Boobaliscious

I went shopping for bra's today as some of mine have started to fall apart, buckle under the weight of everyday hard labor one may say.*  Yes the sad fact is I have big boobs.  Now in some instances it's not a sad fact, more of a welcome advantage, but when bra shopping it is indeed a sad state of affairs.

Every girls wants something sexy, something pretty for their lingerie, however big busted girls have to pay a small fortune if they want this, whereas girls with regular boobs can go to their local Target or Sears and pick up some nice fun bras.  The bras these stores sell for well endowed girls like me are more like restraint devices.  They come in your basic colors white, black and nude, they have thick ugly, unsexy straps. I guess they serve their purpose to hold our giant knockers that obviously must weigh a good 20lbs each (judging by the thickness of the fabric) up. They remind me of something my grandmother would've worn in the war era.

Yes there are some nice bras in pretty fun fabrics available in my size, but guess what, they all have padding.  Here's a newsflash to bra makers everywhere.  When you have D cups, you don't need or want padding!!  You don't want to take someones eye out every time you turn around!

I do have a wonderful bra that has removable straps, so it can be worn strapless or halter or cross back etc. The only issue with it? It's padded, every time I wear it someone comments on the size of my boobs and yes I know they look humongous in that bra, but what can a girl do, I can hardly go bra less when wearing a tank top. So I try not to wear it too often, but every now and then its a necessity so out it comes and I mentally prepare myself for the comments while trying to refrain from replying sarcastically, "Really? My boobs are huge? I never noticed, thanks for pointing that out."

*To be honest some of my bras are failing due to the monster dog chewing through the straps when she was a puppy (I sewed them back together because dammit these things are expensive), and others because often I'm not that careful with my laundry and they get caught up in the drier and the underwire pokes through or snaps.

Moving and life changes

Moving house has been on my mind a lot lately, in my last blog I mentioned my reasons for making the change and deciding to move to Canada. Don't get me wrong, at this point I have no intention of moving house again any time soon. Unless I win the lotto that is, because then I'm buying a bigger house with a "granny apartment" for my mom.

People will tell you that moving house can be as stressful as a divorce, never having been divorced I can't really compare, but although I was stressed to the max with our move I can't imagine this to be true. I love moving, I love the excitement of packing things, unpacking in a new (preferably better) place. After our first move I probably wouldn't have said that, the first move from from South Africa to Canada was very high on the stress scale, but we weren't just moving suburbs, we moved countries. We had paperwork, shipping containers, customs and sad family to say goodbye to. On the other hand we had welcoming family on this side of the ocean in the form of my aunt and uncle who let us stay in their basement until our furniture arrived and pointed us in the right direction to get the red tape and paperwork to get settled in completely, we also had my cousins who welcomed us into their extended families like we had all grown up together, not a continent apart. For this I will always be thankful.

If I am not planning to move anytime soon (lotto withstanding -I live in hope), why am I thinking about it? Well my mom is in the final stages of packing up to come over to Canada and join us.  My moms stresses become my stresses, so it's almost like moving. I'm looking for apartments for her to rent, trying to make sure the perfect one for her doesn't slip through our fingers in the next few months, while also not wanting her to feel unwelcome and like she can't live with us for a while. It probably isn't the best thing to say on the way home from the airport, "welcome to Canada mom, we'll just drop you at your new residence and see you in a few days." I may not be her favorite daughter after that, and yes I am her only daughter so at any given time I'm aware I'm both her favorite and least favorite daughter.

So mom is moving, she is not bringing furniture so it's a couple of suitcases and maybe a box or two to ship

over. I am planning to fly over and spend a week helping her pack and fly back with her. Yay, I get to pack, (insert sarcasm font here!)  not really the sort I want to be doing, but thankfully I can be ruthless. My parents moved from a large house to a one bedroom retirement cottage a few years ago and a lot of their "clutter" was disposed of then. But believe me there is still a lot to go through! Hence the need to be fairly ruthless when we leave.  It seems each time we move is the prefect opportunity to get rid of a lot of stuff that had accumulated and is never used. I know mom will find this stressful, but it will have to be done.

 I have put no pressure on my moms decision to move to Canada as I know how stressful a move like this can be and if she was happy and content there I would encourage her to stay. The fact is, she has three children and their families here, along with her brother and his kids, she misses us, and she loves the time she spends over here with us. I know she will miss my one brother and his family who she will be leaving behind there immensely and she will be very sad to say goodbye, but will be buoyed by the fact that they have said they will make a trip out to visit us and see the snow very soon. 

What I don't think she has taken into account is how sad she will feel to say goodbye to her friends and the few remaining cousins she has there. These will be her final goodbyes to them and I think the reality of this will only hit her once it is happening.  I am glad for this reason that I will be there to provide a bit of support and remind her of the excited grand kids waiting for her on the other side of the ocean. The move into a new apartment and excitement of getting her set up can wait.

Tipping point

Every situation that you are not happy with has a tipping point. That point where you are no longer content to sit back and let things continue. Human beings (at least the ones I know) don't like change so we'd rather put up with a bad situation than face change, that is, until we reach that critical tipping point.

Whether it is a relationship, a work situation, a living situation or something as simple as body image and needing to workout and diet.

We sit, we procrastinate, we find reasons, excuses even, not to change. Until that day where we can't take it anymore, we say enough and we usually take that first big step in the right direction. 

The thing with change is you have to really want it for it to succeed. It can't just be a thought of oh I'd like to lose weight, or I'd like a new job, it's got to be a deep driven desire for something better, you have to want it, really want it. You have to want it more than all those excuses you've been using in your head for the past few months or even years.

The reason you have to want it so bad? It usually requires some sort of sacrifice. You have to give up something in order to gain something. It's tough to give up things, especially things that bring you pleasure, no matter how fleeting that pleasure might be. If it's weight loss you're after, you have to give up a whole lot of food and drink, especially at parties. If it's a new job, perhaps you have to give up security or an easy commute, if it's a relationship then you may have to give up a lifestyle or time with kids or a whole lot more.

An easy example for me to fall back on was our decision to move countries. We didn't want to change for the longest time. We had a good life, a privileged life, the lifestyle was great, the weather fantastic and all our friends and family were there. We knew we should leave, we knew that the country was not one we wanted to raise our as yet unborn kids in, due to the culture of crime and violence and we knew that with the economy heading downhill travel from the country was only only going to get harder and more costly. But did that push us to make our decision? No, we dallied, we found excuses, friends got held at gunpoint and we found reasons why they were the victim, things like, oh they shouldn't have been driving in that area, or why were they traveling alone? Friends, family and us were robbed, attacked and we shrugged it off with an, oh lucky they survived, or lucky we weren't home, material things can be replaced. We still needed that one thing, that tipping point to push us to move.  It came one day in a bizarre way, nothing dramatic. I was sitting in the car while DH ran into an office in a pretty decent part of town and I started to fear for my life watching people walking past the car. I was literally waiting for someone to rip the door open and pull me out to take the car. Pretty odd for a girl who used to drive her little mini through the worst area of town with the doors locked and windows up merely because it was the shortest distance to college. DH got back to the car that day and I said, I can't do this any more, it's time to leave. We submitted our paperwork for Canada the following week. We sacrificed a lot to make that move. Leaving family and friends to make the move was definitely the biggest and most heart breaking sacrifice, but we wanted that better future for our kids and us more than we wanted to stay.

The point to this blog post? I'm in need of re finding my weight loss tipping point that occurred the year I turned 40, the year I managed to lose 30 lbs, other than that I don't really have a point, I'm just writing down rambling thoughts in my brain as they spew forth.  If you've been reading my blog for a while I thought you would've all realized that by now. I will say, if you need to change something in your life and you've reached that tipping point, concentrate on that motivation and keep it clear in your head so that you follow through with the change, it's oh so easy to slip back into the status quo and start making excuses again.

When I grow up

I wrote this last year while my mom was staying with me and never published it. I'm not sure why, I guess my mom must have distracted me somehow and I lost focus. I figured it still stands, why not share it with you now.

I started the day off by getting a lecture from my mom. I feel 16 again and that's not a good thing.  She thinks I'm wasting my life, She may not be wrong in that department. She gave me the "you have so much talent and you sit here reading other people's stories and doing other people's work" lecture.  It started after she read my when-home-is-no-longer-where-you-think  blog post and it made her cry.  She is not computer literate (thank god or I can only imagine the other lectures I'd endure) so she asked me to print it for her and I did.

Now she wants me write more, find a way to make money writing somehow.  The thing is I know and am friends with lots of fantastic writers, so I compare myself to them and know there is no way, but try telling that to good old mom. 

Growing up, writing was never something I considered as a career. I wanted to be an artist, a dress designer, work in advertising or even work in media somehow, but writing, it never crossed my mind. My teachers at school were never impressed with my writing abilities, (not that I was trying very hard), and no one ever told me it was something I should consider.

I enjoy writing, I enjoy blogging, but I battle for inspiration and ideas. While I can blog and write down here how screwed up my family is and what a bad parent I am, that's not going to make me any money. I'm not trained in any form of writing as I'm sure you can see. I just put down my thoughts on the paper (well on my iPad) as they pop into my head.  I've written a few articles for my anti shark finning website, but I was never overly happy with them. I can pick and choose my blog posts that I am proud to have written, scattered in among the ones I wrote because I felt I needed to get something out there.  So how does one go about making money from writing?  Mom wants me to write a best seller, a fiction story of some kind, I have dabbled in short fiction, all of it way too erotic to show my mom, but I know I'm no where near good enough to write a long one.  I guess half my problem is I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  I just keep hoping something will fall in my lap that will make me happy and I can get paid doing it..I could be waiting for a while yet since I have no intention of growing up until I have to retire.

All about me - with a side of why I'm awesome!

I am a real woman, I have curves, hell I have fat rolls who am I kidding? I have neuroses I have issues, but I am real. I laugh at inappropriate things, I cry when I shouldn't. I'm politically incorrect (a lot) my morals are low.  I yell at my kids and kick the dog, (okay, I don't kick the dog, I'd never do that unless it was an accident - I do have some standards). I do things wrong (frequently). I forget important things, to be honest, I forget most things if they're not written down and I remember the weirdest arbitrary shit ever.

I can be irritating, I sometimes nag (well DH says so anyway but really I wouldn't have to if he'd do it right the first time...or do it at all). When we go out to eat, I'm going to eat a good meal, not pick at a salad and pretend I'm full. If I want to show some cleavage, I will and if I want to drink too much, I will.

I'm not always sociable, I like my solitude. I get cranky if I don't get enough time alone with myself. You may think this strange but I like my own company.  I procrastinate, it's guaranteed that I will leave everything to the last minute, but I do work well under pressure.

I'm not the best friend whose going to phone you regularly to checkup on you, but I hope my friends know that if you need to talk or need me, then pick up the phone and I'll do what needs to be done to help.  I don't keep my house in pristine condition (stop sniggering those who know me well) in fact I'd appreciate at least an hours warning before anyone pops in for coffee and even then don't expect miracles.

What I'm getting at is, I'm in my 40's and I'm finally accepting of who I am and I'm not about to change. I like myself...is that wrong to say? I don't think so, even though I was brought up to have humility (too much if you ask me). Are there things I need to change? Sure, I still have more weight to lose, and I will lose it, but I'm happy with me. If you don't like me that is your problem, and your loss because I've finally arrived at a place where I know I'm awesome, hopefully my friends think so too.

Why workouts don't work well with kids

This is something I've come to realize over the Christmas holidays.  Let me start by saying I do want my kids active, and I do want to set a good example for them by being fit and active, however I'm not one of those moms who encourages her kids to workout with her. In fact my kids have pretty much figured out they can ask me for absolutely anything they want while I'm in the middle of a workout and I will (mostly) say yes (ok snarl it is a better description) in an attempt to get rid of them.

Remember I have two kids, so they take it in turns to come and ask me things, until I'm ready to crack.

Diggle: "Mom, can I have a snack?"

Me: "Yes...go away"

Princess: "Mom, can I have jello?"

Me: "Whatever, just get out of here"

Diggle: "Mom, can we have a Popsicle?"

Me: "I don't care just leave me alone!"

Princess: "Mom,..."

Me: "I don't care, if I see either of you again I'm going to wring your necks!"

Some of you are probably wondering why I don't like them around me, I mean, surely if I'm setting an example they should see me exercising? It's very simple, I don't like anyone to see me when I'm exercising and there are a few reasons.

I like to concentrate on what I'm doing and not be constantly disturbed.

I'm bright red, wheezing and I look ridiculous.

I have jiggly bits and bulges that I'm self conscious about.

I suck at doing some of the exercises and poses (especially for yoga) and I know I look spastic. For example, take the simple tree pose, I look more like a deranged flamingo on crack. My downward dog looks more like I've tripped and can't get up (which is probably not wrong) and my plank, well I'm certainly not a plank that ever going to be used in any type of construction unless perhaps it's some sort of Salvidore Dali sculpture.

The holidays are nearly done, the kids go back to school on Monday, I will be able to reclaim my space and peace and only have to worry about the monster dog, she does run down to find me, and finds it extremely fun to try and lick my face or jump on me if I'm on the floor, but in general she's a lot less annoying and can't laugh and tell anyone how silly I look. She also gets bored and finds a spot to curl up and sleep pretty quickly.

A letter to my children

You're 8 years old, nearly 9. Let me explain a few random things to you.

The toilet: there's this remarkable little thing on the back of the toilet, it wiggles and looks like a handle and by gosh it is a handle! If you push it all that smelly stuff that you've left sitting there goes down and gets replaced by nice fresh water. Please, please, I beg of you, start using it on a regular basis.

The dog: she thinks her spot is next to me, cuddled in as close as she can get, if you come and lay ontop of her she will growl. If you somehow get in there first, she will climb ontop of you and squeeze her way in between us. Just get used to it, it appears there is nothing we can do about this, apart from throwing steak on the other side of the room.

The laundry basket: yes you have one! It is not the floor of your bedroom! Clothes do not magically pick themselves up and move into the basket (although I'm sure some of yours are capable of crawling) Start picking your clothes up and putting them in the basket, the ones you've worn, not the ones you tried on that morning and decided to change, those are clean, put them back in the draw.

Socks: similar to the laundry basket dilemma, dirty socks also belong in the laundry basket or I don't even mind if you put them directly in the washing machine. They do not belong on the dining room table, on the computer desk, stuffed down the side of the couch, hanging on the wine rack or in any other spot where you conveniently decide to take them off and leave them! This would also solve the "Mom, I have no clean socks" issue that we seem to have occurring even after laundry day.

Underwear: it's supposed to be worn, especially when we leave the house! No more needs to be said.

Snow boots: take these off while you are still on the tiled floor in the entrance hall, you know, where I have towels and mats down to absorb the slush. Do not walk across the hardwood floor leaving a trail of wet slushy footprints. I don't care if you needed the washroom or to get something out your backpack.

Dessert: does not happen every night, get over it. I will not use it as a tool to bribe you to eat your dinner (well not all the time anyway). If you don't eat, feel free to go hungry. Likewise telling me once you have finished your dinner that you are still hungry and need dessert is not going to work. Dessert is not meant to full you up, an apple does that much better.

Santa: I love and hate the fact that you still believe in Santa. He makes a wonderful bargaining chip, the threat of being able to email him when you're naughty works every time. However you need to learn that Santa does not have endless amounts of cash or elves making these toys and electronics you are requesting. If you want something and request it, make sure it's what you really want. You are not getting everything on your list. *On an aside note, Diggle said yesterday, "but parents help Santa, right?" So I guess this year may be our last with the magical belief.

Today is your first day of the Christmas school holidays, you are playing wii together downstairs, laughing, shrieking and having fun. Keep it up, don't fight, let's have a fun, good, peaceful Christmas and you can carry on ignoring all of the above points, we'll cover them again next year I'm sure.  

Last but not least, this is Mommy's egg nog, yes it is an acceptable breakfast food, its like liquid scrambled egg and no you can't have any!