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“Have You Lost Weight?”

“Have You Lost Weight?”

Ah, the loaded question, “have you lost weight?” If I only had a slice of cheesecake for every time someone asked me that. I’d have a lot of freaking cheesecake. I like New York traditional, by the way, and then chocolate, because a girl can get bored, and we are talking a lot of cheesecake. The question implies that I needed to lose weight, that something about me needed to change; and that now I am better.

When I am asked this question, even today, my first feeling is joy. I can’t help it, I don’t want to feel it, I don’t like that I feel it, but that’s what happens. That is what needs to change.  That is my promise.

For more see http://www.thechangeblog.com/lost-weight/

 

A reprint from BLUNTMoms on Scary Mommy January 16,2014

Did I Just Get Old?

woman-mirrorImage via Shutterstock

I woke up the other day with horizontal indentations across my forehead. I stood at the mirror and tried to rub them out. My husband was supportive.

“Dear, you’re old. They’re laugh lines. You’re happy, but you’re old.”

“I’m not happy now. And you’re bald.”

– See more at: http://www.scarymommy.com/just-get-old/#sthash.lYmSBUbk.dpuf

 

 

Here is an essay from The Good Men Project: Are You Raising Compassionate Boys?

Are You Raising by Gordon

When Jenny Kanevsky’s sons offered her comfort during an illness, she realized she and her husband had instilled compassion. Here’s how they did it.

To say I was a reluctant mother is an understatement, and I love kids. It was fear. Fear of screwing up. Fear of creating dysfunction, fear of dooming my offspring to a lifetime of therapy.

My husband was the cheerleader. He wanted to be a father more than anything, and he had no fear. Most important, he was committed to hand’s on fathering. Watching him with others’ children, I had no doubts.

Well, OK, then. We traveled, lived it up as a couple for a few years and then, we got pregnant.

I timed my ovulation and intercourse—no one said this was a romance—to stack the gender deck. And, we had a boy.

Also, I wanted a boy. To say that was non-negotiable sounds ridiculous, but it felt that way. Yes, I have control issues. I timed my ovulation and intercourse—no one said this was a romance—to stack the gender deck. And, we had a boy. Three years later, with control and timing, combined with whatever else happens to make these miracles, we had another boy.

And then, they became people. They laughed, they walked, and they spoke. And as they grew, they developed empathy, love, and compassion. I watched them and I felt it myself. Others commented on how sweet they were. I was amazed, pleased. Motherhood, I can do this.

– See more at: The Good Men Project: Are You Raising Compassionate Boys?

 

 

 

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