May 15th, 2013 / No Comments » / by Nat Marie
Fair Warning: Possibly strong language. Sorry if you’re offended, but if you’re offended by a few not-so-nice words, you need to get laid. Desperately.
So I’m a little late on this train. But I actually had to think of a way to write this entry without it being fueled with anger. It didn’t work. I’m pissed. Let’s talk about this douchebag here.
Now I’ve seen these stores before, and I never stepped foot in one. For 4 reasons:
- The store’s interior is dark. Too dark. You think it’s a funeral home or something. What the fuck?
- I’m 28. From my understanding, it’s a store targeted to teens. By this premise alone, I’m out.
- I’m black. Okay, maybe not the best reason in the world, but A&F doesn’t strike me as a store that black folks would go into. Could be wrong, but I’m still too old anyways.
- I’m fat. And the rest is history.
Okay, I understand that every business has their target demographic. That’s fine and dandy. But this old ass motherfucker just dug a hole so big that if he fell into it, he’d fall through China. No one’s gonna force him to make larger clothes, but really to say what he did was possibly the biggest display of douchebaggery I’ve ever seen. And I have a couple of douchebag ex-boyfriends.
What kind of message is this to the girls in this age-range for his clothing? A size 00 is the end all. Anything larger and you’re a lardo who needs to go puke now? As a woman who struggled with self-image issues throughout her childhood/teenage years, this seriously makes me want to crawl into a hole. I have a little girl who is still innocent, but she will be a teen one day. And if she’s a larger girl–not necessarily overweight, but larger than the average of A&F clothing, what kind of message is that going to be for her? That she’s undateable until she goes down to a size 00, which, unless her height gets stunted, won’t be a healthy look for her?
Never mind just teenagers–some women my age have poor self image and assholes like this make it no better for them. Oh sure, you can throw out the “well, plus size women have stores for them” card, which is fine and dandy, but I’ll tell you this–if the CEO of Lane Bryant said that shit for smaller girls, pretty sure all the customers they had would become a torch mob as well. If you don’t want to sell something to a certain demographic, then don’t. Just don’t be an asshole about it.
With that said, I’d like to apologize for a few things that may or may not have influenced my weight.
- I’m sorry that I had a kid. I’m sorry that once my daughter is in school and we’re less broke, I’m going to want more. That’s gonna make me gain weight.
- I’m sorry that I’m getting older. Getting older means your body changes, which can cause weight gain.
- I’m sorry that no matter how little I eat or how much I (attempt to) exercise, I still can’t shed weight.
- I’m sorry I like chocolate way too–actually, you know what? I ain’t sorry about that.
So fuck you. Fuck you hard with a rusty pole. And I hope you trip and fall on said pole.
Okay, I feel better now.
May 1st, 2013 / 2 Comments » / by Nat Marie
Fair Warning: I understand that children discipline seems to be a hot topic among moms. I’m not out to offend or anger anyone.
So what do you do with a 21-month-old whose terrible two’s have started prematurely? What if the word “no” is no longer enough, and she also mocks you when you do say it?
How does one stay sane?
Let me tell you how I was raised and you’ll understand my stance on certain disciplinary actions towards children.
I was raised by a West Indian family. There was no such thing as time-outs. If I looked at my mom the wrong way, I got a slap. If I took my voice even one decibel higher than normal, I got a slap. For the more serious offenses, I got the belt. Or a slipper. In an extreme case, a metal spoon. I don’t even remember what I did, but it wasn’t anything that justified using that weapon. I have a fond memory of being in the middle of potty training and my mom not only screamed at me for pooping my pants and beat me. I was 3.
Needless to say she wasn’t quite patient about potty training.
As the mother of a near-two-year-old who is a professional at testing the waters, I can understand what my mom went though. Raising kids are frustrating, regardless of age. Rydia is almost at the age where I can start potty training. It’s gonna be fun. But it’s gonna suck. More laundry to do, but less diapers? That’s a plus since she’s almost in size 6′s. But I can’t imagine being reduced to beating my girl for pooping herself. Accidents happen, right?
My daughter is also an adventurous one. If we tell her not to do something, she looks dead at us and does it anyways. She gets into dangerous stuff and she gets a stern “no” and a slap on the hand. Nothing more. She doesn’t like hearing the word no. She even mocks us at this point now. Frustrating? Hells yeah. But she either goes the other direction or flops on her bed.
But Ronnie tried a mini time-out. He sat Rydia on a chair and told her to not move. Now, what 2-year-old will stay still for any period of time unless they’re asleep?
She did. It was for 2 minutes, but she sat there and did not move. My mouth dropped.
But it worked. This isn’t to say that it will all the time, but it worked at that time. And no belt was harmed in the process.
April 17th, 2013 / 2 Comments » / by Nat Marie
Fair warning: Strong language not suitable for younger readers. I don’t think I attract anyone younger than the proper age of consent in the US, but some of those are actually prudish, so this is for them. Viewer discretion advised and all that.
Dear Mother Nature,
Hi, remember me? Yeah, see, I didn’t write you a letter because you were actually, to some extent, good to me for the past few years. Now that I’m in an area where it’s not perma-sunny, I have a bone to pick with you.
April 13th, 2013 / No Comments » / by Nat Marie
So I forgot to mention one important life change that I recently went through.
I moved. Again.
This time, the destination was Michigan. There are several reasons why we decided to come out here including the lack of jobs in Cali (that’s a rant for another day), but while I was still a bit “I dunno” about it, I went along with it.
Let’s just say that after living in SoCal for 3 years, I was not used to the whole “cold” thing. “Cold” in SoCal is 50 degrees, and that was at night and in December. “Cold” in Michigan? Well…I’ve been here for only a week so far and I guess this is normal spring weather, but it’s 37 degrees now. At 11am in the morning. And it has done nothing but fucking rain for the past week. SoCal saw rain maybe 5 times out of the year.
Yes, while I did live in the cold for 25 years of my life, I did get spoiled by the perma-sunny actually-really-hot-for-the-season Southern California weather. It’s gonna take some getting used to the colder weather of Michigan.
How is Rydia handling it? She’s happy to have more room to move around in her grandparents’ house. The cold didn’t even bother her. Resilience. She has it. A lot more than I do, may I add.
But I swear she’s gained a few pounds since we’ve came here.
April 5th, 2013 / 1 Comment » / by Nat Marie
This was a rant that was a long time coming. I was told by someone that she feels that she shouldn’t do things around the house because she works full-time.
Okay, so I grew up in a house where I had both parents working. My mom would wake up at 5am every morning (barring off days, but even on those days she was up early) in order to catch her bus by 6 so that she can get to work by 7. She didn’t get home most days before 4:30pm. Then when she did get home, she had no time to relax in front of the TV right away–she still had to make sure that everyone in the house had dinner, whether in the form of leftovers or her cooking it. Once everyone ate, she then had to clean up the kitchen, which consisted of sweeping the floor, sometimes wet-mopping it down, cleaning the stove, and washing dishes (which my sisters and I helped out with sometimes).
Then, and only then, which at 7pm at the absolute earliest, my mom was able to actually relax and watch TV until she had to go to bed.
My dad had a demanding job with crazy hours. I hardly saw him during the week, but on the weekends, when my mom had to work, he took over those duties that she would do.
And this person had the gall to tell me that just because she works a full time job, she has a right to leave the house in completely disarray, her husband and children hungry, and sit on her ass EVEN ON HER DAYS OFF?
Someone needs a rude awakening.
Let’s face it–most of the world has a full-time job. Yes, some things don’t get done right away, but they do get done as soon as possible, usually on a day off. There is no reason for dishes to stack up for days on end because you’re too lazy to spend 20 minutes to wash them. There is no reason why your kids shouldn’t have a healthy dinner (or one at all) because you think that spending an hour to cook is an hour away from your iPad.
No, just because you have a job does not mean that you neglect everything else in your house. What’s that? You’re too tired? Okay, so was my mom. She still had to raise 3 kids and help with 2 grandchildren in her house. So get the fuck over yourself, get the fuck off your high horse and technology, and give your family and your house the attention it needs.