The New Standard in Underwear?

November 27, 2008 by Black Belt Mama · 12 Comments
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch

I finally broke down and went to Victoria Secret yesterday. I had to drag the girls along, but my "girls" couldn't take it anymore. Here are some signs that you need a new bra or two:

When you lift your arms above your head, your bra begins to support your collar bone.
During the middle of teaching your class, you realize that one of your girls has been set free thanks to a strap that has come completely undone.
Your current bra begins to impale you with sharp nasty wire every time you cross your arms.

Yes, it was definitely time for a new bra or three, which has now set us back enough that Christmas gifts will take a hit. I've tried the cheap bra thing and it just doesn't work. I'd rather spend $40+ for something I know won't wear out for a while. Actually that would be $45, because the inflation on bras has hit a new high.

I figured I should also look at some underwear, and it was then that I discovered that dental floss has become the new standard in womens underwear. I must have searched for a good 15 minutes, but unless I wanted the standard cotton, there was nothing that I felt I could or wanted to try to pull off. There was see-through business that would just end up in the crack. There was fluffy, ruffly nonsense that wouldn't even fit under a pair of jeans (No thank you. I'm not really the type to walk around in fluffy underwear and a hoodie). And there was heiney floss. Really there's no other term that appropriately describes it.

I know there are plenty of women out there who wear this stuff, and who pretend like it's actually comfortable, but there is no way I'm paying $15 for something that I could easily make for a few cents from something in my medicine cabinet. I'm just not that girl.

VS used to carry low rise seamless underwear that was silky without being see-through and sexy without being slutty. It appears those days are over. Either that or they were sold out of it because the only other option is butt floss.

I truly think women need to stand up and demand better for our butts. Just say no to the floss ladies, and join me in an effort to restore cheeks as part of the standard coverage. I'm too young for Grandma pants and I can't be the only one bothered by this strange phenomenon.

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My Inner Costanza

I'll admit it. I can be judgmental about parenting skills. Once when I was in college, a woman in the grocery store line in front of me handed her baby, a little boy who couldn't have been more than 10 months old, a package of ground beef. When he poked his finger through it and began sucking the raw beef off his finger, his mother smacked him and started screaming at him. I told her she was an idiot for handing him the beef and to knock it off. I told her to stop hitting him. She did. I think I was perfectly in the right there.

Another time, I wrote about another mother who was a complete idiot. I was in the right there too.

Tonight however, the tables got turned on me. After knowing me for exactly 10 seconds, a woman seated at the table across from me and my family made a judgment about me. "What kind of woman lets her little girl go to the bathroom with a man?" she said to her husband, but certainly loud enough for me to hear.

She didn't stop there though. She continued to rant and rave about me, seated just five feet away from me in a restaurant with only two other tables seated. Never mind the fact that I had just taken Lil C to the bathroom at the store we had come from. Never mind the fact that I was searching through my purse to find a band-aid for Big I. How could I allow my little girl to go to the bathroom with a man, her father? I mean, seriously, what kind of woman am I?

I took a couple deep breaths and tried to ignore her, but she didn't want me to ignore her. She obviously wanted me to hear her. She ranted at her husband, when she really should have been doing it to my face. Of course, she didn't have the guts for it, and after the day I had today, she's really quite lucky she didn't.

I was seconds away from saying something. My inner George Costanza was about to rear it's ugly movie theater head to tell her, "You know, after 10 seconds you've made your mind up about me huh? That "man" I just let my daughter go to the bathroom with is her father and we share parenting responsibilities. She's a 3-year old, and in case you're still stuck in the ice age, it's o.k. for daddy's to take their little girls to the bathrooms these days. So in your rush to make a judgment about me, maybe you'd also like to know that I gave up my career to stay at home with my children, that I drive my kids to their multiple activities each and every week, that I read stories to them all the time, that I prepare three home made meals a day for them pretty much every day of their lives, that I volunteer in my daughter's school every other week, and that I avoided every last drop of caffeine when I was pregnant with each of them despite the fact that I had headaches for three months straight because of it because I wanted them to be perfect and was terrified that I would harm them if I did get something to drink other than water. Did I mention the two natural child births that each topped 14.5 hours, for the same reasons as the caffeine? Maybe you'd also like to know that I keep every drawing they ever made for me, that I keep journals for each of them where I write letters to them, and that I spend pretty much all of my time on this Earth since they were born doing things to make them happy, and keep them safe and healthy. But see, in 10 seconds, and after one request for my husband to take our daughter to the bathroom, you figured me out, so good for you."

I would have also liked to call her a really bad name.

I didn't have to though, because her husband, after listening to her rant, said with disgust, "she's helping her other daughter for God's sake" and that finally shut her up.

After dinner, we went to Kmart and bought our Christmas tree. While in line waiting for the cashier to figure out why our tree wouldn't ring up, three aisles away a verbal argument began between two families. An Hispanic man, whom I had spent a great deal of time with in the Christmas tree aisle with his son and his friend, had touched the hand of the little girl belonging to the customer standing in line behind him. She was about to knock something down from the display and he removed her hand since her parents weren't paying any attention to her.

There was a scream of "don't touch my kid" instead of what should have been, "I'm so sorry, thank you." Then the colorful language started to fly. No one did anything except watch as the couple and this man and his friend began throwing obscenities at each other. Then the threats were made. "I'll see you in the parking lot and we'll settle this man to man." "If my son weren't here, I'd kick your. . ." and then they started yelling at each other to suck various body parts. The whole thing was ridiculous and completely bred of ignorance, stupidity and prejudice.

As security stood 20 feet away in the women's clothing, doing nothing, the cashiers nervously tried to keep things moving. It was uncomfortable and scary. I kept Big I and Lil C right near me in the aisle. I wanted to keep them out of eye sight and behind something substantial. What if a fight broke out? What if one of them was carrying a weapon? What if things did get crazy in the parking lot?

Eventually, the first group paid and left, threats still flying. Both families had young children with them. The second family, the ones who yelled instead of saying "thank you" was too afraid to go outside unescorted. As we packed our kids and our tree into the van, three police cars pulled up. The Hispanic guys were nowhere to be found. They had gone home. I took a guess that I'm betting was pretty accurate that the screaming was more the result of the fact that the Hispanic guys knew they were being targeted unfairly because they weren't white trash like the couple who wasn't watching their kid. The family still hadn't come out when we were leaving.

It made me glad I kept my inner Costanza inside at the restaurant. It may have made me feel better to tell that woman off, but I know what kind of mother I am and I certainly didn't need to prove myself to some ignorant stranger.

Neither did either of those guys.

I think I'll be doing the rest of my holiday shopping online.

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Where were YOU eight years ago?

September 10, 2008 by Black Belt Mama · 27 Comments
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch

Despite my desperate ploy to land myself a spot on the show "The View" many months ago, I think it’s always been quite obvious that I am not a fan of Joy Behar. I’m not a Rosie fan either and I seriously think that Joy is becoming worse than Rosie could have ever been.

Last night, we made a brief stop on CNN and watched an interview portion where she, of all people, was talking politics. There is nothing that can increase my blood pressure more than watching Behar discuss politics. She made a bunch of statements about Sarah Palin, including stating that she thinks men like her more than women because "she’s attractive." I just love when women discount the abilities of another because they feel she rode the good looks train to success. It makes me proud to have ovaries.

Or not.

As a man, I would take offense to that statement too. Are men only made of hormones? Are they only capable of appreciating a woman for her looks? Would a man be swayed to vote for an important office simply because someone looks attractive?

I was also irritated when she stated that Sarah Palin does not represent what women are looking for in a leader/politician. I also love it when especially liberal women think that they speak for all women. They most certainly do not speak for me and the majority of my female friends. I wish they would stop pretending they do.

I was also irritated because she began saying that Americans are not better off than we were eight years ago. I looked at Mr. BBM and said, "Where were we eight years ago?"

Eight years ago, to this very date, we were both unemployed. Big I was months old and I had decided to stay home. Because of this family decision, Mr. BBM had left his teaching job. Our house was for sale and he was in the process of trying to get into a training session which would hopefully lead to a job in a new field, one that could support the three of us without having two incomes.

We sold our house and moved in with my parents. We had one car that had "issues."

Eight years later, Mr. BBM has worked his way up the clinical research chain of responsibility into a very good job. We are living with my parents again, but only because the people who bought our house needed it earlier than our new home would be ready. We are building our dream home. I work, not one, but three part time jobs with a fourth on the horizon. I don’t work these part time jobs because I need to; I do it because I want to. We have two cars and they are both paid off. We are markedly better off than we were eight years ago.

Sure, the gas pump prices hurt these days, but they don’t hurt enough to say that we’ve gone backwards on the scale of success as an entire nation. Once again, Behar thinks she’s speaking for everyone. She’s not speaking for us.

We then began talking about our friends and family members and where they were eight years ago. We couldn’t think of a single person we know who is not better off today than they were eight years ago. Not one.

I’m not discounting that we are experiencing some hard times. I’m not discounting that some people don’t have jobs right now. I understand this, and I can sympathize with those people. I know what those times are like. We’ve been there. Past tense.

That’s why grandiose statements about everyone being so much worse off don’t work for me. Where was Joy Behar eight years ago? I’ve venture a guess that she’s much more well off now as well.

While comments (whether they agree with me or not) are always welcome, comments that are insensitive, insulting, and malicious will be promptly deleted. I realize we’re in hot political times, and while this may be the United States of America where we have freedom of speech, on this blog, it’s Black Belt Mama’s way or the highway.

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We’ll Be Taking It All

June 24, 2008 by Black Belt Mama · 9 Comments
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch

After receiving another miserable offer yesterday, our realtor called the buyer’s realtor to ask why they made such a crappy offer. One of her reasons was that, we "didn’t do anything to the place." She said we "hadn’t updated at all."

Over the past almost five years, Mr. BBM and I have slowly worked our way through this house. We’ve redone almost every single room in the house. We both took it personally. So, Mr. BBM and I decided this morning that if we were to reach an agreement with these people, we’re going to let them know a couple things.

First of all, we’re taking all of the things we "didn’t do" to the place. The list will include the following:

Ripping up the kitchen floor and leaving the cabinets bare, without the brushed nickel hardware.
Baldwin Brass hardware from the every bathroom in the house. They don’t need knobs, toilet paper holders or towel bars right?
The new microwave and garbage disposal.
The suede paint on the dining room walls. I’m sure the new buyers will enjoy the nasty sponge painting underneath. We certainly did. . . NOT.
The refinished cabinets in our master bathroom and all the paint on the walls too. In fact, we’ll put back up the three layers of old pink wallpaper if we can find some leftovers. There was no sweat equity in that job at all. Really.
We’re also going to scrape the paint off the girls’ bathroom, and put back up the ugly border.
We’ll also scrape paint off of both of the girls’ rooms, the family room, and all of the hallways, ceilings and foyer. We hope the new owners will enjoy the areas where the owner before us painted around furniture.
All the new carpeting in the hallways, on the stairs, in the master bedroom and the girls’ rooms, the upgraded padding too.
Don’t mind the big hole in the wall in the foyer. We’re taking the wireless security system.
I hope they like cold showers, because we’ll also be taking our new hot water heater.
Also, the new front door deadbolt and lock, the new brass numbers on the house and all the paint surrounding the windows and doors on the front of the house.
We’re detaching and taking the sun deck too. That’s probably going to leave some holes.

Oh well, the new owners can just pretend they have floor coverings, paint and that the holes we’ve left don’t exist. After all, we didn’t do anything to the place right?

Oh, I almost forgot. For the realtor who says we didn’t do anything:

Honey, you didn’t do anything either, besides make us mad. So, I’m sure you won’t mind reducing your commission by, oh 3%, since all you really did was open the door for them. I mean, what did you really do to sell our house? If your buyer’s want 3% seller’s assist, they can have your commission. Feel like you’re getting a raw deal? Yeah, that’s how we feel.

Is it too early to have a glass of sangria???

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Just call me Miss Gulch

April 23, 2008 by Black Belt Mama · 15 Comments
Filed under: Things that get my gi all in a bunch

When one lives in an area where there are leash laws, why do some people find it so impossible to follow the laws? Why are these people always the ones with the dangerous dogs? Why do they have to live in my neighborhood?

Reasons I Want to Move:

1. Better/Bigger yard for the kids
2. Extra bedroom for guests
3. Want a house without so many steps
4. Neighbor who leaves Christmas decorations up until April (Did I mention that she’s Jewish?), and thinks that her deck is the dumpster
5. Psycho neighbors in the back of me who still don’t get it that they need to have their damn dog on a freaking leash.

Go ahead and call me Miss Gulch. As far as I’m concerned, Dorothy should have had that dog on a leash too.

I am livid, people. LIVID. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you remember vividly (as do I) the day I was carjacked by a pit bull. Long story short, a pit bull jumped in my van, wouldn’t leave and had to be picked up by animal control. The owners were cited and a few days after my little event, the pit bulls (as in plural; they had two) attacked someone and were subsequently put down.

I was relieved that it was over. I took no joy in knowing that two animals had been put down, but I was relieved that I didn’t have to worry about the safety of my children anymore. Now, the same stupid owners who had no concept of leash laws are at it again.

Tonight I was out in my back yard watering my garden when a pit bull puppy came running into my yard. I instantly knew it was a pit bull, dropped my hose and went into my house. The dog came right up to my screen door, so I shut the main door and went bounding upstairs to spew my outrage at Mr. BBM. I went out on my deck and there was the dog, digging in my freshly mulched garden with no owner in site. I yelled at it to leave and went bounding up more stairs to report my findings.

Mr. BBM went outside and stood at the edge of our yard. The pit bull puppy came right up to him and was actually very friendly. Its owner came a few minutes later. From Lil C’s bedroom window, I hissed, "say something!" so he did.

"Dog get off its leash?" Mr. BBM inquired.

"No," its stupid owner said, "she plays with [other stupid dog that I also reported for being in my yard all the time] in his yard and ran away.

Mr. BBM then expressed his displeasure at her dog running around and told her that he preferred that she keep her dog on a leash since our girls are outside and will be afraid. (By "girls," I’m fairly certain he meant me.)

She mumbled something and walked home. I watched her walk home so I was sure it was the same house and it most certainly is. I was going to just stew about it. The puppy had been nice enough to Mr. BBM. The owner had eventually retrieved her (without an apology though). Then I talked to my other neighbor who told me that the dog was up in our yards over the weekend too. These are the same owners who raised two other animals that were violent.

The camel’s back is broken.

I called the police officer I spoke to in the past. I don’t want this becoming an issue throughout the warm months. I want to be able to be outside and not worry about some random dog coming up to us. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not exactly a dog person and I shouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of being carjacked again or having my garden ruined by some dog and its irresponsible owner.

I explained to the officer that I just wanted the name of the person again (I had thrown it away thinking the problem was over) so I could report the incident to the township which would send them a warning letter. I told him that enough of my neighbors already think I’m Miss Gulch and I don’t want to overreact but. . .

He cut me off. Puppy or not, friendly or not, they are breaking the law. He said he was going to personally call them and warn them to keep their dog on a leash from now on. He told me if I see the dog off its leash again, to call them immediately.

An hour before the encounter with the new pit bull, my kids were playing on the patio in their sandbox. I repeatedly came inside the house to grab them juice boxes, tissues and toys. I had finally relaxed enough to feel comfortable doing so.

Miss Gulch got a really bad wrap and was completely misunderstood; and I can NOT wait until I move.