Don’t Look Back

Many years ago, as I sat in my car bawling after I had just signed my home over to the X… friend said to me… “this is just one more thing in your rearview mirror.”

That became my mantra.  It helped me get through many ugly moments in the years after that. When something was coming up that I did not want to do…I thought to myself…”I hope it gets here soon.” Then I can get through it and it can be ‘one more thing in my rear view.’  One more little mountain I had climbed.  And…as, you can guess…when you run head first into the things you are dreading….they lose their power. Big time. You grow strength…because, you have to do it.  And, then what seemed insurmountable, becomes easier.

I am not saying that I or anyone ever gets used to confronting things that are unpleasant. But, I learned, nothing lasts forever..that emotion, feeling, stress, dread, fear….doesn’t last forever.  The anticipation. The Waiting….the hardest part. And, something else unexpected happened.

I was still feeling like I was on a treadmill up that damn mountain….that I was never going to get to the top….I still had mountains to climb.  It was depressing. A friend said to me …. “That is just life, right? There is always something unpleasant around the corner.” Well.  Maybe. I was listening to a friend share her tale of woe (same story, different verse) and she asked me…”when do I get happy like you?”

Hmm…funny.  I was thinking…..before she opened her mouth…how far she had come…instead of crying about never being happy again, she now was asking when happy was going to come.  That is progress.  I reminded her of the way she spoke, her tone of voice, her attitude, everything in the beginning. And then I asked her questions about how she felt now….she feels better than she did in the beginning…..and the middle……so…guess what…she is improving.

Well…you know…like most people I am very good at telling others what they should do with their lives (if you people would only listen!!!!). This time I taught myself something. Every once in awhile, on your journey, your climb….your mountain of hell….turn around.  All the way. Look back at where you were when this all started.  Look at how you felt, what you thought…look at the milestones you got through (1st, 2nd, loudest, smallest, biggest, etc) You have come a long way (Baby….sorry…the 70’s just slipped out).

I realized how many of my friends (and me too…) were concerned with how far they still had to climb. We are told you can’t go back, you can’t live in the past…..some of us wax poetic about the past (another blog)….but, every once in awhile as you slog your way through your struggle…..turn around (bright eyes…OMG…so sorry)

I realized….sometimes…you need to look back (sorry….I tried to resist Don’t Look Back ) to see how far you have come.

I went through fire. I am better now. Way better. And thankful for the experience.

My Dog is a Rapist

I have a 4.5 pound chalupa dog.  I didn’t ask for him. I didn’t want him. But, I rescued him and now he is mine. He turned out to be a pretty good dog…..for a while. He is awesome on a leash (never gets tangled), doesn’t bark (really…..for a yappy-type dog – no yapping) he doesn’t chew things or get into the garbage.  He doesn’t lick a lot. He is, however, very needy. Like he needs to be up my butt all the time…okay…not literally…butt (see what I did there?),  he must be on me whenever possible.

He was likely a few years old when he came to me. He had been recently neutered, chipped and shot. He was ready to go.  It took months for him to show us his personality…..but, eventually…his criminal side started to show. Occasionally I would catch he and his “girlfriend” (well…that is what my daughter calls whatever he has centered his sights on…usually a blanket or pillow) in the middle of……you know.  It wasn’t a big deal…..sometime we would ask him if “he needed his privacy”…but, mostly we would tell him to knock it off.

It is the middle of hell – I mean summer – here in northern CA and even though I have an air conditioner….I have a 2 story house…….some nights, I sleep downstairs. Which is what I was doing last night. I decided to go upstairs to grab something and I came upon a crazy sight…..

My dog….looking guilty and “in the middle” and my favorite bamboo pillow on the floor. And, its clothes (pillow case) were half off and it looked a mess. My eyes took it all in in a matter of seconds and the first thing I said was….”What is going on in here?” What are you doing with my pillow….it has been violated…why are its clothes off…..”

Which is all pretty funny….but, you should have seen it….that dog looking up at me with guilt written all over his tiny little face. That pillow is heavy…he had to drag it off the bed and 4 feet across the floor. Why? Is he a dom…dragging that pillow all over the place….showing it who’s boss? And me…..taking the scene in like I was taping off the crime.

Now when I come across my pillows on the floor…..I have to think….have they been violated?  Should I apologize? Throw then in the washer? My life is a comedy show.

Pink vs Blue

I saw this headline today:
Some retailer decided to remove gender labels from their clothing. Why is this news?  Who cares?  How does this impact my life?  Hmmm…well…I know I post about idiots a lot…but, um….I don’t need anyone to tell me what clothes I should wear. Or that I should wear certain clothes because they are “for girls”?  

My generation invented wearing their boyfriend’s soft cotton henley t-shirts or their super nice cotton gym shorts that were 20 years old and holey…but, the cotton was so thick and soft, I still think about it.  Or…..the cable knit real fisherman’s sweater that hit a snag and has a hole in the armpit.  Or the sweatshirt that was made of cotton an inch thick with the cut off hood that my husband hated every time I wore. And, don’t forget…..the naked woman, man’s work shirt cliche.

I didn’t just wear hand me downs or stolen memories. I shopped in the men’s section…..boxers were the college sweats of the warmer days. I wanted a sturdy leather belt….everything I bought for girls fell apart after a few months….I am still wearing the belt my X grew out of 20 years ago……and, I get compliments.

I am not necessarily advocating for menswear (although…many many articles have been written about comparisons between quality and price…and, guess who is getting screwed?…), I am just saying I don’t need anyone to tell me what to wear. Or what sex I need to be to wear it.

Now…to get to the idiots…..if you are offended because you need someone to tell you what clothes to wear…….I just can’t.

And another thing……this actually makes me happy…I was the kid (no surprise since I have been known to wear men’s clothes) who wanted (desperately) to play with her older brother’s Legos and hot wheels.  Those cars seemed cool to me. I wasn’t allowed….in part because my brother was a little dick, and because they were “boys” toys.  Yeah…so is a man’s penis…but everybody expects me to play with that and like it.  But, I digress. I vowed my daughter would get Legos and trucks and not wear pink.  Hahahaha.  She wore pink everyday from the time she was 3 until she was 6 or 7 and decided pink was out….yes, I let her pick her own clothes. She also wore boys converse high tops, men’s flannel shirts. She stopped wearing dresses about 4th grade. She never cared much for dolls or Barbies, Legos or trucks…..but she loved to draw and stack things.

My son…..well…that poor boy….he went everywhere with me and the pink girl so….he frequently wore pink nail polish (he cried until I did it.  X hated it….I offered to buy black…..) and one day after a particularly fun visit to Ulta…..he was covered in glitter and gloss.  My daughter dressed him up in her Disney princess clothes and he walked around in plastic high heels saying, “I a keen (queen), Mommy.  I a keen.”…….oh, yes you are……and, then one day he just stopped asking for the polish and he didn’t want to play dress up. A few years later, he announced, “I’m not a lesbian.”…..nope.  You are sure not. After his sister and I changed our pants…..we explained what was what and he announced he wasn’t gay.  I did not expect that he was….But, that kid. He insisted on wearing plaid shorts and old man loafers from age 5-10.  He would pair them with his “muscle shirt”…..a white t-shirt with no sleeves. While he was still in his crib and barely talking..he would insist that I put his “shoos” (shoes) on as soon as he woke up.  Little weirdo.

I am not sure what asshole decided that girls wear pink and boys wear blue and that was that.  I am sure there is a rational reason for everything. Boys wore trousers/pants because of the work they did……  Then, some women started and…..the rest is history.  I am sure that pink and blue came from some “fashion” magazine or a retailer had too much blue or pink something and came up with a crazy marketing plan that stuck.  I don’t know and I don’t care.  I know this. Wearing clothes in public should not be optional. The rest, shouldn’t matter.  I prefer a guy in a pair of jeans and thick cotton, ¾ baseball shirt. I probably won’t go out with him if he wears sweater vests, tassel loafers or white pants…..but, that is preference, not requirement.   Why, oh why, do we need to label things?