Sunday, December 30, 2012

Definition of the Heart

    I have been thinking all night how to describe the current state of my heart. For someone who has a love of the English language, and gets excited by discovering unique vernacular...I am at a loss.

Thus, I find myself going with the old Southern standby:


Merriam-Webster defines the word, blessed, as : (adj) blissfully happy or contented.

Yesterday, as I unwrapped nicely wrapped Christmas packages, it dawned on me that it isn't how long you know someone for them to understand you; It's how much you allow yourself to be known. The longevity of a friendship does not equal the depths with which people can care for one another.

Are you opening yourself up to allow a true friendship to blossom, or are you closing yourself off in an attempt to shelter yourself from being hurt?

So...this is my return gift to you:

Not for the gifts I received yesterday, but for your friendship.

For making me realize that I deserve to be loved.
For barging into my life, and helping me realize that true friends are those who take you and love you exactly as you are.
For giving me a reality check when I need one.

I love you, and thank you.


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

An Open Letter: To The Bitches Who Were Mean To Me In High School

This is an open letter to all of the bitches who were mean to me in high school.



So, I survived high school.

I survived the mean looks, gaggles of gossip and cold shoulders.

As you paraded through the halls with your boyfriend's letter jacket, make-up that was applied via a garden trowel and your flippant use of the word, "like";

I clutched my books to my chest and navigated my way through the crowded hallways.

Trying desperately to avoid attention.

I was several different things in high school:

The new girl.
The poor girl.
The loud girl.
The girl who is friends with that girl.
The girl who might be a lesbian.
The girl who dated a teacher.

That was a lot for a person to be when all I wanted to be was the girl who blended into the scenery.

I started wearing solid color T-shirts and jeans because I figured.. it is really hard to make fun of a solid color T-shirt.

But I must give credit where it is due because... you creative ho-bags figured out a way to do it.
While you all attended parties, ball games and bitch gatherings;

I found solace in a world of words.

The books that I clutched tightly to my chest like a shield in the hallway became my escape.
I found friends within the spines of old books and thoughts put to paper decades before.

I read Camus, Voltaire and Thoreau.
I journeyed to a land of thought and philosophy.

When I would encounter disdain from your group of vacuous airheads, I would remember Camus and his words of wisdom:

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was, in me, an invincible summer."

I expanded my vocabulary, and discovered myself slowly caring less about the looks of disdain in the hallway and the whispered words at lunchtime.

If I could go back, and tell my younger self something important I would tell her:

"This isn't all there is. You see the curly haired girl? She won't be a size two fact, she's
gonna get fat. I mean...real fat. 

You see her? The girl who uses single syllable words and erroneously uses the word epic? In eight years, you will see her trip and fall in the mall parking lot. Trust me, this isn't all there is."
So, to all of the bitches who were mean to me in high school I would like to say, "Thank you."

My thick skin isn't an inherent quality, it's a learned one.

You taught me about how people can change and how terribly sad it is when they never do.

Most of all, you all taught me how strong I am and how important words are.

The impact you can leave on people.

The way you can change the world.

So, thank you.

You mean ass bitches taught me more than you know.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Dancing With My Papa

I spent the majority of my childhood with my grandparents.

In the summer, mostly because my granny didn't want us to have a heat stroke, my grandparents would find fun things for us to indoors.

There are few summers I remember quite like the summer of  '92, and "The Record Player".

My grandparents, like many people who lived through the shock of the Great Depression, didn't believe in wasting things or throwing things away. Growing up, the boxes of records in my grandparent's home were a landmark of sorts. There were tons of them. Little boxes...big boxes...suitcases full. grandparent's didn't have a record player. I just shrugged off the exorbitant amount of unused vinyl as weirdness, and lumped the boxes of records in with the other things I didn't understand about my grandparents; the tools all over my papa's truck, my granny's canisters of old buttons and their penchant for creating new, exciting meals from leftover ones.

In spite of how crazy my grandparents were, on occassion, they would do things that made sense. When I was seven years old, my grandparents bought a record player. Of course, this was the early 90's so there was also a dual tape deck, some big ass speakers and a record player. I like to think of the summer of '92 as a three month period that greatly shaped my musical interests.

It was during this summer I was first introduced to The BeeGee's, Ronnie Milsap and Starland Vocal Band. I would sit in front of the record player and play vinyl after vinyl; discovering hidden treasures within each cardboard cover.

It was during this summer I learned Micheal Jackson was more than a pigment-confused man. He'd once been a small child whose voice could make even the most rhytmically challenged person tap their foot along with the beat. I remember listening to Leapy Lee, and acting out all of the parts to "Little Arrows", while trying to shoot my brother with a Nerf Gun. (It wasn't until I was older that my vision of what Leapy Lee looked like was completely shattered. I pictured him to be blonde and cherub-like...he sort of looked like a Beatles impersonater)

I spent many hours perched in front of the record player, but the times I remember the most fondly...were the times I spent dancing with my papa. My papa always came home for his lunch. He would eat, drink his tea and then clap his hands and say, "Alright, sis...let's dance!"
Fats Domino.
Chuck Berry.
Brenda Lee.

We would dance two or three dances. If the song was upbeat we would do "The Bop", and if a slow song came on...I would stand on my papa's feet and we would dance around the tiny living room.

These were moments when my papa would seem younger. The stress of the day would melt away, the lines on his face would disappear and I could see glimpses of the young boy who took my granny dancing on the weekends all those years ago.

While dancing with my papa, I felt like I understood who he was, and where he had been.

Last night, I went to a ball with my papa. As I danced with my grandpa, I thought back to the times spent dancing in front of the record player, and I felt the years of my life reverse.

Although I am grown, and in my heels stood nearly eye to eye with my grandfather...last night I felt like I was seven years old again.

The crowd went away, the venue dissolved and in my mind...I was back in my grandparent's living room. Only now, I do see him a bit differently. I noticed that his dance steps weren't quite as smooth as they'd once been. The lines on his face don't really disappear like they used to. Last night, I realized...these special moments that I share with my papa aren't going to always be available to me. It would seem, that even my grandfather isn't immune to the curse of aging.

Last night was a night that I will remember my entire life.

How nice my papa looked.
How many compliments he recieved on his fedora.
The look of shock on his face when not one, but two women asked him to dance.
The frightened , but delighted look on his face when he was doing The Cha-Cha slide.

The way he laughed and asked, "Do you remember when we got the record player? How we used to play records, and dance in the living room all the time when you were little?"
Yes, Papa, I do.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Soundtrack of 2012

 I have been a little mentally constipated over the last few months. It is common knowledge that writers tend to be more industrious when their emotions peak, or they experience life-altering moments. Moments that are so important to them, they then feel it is compelling enough for the rest of the world to read about.

Guys, I got nothing.

I've searched through all of my brain lint....and I don't feel like I have a single hilarious story or any sage advice to offer.

There is so much talk right now about how quickly the year went by, and when I think about the last year it all goes by in a blur of moments for me.

Tucking the childrens into bed.
Long days and nights at the office.
Phone calls.
The moment I realized my body was never designed to be a size 4. (That was a fun, cake-filled day.)
Putting popcorn in Nate's car. (Best. Thing. Ever.)
Coffee dates.
Donuts with Sammy.
Crying because I felt like my right arm had gotten fat.
The first time I succesfully pulled my hair into a ponytail.
Facebook chats with new friends.
Nutella. (Lots of Nutella)
Game night.
Making friends that are oceans away.
Losing friends that are minutes away.
My Juicy-Lucy birthday T-shirt.
Holding hands with Jerry in the hospital waiting room.
Building a sandbox.
Selling a trampoline.
Post-It notes.
Throwing my make up away.

 A year of acceptance. A year of learning. A year of growth.

The year of 2012 holds a special place in my heart. Whatever the future holds for me, whatever kind of old woman I will be... it is all because of this year.

And because every good year deserves a is "Lucy's Soundtrack For 2012".

Ingrid Michealson

We've Come A Long Way
Good Old War



Tyrone Wells


Shake The Dust
Anis Mojgani


Pout Pout Fish
Gordon True


What'll I Do
Lisa Hannigan


Beat That
The Period Song

Oh, The Places You'll Go!
Dr. Seuss
Narrated by John Lithgow

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

2012- Affirmation of a Resolution

I have taken a break from writing. (In case you haven't noticed the absence of my brain lint in your inbox.)

I am unsure if my writing sabbatical took place because of writer's block or if I've just been too busy with other parts of my life to sit down and tap anything out. Needless to say, the last thing anyone wants to read are random sentences about bowel movements and the lackluster social life of a mother of two.

As another year comes to a close, I have become quite reflective about how I spent my days during the year of 2012. As many of you know, in December of 2011, I made a New Year's resolution to accept my physical appearance for what it was. Foregoing cosmetics, I barged into the year of 2012 hell bent on not changing anything about myself. (except eyebrows because...Eugene Levy)
About three-quarters of the way through the calendar year, I looked at myself in the mirror and realized it was silly to think I could go on this quest for physical acceptance by negating change...and not be changed by it.

I am happy to report that I achieved my ultimate goal. On December 29, 2011, I sat in my living room, and thought about the year ahead of me and the things I needed to change.
I can see it as though it were yesterday; I was too thin, too tired, a bit frazzled and sitting in my living room floor while I furiously typed the words, "I hope in the year 2012 to be able to look at myself in the mirror, and love everything that I see without changing it or wishing it looked another way."I have accomplished this. I've gained ten pounds, (my breasts are no longer concave!) I've just sort of let my hair choose its own path and beyond some spf on my face and some gloss on my lips...I don't feel compelled to change the way I look. Frankly, I feel I look better now that I ever have in my life.

Now, when I look in the mirror I don't see the roots I need to get re-done or smeared mascara that has reached its breaking point at the end of a long day. I see me. I see variations of me, but I see me. I know that beyond washing my face or combing my is what it is; And what it fine. It's better than fine, in fact... It's marvelous and wonderful and beautiful and...real. The reason I feel so comfortable with my outward appearance is because I'm finally at peace with my inner self.

It would be silly for me to sit here and tell you that all of the ways I've grown over the last year can be attributed entirely to my New Year's resolution. I have had many exciting, wonderful and eye opening experiences that have helped me grow into a stronger person; Some of them have been scarier than shit. (Two brain surgeries, anyone?)

 They have helped me become a better friend, a mother, companion and teacher. These experiences, coupled with my quest for self acceptance, have made this a year that will change the course of the rest of my life.

When I am an old woman looking back on my life I will see (with more clarity) just how much a person can grow in a year; how one can resolve to love herself, and see the life-altering moments follow.

Learning to love yourself will help you accept love from others.

It is the greatest gift you can give yourself.

You can change your own life.

Don't wait.

Also...because it is fitting

Saturday, September 15, 2012

High School Reunions: They Don't Always Suck Ass

     So, it's here...My ten year high school reunion is just around the corner. I know it's been sort of lying in wait, taunting me and resting in the back of my mind, but when I recieved a Facebook notification informing me I'd been invited to join the group "Dickson Class of 2003 Alumni 10 Year Reunion", it was...a big, fucking wake up call.

I've been out of high school for ten years.

I then started to wonder why in the hell people wanted to go back to their high school experience? My high school experience was not so great, AND...I have a news flash for you:

If you are one of those people who enjoyed high school, one of those people who peaked in high school or one of those people that say,"High school, now those were the days." ...
I'm going to clue you in on a little secret:

There are a lot of people who don't like you, think you are bat-shit crazy and laugh when they hear that you've gained weight.  (I speak the truth, people.)

My high school experience started in the year 2000; a time when people wore pleather pants, velveteen choker necklaces and Doc Martin boots with sundresses.
We were quoting "American Pie" movies, and listening to bands like Maroon 5.

(Frankly, I think that's a time all of us want to forget.)
When talks first came up that our ten year reunion was upon us, I was the first to say, "Fuck that. I have kept in touch with the people I want to see, and if I want to know anything about the other people I went to school with, I will creep on their Facebook pages."
However, as per usual, my curiosity took over my good sense, and I agreed to go to the pre-reunion-reunion.

It was dinner, and then a football game.

Easy peasey.
I could do that.

Dinner was really nice. I had sort of been dreading it, actually...but it turned out to be a really small group of people.

It was a social outcast's dream, as far as reunions go.

 All of the people sitting around the table were people that I've kept in close contact with.
We laughed, had a nice dinner and those who had not seen each other in a while, were given a chance to catch up. Then, the football game adventure began:

It was, as several of us mentioned, like walking into the Twilight Zone.

We were sort of back at our high school football field, but we weren't.

The feeling is hard to explain, but anyone who has walked onto their high school campus a decade after being gone, knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Seeing the changes that have taken place, but noticing how so many things have stayed the same.

For instance, my high school has paved all of the parking lots, erected this huge gazebo thingy at the entrance of the football field, but have failed to replace those shitty, shitty bleachers that have been there for longer than I've been alive.

 The cheerleaders still wear too much make-up, the marching band still has the weird kids who walk in an air of their own coolness and there is still that group of teenagers going to football games for the sole purpose of making fun of those who participate in the festivities.

There weren't many of us who attended this pre-reunion-reunion, and personally...I think it's great.

 It's my opinion to always take quality over quantity, and I'm sure there are some people who, (even as adults) will make me want to stab myself in the eyeball with a toothpick upon first, "Long time no see"- greeting.

So, that's that.
We reunioned.
No one got too drunk, there were no fist fights and our team ended up winning the game.


(I didn't stay for the end of the game, but they were way ahead when I left so I'm just assuming we won.)

So, now...we wait until June.
I can only imagine that as the day draws near, girls will start fasting in an attempt to lose those few extra pounds that have snuck up on all of us.
The nice clothes will be purchased, jewelry will polished and it will be a huge parade of "Oh my god, look at me...look at me."   (Gag me with a freakin' spoon)

I intend to go to the reunion, see some old faces and survey the scene.

I mean, let's face it, you can't buy the kind of writing material that class reunions are bound to offer.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be RuPaul- A free-verse poem

In Mrs. Reese's third grade class we were asked to write down on yellow construction paper
"When I grow up, I want to be _________"
(Fill in the blank and draw a picture.)

Have you ever been asked a question that you felt you'd waited your entire life to answer?
Well, I have.

It happened in Sally Reese's third grade class at Springdale Elementary School
"When I grow up, I want to be _________"
(Fill in the blank and draw a picture)

Of course, I couldn't write down what I really wanted to be
I glanced around me
My heart beating wildly;
My answer rolling around in my brain
I glanced to my left
To see red strokes of a fire engine on Andrew's paper
I glanced to my right
The girl with a birthmark on her face wrote the word, "Pretty"
I sighed,  picked up my pencil and wrote, "archaeologist"

It was a lie
A good lie, but a lie nonetheless

The fact is, when I was a little girl
I wanted to be RuPaul
I was blithely unaware that "she" was a "he"
And in spite of the fact that I was
a skinny, toe-headed white girl
I felt like in my heart it could happen

I could be an African American Glamazon!

There was something mesmerizing about RuPaul
I think it was mostly how happy she seemed
And how when she smiled, she smiled with her whole face
The way she would lift her arms in the air, spin in a circle and say, "I feel FABULOUS!"

She seemed
Looking back, it's clear that I didn't want to grow up and actually become a drag queen
I just wanted to be that... free

The kind of freedom that knows, despite the looks of:

Discouragement from others

the key to being happy, is being yourself.

To be free...
Free from fear
Free from worry that others would laugh at my ideas an opinions
Free from my self deprecating habits
Free from the whispers delivered through cupped hands into waiting ears
Free from being poor
Free from always grasping at the illusive strands of normality
Free to be myself

It's a nice thought, you know?
When I look back, it is nice to know that all I wanted at the age of 9
was for my older self:

To be happy
To experience happiness without boundaries
To be able to throw my arms high in the air and shout, "I feel FABULOUS!"

I am happy to report
I did it
I have found my freedom
I have discovered my voice
I am learning each day to do things that make me happy
To worry less about the

Discouragement from others

My yellow construction paper had the word "archaeologist" scrawled across the top
If do-overs were a thing
I would go back, and with as many colors and as much glitter as possible, I would answer the one question I'd waited my whole life for:

I would write:

Because it makes me happy...and is sort of the new soundtrack to my life...this song

Sunday, September 9, 2012

My Oldest Friend And A New Life Experience

In case you all haven't noticed, I have been on this quest to try new things.

I mean, variety is the spice of life, right? These new things I've tried...they've mostly been boring things. Things I can do from home or include my family in.

Trying new foods, science experiments...learning to whistle with my fingers. (which will be a really useful life-skill if I ever master it)

This week, I recieved a phone call from my oldest high school friend, Clint.
Before I tell you what the phone call was about, I feel like I need to tell you about Clint.

Clinton Randolph Hays.

My oldest friend. The first time I met Clint we were in seventh grade, and I was crying.
He leaned across to me, pushed his glasses up on his nose and whispered, "Hey, I didn't know if you knew this already...but you're crying and it's kind of loud.If you could just be a little less loud....that would be great." 
I looked up, saw this serious looking face peering at me from behind his wire-rimmed glasses and then laughed.

Those of you who know me, know what kind of laugh I'm talking about.

 I did my scary Phyllis Diller/donkey laugh. He then proceeded to tell me that it takes more muscles to cry than it does to smile, and "Trust me, I am an expert on being lazy."

That day solidified our friendship. From that moment, we were the best of friends. Now, I'm not going to say that we spent every waking moment together, talking about the intricacies of the Universe and spilling our guts to eachother every day because...Ewww.

Who does that?
No one.

We had developed the kind of friendship that could survive the passage of time, and weather through life changes. We didn't have to talk on the phone everyday or see eachother all of the time.

During senior year of high school, our lives were so separate.
 I was busy working, and readying my escape into the big-person world. I was engaged.

Clint was working, but he was also taking his time to experience high school. Delighting in the joys of being an eighteen-ear-old guy with all of the potential in the world.

Our lives were different, but we recognized the differences and we just...didn't care.

We loved eachother for who we were, and how we enriched one another's lives; not for where we were or how we spent our time apart from one another. Sometimes, the only communication we would have in the day was a high five, delivered as we passed in the hall; Clinton's long arm snaking through the traffic of people, extending just enough to reach my short one.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Now, here we are, nine years later.
We've graduated.

We've kept in touch through phone calls, dropping cards in the mail and posting silly photos on one another's Facebook walls.

Clinton has been there for every stage of my changing life. He was there for my wedding, my pregnancies, the births of my children and my birthdays. Always ready with a funny story or a Mother's Day greeting. Always returning my calls, or calling me when he needs advice. At the hospital when my son had surgery, getting us food and lightening our pressed spirits.

I think the thing that sticks in my memory the most is when my Granny passed away.

I had just opened the new jewelry store in Durant, I was working seventy hours a week and when Granny died...I just didn't have my wits about me to call anyone. The day of my Granny's funeral, I remember turning to grab some Kleenex , and...there was Clint.

He was there...without a phone call, letter or visit. He was just there.

I could wax poetic from this moment until the day I die about what a marvelous human being Clint is, but it would just make his head swell to unbearable proportions and...then his beautiful girlfriend might have to kill me.

Speaking of Rhiannon, I must be honest...

I didn't think it was possible for there to be anyone in the Universe that was as equally wonderful as Clint. I mean...guys, he's just good. My opinions on that were eviscerated when he introduced me to Rhiannon. The first time I met Rhiannon, I thought, "Well....she just might be one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen up close." We met, went out to dinner , and as we ate our meal, I couldn't help but notice the little, silent things they shared:

She pushed a napkin his way when he got food in his beard.
He began telling a story, and when he forgot the ending... with a single hand motion, she picked up where he left off.

I knew then...he'd found the one.

I don't think I could have hand-picked someone who was a better match for him. Clinton and Rhiannon: two of the most lovely human beings I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

This week, I recieved an unexpected phone call from my friend. He called to tell me that he and Rhiannon are engaged to be married.

 I ,of course, let out a shriek that was at such a high octave, it's possible only dogs heard it. oldest friend, gave me an opportunity for a new life experience:

He asked me to marry them.

Yes. You read that correctly. He didn't ask me to say a few words, play the part of photographer for his big day or ask to borrow my children for the ceremony.

He. Asked. Me. To. Marry. Them.

Through the tears, I managed to say, "Wow...I've never done that before....Yes...Yes, I think I can do that."The more I think about it, I'm wondering if I'm going about this new experience thing the wrong way. Should I actively seek out these experiences, or should I just wait for them to find me?
Either way, this experience will not only be something is one of the greatest privileges of my life.

For the new life experience that awaits me, thank you.

For being such amazing friends, and a lovely hand-picked addition to my hodge podge family....I love you guys.


Saturday, September 8, 2012

Mentos & Diet Coke- 2nd New Activity

  Alright, so I must be honest...I was very excited about the prospect of trying 5 new things in 5 days, but thanks to a busy day at the office and then a run in with the head cold from hell...It's going to be more like "5 New Things Whenever I Get The Time To Do It".

Anyway, (time frame aside) yesterday, I was able to mark "Mentos & Diet Coke" off my list. When I was making my list, I put this one on there mostly because I'd seen it done a lot, and it really was something I've always wanted to do. wasn't all that exciting.

I'm not sure if it was the extreme heat and humidity, or my slight head cold or....the undeniable fact that putting Mentos in Diet Coke isn't the most exciting activity ever discovered by humans. was exciting (for a minute), and it was something I've never done. It's probably not something I'll rush out to try again, but I'm glad I did it. It was an experience.


I think the biggest problem is I started out with the Nutella. There are few things I enjoy more than food so good, that it makes me want to slap someone. (I ate the Nutella and wanted to slap the shit out of people.) I think the trick will be to eat Nutella before trying new things, and maybe the wave of goodness from tasting the Nutella will completely highten the experience for me.

Because I'm shameless, and you guys enjoyed the last video so is my experience with Diet Coke and Mentos, placed on the interwebs for you to enjoy.

You're welcome.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Invaluable Inexperience?

       I have always considered myself a quick study; Eager to learn new things, and fast to pick up new skills.

I was never one to lag behind, and because of this I found I grew up too quickly.

However, at some point in my life, (like most) got in the way of all of those "things" I had planned to do.

 Now, when I say "life" I do not mean that in a condescending way.

 I have a beautiful life. A lovely life filled with memories that I wouldn't trade for all of the Nutella in the world.

A life made nearly perfect by the people in it; not by the places I've gone or the drinks I've had or the purses I've bought.
 These experiences that I have missed out on are not things that I look back on with remorse. I know ,oftentimes, people feel resentment for missing out on opportunities to do new things...but not this girl.

I am thankful that I didn't do many of them before now. So thankful simply because...I am beginning to think that my younger self wouldn't have taken such delight in them.

I was too busy growing up, and trying to make things look a certain way, that the joy of even the smallest thing would have flown right past me; Gone before I was even able to catch the tail-end of the happiness it brought with it.

My younger self who never valued simple things like, using the restroom in peace, and taking a shower without answering the never ending parade of questions from the always-inquisitive child on the other side of the curtain.

My younger self would have taken for granted such rights of passage, and been flippant about the joy that such small things can bring.

My younger self wouldn't have taken an hour out of her day just to indulge in a chocolatey-hazelnut treat.

I have four more things on my list that I will do over the next four days.

New things.
Things that I have never done.
Places I have never gone.
Experiences I have never had.
Even without those experiences, I have a memory bag filled with so many beautiful life experiences that I can barely close the top. Even without those experiences, I have experienced a lot.
Now that I'm older, and my life has slowed down;
I can not only do these things, but really experience them.

That not only makes them more exciting...but it makes my inexperience, invaluable.

And because it is so fitting...this song.

"5 New Things In 5 Days" - Popping My Nutella Cherry

So, today began my journey to try 5 new things, over the course of 5 days.

I'm not sure how I managed to make it through my entire life, and never try Nutella- not even once.

I have been reading about it's magical, nutty-chocolatey powers for a few years, but for reasons that escape me....I missed out on the magic.

Until today.

This morning, I purchased a jar of Nutella spread. For three dollars and forty-eight cents, I was able to taste Heaven. I cannot put into words the things that went through my mind other than the obvious:


I am so very glad that I took a chance, spent the $3.48 and was able to have my first mouth-gasm.

Thank you, Mr. Ferrero.

For all of you who would like to watch my first experience with Nutella....

Click this link....

Also, I was unable to fully gratify my experience with words because....THE NUTELLA MELTED MY BRAIN, is a compilation of songs that fully express how I'm feeling now, and how I felt during the Nutella-ginity losing experience.

Upon First Tasting..........

During the process of eating my Nutella.....

My Nutella calls to me from the kitchen........

If you haven't experienced Nutella...don't wait. Your mouth-gasm awaits you.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Publisher! Oh, Publisher! Where For Art Thou, Publisher!?

Not long ago, I looked through my senior yearbook.

After looking at the various photos, laughing at my former seventeen-year-old self , and drawing devil horns and mustaches on the photos of the bitches who were mean to me in high school; I happened upon the the "My Plans After Graduation" page.


Yes! The glorious page of the yearbook where good intentions and pipe dreams go to die.
Imagine my surprise when I read what seventeen-year-old Lucinda Thompson had to say:

"I plan to go to college, teach, and write a book. I will marry Jerry and live happily ever after."

Huh. I didn't remember writing that.
Sounds reasonable enough.

It's actually not too far fetched from the life I am living. The exception being the whole "writing a book" thing. The more I delve into the process of making writing something I do as a career, the more I realize...It's really complicated.

I have found that not only do certain publishing companies only accept specific genres, they only accept them at particular times of the year.

 For instance, if I wrote fictional smutty-romance novels, or dabbled in tween vampire writings would be picked up in a heartbeat! (Oh, don't get me wrong, I could write the shit out of some tween-vampire erotica, but...I would then have to kill myself for contributing to what is becoming the weirdest genre of literature in history.)

There has to be a market somewhere for the deranged, yet insightful,  ramblings of a twenty-something year-old-woman who bears the good, bad and ugly parts of herself for the sole purpose of entertaining her readers.

There are a lot of things I disagree with seventeen-year-old Lucinda on... most of them pertain to her clothing/hairstyle/make up decisions, but I think she had something right when she scrawled her life plan on the yearbook submission form that day.

I know that underneath (and intertwined with) all of my brain lint....there is a book.

Not only is there a book, but it's a good book.

A story that many can relate to, and one that is universal to gender, age or geographical location.

Man, it's there.
Right on the edge of coming to fruition, but the process....the process is comparable to having a gynecological exam done by Freddy Krueger: It's like having scary slasher blades invading your most personal of spaces! Yowza!
I would like to use this opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my deranged ramblings. Those who have combed through my stories, bad analogies and prolific cursing to see what lies beneath.

Thank you...and stick with me!

 Hopefully, I can forge through the seemingly impenetrable forcefield of the publishing world, and produce something worth going to the bookstore to purchase.

Although the process will be long...I plan on proving my younger self, right. For a change.

****Also! If you are reading this, and you were mean to me in high school... Listen, I just want you to know that the devil horns and dastardly mustache drawings are all part of my personalized therapy plan to overcome my traumatic high school experience.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

For The Guys- Things You Probably Didn't Know About Your Favorite Body Part

     Well, it only seemed fair to write about something that would grab the interests of my male readers after talking about periods, pregnancy and labor and delivery in my last few entries.

It's okay if you are a guy and enjoyed reading those posts, I would think less of you if you didn't.

I began thinking about things I could write that would ,not only, interest the men who read my blog, but would also educate them.
Enlighten them.
 Inform them.
I thought...what is the one thing all men think they know everything about? Then I had to rephrase my question because well...most men think they know everything there is to know about everything.

What is the one body part men think they know the most about?
That's right, kids! The penis.
Of course, when it comes to the penis most men probably think they know everything there is to know.

I mean, for heaven's sake...they have one!
They spend a lot of time with it.
They pay careful attention to it.
They foster a relationship with it.

Some men even... name their penises.
 So...just when you think you know everything there is to know about the male reproductive system, I come in (in the nick of time, mind you) to enlighten, and further your education.

You're welcome.

It's a very real possibility that you had your first utero. - Now, get your minds out of the gutter, people.
Before I go any further, we should discuss two very different types of erections. The first type of erection is called an involuntary erection. These erections occur most commonly when guys are sleeping, and can occur somewhere in the range of ten -fifteen times throughout the night. Involuntary moments of happiness can also occur when your bladder is full. The other kind of erection is the kind most of you scurvy pervs were thinking of. These are erections that are brought on by either mental or physical stimuli. The fact is, boys will be boys, and ultrasound tests have proven that male fetuses have been shown to sport wood in the third trimester. There you you didn't know that.

You're welcome.

Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking nicotine based products can shorten the length of your penis -
Go ahead.
Re-read that.
Take it in.

If you smoke, now would be the appropriate time to do the whole Macaulay Culkin -"Home Alone"-slapping-your-cheeks-with-your-hands-and-screaming-thing...or click here ...

The effect is similar to smoking's effect on a person's heart. Just like the blood vessels in ones heart can be restricted as a result of smoking those toxic death sticks...the blood vessels in your penis can suffer the same brutal fate. Yes. You read that correctly. This lessened flow has a negative effect on the elasticity of the penis and prevents it from achieving its full length once erect. Studies have shown that over time, these effects can reduce the overall length by as much as 1 cm.

 HOLY SHIT, RIGHT?! According to one researcher, smoking has more direct harmful impact on the penis than it does on the heart.
If you're a man...and you've been searching for a reason to quit smoking, and this doesn't make you do it... You need to have your brain checked for abnormalities.

If your penis length falls somewhere between these two're completely normal - The smallest, natural penis on record is 5/8 of an inch long. (Is that even a real number?! ) It is held by a man named , John Lee. This is actually a medical condition called "micropenis".
Who knew?!

 The largest, natural penis on record is 9 inches...when flacid.
(That just sounds wrong, doesn't it?!)

Anyway, if you fall anywhere between 5/8 of an inch and 9 inches (sans erection) are perfectly normal. This is a good thing.
During my research I also found a funny article about Mr. Jonah Falcon, or as I like to call him "Mr. Scary Penis".

This seemed perfectly appropriate again....

Paying attention to your penis will help you grow a beard! -
Now, that doesn't mean every man with a beard has a high sex drive. It is scientifically proven that all of the things that happen during the arousal process, including the extra blood flow, stimulate cell growth. This includes hair. Hair growth is definitely stimulated by sexual activity or even the expectation of it for many people. That's right! You've heard the old adage about anticipation...apparently, this is true for growing those righteous beards!  Case studies of sailors at sea recorded hair growth accelerated right before shore leave , but slowed down upon return to the ship. Good to know! 

28 mph. - Studies at the Kinsey Institute have proven that the average speed at which a man ejaculates is 28 mph. Holy. Shit.
That's fast. Not only is this true, there have been several experiments conducted.

According to the Kinsey Institute, 28 mph is in excess of the top speeds of the greatest runners in the world.That's pretty cool. I'll give you that one, guys. Pat yourselves on the back.
Another fun fact I discovered: Over the course of an average man's life, he will expel (at a startling 28 miles per hour, nonetheless) 14 gallons of ejaculate materials. Look at you! A bunch of overachievers, aren't you?!

And what kind of a lady would I be, if I didn't save the most...enlightening material for the end.


Two Words: Penile. Rupture. - I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Pump the brakes, Lucy! Those two words should never be side by side in a sentence!"

I know. It sounds scary, right? Painful. Life threatening. It is all of those things, and...just so you know...this is something that is almost always self induced.

That's right. All of those times when your mother said, "That's going to fall off it you keep playing with it."

She almost had it right. Basically, penile rupture happens when you give yourself one too many low fives, and you rupture the big tube that helps blood flow to your penis during the erection process. Typically, when penile rupture occurs one will hear a cracking or popping sound and then experience a sudden loss of erection. No worries, though! There is corrective surgery that can repair the damage you've caused to yourself, but it is emergency surgery!

 So, if you here a pop...


(I put this one in here to balance out the whole 28 mph thing. Remember, everything in moderation.)

So...there you go, a few fun facts about things guys want to hear about. Now, stop sending me griping letters about writing about pregnancy, periods and girly stuff all the time!

Friday, August 31, 2012

The History of My Stretchmarks And Other Important Crap

When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, Abby, it was at 2 o'clock in the morning on March 6, 2006.
 I was sitting on the toilet in my tiny bathroom, wearing my VW bug houseshoes and holding three pregnancy tests.
All of them were positive.

Now, I knew a little bit about being pregnant at that point. I knew nothing about actually bringing a child into the world via my vagina, but I knew about pregnancy. (At least, I thought I did.)  The fact is, folks, there isn't a book, sage motherly advice, documentary or "Idiot's Guide To Anything" that can prepare you for what is going to happen to you over the next nine months, and then the subsequent year of your life with a baby.
Thus, I've compiled a list of "The Top 12 Things I wish I would have known about pregnancy, labor and delivery".
The dirty truth.
The cold hard facts.
The things that people tend to forget happen after they've birthed their children.
(Thank  you, Kim, for suggesting this topic! Let's see if we can't gross out some men-folk, and terrify some women who have yet to pop out a baby!)

12.) Morning Sickness That Lasts All Day, or what I like to call: "Wow, this fucking sucks...I'm pregnant and I can eat nothing."So this one is interesting. Most women will experience a bit of morning sickness during their pregnancies, and it is often a key identifier among symptoms when women suspect they are pregnant. Now, most women that have a bit of morning sickness can: lay in the bed in their natal-glow, eat crackers, drink ginger ale and just be ready to take on the day.
 Then, there is a smaller portion of pregnant women that we sometimes hear about. The pregnant women who can't get out of bed because everytime their horizontal bodies become vertical ones...they puke. These are severe cases, but they happen. I once saw a pregnant woman whose "morning sickness" lasted so long, and she puked so frequently that she busted the blood vessels in her eyes. It was really fuckin' scary. Things like this can also lead to dehydration, low blood sugar and malnutrition for the mother and the baby. Most women think morning sickness only last 9-12 weeks, but Au Contraire!
Sometimes, that shit stays with you until the end.                                                   

11.) Your belly button will never be the same. -
Before I had my children, I had the most beautiful belly button. It was of average depth, width and had a nice "innie" appearance. At around the 20th week of gestation, your growing baby will begin to transform anything that was once flat or concave on your abdomen: this includes your belly button.
 I hate to break it to you, but...your belly button will look gross. It will look gross, and after you have your baby...It will never be cute again. Unless you're one of those women that has magic belly button syndrome, and in that case...90% of the women reading this post that have birthed children, and have weird looking belly buttons because of it... secretly hate you.
 Just so you know.

10.) Let's talk about discharge! - Okay, so the female reproductive system is a miraculous thing. Basically, your uterine health and general vaginal happiness can be gauged by what kind of discharge you have.
Yes, I said discharge...ewwwwww...gross!
What are we, two years old?
Grow up.
  • Clear discharge- Normal vagina
  • Thick, clear discharge - Ovulating (this is also a signal of a high sex drive...woot!woot!)
  • Yellow discharge - Ermm...get that bidniss checked out.
  • Greenish yellow discharge- Whoa! GO SEE YOUR LADY DOCTOR!!
  • Grey Discharge- Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!! (I was unaware that grey discharge was even an option until I looked it up)
 When a woman is pregnant they develop something called a "mucous plug". This is basically something your body creates to help stop up the cervix until it's time for your unborn child to make their exit. Now, I'd heard all about the  "mucous plug":

"A mucousy substance, sometimes tinged red with blood; otherwise known as, bloody show"

Okie dokie...I could do that.

You guys, it's like snot. If a pregnant woman's vagina had a runny nose: that's what the "mucous plug" is like.
It's not horrifying, but you should's a helluva lot more disgusting than they make it out to be.


9.) Hey, I'm pregnant...I should enjoy relaxin'. - During your entire pregnancy, your body is changing. It is readying itself for the single most painful and exhausting thing a human body can endure. Thus, in order for a woman's pubic area to accomodate something the size of a medium-sized melon passing through it, our bodies produce a protein horomone called "Relaxin".
Relaxin works by giving the pubic bones the ability to move and accomodate your bundle of joy through the birth canal without breaking your hips. It also keeps your uterus from involuntarily contracting while your fetus is developing, thereby preventing your body from naturally aborting the baby. (Thanks for looking out, Autonomic Functions of My Body!)
 Now, all of this is great and really functional and everything, BUT...what they don't tell you is while the bones in your pelvis are able to expand because of relaxed are the bones in your feet.
I used to wear a size 6 shoe. Mother Nature is a big ole giant bitch, sometimes.


8.) Lots of sex...sometimes....and then never. - Great news! Sometime after the morning sickness subsides, and before you feel like an enormous sea cow in a will, for about a month or two, feel extremely sexy.
The pressure to get pregnant is off.
The nausea is gone.
Your breasts are bigger.
You're glowing and you will want sex...ALL OF THE TIME.
This is normally something that is eagerly recieved by the partner to the pregnant woman, but it should also be viewed as this:

It will be the last time you will have complete access to as much sex as you can stand for around...5 months.
After this eight week window will no longer be something that is at the forefront of the pregnant lady's mind. Plus, positioning becomes tricky.
My advice? Jump on the sex train while it's there, people, because before you know it...the station will close down.

7.) Glossy, shiny, beautiful hair...on my nipples? - One benefit of pregnancy is...the hair. The glorious, bouncy, shiny hair that we all hear about. Pregnant women have the most beautiful hair. This is due to the excess of nutrients flowing through our bodies during this time. While women hear tale of the lustrous manes of their mothers and grandmothers...those mothers and grandmothers always forget to leave one bit of hair-growth story telling out: A pregnant woman's hair becomes glorious, bouncy and extra shiny...EVERYWHERE.

Every woman who has carried another human being in her uterus...will have hair on her nipples. It happens.
 I have hair on my nipples.
The woman sitting next to me at the beauty shop probably has hair on her's.
 We pluck them, we Nair them...we schedule some laser hair removal, but it doesn't change the fact that they were there.

Gone, but not forgotten!

6.) Every other pregnant woman is better at everything than you are. -
There will come a time during pregnancy when you can no longer shave your Possible. You have no clothes that fit. Your nose has expanded, and you look down to see that your ankles have been replaced by two tree trunks.
It is at this moment, you will see pregnant women everywhere who seem to have it all together. They are barely showing, they don't have stretch marks...they're still wearing clothes that aren't sweatpants or muumuus.

It is okay to hate these women, because it just is. Applaud their good fortune on lack of stretch marks while they are boasting to your face, and then flip them a stiff-middle finger the moment they walk away.

 It is perfectly normal and okay to hate them.

5.) Contractions hurt... a lot...almost like if you stabbed yourself in the vagina with an ice pick. -
We've all scene cinematic presentations of childbirth. The water breaks in the most inconvenient of locations (an elevator, in the car),the women are screaming and the men are fainting.
It's not like that.
 Anymore, the doctors are scheduling births because it is more convenient. Don't get me wrong, women go into labor all of the time on their own, but as a general rule of thumb...doctors are trying to take the inconvenience out of labor and delivery.

The one thing that doctors can't change, and the movies did have correct are: the contractions.

They really, really, really fucking hurt.

The pain wraps around your body, and you're trying to breathe but you can't and someone is telling you, "Breathe, honey."....and you just want to poke their eyeballs out.

It's a nightmare.

 No feeling is as wonderful as those first few moments right after your epidural kicks in.
Also, if you're one of those women that battled through the pain and didn't need an epidural:

1.) Props to you and your ability to tolerate pain comparable to having your body being torn into two separate pieces, at the crotch... by a Decepticon.

2.) There are women who secretly hate you, and your high pain tolerance.

4.) Sometimes...EPIDURALS DON'T WORK. -

 Women operate under this grand illusion of, "No big deal...I will only contract for a little bit, but then...I will get my epidural!" Yeah,'s some really shitty news:
Sometimes, even though you really want them to, epidurals don't work. I found this out during my second experience with labor and delivery. My beautiful son ,Sammy, was brought into this world only to be greeted by my torturous screams epidural didn't work. I wish they did. Trust me, being on the shitty end of that whole "sometimes-they-work-sometimes-they-don't" stick...I want them to work all of the time more than anyone.

But KNOW....sometimes....they...don't.

3.) Everybody poops. - This is all very self explanatory. There is a very real possibility that while you are pushing, with all of your might, to get your sweet little baby into this might poop. Right on the delivery room table.

No worries, though.

 This isn't the first time you've pooped and this isn't the first time these nurses have seen it. I was prepared for the possibility of defecation during delivery because I read about it in "What To Expect".

What I wasn't prepared for was the tar-like poop that my new, tiny baby would produce.
You wanna talk about something gross?! Let's talk about those first baby poops.
Imagine the La Brea tar pits. Think about enormous dinosaurs getting trapped in the sludge, unable to escape, and that's what your baby's first poop is like. The more you wipe, the more there is. Scary, dinosaur trapping, tar poopies.

The joys of Motherhood. 

2.) Boobs are now a functional item and breastfeeding hurts.Before having children, my breasts were a recreational item. It isn't until the first time you nurse your child you realize, "Ohhh...they do have a purpose!" Breastfeeding is also the fastest way to completely eviscerate cinematic views on those first few moments of trying to nurse your child. If it's your first time to nurse a baby, and it's your baby's first time to can be the most frustrating and painful thing you've experienced. The first feeding isn't the bad's the second and third...

Imagine the worst case of chapped lips you've ever had.

Now...imagine someone touching them. Repeatedly. On purpose.
The first few days of breastfeeding was like a red-hot poker through my soul. I don't think I need to repeat it, but I will...If you were one of those women that had a glorious and easy breastfeeding experience, and never shed a tear through the entire process:

There are women who secretly hate you.

1.) Episiotomies and...beyond. - If you have a vaginal birth, you can almost expect one of two things to happen:

1.) Episiotomies and Stitches
2.) Tearing and Stitches

 While the vagina is remarkably elastic...sometimes, it just isn't elastic enough. Fortunately, for women who recieve an epidural...they don't feel any of the cutting/tearing and stitching of their most delicate areas. However, epidurals don't last forever and when the feeling slowly begins to come back to you... it comes back in a whole new kind of pain you have yet to experience in your life.

The stitches go away, but it does take quite a while before you can even wipe your butt and not cringe.

  • In closing, I would like to say, everything I've said is true. It happens. It isn't all that happens, but it's the stuff you don't often hear about. This is the point where I feel obligated to tell you that having my children is the best decision I have ever made in my life, and nothing I can do...ever...will top that accomplishment. They are beautiful, hysterical, amazing human-beings, BUT... none of that changes the fact that I have stretch marks on my ankles. 

Monday, August 27, 2012


   Like most people, there are things that will never cease to bring me great joy. It doesn't matter what is happening in my life, what kind of catastrophe has been brought upon my perfectly shaped head or just how damn bad my day is going; there are just some things that make me happy. Below, is an abbreviated list of things that ,without fail, make me happy:

1.) My childrens - (This one is a bit Catch 22. Mostly because my children can simultaneously make me spew joy and make me want to strangle myself with my shoelaces.)

2.) New socks

3.) Momma Fig's Rainbow Cupcakes (these are a specialized item...and will bring joy to anyone lucky enough to be presented with one)

4.) Days of perfect weather (In Oklahoma, these are few and far between)

5.) Towels and sheets right after they come out of the dryer

6.) A really good cup of coffee

7.) Finding shapes, people and objects in clouds...examples: Winston Churchill, bras, phallic shapes and Falkor from The Neverending Story

8.) When I hear George Micheal's voice sing, "Well, I guess it would be nice...If I could touch your body..."

  After thinking about my list of "Things That Make Me Happy", I realized something:

Happiness is something you choose.

Sure, you can feel happy, but the real test comes down to deciding one thing:

"Am I going to control my life situation, or am I going to let it control me?"

Today, I had a really nice visit with two remarkable ladies. We laughed, we plotted and I regaled them with tales from my childhood.  As we were parting ways, one of the ladies mentioned, "You are always so energetic, happy and seem so...down to earth and adjusted."
She's two-thirds right.

I'm not always happy. I normally wake up with the disposition of a Bridge Troll on her period, and it takes a few cups of coffee and some snuggles with my childrens, to reach the point where I can be turned loose to mingle with the general population.

That's when it dawned on me... It's not a difficult concept, there is no secret recipe and it just comes down to one little thing:

You can make a conscious decision to overcome whatever shit life is throwing at you, or you can succumb to the shit.

Frankly, I waded through plenty of shit growing up.
I'm tired of shit.
I want days filled with new socks, rainbow cupcakes and warm sheets that smell like Snuggle.

I am not, by any means, dellusional enough to think that there are some situations that don't warrant succumbing to the shit.

Losing a loved one.
Not being able to button your "fat" jeans.
Finding out your kid has a growth on his brain. (Been there, done the shitty day T-shirt)

However, not all days bear that type of life altering consequence.
Most days are just sort of...blah.
Most days, are days where nothing remarkable happens. Days where we meander through and ,at some point, we make a decision to either be happy, or to wade through a big, wide river of doo-doo and gripe about it the entire time.

Today, I went for a run. I was listening to my "Early 90's Feminist Forward Lilith Fair-esque" station, when I heard George Micheal's lovely little voice singing in my ears.

Of course, this caused me to first; question why in the hell Pandora Radio thought George Micheal belonged on that station...and secondly, it put an extra-happy bounce in my step.

It was about this time that I looked up, and I happened to see (very clearly) the shape of Falkor- the luckdragon from The Neverending Story- in the clouds.

I was taking great delight in my sudden, happy moment when I noticed the cloud right next to Falkor: It was an enormous, scary newborn baby cloud.
It was super creepy.
It was entirely too large, had a scary, baby face, and was three times bigger than Falkor.
In addition to being a big, scary newborn baby cloud with a deformed head... it's mouth was wide open. I could see Falkor's shape begin to dissapate, and before I could blink my eyes, Scary Newborn Baby Cloud had eaten Falkor.

Devoured him. Poof.

A few seconds later, Scary Baby Cloud was gone, and all that was left was a big cloud of nothingness. No defining shape. No bumps or ridges. Just...desolate and boring.

It was at this moment I realized: our lives, are not so different from the clouds above us.

If we allow the winds of adversity to change us, and if we succumb our moods and minds to our shitty days; our shitty days will consume us.
We lose the ability to find joy in the smallest of things, and we get lost in a big cloud of...nothing.

Like anything, there is a flip-side to this coin of wisdom.

Just as your bad days can consume you, your good days can too. If you let them.
Sometimes the smallest of things can bring a smile to your face, and put a skip in your step.
If you choose to surround yourself with your list of things or people who make you happy... you can shut out the shit that life throws at you. (Man, that's almost poetic.)

You only have to accept that you deserve to be happy, and then...choose it.

(If you are having a bad day, bad month or a bad life...I strongly suggest trying any or all of the things on my list. They've always worked for me.)

Also...George Micheal.

You're welcome. :-)

Sunday, August 26, 2012

My Top Five Badass Women Of The World

I'm just going to preface this by saying one thing:

I have never been one of those, "I can't be friends with girls...all of my friends are guys." kind of girls. The people in my life that I admire the most. The ones I look up to. The ones I spill all of my weird and crazy ideas and thoughts on...all of them are women.

 I think it's important for women to develop relationships with one another.
There is a such a support system that can be formed between women, and I think this realization was the inspiration for this list.

Actually, the main reason I decided to write this list is because I'm tired of seeing "inspirational" Marilyn Monroe quotes plastered all over the place. Don't get me wrong, Marilyn was an icon. She was gorgeous. She was......lucky in her acting endeavors (because let's face it...she was a terrible actress), but she was beautiful and she was famous and she was mysterious and now... we have a generation of ill informed young women who are looking to her as a role model. Gag me with a fucking spoon.
Ladies, young ladies, who are reading this...Marilyn Monroe is a Hollywood icon, but the persona, and all that "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" bullshit.

I hate to break it to you girls, but it was all an act.

My challenge to the young women of our world is this:

Look for women who changed the world through their actions. Actions that were guided by nothing except their love for humanity. Look at our vast history, research women of our past and for the love of everything good in the world...Find inspiration. In case you don't know where to begin. I will enlighten you with my Top Five Badass Women Of The World list.

Also, if you like Marilyn Monroe and you have all of her movies and you dress up as her for Halloween and you are just offended and aghast that I've said what I've said.

You probably need this list more than anyone, and I'm sorry for your poor decisions you've made in the past regarding female role-models/icons...but I'm not wrong about this. Trust me.

#5 - Anne Frank

When I think of iconic women...women I look to for inspiration...I think of this young lady:

 Anne Frank.

Not going into her rather boring back history...I will cut to the chase.

Anne and her family were forced into hiding when the Nazi's overtook Holland in 1940.
To escape being arrested by the Nazi's, Anne Frank, her family and another family (The Van Pels) hid in an attic in the middle of Amsterdam in 1942. 

Obviously, there was very little for her to do, thus, she wrote. She documented her time spent in the attic with her family. Although, things were difficult (Shit...she was hiding in a fucking attic with eight other people for 2 years) she wrote about how thankful she felt to be alive. She wrote about keeping a positive attitude in such weary times:

"I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, look at the world, feel young and know that I'm free, and yet I can't let it show. Just imagine what would happen if all eight of us were to feel sorry for ourselves or walk around with the discontent clearly visible on our faces. Where would that get us?"
                                                          (December 24, 1943) - Anne Frank

If that doesn't make you look at your life, and be content with all of the good fortune you have...then you need a lobotomy, or to live locked up in an attic for a few years and then sent to a concentration camp.

Anyway, eventually the Nazi's recieved a tip that helped them find the two families. Anne, her family and her friends were put on the last train to Auschwitz. Anne died in the concentration camp.

Damn you, Nazi assholes!

Anne contracted Typhoid fever, and died one month before the camps were liberated. Her father was the only one to survive the camps.
He returned to the attic where they spent two years of their lives, and found his lovely daughter's journal.

Because of Anne's eternal sunshine in a dimly lit world...she is badass woman number 5.

#4 - Katharine Hepburn

Now...Ms. Hepburn makes this list because she was a lot like me. She had her own opinions, she said them and she really didn't give a rat's ass what other people thought about her.

 Katharine's mother was a suffragette, instilling virtues of independence and helped to cultivate Katharine's free spirit.

As a young girl, Katharine delighted in sports. She embraced her beauty and femininity, but also helped pave the wave for young women of her time. The thing I like most about Katharine Hepburn is, while she was a very succesful movie star...her career began on stage. 

Ms. Hepburn had a lowly beginning and (without the help of green room couches) carved a name for herself in the film world and our history.

 Now, I'm not going to sit here and blow smoke up your ass and say that every, single film she did was wonderful...because it wasn't.

However, she is a four time Oscar winning actress, and she didn't preen and pout for the press. She kept her two lives very separate.

For not being a sell-out.
For being a true pursuer of women's rights.
For reminding me that it's okay to say things and do things that not everyone will agree with, but being more enriched for doing them.
For saying things like this:

"Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself."
                                                                                             - Katharine Hepburn

Ms. Hepburn earns the position of Badass Woman number 4.

#3 - Mother Teresa

To me, there is nothing more beautiful in this world than a woman who will give up all selfish endeavors for the sole purpose of enriching the lives of others.

Now, I don't know much about Mother Teresa's early life, but it's a shining example that you don't have to know about, or understand where people come from for them to make a difference in the lives of others.

When she was 18, she felt the calling to serve her life as a Nun. She packed up her shit, moved to Ireland and recieved Nun-training. (I'm sure there is a formal word for this process, but that is a minor detail)

After a few months in Ireland, she traveled to India and took the sacred vows of Nun-hood. In her early years, Mother Teresa was a teacher, which is another reason she made the badass list. Not only was she a teacher, she was a teacher in the ghettos of India. That's some scary ass shit. Surviving that is enough to put her on my list of badass women.

As her life continued, "Momma T" felt a great need to help the less fortunate. Not just in her immediate area, but all around the world. She started a new order called, "The Missionaries of Charity". The goal of this charity was to help the people that the world overlooked, or were too afraid to help. Mother Teresa strolled into indigenous villages in Africa that were crippled with AIDS outbreaks like a boss. Images that we see on the internet, television and magazines of children who haven't a hope in the world; Images that make us cringe, feel empathy and then look away as quickly as possible... Mother Teresa lived that shit. She made it her life's work; to help those people.

It was all she knew, and it was all she did. I leave you with this beautiful quote:

"It is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing. It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving."
                                                                         - Mother Teresa

Mother Teresa, a living saint and a total badass woman.

#2 - Marie Curie

               A list like this wouldn't be complete without Marie Curie. Marie Curie was born into a poor family in Poland. Despite the fact that her family was poor, she and her siblings were all well spoken and well educated. In a time when women were supposed to yield an interest in domestic subjects, music and literature; Marie Curie said, "F that! I want to learn science things!" 

Well, she probably didn't say it like that, but she might never know.

Marie packed up her shit, (what is it about these amazing women and their willingness to just pick up and move?) moved to Paris and worked as a governess. Given her families poor finances, she had to work her way through college. Not only was she playing nurse-maid and educator to priviledged snot nose children, and working her way through school...SHE HAD TO LEARN HOW TO SPEAK FRENCH. People, this was before the day of Rosetta Stone.

Anyway, since she was pretty busy with school, and being an all around badass woman...she didn't have time to date. She threw herself into her studies, and after recieving a Physics degree and graduating at the top of her class. Guess what?! This woman decides to go for another degree in Mathematics. Now, today...that sounds like small potatoes, but you have to remember, this was back in the 1880's. Women were practically condemned to lead the lives handed to them by the Patriarchal arrangement of things. Polish women were pretty much given zero opportunity to do anything with their lives...unless you're a badass, like Marie Curie.

Anyway, after getting her second degree she went to work in a laboratory where, after all of her years of abstaining from love in lieu of her education, a chemist, named Pierre, fell hopelessly in love with her. Now, like most heroic "I don't need a man to better my own life" women, she refused his advances. Apparently, Pierre took on the whole "No means, yes" way of thinking, and like Pepe Le Pew and the feral cat he chased all over the place... he eventually won her over.

They lived their lives working together, and would become inseperable until poor Pierre's untimely death.

Marie, now in the glow of love, delved into physics and discovered two new elements: Polonium (which she named after her home country...awww, how nostalgic) and Radium.

Marie pioneered the use of radium to eridicate diseased cells inside of bodies. She was, in fact, such a badass that she didn't even patent her discovery to make money on it!

Claiming that it was too valuable to not be available to those who needed it. 

So, here she is, going along wonderfully; discovering new elements, falling in love, popping out babies...just having a grand time. Like most cases, when things are going swimmingly well, catastrophe strikes.; her husband was killed in a road accident, leaving her to man the laboratory by herself and raise her children alone.

Of course, like any other woman in a male dominated society she suffered ridicule and spite. In a way to give her male counterparts the proverbial stiff middle finger, she began dedicating her time at the beginning of the first World War to ensure that X-ray machines were installed in hospitals. By the end of the war, over a million male soldiers had been examined and helped by her x-ray machines.

At the end of her life, Marie died of cancer caused by a side effect of her life's work. Not only did she discover elements, bust through the door of education for women in her home country, set educational standards for women of her time, raise two children alone and publish a book... she died at the hands of her life's work, and it's because of this (and so many other reasons), that Marie Curie is my badass woman number 2.

Now, I know what you're wondering, "Who could possibly be more badass than Marie Curie?!"

#1 - Joan of Arc

Now, this is a badass woman.

This was a woman who was led by her religious convictions until she was burned at the stake at the age of 19. It is documented that Joan began hearing the voice of God at an early age. (12, I think.)

During Joan's childhood, her country was a divided one. King Henry V seized this opportunity, rode in, invaded the shit out of France and deafeated the Royal Army.

When Joan was 17 years old, she approached the French leader, Charles de Ponthieu, who frankly, didn't quite have his shit all together.

He was overwhelmed by her conviction, her eloquence and her bravery. So he did what any logical thinking national leader would do...he gave Joan her own fucking army!

Not only did she get some of France's shit back...she did it in a year. The French gave her Royal status...and boom! Viva La France! The French had an insurgence of national pride.

Joan was a badass woman, but as it was in those days, anytime a woman was good at something the men hymhawed and harrumphed until it was declared that she must be practicing witchcraft.
What a bunch of assholes! 

Before Joan of Arc was the leader of her badass,victorious army, she was a village peasant...thus, the clergy members leading her trial were dumb enough to make it open to the public. She was asked:

"Do you know if you are in the grace of God?"

Answer: "If I am not, may God place me there; if I am, may God so keep me. I should be the saddest in all the world if I knew that I were not in the grace of God. But if I were in a state of sin, do you think the Voice would come to me? " - Joan of Arc

Thus, the clergy realized she was smarter than the average bear, and closed her trial to the public. Her trial was continued behind closed doors, and as expected, she was declared a witch and burned at the stake. With her heroic hands tied, her bold body bound and her righteous mouth gagged...this woman, who spoke with such conviction and changed the fate of her country, was lit on fire by a bunch of chauvinistic, asshole clergy men. Welcome to the history of womanhood! (and you think you've got it bad.)
It is documented that somewhere in the range of 10,000 people were present at her execution in support of the life she lived and the changes she made for her country. Her ashes were scattered in The Siene river. Had Joan been less sure of her convictions, and lied at her trial, she would have lived to see the day (26 years later) when an inquest was held, she was declared innocent and Joan of Arc was presented with martyr status. (Isn't it always the way of it when you put a man in charge of things...too little, too late)

She is still the patron Saint of France.

 Joan of that, was a badass woman.

The most Badass of all.