This one is for M.E.

Lookout, I'm about to have a much needed love fest with myself. This is very important, remember, because Cullen ran EIGHTEEN miles yesterday for marathon training, and I've been running and it can do a number on me.

Make out session....BEGIN!

I love my curves. I have a very female body, I do. I have glorious hips and fantastic breasts. I do! I am curvy and delicious. No one will mistake me for a man from behind. I walk like a girl, I laugh like a girl, I run like a girl. I am female all the way. I will never have an issue with putting a dress on and needing the top taken in. I fill it out very well, thank you, even if the girls need a lift to get to where they need to be. If I had smallish breasts, I wouldn't need a lift. It's a good thing to need a lift. Take THAT!

My hips might let the world know that I've grown and birthed children and I'm thankful. If I didn't have hips, I'd look more manly, and I really like looking like a girl. I can put my hands on my hips when I'm feeling like bawling someone out, I can jut a hip out, I can work it when I'm walking. I wouldn't have a waist if I didn't have hips. My curves are good.

My hair! How lovely is long hair? I have longish, wild hair. Sure, having short hair was was, I could mess it up or have it neat, but let's face it----having your children or husband run their fingers through it is heavenly, no two ways about it. Case in point: I just picked Dalton up. His Momma has long, delicious hair also...and it shows. I picked him up and he started running his fingers through my hair, too. We almost took a nap right then and there. It's the best. I know females who look female with short hair--- and look stylish and fashionable, etc...but long hair...awesome.

I'm going to resist the urge to list the hundreds of things that need work. The urge is creeping up on me to do just that, and I just am not going to!!!! The fact that I want to pisses me off.
I got hit on IN THE MINIVAN the other day. Now *that* is something to write home about. I was in the store, and a young guy- seriously, had to be in his twenties- was checking me out. Much bolder than I am (hahahah, okay I guess that depends on the situation and who you are)- he was outright shooting smiles at me when I'd look anywhere in his general direction. I smiled back at him, but not in a "hey you" kinda way but as in a "yes, I see you smiling at me" kind of way. I took the kids and put them in the van and he was behind us, parked a few cars down. He didn't stop being a dork. He was almost turned all the way around, watching us. Maybe he was a child molester? Maybe he was sizing me up to see if he could take me and take off with my circus? Whatever. He honked when he drove past us.

You can see how this might be a big deal to a mid thirties minivan driving daycare provider and mother of 4.
And I'm not saying that he's the ultimate judge of HOT. I mean, come on. I know that on my best days I'm probably a 6 or 7 unless my personality is On. But whatever. He checked me out knowing I'm a mom and I drive a minivan. Stalker, molester or not, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And of course, because I CAN, I have to remember and give a shout out to how KICK ASS my actual body is. i'm running on one kidney, and I'm running better than I have in a very long time. Who rocks? ME!