossip is an inevitability. Everyone does it, even those who are the carriers of best intentions. But the problem with gossip is that the only way to stop it, is to STOP IT. Being someone in the chain of misinformation doesn't help the situation -- so the only thing one can do is just hang up the telephone. No chances to right wrongs, no chances to correct any missaid or misconstrued sentences. You just have to be upright and honest and stop.

As a young teenage girl, I totally had a problem with gossip. I loved it; loved to spread it around, loved to hear it, I had to 'know' everything about everybody. But as I matured through my school years, I put it aside. I preferred honest interactions that were uncluttered by unobserved nuances of who or what a person did or didn't do. This isn't to say that I became perfect, I enjoyed (and sometimes still enjoy) a juicy tidbit of information. I'm just saying that when it came to my dear friends, people I truly cared about, I dropped garbagy gossip at the door.

And the thing I hate the most is people who haven't done the same. It isn't 'fun' anymore to play Telephone. The differences get bigger and bigger as the chain gets longer and longer, but it isn't about who wore what wrong color on that particular day, but rather, people's lives and feelings. Entire friendships can be lost on a split-second misheard or misunderstood phrase. Maybe for some people the excitement is worth it, but not for me. So here is my apology to everyone in the world that was ever hurt by gossip; said by anyone, anywhere.

I'm sorry.

Attack of the Christmas Treats

Why is it that even when everyone is busy shopping and wrapping and, in general, running around like mad people, they still find time to buy or bake delicious goodies and throw them in front of innocent passers-by?

Please stop. My willpower is only so strong and I cannot, day after day, continue to ignore yummy food everywhere I go. Where does this tradition come from? Is it because this is the time of year of excess? The time when we all celebrate our good fortune for the past year and indulge in treats and presents and give gifts and spend lots of money? And what better way to show our collective success than to gain weight? It's like in 'Fiddler on the Roof' when Topal wants a wife with 3 double chins to show how rich he is. We are all working towards our figurative (or actual) double chin during the holidays. Look at us - we can eat whatever we want! We're so prosperous! Look at all the excess!

I say: stop all the waste, stop all the unhealthy trains of treats upon treats. Instead, let's feed the hungry and not feed ourselves. We've eaten enough. Instead of sharing our good fortune with others of good fortune, let's bake goodies and buy presents for those less fortunate than ourselves. Plus, this way we can share in the holiday joy of weight loss rather than the hated holiday weight gain.

Happy holidays for all!

Female Independence

What is the deal with being married? I swear, if some corporation/institution finds out I'm married, I get put on the back burner and they want to deal with my husband. When we moved into our apartment they wanted to know Tom's information even though I was the primary earner. They wanted to know what his income was (which was practically nill because he was going to school) and I told them so and they were like "what the fuck" and couldn't wrap their teeny tiny brains around it. If it were the other way around and I was the student and HE was the primary earner, they wouldn't think twice about the situation. But because it's me and I'm a girl (obviously helpless and in need of male support) and I'm married they always fall back to the husband.

A couple years ago we added each other to our separate (but equal) bank accounts. Well, sometimes I hate it. Only because if I'm on his account they ALWAYS want his permission. I understand that this is a safeguard in case one of us goes crazy and wants to spend all the money. Or perhaps if we are going through a nasty divorce and we want to cut the other one off from all the funds. But this is not us. We are stable. We are like a semi-single unit of thought. We make decisions together - but we don't need to actually BE together when the deed needs to be done.

Case in point - refinancing our car loan. We had already done all the paperwork and preliminary gobbledy gook hand in hand at the branch. Then, on Monday when it was time to finish it off, I left Tom at home thinking "I'll just take care of this realy quick." But no. They needed him there "of course" (Jesus, why would I think I could do it myself?) and once I got him there they acted like I was a rug.

Here's another example: I called to set up the utilites at our new apartment. I told her my name and gave her my social and blah blah blah. Then she asks "and your husband's name?" and I'm thinking, "Is that relevant?" I mean, I can't even have a utility bill in my own name? We've got to add him on just in case I default or decide to stop working so that I can have babies? Give me a break. I live in a world where women AND men are individuals who are capable of doing a lot of shit on their own. Just because Tom and I are married doesn't mean we're one person (despite the fact that we are usually with the other) and I should be able to - just sometimes - operate as a single unit. If I weren't married, would they ask for my dad's information? It's ridiculous. And quite frankly, it pisses me off.