I Wipe My Own Butt

For the most part I am an optimistic person.

I see myself as very young at heart, and often times naive.

A couple mornings ago (I say mornings but we're on a partially nocturnal schedules so it was just before noon) we were sitting at our kitchen table and I was all dressed up for work. My husband was in his pjs, but had made us coffee. I was reading the New York Post and drinking coffee and my husband was texting my dad. It was nice. It felt peaceful and sophisticated.

My husband looked up and grinned real big and said, "Look at us, we're like grown ups."

I looked around, we were in our house wearing our wedding rings and sipping coffee before work. All I could think was, "Shit. It's true."

Because the next step is generally kids, right? Ugh. Kids.

I mean, they're great. I love my nieces and my cousins, but I don't want one here running around, crying, and slobbering all the time. I am not ready for that. We don't even have a dog. I had a plant, it died.

While my husband and I have decided to wait, some of our family has already mentioned kids. One of my sister-in-laws has, jokingly, mentions kids to us every now and then. Of course I always giggle when she says it because I am always like, "Who me? A mom?!" The giggle is mostly to smother the panic I feel, I think.

Also, I absolutely love my job and my family, but occasionally both remind me of how awesome it is that my husband and I aren't parents yet. Every now and then kids run around in the lobby and it makes wonder how advanced humanity really is. My beautiful nieces are incredible, but when I stand there talking to my sister and one of them says, "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Look. Mom. Mom. Look." I think, "Oh, right. This is why children still terrify me."

I am sure one day when we go down that road we will be sufficient parents that will only require a year or so of extensive therapy for our children, but until then I am happy with my clean house and wine, thank you very much.

Barbies and Beauty

I hate barbie dolls. I really hate them.

I hate their stupid little faces and their ridiculous proportions.

Apparently some dude somewhere feels the same way. He made a doll that has the average woman's proportions. The doll is still thin, but more fit looking. She has less make-up, comfortable shoes, and plays sports.

I don't really have dolls anymore, but I think these dolls are very important for kids. With all of the photo-editing hollywood does and the waist-trimming disney does on their characters, kids deserve the opportunity to see a beautiful doll that looks more like them.

I watched this video of these little girls playing with a regular barbie and then the average-woman doll, and at the end the interviewer asked the girls which doll would have which career. Most girls said the realistic doll would have a job like a teacher, doctor, or a 'computer job.' They all the said barbie would be either a  famous fashion star, model, and one girl even said that the barbie didn't look like she would have a job.

Not going to lie, I cracked up.... I thought it was funny as hell that these girls thought the barbie with ridiculous proportions wouldn't be able to do a job with intellectual substance.

But then I got pissed. These girls believed that the average proportioned doll would have a boring job, but that the incredibly thin and big breasted barbie would become famous.

This brought up a lot of questions. Why do these girls believe this? No one has actively told them this. They wanted to play with the average doll because it looked more like them, did that mean that they thought weren't pretty enough?

I started asking myself at what point in my life did I convince myself, that I am pretty? Then I realized that it took time, and a lot of different contributing factors. I had to grow into myself.

Now, I am 23 years old, and sure there are things I am self conscious about, but all in all I see myself as a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I wear glasses, and I have a short pixie hair cut. I have tattoos and scars on my skin. But I had to realize one day that I am a masterpiece with many artists. My parents, grandparents, friends, environment, and husband have all made impacts on the person I am today. Every person I have come in contact with has contributed something to my person.

I don't just mean that I have my mom's eyes, my dad's build, my great grandma's voice, and my grandpa's hands, but also the habits, thoughts, beliefs, and lifestyles of everyone I have come across that have influenced me, good and bad. It is the fact that I have an amazing husband, life and family that make me happy.

How could something like that not be beautiful?

I still have things I am self conscious about, sometimes I say things and I think I sound like the dumbest person in the room (which is occasionally true) but I try to remind myself, that I am beautiful in many different ways and no one can take that from me if I don't let them.

Ugh... Morning Classes

I enrolled in classes for next semester yesterday after work. I got so excited that I enrolled in entirely too many hours. I plan to eventually drop the shittiest class.

With my new work schedule, morning classes are my best bet. I was okay with this at first, the best grades I have gotten were in morning classes. It is the first thing on your mind, no bills or work first so the class is nice and fresh which is beneficial for grades and shit.

However, if you're a college student enrolled in morning classes and you don't see an issue, then you're the problem.

The waking up early part sucks, I mean really sucks, but coffee can solve most of the problems associated with that. So no, that isn't the issue.

Cooler walks across campus aren't the greatest during the winter, but the up-side is that they are pretty great during the summer. Nope, not the issue.

It's the people. The average student enrolled in morning classes is easy to describe. They probably still live with their parents or maybe on campus. They probably have less than 40 hours under their belt. And yep, you guessed they probably have few responsibilities and come to class hungover.

They can't even go to a liquor store, or any bar in Edmond.

I understand I am not that old, but they are like children giggling during class.

I have a feeling I will meet more people that I will be willing to punch this coming semester. If you fall into the above listed category,  and could just go ahead and pound your face against the wall a couple times for me, that'd be great, thanks.

The Frustration of an Independent College Student

I wanted to punch him. Hunger may have had something to do with my hostility.

Here I am, in my professional, straight-from-work attire and I want to punch the guy sitting next to me in my Contemporary Moral Problems class. Don't get me wrong, he seems like a nice guy and all, but still...

I was sitting in class and the professor asked, "What is money anyway?" Seriously? I wake up in the morning, go straight to work, after working all day, go to school and then think about the bills I need to pay while in class and grandma-freaking-Moses wants to ask me what Money is?! I am hungry, and broke, dammit!

Dr. F (aka grandma-freaking-Moses) goes on to speak about the social strains money adds to society and all that when she asks, "Who doesn't think about money on a daily basis?"

Jackass over here sitting next to me (aka fist-print-in-jaw-guy) raises his hand. I am pretty sure the look I gave him would have made my mother proud. Jackass says, "I actually live at my parents. I work, so I have plenty of money, but I don't really have anything to spend it on, so it just accumulates."

... Does this guy even have friends? There is no way this guy has friends, I mean realistically. Does he wipe his ass with dollar bills? I assume he has no idea how incredibly dirty money can be if so. After class No-responsiblities-or-cares-in-the-world-guy (aka Jackass) comes up to me (turns out he is pretty nice and only a little bit oblivious) and talks about his evening karate class... I am assuming it was a wonderful story. I have no idea, all I could think about was chili-cheese fries.

Mmmmm.... chili-cheese fries. The karate guy with no responsibilities left just as my stomach growled louder than a bear playing in a river (I assume this is really loud, I am not sure) and I am pretty sure I toota-looed or fainted from hunger. One of the two, which ever it was no one stared so probably the first one.

On my way home I drooled about food and cursed Jackass-karate guy for probably having better food at his mom's house.

I had a frozen burrito and netflix when I went home... Mmmm. I call it Tex-Mex a la carte... or something else that makes more sense.