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When I started blogging 4 1/2 years ago as your friendly neighborhood Bitch’in Suburbia, I was doing it out of an urge to up my creativity ante.
It was my greatest hope along the way that I’d be able to hit some nerves, make meaningful connections, tap a funny bone or two and help move the needle from fear and loathing to hope and love for all my bitches — consistently, once a week.
A highlight was being called a “popular” mommy blogger by CNN when I talked about gun violence and children. (That was three years ago and I’m SO GLAD we don’t have to talk about that tired topic anymore… oh, wait… nevermind.)
And actually, being able to stick to my Bitch’in every single week without fail was an exercise I completely recommend. It was always my dream to be a professional writer, and this here little personal blog is what kicked out the jams and gave me the confidence I needed to make that whole shebang a reality.
Aside from doing what I said I wanted to do (WRITE ON!), I also made an investment in my professional development, including taking an online digital marketing course through San Francisco State University, Copyblogger’s kick ass Certified Content Marketers program and John Nemo’s most excellent LinkedIn Riches class. read more
Did you like the title of this blog post – “Good News!”?
Yah, well, if you’re anything like me (and if you’re reading this, I’m guessing you are), I am so emotionally exhausted by all the horrific news out there in our country and the world that I welcome good news — something, anything will do.
Sadly, you have to really dig through the headlines to unearth some rays of light.
Happily, I’m all about finding what’s most bitch’in in life, and so I’ve dug up a few nuggets to brighten your day and reassure you that all is not lost…
Taylor Swift and Kanye West are both human… and the news cycle can be interrupted by silly things like pop star “feuds”: The crazy brouhaha over whether or not Taylor was aware of Kayne’s lyrics about her in his song “Famous” that transpired this past week because of Kim’s SnapChat story was in my humble opinion, very life affirming. In it, you see Kanye talking like a normal dude who just wants to be friends, and Taylor being cordial and thanking him for the heads up, saying she was sure the lyrics about them possibly having sex cuz he “made that bitch famous,” were just “tongue and cheek.” Kim was trying to say that Taylor’s subsequent bashing of Kanye was uncool, but all it really served to do is show that Taylor is human — we yes people to death that we don’t really like to get them off our backs and then the chips fall where they may. And Kanye too, seemingly has some feelings. If any of the story is true, he was trying not to be a complete dick, which is a nice, humanizing thought as well. read more
Summer is heating up, and usually I like to write about mundane things like staycations or how to take a family vacation or unplugging for a little true R&R.
But this year, things are different.
This year, things have reached a boiling point.
Boiled over.
In light of recent events including the horror in Orlando and the shooting deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile by police officers, some countries are even advising their citizens to NOT travel to the U.S. The Bahamas warned about “shootings of young black males by police officers,” while Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) warned their people about crowded places and to be aware of immediate surroundings.
In America. Home of the supposed free, the supposed brave.
Hullo, my fellow Americans. I’m just saying #blacklivesmatter.
You can add that all lives matter, but I’d prefer to stay focused on the horrible issue at hand….
…. which is racism… how profoundly it has raised its ugly head, swollen by aspiring presidential rhetoric, stoked by a country fully unable to admit we have a goddamn problem with gun violence, fostered by a whole world that in my humble opinion is also somewhat f**ked. read more
Step 1: Get a body (if you don’t already have one).
Step 2: Buy a bikini (if you don’t already have one).
Step 3: Put the bikini on your body and voila! You’ve got yourself a bikini body.
Step 3.5: (Don’t forget to stop giving a shit about what other people think. You didn’t care about being judged anyway — did you?)
I think by now we’ve all heard that one and all the many variations on that theme (“how to get a beach body,” “how to have a bikini ready body,” yadda yadda). I give great props to the body positivity movement because the truth is we are all beautiful.
But even Oprah loses sight here and there of the stuff we all know to be true. She might be the high priestess of loving your own “best body,” but weight loss is still what she chews on regularly — it’s both an ongoing focus of her eponymous media (200 articles and counting on Oprah.com) and most recently, led her to put some serious cash where her mouth is with a $12.5 million investment into Weight Watchers. (And in true Oprah fashion, she maybe lost a little [26 lbs. as of the spring] but gained reportedly more than $2.5 million for each pound she’s lost. That would make me give my bod a little extra rich love, I’m just sayin’.) read more
It’s that time of year again — temperatures are rising, school’s out and if you’re like me, you start an inner final-phase countdown toward the two months you live ten for: summer vacation.
Thing is, it ain’t necessarily what it used to be. As a grown-up, summer “break” starts with a mad scramble of labeling underwear, a seemingly endless stream of P (planning, prepping and packing) and the inevitable draining of all your assets (time, energy, finances) and ends with someone else heading out for the time of her/his life while you sit at home, hitting the goddamn refresh button on the camp website to see if you can catch a glimpse of your kid looking as happy as you always were when you were her/his age.
All I can say is STOP THAT. Stop it right now because you and I both know that once a camper, always a camper. You don’t need to live vicariously through your child because camp is in your blood and makes you a better person every single day. read more
This week in Facebook land many of my bitches were passing around an old listicle by Kallie Provencher of Rantchic titled, “24 Things Women Should Stop Wearing After Age 30” like a used condom — with great disdain and no small amount of disgust.
I actually love me a good listicle — I mean, who DOESN’T click on “19 All Too Real Reasons Moms are Late,” (#1 – Because time flies when you’re raising humans [my #1, not theirs]), “27 Things You Need to Know About Fetty Wap,” “25 Famous Women on Crying,” or “12 Hitlers That Look Like Cats?”
But when listicles by women for women throw shade on, well, other women, there are way too many reasons to recite for why that’s not OK.
And Kallie’s insipid list of things that presumably you and I should stop wearing (i.e. “graphic tees – better left for those lazy days off and not public outings,” “Victoria’s Secret’s PINK – wear your big girl panties please,” “oversized glasses – they might be fun but they’re not mature”) would madden even a young Millennial. read more
Recently I got a record player and so I’m re-buying my favorite albums of all time… and among the first batch I snagged is Cat Stevens’ Tea for the Tillerman.
Perhaps you are as much of a camp-dork as I am, and you can’t help but sing along to “Father and Son” at the top of your lungs while simultaneously brushing back the inevitable torrent of tears:
“It’s not time to make a change Just relax, take it easy You’re still young, that’s your fault There’s so much you have to know Find a girl, settle down If you want you can marry
Look at me, I am old, but I’m happy
I was once like you are now, and I know that it’s not easy To be calm when you’ve found something going on But take your time, think a lot Why, think of everything you’ve got
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not…”
While I agree with Ol’ Cat on the idea that things are MUCH easier to shift when you make a conscious decision to pivot vs. rushing through things fueled by panic and fear, I actually disagree that it’s not time to make a change. read more
For starters, the psychic was drunk.
Maybe not out and out hammered, but at least half in the bag by the time it was my turn to flip the Tarot and find out what the cards, the stars and the woman that someone on Yelp said was the “premiere psychic’s psychic in New Orleans” saw for me.
By the time my reading was over two and a half hours later, we’d killed a bottle of Chianti between the two of us, I’d inhaled enough second-hand smoke from her Natural American Spirits (pun intended, I’m sure!) that I could probably blow a decent set of rings just from the haze in my lungs, and I’d starting saying things like “y’all,” “da babies” and other affectations of my other-worldly host in a mimic of her Nawlins-by-way-of-the-Bronx drawl.
If you’re wondering what brought me to her in the first place, let me step back a moment and let you know that I am that person.
So while I hail from Boston where witches were once routinely hung and curses are busted not with the help of metaphysics but rather money ball (READ: the Sox 2004 World Series win over St. Louis), I have moved past that naysayer upbringing and wade willingly into the Woo-Woo. read more
Ever feel like a ghost before your time?
You come home from grocery shopping with three bags on either arm, fumble for your keys, loudly shove them in the lock, stagger through the front door to the kitchen… only to realize that every member of your family is sitting in the family room, in technology-induced trances, and not a single soul even glances your way as you slam the bags on the counter.
Or maybe it’s a girls night out — you head to the local watering hole, saddle up to the bar… and watch, for 20 minutes or more, as the bartender serves everyone else (from cute 20-something girls to bros and even men of a certain age that look like good tippers) BUT you.
Perhaps you catch the eye of someone you know from PTA or somewhere else where being visible gives your kid a boost (so you hope/pray/guess) — and then that person plays the “You see me, but I don’t see you game” and looks right through you.
While you might feel invisible, the reason these things happen is easy to see: read more
Ever shopped at Trader Joe’s on a Sunday morning?
I’m sorry — did I say TRADER JOE’S?
I meant RAGER JOE’S, which is what I call it the second I pull into the parking lot and realize that the person who designed their goddamn tiny-ass parking lots probably also devises evil Halloween corn mazes in his or her spare time for shits ‘n giggles.
For the record, I HATE Halloween corn mazes. They’re right up there with puppets, clowns, carnies and Victorian dolls in terms of fear and loathing.
The saddest part about this particular Sunday morning excursion is that it came on the heels of a perfectly delightful group meditation session.
Astute readers of this here blog know that I’ve been working with some pent up aggression of late. Trying hard to stop being so damn scrappy, letting go of grudges and generally doing the work to get centered and be a happier, healthier human being.
I didn’t lose it immediately — in fact, the second I walked in the store and heard the soothing strains of Hall & Oates, I took a deep healing breath and let it out while sniffing a few melons, which always calms me down. read more