i was recently reading about a celebrity divorce and the wife was quoted saying that she was focused on staying strong for her kids and was doing ‘a lot of crying in the shower’. you know what i save for the shower? my vibrator. that’s what i don’t want my kids to hear.
Turns out by definition ‘desire’ does lend itself to goals, but I still interpret desire to be more intimate and personal. What you desire are the goals that are for you aside from your children or husband, work or school. These are the needs and wants for you to feel whole or safe or sexy or satisfied. (not necessarily sexually, but a hell yes if that is your desire!)
I’m talking about a person who swore she never wanted kids only to find out it was because I knew deep down loving you this much and not being able to protect you forever and control your every outcome would be one of life’s longest, hardest lessons to practice.
No one wants to think they have a two faced friend, so when you become aware that it is you who is two faced, you might find yourself freaking out a bit. I’m not talking about your typical two faced scenario with friends and betrayal either.
Everyday I have the privilege of working with women. I should say working closely; I literally stand in the dressing room sizing and assessing their busts to find the proper fitting bra. In such close proximity, it’s no wonder we start dishing our stories, sharing secrets and revealing our insecurities. So it may come as a surprise when I tell you that hearing my 13 year old daughter disparage her body KILLS Me.
Naturally, the first few days were glorious. I literally danced my way out of camp playing Freedom by Beyonce. I relished in work, meetings and running. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t have to stop, drop and roll in the middle of whatever to make sure someone got dropped off or fed.
I can honestly say, I was not counting the days until the kids and I went to Universal Studios in Orlando. Long lines, masses of people, motion sickness and processed foods equal my very own personal nightmare.
Part of the decision making process included telling my kids and preparing them for it. Which, for me, meant being honest about the fact that I have fake boobs. My reason for telling them was the reason I hadn’t told them…