Telling It Like It Is Tuesday: Body Wars

**I posted this a while back (two years back) but find it just as meaningful as I did then!  So in honor of #TellingItLikeItIs Tuesday, here I go. :)

Today, some seemingly harmless memes were shared/liked and showed up in my Facebook feed.  As I shook my head in shock or despair, I wondered what would happen if I looked for more.  Well...here's what I found.

 

When did the body wars start?  Why was I not notified to take up arms and defend my extra rolls and curves?  Oh right...because I would then be ridiculous.  Kinda like the people who are trying to make themselves feel better by putting others down.  Well, I have one thing to say to the creators of these memes, "You are never going to feel better about yourself while you continue to put others down."

Beautiful women come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors.  You can have dark chocolate, peach, or cinnamon.   There is literally a smorgasbord of women to choose from.  While we only see one type portrayed in the media and would love for that to change, those of us living in reality know the truth.

Women can be skinny.

Women can be tall.

Women can be curvy.

Women can be short.

Women can be fluffy.

The list goes on.

What people fail to mention is that there is no one right way for women to be.  So whether you are an amazon like me (with a lot of extra fluff) or a midge like one of my besties who is seriously lacking in the fluff area (but is magically top heavy...go figure), I simply hope that you are healthy and love being in your skin.  There is no better body type.  There is only a great personality. 

(The best one I found.)

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Tellin it like it is: Breakfast in the classroom

(photo credit: http://indianapublicmedia.org)

A couple years ago I was very blessed to have my mother here shortly after the birth of my second child.  The original plan was for her to be here the last week before to help me prepare the last minor details, but my big headed bundle of joy decided to make her arrival close to two weeks early.

Well, during my mom's stay, we had a conversation about the program my former school was enrolled in called: Breakfast in the Classroom (BiC).  She had some very valid questions as to why my daughter doesn't participate.  Questions like:  What is BiC?  What is served?  How does it work?  Who pays for it?

Let's start out with what it is.

What is BiC?
According to the website, www.breakfastintheclassroom.org, it seems so simple.  You take the traditional school breakfast that was served in the cafeteria and serve it in the classroom.  The reasoning is simple as well.

This is taken directly from the website:
"It’s a fact:  eating breakfast at school helps children learn.  Studies show that children who eat breakfast at the start of their school day have higher math and reading scores.  They have sharper memory and show faster speed on cognitive tests.  They have broader vocabularies. They do better on standardized tests.  They focus better and behave better."

Now, how about this:  How does it work?
(Please allow me to don my teacher hat to answer this question.)
Students are allotted a specific amount of time unpack and eat breakfast upon entering the classroom.  This time limit varies from site to site.  At my site, students have 20 minutes from the time the first bell rings.

Last but not least:  What is served?
(Note:  The teacher hat has been removed.)
Looking at the website, you see picture of children eating fruit and drinking milk and water.  What is served, however, couldn't be further from that specific depiction.  Out of five days in the school week, students are served only one hot breakfast.  Since many schools in the district do not have operating kitchens (they can reheat food but not cook it), the food needs to be heated/cooked easily.  On hot breakfast days students could be served breakfast pizzas, breakfast burritos, etc.  Most days, students receive a cereal pack.  This contains a small bowl of cereal like Trix, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, or Honey Nut Cheerios. The pack also contains a pouch of juice and graham crackers or goldfish crackers.

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Armed with all of this knowledge, there is no way I could, in good conscience, send my then 7 year old daughter to school hungry.  Sure, the school would feed her, but could I do it better??

On the left is what my daughter's school would feed her.  On the right is a breakfast prepared in less than 7 minutes (yeah, I timed myself).

I get that this is a federally funded program and they want to feed our children cheaply and lessen their hunger pains.  However, as a mom on a budget, I know first hand that eggs are cheaper than boxed cereal and fresh fruit is cheaper than juice.  Well, if the school has a goal of helping children learn, they need to take a closer look as to what they give a child to put in their mouth.  

--------------------------------------------------------------------Now fast forward three years.  I've changed districts and my daughter has no choice but to do breakfasting the classroom.  Why?  I have to be at school by 6:45 which means my daughters are dropped off between 6:20 and 6:30.  I can't feed my daughter at 5:30 and expect her to not eat until lunch.  
This just increases my frustration over this program.  We want our kids to perform at such high levels but we feed them crap.  We want our kids to sit still and focus but we pump them full of sugar.  There has to be a better way.

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Single, single, single...and believe me. I'm better off.

Well, I had a fun conversation with my mom today.  We were talking about the girls and then all of a sudden she says seven words that has me seconds away from losing control of bowels.

"So when are you going to start dating?"

Really, mom?  Really?

I'm quite happy being who I am and being alone.  When I'm alone, I can sleep how I want, watch what I want, and I don't have to answer to anyone about my ridiculous work or cleaning habits.  

Ultimately, I simply choose to be alone.  It's acceptable for us girls to do that you know.

A few years back, I was in a relationship with guy.  However, I had a recent epiphany and realized I was in love with love.  I was in love with the idea of being in a relationship of someone who I felt didn't judge me.  I was in love with the idea of someone who didn't care that I had a child with another man.  I was in love with the fantasy of a life I had created for us.  I was in love with my bubble.

I didn't want to be alone.  I wanted some poor introverted soul to curl up on the sofa with.  I wanted someone to go to parties with.  I wanted someone to be with.  The dream of that perfect relationship sucked me in and I gave myself up to it.  Walking through the supermarket, I imagined what life would be like when we got old.  

Many months into the relationship, the bubble popped.  I realized that I was financing his life.  I worked long hard hours while he drove my car, sat on my couch, ate my food, and pretended to be an adult.  He lied, gave money to his family without paying any bills for our household, and six months into my pregnancy with our daughter, he decided that life was too stressful to be with us because I was demanding, materialistic, and selfish.  Oh, yeah.  I hit the ground with a  resounding thud.  Right on my pregnant ass.

It's taken a little over two years to straighten out the financial damage that he left behind but I'm finally there.  It took this conversation, a trip to Target, and some online shopping to realize that I'm better off.  I am demanding.  I have every right to be.  I have fought for this life that I am living, and if someone or something is not up to my standards (yes, you read that right) then I will DEMAND that you get on up out of my life.  I am also materialistic.  I can afford to be.  I wanted a house and a new car.  I bought it.  I want designer sunglasses, purses, etc., so I buy them.  I know what I want and I will not apologize for that, ever again.  

My life is far from perfect but I wanted a relationship so badly, I was willing to sacrifice me.  I will NEVER do that again.  From here on out, if a man wants to sweep me off my heavily calloused feet, he's going to have to fight to prove he deserves to be in life.  And he better use a bright pink, glitterific broom to do it.


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