Do you have a business partner?
Yeah, me too.
Mine’s better.
Here’s why.
…continue reading my business partner is better than your business partner
my business partner is better than your business partner
how to poo in front of your partner
Have you been invited to dinner and found yourself suppressing farts throughout the meal? Squeezing your cheeks so tightly your body rises in its chair? And you cross your legs or reach for the butter to disguise the obvious movement? Letting one or two go free, because you sense amount of squeezing could stop their escape, and too much resistance will result in an exit squeal?
…continue reading how to poo in front of your partner
no hiding. just love and celebrating.
Yesterday I wore a skirt and my black chucks. I felt cute and fresh and young.
In the evening, Emma and I took Sloane to the dog park. I asked her to take a picture of me. Emma is always up for a photo shoot, no matter what side of the camera she’s on. As she positioned herself to take the photo, people appeared from behind the trees at the curve of the trail. I pushed her camera-ed hand down and made her wait until they passed. As if it were a drug deal.
…continue reading no hiding. just love and celebrating.
hey dove, I cried, but that doesn’t mean you nailed it
I’m sort of tired of being told to lighten up. Even if I spill invisible pixie dust on my ratty old pants and proceed to lose my shit, please don’t tell me to lighten up.
Ask me what’s going on with me. Dig deeper. Listen. Offer me a hug. Suggest an anger management course. Any of the above would be more thoughtful than telling me to lighten up.
There’s a Dove commercial being passed around called Real Beauty Sketches. I was moved to tears watching it.
…continue reading hey dove, I cried, but that doesn’t mean you nailed it
run your own fucking marathon: how to deal with jealousy
I’ve spent almost 38 years jealous of anything that breathes.
I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do. —Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Eight years ago I trained for a half marathon with a runner who was faster than me. What was an easy pace for her, left me barely able to manage my end of the conversation during our long Sunday runs. But every Sunday she ran with me and every Sunday I ignored my program pace to keep up.
On race day I ran with her until she had to use the washroom at kilometer eight. While she shuffled ahead to the port-o-potty, I took a walk break. I fired back up when I passed the port-o-potty, knowing she’d catch up. I spent the next two kilometers waiting for her to reappear, puzzled—and somewhat smug—she hadn’t yet.
And then the course merged onto a wee island. I saw her coming towards me having completed the loop I still needed to run.
She was two kilometers ahead at a faster pace. We exchanged breathy hellos while shame got to work cocooning me like something from a comic book. Thick and black.
…continue reading run your own fucking marathon: how to deal with jealousy