My House Fairy

I have come to depend on my weekly housekeeper.  I used to love to clean my house.  I know that sounds really crazy.  Detailing a bathroom for an hour or two was fun for me.  A perfectly organized and clean refrigerator was a happy joy moment.  Why am I like this?  God only knows.  Sometimes you just have to be who you are.  So, being me I just role with it.  I enjoyed my cleaning moments and we always had an exceptionally clean house

Then I did something incredibly stupid.  I ran for Office for my local Medical Professional Union.  Worst thing that could happen.  No one ran against me.  I won.  I have never been so busy in my life.  What was I thinking?  Apparently I wasn't thinking.  Along with being a Mom of a teen and us being involved with the National Charity League and Church, our life was on high speed crazy pace that must equal the highly scheduled every where.  

My spotless house was suffering.  I like to run a tight ship.  Dinner on the table at 6:00 PM with everyone in attendance and no TV, crazy stuff like that.  I began to see dust bunnies.  It was horrifying.  My Husband started to feel sorry for me especially  after I began to have breakdowns and started to cry myself to sleep.  He got me a once a week housekeeper. He said that since he had a once a week gardener that it seemed fair.   All I was responsible for was grocery shopping, cooking and laundry.  How was this even possible?  Had I died and gone to heaven?

This weekly housekeeper thing was really working out.  She really was not as good at cleaning as me but heck it was like a miracle.  I called her my house fairy.   Then I discovered that I could order groceries online.  Another miracle just delivered to my door.  Hell, you could order anything online and have it delivered to your door.  My life was simplified and easy almost to the point of being ridiculous. Except my occasional trips to Target,  I was dancing around  in a happy glitter and sparkling with fairy dust kinda way.  I know a really scary image, yet that was how I felt.  

Then I got really sick ( I promise.  I will talk about that eventually).  I had to give up being an Officer for the Union.  My Daughter grew up and we were all done with the Mother Daughter Charity League.  She went to college and moved out.  That is how grown up my Daughter is.  However, we did not get rid of the housekeeper.  I was still really loving my house fairy thing.  Who could not love having this person come in and just magically make the dirt go away.  I love her.  

Tragedy struck our house two weeks ago.  My house fairy told me she was going on vacation.  She has been gone for one week.  I now have to clean my bathrooms....all three of them and scrub the kitchen down.   Good Lord!! I have to detail the whole house.  It is going to take me all weekend.   I have gotten soft.  To be honest I don't think I am in shape for this.  Oh well.  It is what it is.  Things have to be done.  My world of glitter and stardust has come to an end.  At least for now it has.  I wonder, if she is coming back?  Is it odd to worry about the housekeeper?  Do all people who have housekeepers have this strange attachment to them that I do?  I wonder.  

So, I canceled most of my plans for the rest of the week because of my cleaning schedule that is ahead of me.  I found myself lusting after a steamer.  Its this machine that will steam clean your ....well everything.  Basically it will sanitize your home and make everything gleam.  If she is gone for one more week, I think I will need to buy one.  Call it a stress purchase.  Besides I have been saving my closet for a really good clean and an organizational frenzy.  I guess now is as good as time as any.  

OK, all joking aside, I really miss my house fairy.  I hope she is safe.  She did say one week and I worry that something might have happened to her.  Is there a section in Emily Post that describes a situation where you are missing a housekeeper and need to find her.  Is it polite to call said housekeeper while she is on vacation?  Is this rude?  This is new territory for me.  Does anyone know?   Sometimes manners really get in the way of that little voice that tells you something might be a miss.  I will give it one more week.  

The sexy man?

I was reading something on Facebook toady that sorta peeked my interest.  It was this piece about what makes a Man Sexy.  I read it.  The writer, who is also a blogger, wrote 11 points on what makes a man sexy.  I mostly agreed with her.  At least I think it was a her.  

Anyway, regardless, if the writer was a she or a he, it was a good piece.  However, I am not sure I completely agree on what she thought makes a man sexy.    

Then I began to think.  What is it that makes a man sexy?  I know I have mentioned my weakness for Spock but all kidding aside.  What do I find sexy?  

First of all I would like to say that, if a guy is not smart, I just can't even go there.   A man can look beautiful, he can have a wonderful body and crack a joke but if he is not smart, it is like whistling in the wind for me.  There is something about a guy who has a brain and knows how to use it, just makes me all pitter pat in the heart.  I guess the reason I just love the smart ones is that can hold their own with me.  Meaning, I can't pull the wool over their eyes or bat my eyelashes out of anything.  They are simply to smart to fall for any of my bull crap.  

The second thing that is important is a man with ambition.  I love a guy with a plan.  A plan to move forward in life.  To become better than who you are now.  To be that person you dream of being.  I am relatively ambitious and a guy who is ambitious just feeds my innate inner whatever it is that always fires me to keep moving me up and on.  I think ambition is a good thing.  Ambition is what feeds the American Dream.  Long live ambition.  Besides ambition usually leads to wealth and these two things feed off of each other and they just grow and grow.  I like money.  I won't lie.  I like to have a certain amount of security and a person who knows how to handle it.  Lord knows that person is not me.  

The third thing are the physical things.   I love a skinny guy, a non hairy guy, a guy with big hands and feet, a very tall guy and a guy with blue eyes.   I am sure that might be wrong of me on some level.  I just can't help it.  I am a big girl and you would think I would be tolerant of the big man.  I am not.  I love the almost emaciated man.  The skinny legs and bony rib cage gets me all hot.   I have issues I know.  Blue eyes....sigh.  Brown eyes do nothing for me.  I always like to look into into blue eyes and think of water or sky.  Just my preference, I am sure that it must be bluest of me or something.  I used to get angry at men for wanting beautiful young thin women then I realized that I had my own preferences and realized everyone just has their own thing and the heart wants what the heart wants.  Thank God in his heaven that my husband loves what I have because I would be so out of luck otherwise.

There are so many attributes that make a man sexy for me.  I think the last thing is confidence.  Probably the most important is confidence.  A man that knows who he is and stands on his own two feet.  A man who goes out into the world and conquers his demons is the right kind of man for me.  I know most women love the confident man.  

So...anyway that is my take on the what makes a man sexy.  Well...sexy for me anyway.  My tastes might be a bit odd.  I am not the average kinda girl.  I wonder what you all think?  What is it that makes a man sexy for you?

Laundry and Target

You would think that laundry would be something that I would have down by now.  I would think I would have it down.  For Heavens sakes, I have been doing laundry since I was 12 or younger.  I know for sure I was helping my Mom a lot younger than 12.  I remember ironing days as young as four years old.  Rolling shirts up or other things and sprinkling them with a water starch mixture than learning how to iron.  Sorting out clothes into colors and different fabrics.  We even hung clothes on the clothes line.  Idn fact, I am sure I know a hell of a lot about laundry.

Then the other day, I was in Target.  Again. I hate Target.  Why do I go there?  I suppose it is because I hate Walmart more.  I think I would rather be skinned alive than go into Walmart.  No really, its so horrible every time I go in there.  Then the check out line is such torturous experience I swear that I will never return.  It has been two years since, I set foot in a Walmart.  So, Target or the Internet, sometimes you have to go into stores.  

Anyway, I went into Target because I had forgotten to order my laundry detergent from Amazon.com. They have this cool thing called the "The Pantry Box".  I am telling you it is the coolest thing.  You fill your pantry box up and its free shipping.  I do this for all the big stuff like toilet paper and laundry detergent, stuff like that.  After going to Vegas, it just slipped my mind.  Then my Husband and I both were sick and stuff just needed to be obtained.  So there I was, in Target.  Did I mention, I was there-again.  Oh. Yes..I did.  Sigh.  

I am standing in the laundry section looking for a staple of my laundry regime.  I need Clorox 2.  It is an all purpose bleach that helps keep colors looking brighter and gets the stains out.  I love this stuff.   My Mother used it and swore by it.  I swear by it.  I keep looking.  There are three isles of laundry products in Target.  I cannot find this product.  I feel a slight panic begin to rise.  

I take laundry very seriously in my home.  I love clean clothes.  I love to iron.  There is something about the process that just makes everything right again.  Something about looking at a closet full of perfectly ironed shirts and everything that can be possibly be ironed that are color coordinated makes me feel so calm and happy.  Also, something about a sock drawer all nice and organized...sigh.  I must admit that since my recent illness (if you don't know, I will talk about it later), I have been a bit lax but I am getting better about my obsession with organization.  Yes, its kinda creepy but it makes me happy.  I like being happy.  

Back to the laundry section.  I can't find the Clorox 2.  I ask a young clerk.  She tells me that they don't carry that anymore.  I look at her like she has sprouted horns.  She then tells me that Clorox 2 is old fashioned and that her Mother uses it and there are other products that work much better.   I think I might stab her in the heart.  I ask her, if her Mother still uses this product and she says yes.  I say, how come she has not switched?  She says that she is stuck in the "Old World". I am sure I need to stab this girl in the heart.  I have a brief fantasy about scooping her heart out with a dull spoon.  I shake off my killer fantasy.  I smile like the very proper and well brought up and mannerly person I am.  I smile my well practiced smile.  I tell this young girl with way to much make-up and horrible hair thank you and move on.  I still really want to stab her in the heart.  I am sure that this must make me a bad person.  I then wonder how many women my age she comes in contact with each day that wants to stab her in the heart? 

I sorta got riled up on my way home.  Old fashioned my saggy ass!!  How dare that stupid little twit tell me that my all safe color bleach is old fashioned.  I found myself gripping my steering wheel and thoughts of stabbing that girl in the heart... I had to get that out of my head.  I narrowed my eyes and decided that my hate for Target was growing.  I kept thinking that my age group of women are the group of women that has the bank accounts and the time that Target the Company caters to.  I am still young enough to have kids at home and old enough to maybe have grandchildren.  We as a group spend more at Target than all others.  I am disappointed that they would take a staple such as Clorox 2 off the shelf.  Highly disappointed.

I came home and ordered a case of Clorox 2 from Amazon.com.  I felt better immediately and then I marked on my calendar, when I might need every staple in my home in hopes to never have to enter Target again.  Or at least until I really have to.    My relationship with Target is like a relationship with a mean girl.  It is necessary yet very unsatisfying.  I think of it like this....I am the fat ugly girl and I need to be nice to that mean girl every so often just to get through the hall at school.  However, every once in a while that fat ugly girl gets a win.   It was a small win.   I was the only one who knew there was a  game but never- the- less...I won.  

Shopping for the Fat Girl

Lets talk about shopping.  I mentioned on Facebook that I went shopping in Vegas and bought some new tops.  I really didn't get into my whole experience because I was lazy and having to much fun in Vegas to really get into it.  So here goes.

I used to love to go shopping.  That was when I was younger and much thinner.  I loved to slink into anything and look adorable.  There was nothing as satisfying as looking in the dressing room mirror over your shoulder at your own ass and smiling knowing how adorable you looked.  Then I started to get older.  I got fatter and fatter.  I just couldn't help myself.  I love to eat.  Then going shopping for clothes became a nightmare.

Let me begin by saying that there is nothing fashionable about being a large size girl.  I don't care what the Media says.  The clothes they make for us are hideous.  Most are these floral almost circus type clothes that just make my skin crawl.  The shops they have for us are less than five stores.  Designer clothing is about zero or less than zero.  Lane Bryant is about the only store that has anything kinda cute and lately the clothes there have been really scary.  Nordstrom's sometimes has a good selection.

So, a good friend once told me that you should just spend whatever it takes on a few good pieces of clothing and get what looks good and feels right then paying less for something you know you look kinda Meh in.  I slowly have started to do that.  It is kinda difficult because its hard to plunk down large sums of money for one top, when you know you can buy six t-shirts for half of what you just paid for one top.  It is kinda like, when you buy your first really good handbag.  That first time you spend over say.....What you would pay for groceries for a month on a handbag.  You think to yourself this is crazy.  I could buy ten handbags for this.  Then five or even ten years later that handbag is still gorgeous and still in style and it is working wonderful and looks like you have never used it.  You know you made a good purchase.  It's the same with clothing.

Back to Vegas.  I was shopping in Vegas and I was so tired of looking like Miss Frumpy Fat Girl in Fugly Fat girl clothes.  My Husband sent me out shopping and told me to come back with something nice.  We were staying at Cesears and the shopping there is all higher end.  I reminded my Husband of this fact and he said he knew and to please go shopping and find something that would put a smile on my face.  OK....please don't twist my arm.   I went without hesitation or before he could change his mind.  Run.  Teri.  Run to the designer stores.  Run.

I found myself at the store of BEBE.  I went and noticed that they at size 00.  Hmmm?  I am not a size 00.  So far from that size.  Adorable clothing but even the size Large looked really really small.  I was approached by a sales clerk and she was so nice.  I told her that I thought I was way to large to be looking in this store for anything to wear and that, if I was to try anything on I might bust it apart at the seams (like the Hulk).  The clerk laughed and told me larger girls than me came here shopping all the time.  I leaned in and said out the side of my mouth.  Really?  She assured me Really?  I said.  OK then.  Help me find some tops that I won't  leave in tatters on the floor.  In less than five minutes this girl had something like 20 tops, two maxi dresses and some leggings in a dressing room and me hustled inside.

I found three tops that I loved and looked good on me.  I felt kinda pretty again.  I even looked over my shoulder to see how I looked from behind and it wasn't as horrible as I imagined it to be.  The Maxi dresses kinda made me look like I was a sausage and I didn't even try the leggings.  The girl said they stretched but I wasn't buying it.  They looked way to small and I thought for sure I would kill myself trying to get in or out of them.  The last thing I wanted for my Husband was to explain to my family that my death was caused by a pair of tight leggings.

Once at the cash register, I found out that all three tops were on discount and I saved some money.  I spent quite a bit of money for them but they are very beautiful and becoming and I like them.  I have bought into this thought that you really do get what you pay for.  Now, this is going to stop me from bargain hunting all over the place for clothing.  Heck, I even buy stuff at Goodwill but from now on I am going to buy my good clothing at the higher end places and buy what I like and what looks good on me.  I think in the long run I will feel better about me and I won't end up just throwing away most of what I buy or never wear it again.  Sometimes I feel sorry for all the clothing sitting in my closet.  Never to be worn again.

I know, as a fat girl, I should loose weight and exercise, whatever.  Bite me.  I just want to be happy.  I am working on being happy.  Eating healthy foods does not make me happy.  Working out does not make me happy.  Those things make me incredibly frustrated and sad.  I am naturally a larger person. I am tall and big boned.  I have large breasts.  I have big hips.  So what?  Even, if I starved myself, and I have.  I would still weigh more than my BMI says I should.  I still would be "big" by all standards.  Screw it.  I have decided that beauty is who I am at this moment.

I have to get up everyday and look at billboards and magazines and TV every second of everyday that tell me I am an ugly cow simply because I exist in the form I was born in.  No more.  I work on being happy.  Buying beautiful clothing, shoes and handbags with matching accessories to adorn all of my largeness is all I can do.  Maybe, everyone needs to just be happy in the skin they are in at this moment right now?

What is up with the Race thing

I have been thinking a lot about this racial stuff going on in our Country.  I know it has been going on a very long time.  Perhaps maybe since the beginning of time in one form or another.  I guess it just seems really out of whack.  Not that racial tensions should ever be part of any time line  Just saying.

Anyway, It seems to me everything I read or see is the Black folk hating on the white folk and apparently vice verse.  I just don't get it.  I really don't.  It seems we all come from the same genetic pool.  Right?  We all seem to have the same God stories in some form or another. The God stories have the same root beginning and end.  The names are different but the lesson is always the same.  We all bleed.  We all fall in love, give birth, die, get sick and so on and so forth.  What can be so different that makes us hate each other so?

I personally don't hate anyone who is a different color or race than me.  I might become annoyed at another person because they are an ass hat but color or race has nothing to do with it.  I discriminate evenly towards all folks who are jerks no matter what color or race.  The person who parks in a handicap space who is not handicapped is a jerk no matter what color or race hands down.  The person who gives of themselves with a selfish thought is a good person no matter what the color or race.  I think we can agree on that.  Then why do we continue to divide ourselves into this or that race or color?

The other day, I was involved in a conversation and the topic was skin color.  I wondered why we even said black, white, brown or yellow?  Why not just say a dark brown person or a light creamy skinned person etc?  There was a person who identified with being "black" in our conversation, she said, that in her community to not call a black person black was not an option.  I did not understand that at all.  She said that would cause and uproar and make many of "her" people angry.  I was truly confused.  I thought we were all one people.  When did being a human being become divined into different colors?  I have seen inside of hundreds of people (I am an Operating Room Nurse after all) We look exactly the same inside every single time.  You cannot tell the difference in-between a dark skinned person or a yellow skinned person once you are looking inside.  I mean maybe a really awesome sauce MD can, but not me.  I could not tell you a Black person liver over a white person liver ever.

So, why the hatred?  Why? are the Black folk asking for the white folk to pay them for the slavery days?  Now, I have read a lot of history.  Not tons but enough to give me a perspective.  From my understanding, most of the slaves that came here were people who were captured in wars from other tribes and then sold to the slavers.  So, they were slaves already.  Then they were sold as slaves again.  Sounds like just what the Romans did with the Britons and all the other Lands they conquered along the way.  However, they did it for about a thousand years or so more.  Should we of European descent be asking Rome for some reparations now?  How about when the Hannibal conquered Eastern Europe and enslaved them?  Just saying.  I guess I could go on and on.  No question that slavery was a big part of our world history along with the conquering thing. I am glad we are basically over that.  Maybe we should just start to be look to what makes each of us awesome instead of what makes us different then maybe we could finally move on.

Maybe, if that were to happen, whites paying the blacks for slavery, we should do genetic testing on every Caucasian to determine, if that white person has the proper genetic mix of "white" that actually enslaved the blacks.  Just the Southern White folk from that time period.  Its something to think about.  I mean, I have a chunk of American Indian in my mix, so maybe then I should only have a percentage of payback.  OK...I am going on a loop here.  I am being ridiculous to prove that this is really silly.  My point is that we all live in America and we all came from someplace else.  Except for the American Indian.  In my thinking the American Indian is the one that really got screwed in the deal here.  They lost everything and no amount of Casino's are ever going to give them back what they lost.  Ever.  If anyone deserves to be said to every single day from every single race or color of person every where.... The great big I am sorry, it is the American Indian.

I would like future generations to be able to not think twice about race or color, when they see another face.  I would like neighborhoods to be places that people are just that... people.  For instance, my neighborhood is filled with Asian Folk and low on White Folk.  We have tried so hard to be friends with our neighbors but they ignore us.  Shun us.  We keep our yard perfect.  Our house is maintained.  We are quite.  We wave at everyone.  No on waves at us.  There is one elderly lady across the street that is nice to me but that is it. I am told that we are not wanted in our Asian neighborhood because we are white folk.  It's not like we have a car on cinder blocks in the yard or anything or drink Coors beer on the porch and are missing teeth.  We are both professionals and quite prosperous.  I guess we are the trash in our neighborhood and they want us out.  It happens to everyone... this race and color thing.  Our neighbors do not know us. They do not want to know us.   They just know we are not Asian and therefore they hate us.  Simply because we are not like them.

I believe that as long as we assume that people are like the stereotypes we believe then to be then we will never get any where in developing as a better people.  As long as we divide ourselves into race and color we will never move forward into a world where that simply won't matter any more.  What a place our world would be, if it didn't matter at all.  That just someones character was the only defining factor and not the color of their skin or their race.   I would love to live in a place like that wouldn't you?  However, until that day or until that time, when we can just grow up and get over it all and ourselves then we are stuck in this hatred thing.

I would suggest the first thing we need to do is for each color and race to sit down and decide to forgive the other for all time and move forward.  Just let the past go.  Then stop having clubs like the black club,  or Mexican club...etc.  Have a club that teaches about all cultures instead.  It just seems, when you have things like that it divides us instead of brings us together.  Bring our children together so they become friends.  They go to school together are in the same clubs and sports together so that there are no more dividing factors.  That way everyone has the same chance.  The chance to be a part of the American Dream together.

I remember seeing that PBS circle of hands of different colors.   It was in the 1970's and I remember loving that circle and wishing that our world was really like that.  I still do.  I suppose I am just being a dreamer and wishing on a star.  Perhaps not.  What do you think?  Do you think it is to late for us and we are divided forever and no amount of working towards unity will ever bring us together as one people and that is that or is there still hope?

What is a Pansexual?

About a year ago, my Daughter, Cassidy, Told us that she was Pansexual.  OK? So, What the Heck does that mean?  She explained that she was not interested in a persons genitalia, just the person.  Being the optimist I gathered from that to mean she has a 50% more chance at love than the rest of us.  I say go Daughter.  Make hay while the sun shines.  

I will say at first I was kinda freaked out.  I only have one natural daughter.  I have two stepchildren of whom I adore and think of as my own, but I did have about ten minutes of freak out.  I thought what, if she falls in love with a women and has no babies.  That means I have no grandchildren.  I straightened out my thinking in about ten minutes.  I realized that my daughters happiness is much more important than grandchildren.  I choose her life time of happy over babies for me to snuggle for an hour or two on a Sunday.  Maybe, one of my Stepchildren will allow me the pleasure of the occasional baby snuggle from time to time.  Basically, I got on board with the pansexual thing and just  accepted my daughter for who she is.  I let her be the adult she wants to be and try not to be to meddlesome.  I try.  I am not perfect.  I mess up all the time and give her advice and say motherly things.  We have got into some fights.  There have been tears from both of us and lots of growing pains.  My daughter grew up, our relationship changed and now we are in the next phase.  The learning to be adults together phase.  

Anyway, the weirdest thing has come out of this "Gay" thing.  My daughter was out of the closest so to say and she told me to let people know.  I did.  I just told the truth because that is easier.  I have no experience with being the Mother of a gay person.  I have experience being the friend of a gay person.  I have no other experience on my life resume to help me in this role.  I have read no books like "What to do, when your Daughter says she is a Pansexual?"  Nope, I have no reference.   All the sudden people have been coming to me and asking for advice.  Hey, Teri...my Son/Daughter says they are Gay/Bisexual/Pansexual....Um..What do I do?   Do I look like the poster Mom for Gay folk?  I don't know?  Ok..that is what I want to say.  I usually say.  Love your Son/Daughter no matter what.  

I then tell them a story about my Daughter.  It goes something like this.  When my Daughter was little, she would ask me what would make me not love her anymore?  I would say there is nothing on this planet that would ever make me stop loving you.  As she grew up she would say the same thing and then I would add stuff like... even if you turned into an alligator I would love you.  Then one day I said, I would love you even if you were a Bull Dike, Coke Can worshiping Lesbian.  I think she was around 13 or so.  She found this incredibly funny and from then on that was always the standard answer.  That no matter what, who she loved or what she worshiped I would love her.  I suppose that it was a prophecy of sorts.  She does not worship coke cans.  Lets make that clear.  So, I tell these peeps who ask me, just love your kids.  No matter what.  

Of course, there is always the religious stuff that comes into question.  I say, God will sort it out in the end and he gave you that child to love and raise.  God does not make mistakes.  Your child is not a mistake, so continue on with the loving unconditionally thing.  Then the question comes...What if they want to marry the same sex?  I say how will you stop that?  Throw you body in-between them during the ceremony as a bomb?  Killing you and them?  Ah..No.  Right.  Ok then.  You cannot stop that.  If you want your child in your life, buy a nice outfit and attend the wedding.  Support your child and love them no matter what.  Love their choice of spouse and support their choice.   This seems so no brainer to me.  I have no idea why I keep getting asked these very simple questions with very simple answers.  

Then I get the big one about it being morally wrong to be "Gay".  I say, well gosh.  I am not God.  I didn't send dreams and visions to the prophets to write the scriptures.  I had nothing to do with that.  I am a Mother.  I know that I love my Daughter and there is nothing in Heaven or on earth that would ever take me from her.  I cannot imagine a God that would have my daughter live a lie married to a man going to a church that said she was evil then having children with this man and raising them to believe this as well.  I think that she might hate herself or be really depressed.  Or worse live a life of loneliness and celibacy having no relationships ever because she felt she was wrong her whole life.  I don't know, neither of those possibilities doesn't  sound like a good way to live or at best a very happy way to life.  I usually just shrug and say pray to Heavenly Father and ask him.  I did.  He tells me to love my child no matter what because he love me no matter what.  

I know.  Right?  I would never have expected this kind off outcome either.  I was talking to my Daughter about it the other day and she suggested I use it as blog fodder.  My Daughter seems perfectly well adjusted for someone raised by me.  She is really weird.  She does get that honestly, the weird part.  She is also, so funny.  My gosh the sense of humor on that kid.  I have no idea how that came about.  Must be from her Dad. 

I suppose the take away from all this is to love your kids no matter what.  Heavenly Father loves us no matter what and we are his children.  Yes, you can be angry with your children.  You can discipline your children and so forth but to stop loving them or cut them out of our life for being innately who they are...well....that is just like saying since you have blond hair, I am going to hate you now.  Just plain silly.  If you kid is Gay or not just love them.  No matter what.  

What is all this about a Mangina?

I read a word in a book I was reading.  It was Mangina.  I was like WTF?  I had to put the book down and laugh my bottom off.  Then pick the book up and re-read the whole page again just to get the content and understand what mangina meant.  I went to google and found something in the Urban Dictionary that was interesting.  I wrote some it down for you below.  

According to Urban Dictionary: "A male lackey of the Feminist hate movement (usually called a feminist), who views women as superior to men and always bows down to and agrees with women as superior to men and always bows down to and agrees with women in an attempt to curry favor, especially his abusive, man-hating wife who will screw him over in the divorce court, ruin his life and reputation, whelp a child that isn't his and sting him for money."..(it goes on and on.  read it.)

So...OK..I really have been sick for about a week.  I mean really sick.  We are talking fevers, chills the full blown flu.  My Husband and I both have had the flu together and I want to say right now.  Oh, the joy of being sick with your Husband for many, many days.  Not!!  I also have had the joy of cold medication.  This is like adding fuel to the fire of silliness.  I would like to say that I am not responsible for the stuff that comes out of my fingers but I am...its just a bit more silly than normal.  

OK.  Back to the mangina business.  The book was speaking about the men of today.  So, we need to stop here.  I read a lot of post apocalypse books.  I don't know why.  I just do.  I guess I like to be scared.  To be honest, if there ever were Zombies, I would be food.  I run really slow.  I am a fatty after all    If it was some sort of virus....definitely dead.  I catch everything.  Anyway, this book was one of these.  They were describing this character as a modern man and that "he" had grown a mangina.  Not literally, he was not running around with a homegrown mangina .  He was running around with a figurative mangina.  I don't know either one is kind of disturbing and funny either way I think about it.  

So, I got to thinking do I know any mangina's?  I mean men who say they are heterosexual's in a heterosexual relationship.  I do.  I know a few.  At least,  I think I do.  I suppose not exactly like the Urban Dictionary kind, but I know guy who is really the wife in the relationship.  To be honest I think he does a better job then some.  I mean he is no June Cleaver but he manages to hold down a full time job and does everything that a wife would do...cook, clean, shop..gossips....all that fun girl stuff.  I know another guy who by all accounts I would say he is one of the girls.  Although he is a father and a husband, he is one of my favorite girlfriends of all time.  I wonder though, until I had heard that word "mangina" I had never thought about it before.  Does a word define who we are or how we act?  

I suppose that a working or a healthy relationship would be a good indicator to whether or not what defined a persons role in it or not.  Right?  Then what difference does it make what role a person takes in that relationship?  I keep thinking that in this ever changing world we are in, that if that family is working and everyone is growing, healthy and strong then why not, why not the mangina?  Why not just be who we are and be proud of it?  Do what we are born to do and dance to our inner song?  Wouldn't we all be just a little bit happier, if we could all just drop our labels and just be who we really are.

I say yes to the mangina!  I say yes to all the women out there who want to be construction workers and the rough and tumble Fathers knows best but are wearing the wrong dress.  Why not?  I personally love being the classic housewife.  It suites me well.  I also, love a man who is a throw back from the 1940's, hence my husband.  Our very traditional and old fashioned relationship works great for us.  Even my hard core conservative friends find our relationship confining and much to conservative.  I have had my friends say to me.  Teri, how can you let him be so controlling? I say, its like living in a "I Love Lucy" episode.  Me and my BFF get our selves in all sorts of trouble and my husband gets us out of it.  I have a lot of fun.  What can I say.  

Back to the point.  The point is that no matter what the Urban Dictionary says or what we call each other, I think that as long as we are true to ourselves and good to each other is all that really matters.   I say those mangina men, if they are happy, let them be.  Like the great John Lennon said, "Let It Be". 
What difference does it make in the long run, if people are living the lives they want to live in the roles they want to be in?  I say no difference.  Just happier people.

Well, that is my take on it anyway, not rocket science or some great thought provoking words here.  Just what I think.  What do you think about all this?