Meet my daughter.

My daughter is afraid of rinsing her hair out in the bathtub, and cries if she has to take a shower.

This same daughter will jump off the steps at the pool, go completely under water, and swim down the middle without telling anyone she is going.  She cannot actually swim.

My daughter is terrified of ants.  And small dogs.

This is also the same child who will poke a dead, partially eaten squirrel with her bare hands, then go eat without actually washing said hands. 

My daughter will ride any roller coaster she is tall enough for and anxiously awaits the day she can ride inversion coasters.  

She is afraid of falling off her bike.

I think the rule of thumb is that if it can cause a minor injury of annoyance, it will be met with resistance and tears, while if it actually KILL her it will send her into a frenzy of anticipation and delight. 

I think she hates me.

Sometimes the feeling is mutual.

Sweet 16

You took away all my flannels.

You let me drool on your ass.

You liked me even when I got glasses.

You thought pregnant women were hot when you were 19.

You tell me I still look amazing, even after i have been pregnant.

You learned to open car doors for me.

You've worn a tux 3 times for me.

You've driven hours just to sleep next to me.

You've learned to cook amazing dinners.

You've learned to fix my car.

You helped me get through college.

You believed I could open my own business.

You took dance lessons for me.

You bought me a violin because I once said I had always wanted to play.

You are an amazing father.

You are my best friend.

Thank you for the past 16 years.

Another reason growing up sucks

This morning I had the pleasure of driving behind a young girl in a 68 Mustang, as if driving to work on a gorgeous Saturday in spring didn't sting enough.  She looked happy and carefree and off to somewhere fun, apparently the damn beast was running well for once.  Rub it in Mustang girl.

I drive this:

Why yes it is a Toyota, pre-car of death year.  A boring, bland, reliable Toyota.  They bought it for me when I got pregnant.  At the time I was driving this:

Admittedly it didn't look this cool, call it artistic license, but still it was a '78 El Camino, not the boring sedan I drive now.  And it was sweet.  0 to 90 in like 5 minutes, 90 to 0 in an hour and a half.  Apparently it was not a mommy appropriate car.  Fine.  But before that, in the beginning, I was a Mustang girl.  I got my '68 'Stang for my 13th birthday.  It looked like this:

Again, not that clean, but still.  This:

not this:

No, that's not MY actual car.  If I showed you a picture of it, you'd know who I was, remember?. . . Anyways, I learned all about cars from that Mustang, all of which I had to forget for that stupid POS foreign mommy-mobile I drive now.  Metric what?  Which is fine I guess, since the damn thing never breaks down.  I mean NEVER.  No matter how hard I try. Unlike my baby, which would occasionally stop running  while going 70 down the freeway.

And my life is complicated enough without playing auto roulette.

And it's a car, not a status symbol.  I do not need my car to define me, which is a damn good thing, 'cause the thing I drive now would define me as a boring play it safe mommy.

Fuck.  My car does define me.

Sigh.

Lets take a minute to talk about me.

So if you've read more than 2 posts you will no doubt have realized that I have body images.  I could go on forever about all the things I don't like about my body, but you will start visualizing me as Jabba the Hut's ugly stepsister.  And what I don't like isn't the point of today's exercise.  It's about one of the things I've always loved.

My breasts.

I would like to go on record as saying they are great.  Better than great really. . . almost perfect.  And they are real.  And they nursed a child for 16 months.  A very hungry child.  Sure they are no longer 21, but they don't look as old as they are, and they sure as hell look better than they really have a right to.  So fine, no problem there.

Execpt. . .

The other day some guy couldn't stop staring down my shirt. And it was modest in my opinion.  So I ask the husband, "Do I show to much cleavage?"  He says, "Yes".  YES. . . WTF?.  Later he says he meant by societies standards and that he thought I looked great.  Which he probably did.  But still.  Yes?. . Fuck.

Because I don't want to look like a cheap slut, nor do I want people to think I want to call attention to the girls all the time.  And the truth is that my wardrobe choices are a combination of three things.  One - I cant stand things around my neck.  Even necklaces and scarves are worn low.  I feel like I'm being chocked, and not in the good way.  Two - I have wide shoulders and big breasts, that much fabric in one area makes me look even bigger and I would really rather avoid that.  Three - I DO love my chest.  Not just the aforementioned lovely breasts, but the translucent color of my skin, the layer of freckles, even the tiny red dots which are probably broken blood vessels or something. . . whatever, I love those too.

I have always known there would come a time when I'd have to search out cowl necked shirts or something else cut higher but still not strangling.  I just sort of thought it would happen when the girls no longer could support the look.  But I think they still do.  Only the past two days I've felt so uncomfortable with looking down and seeing them there.

I don't know.  Maybe its time to get a new wardrobe.

 Is this no longer a good look? 

Dream a Little Dream

So tonight I fell asleep in the bathtub and had a lovely dream that I was a princess in a mythical land far away.  There was a knight I was betrothed to from birth but an evil witch did not want him to take the throne, so she sent him to a far away land.  When we grew up, he found his way back, but the witch had become my nanny and she'd filled my head with all kinds of lies and fears. 

I fell in love with the knight and she was scared he would get the throne so she worked her voodoo on me and while in a trance she told me I should kill a man if he tried to touch me.  Later that night the man was dancing with me and his hands brushed my breasts.  I went into a rage and tried to to kill him.  He tied me to a chair and tried to talk me down but I could not be calmed.

Hours past with me tied to the chair.  When dawn broke I went into convulsions and projectile vomited thousands of beads, in all colors and sizes.  Each bead was a lie she had fed me through the years.  When the last bead was out i was left cleansed and whole.  He untied me and we fell madly in love.

Evidently my fertile imagination works best when steeped for awhile in molten hot water.  Also I now know what it would look like to vomit a marble factory.

What are we on, Gregorian?

There I was feeling all special yesterday 'cause of this:

 And then some snarky bitch told me it was April Fools, and not another love letter from my beverages.  Damn I need to check a calender every so often.

A 2x4 would be more subtle

Tonight's xbox conversation with some idiot Ive never met before:

mildblues -i just don't think they understand me
misscharlie - oh, whos that?
mildblues - my real family, from out there___
misscharlie - out where?
mildblues - between the sun and the starz.......
misscharlie - where's that, venus?
milsblues - im not sure, i cant jump that high to find out  :{ 
misscharlie - try a pogo stick
mildblues - thats a great idea :} but ill have to get a license for that and you know how long those take >:[
misscharlie - try nevada, I hear they hand the them out like candy
mildblues - sounds good but the thought of candy hurts my brain....im more of a vegetable man
misscharlie - try california then, i hear theyre big on that stuff
mildblues - you seem to know a lot about this planet  i could use a human like u in search of my true home..;}
misscharlie - im sorta an unofficial tour guide here
mildblues - yes it would help me alot :} cuz the last person who tried 2 help me only used me for drug money and would hit me if i said no ;{
misscharlie - well that was actually my plan
mildblues - oh my, your a bad girl
misscharlie - and youre a nutjob
mildblues - i smell a sitcom
misscharlie - how old are you, and remember, you go to oprah for lying
mildblues - 20 wbu
misscharlie - ancient, like ghandi, but without the humility and love for my fellow man
mildblues -thats not fair i told you my age whats yours
misscharlie - now dont whine, never ask a woman her age, esp. if she much older than you little boy
mildblues - im not little im full of thrills and i can keep you guessing
misscharlie - i think i went to an amusment park with the same advert.  it made me ill too
mildblues - i aim to please
misscharlie - aim higher.  howd you find me anyways
mildblues - i typed your name at random
misscharlie - what a coincidence, so did i  . . . for reals though?
mildblues - yes i did, and i hit the jackpot
misscharlie - if you consider a cynical bitch the jackpot sure, but really, what was going through your mind as you entered this exact gamertag?
mildblues - i though ttoday i want 2 talk 2 random person so i add words together ....miss...charlie...#   :)
misscharlie - and 1813?
mildblue - picked random numbers
misscharlie - 18 is 6 plus 6 plus 6 and 13 is well, duh.
mildblues - so youre 30 then
misscharlie - no, where'd you get that from?
mildblues - sorry, im not good with numbers, youre prob. younger than that
misscharlie - god, did you ad 18 and 13, cause thats 31
mildblues - um, yeah, im not good with numbers, but if you are older, i can make you feel young again
misscharlie - why would i want to?. . im perfect. and i can count.
mildblues - thats even better
misscharlie - why do you need a tutor?
mildblues - no but i bet i could teach you a few things
misscharlie - gotta love your perseverance.  and dumb, blind, hopeless optimism
mildblues -theres a lot more of me to love
misscharlie - oh?. .  you have a conjoined twin?
mildblues - no,but i like your jokes
misscharlie - glutton
mildblues - so whats your name?
misscharlie - charlie
mildblues - nice name for a girl whats that short for?
misscharlie - who says im a girl?
mildblues - well who is to say im a guy?
misscharlie - the gay guy sleeping with you?
mildblues - um....im a guy and i like girls...wbu
misscharlie - sure why not
mildblues - what are you?
misscharlie - perfect. . i told you that
mildblues - but are you a girl or a boy
misscharlie - im a grown up
mildblues - well if you cant answer a simple question then i have no choice but to search on
misscharlie - ok, thanks for playing