Risque Doesn't Live Here

Driving past a lingerie store the other night, I made a comment of how I used to shop there when I lived out in that city, years ago. Of course, I failed to mention that all I ever bought was panties and pajamas.

Adam responded "So, when are you going to start wearing that stuff?".

Me: "What do you mean? Lingerie? Like the sexy kind?".

A: "Yeah. Or are you just going to keep wearing that dirty wife-beater?".

For the record, the so-called dirty wife-beater is actually a cream-coloured tank top that is part of a pajama set, thank-you-very-much. Because it's cream, he thinks it looks like a man's sweaty wife-beater.

Coincidentally (or not really), my girl QC is planning on a boudoir photo shoot. She asked if I'd ever do it. My answer? A flat out no way. I have nothing sexy to wear!

No, really - I just don't see myself as sexy in the least, and I honestly don't think I could ever pull it off. It just ain't happening. No photographer will ever capture that because it's just not there. And I don't photograph well even fully-clothed - it would just be worse without.

Maybe I'll reconsider after I get the girls all fixed up and re-perkified.

BREASTS

Tits. Melons. Ta-tas. Boobies. Hooters. Yabos. Cones. Rockets. Guns. Scuds. Whatever you want to call 'em, doesn't matter. If I could change ONE THING about my body, that would be it. Seriously. It ain't pretty. After two babies, some serious growing (then shrinking), nursing and stretching - doesn't exactly make them nice to look at. I've never been self-conscious of the size - I'm ok with that part. It's the stretching and saggy part that I don't like anymore.

Why is it they don't make bathing suite & bikinis with the kind of "lift" that a good bra has? I've never spent $100 on a bra - but I sure did on a bikini that still isn't very flattering in that area. WTF? I think I missed my calling as a swimsuit designer.

A couple weeks ago, I went to lunch with a contractor that I know through my work. We (or he) decided to go to Earls on Robson, namely because of the "eye candy" there. I went for it. I think we spent about 80% of our lunch conversation on the "are they real?" conversation regarding our server. It made me wonder: what is society's obsession with big, beautiful breasts? And why is it that we just have to know if they're real or fake? Because really, when I get mine, I don't care if people are guessing whether they're real or not. The only thing I'll care about is that they'll be wonderful, beautiful, I'll be able to wear those tank tops with the "shelf bra" (shelf? seriously?) and not have to still wear a bra underneath in hopes of keeping the girls above my belly-button, and they'll be (like in the Seinfeld episode) F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S.

However, here you can read a great story on the one's God gave me and how I love to show them off in public.

Hope

espoir


I took that off my kleenex box. It's "hope" in French, for those who are not bilingual. Yes, I purchased a Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation kleenex box. Totally random, but thought I'd share it.


Once again, I received a word and mulled it over and over in my head. And all I could ask myself was "What is the first thing you think of when you see the word 'hope'?". I actually wanted to ask my children, but they weren't there. So then I thought of what the word would mean to a 4-year old and then a 9-year old - and not any kids, but mine in particular. Here's what I came up with:


Top ten things my 4-year-old daughter "hope's" for:

10) That she can to wear a dress tomorrow

9) That we're having mashed potatoes with dinner

8) That we'll go for a walk and end up at the playground later

7) That she'll get to play with Meghan - her 10-year-old friend that lives across the lane

6) That her best friend Kira will be at daycare tomorrow so they can play together all day

5) That Papa will come over and bring her chocolate

4) That she'll be allowed to sleep in my bed tonight

3) That she can wear her "flip-flops" until the end of time

2) That she'll be allowed to stay up and watch "So You Think You Can Dance" tonight

And the #1 thing that Olivia hopes for on a daily basis:

1) That Mommy is picking her up today

And for Evan:

10) That we'll be going camping soon

9) That one day, he'll go on a cruise ship

8) That the Titanic will be raised one day

7) That his buddy Cameron will like all his new Pyrate Lego

6) That he gets the Black Pearl for Christmas

5) That he gets a cool teacher for grade 4

4) That if Juneau is in Heaven, that he's with Kaine (yes, he actually did say that to me - the kid's deep)

3) That I eventually put the little TV in his room

2) That he can mow the lawn again and Papa will give him money for helping

And the #1 thing that my 9-year-old hope's for:

1) That he'll get to go to a Canucks game next season.

And my hope? That my children remain healthy and happy and keep dreaming.

Survivor

As I sat here pondering my very first Blog Off subject, I realized that I am totally not cut out for this type of thing. I rolled this word "Survivor" around in my head until I actually started singing the Destiny's Child song out loud. I don't even like Destiny's Child.

The next thing that came to my head was the show Survivor. Yes I watch it. Yes I like it. But do I want to blog about it? Uh, not really. All I want in relation to the show is when I get voted out of the Blog Off, maybe I can be told "The tribe has spoken".

So finally, in chatting with a friend about it, I came up with the trip I took with Carly and the kids to Victoria to see the Titanic exhibit at the Royal BC Museum. What came to mind is when we were all given replica boarding passes of real passengers that were actually on the doomed ship. At the end of the tour we were given a chance to look at the list of survivors and lo and behold, I was the only one that didn't survive. The other three thought it was a hoot. Sadistic? Possibly. But is that telling me something?

I admit - I really hummed and hawed (sp?) about joining the Blog Off. What did it for me is basically that it's for a short period of time and also it's for a very good cause. Then I thought to myself, ableit briefly, that maybe I'll shape up my blog that was dying a slow death. Perhaps some people, other than my 2 or 3 regulars that only check to see if I've done anything lately, will start reading it again. And just maybe, I'll come out of this a Blog Survivor. (Cheesy? Um yeah, read my archives...)

What's In A Name?

I stole this from Kris. She didn't tag me but I'll pretend she did.

1. REAL NAME: Kelly

2. GANGSTA NAME (First 4 letters of real name, plus izzle) Kellizzle

3. DETECTIVE NAME (favorite color & animal): Green Cheetah (Could also be my ninja name?)

4. SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, and childhood street): Ann Palmdale

5. STAR WARS NAME (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom's maiden name.) Smiketar

6. SUPERHERO NAME (2nd favorite color & favorite soda) Red Rootbeer

7. IRAQI NAME (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name, 3rd letter of you dads middle name, ) Einal

8. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME (grandmother/grandfathers first names) Virginia John or Marie Ralph

9. GOTH NAME (Black & the name of one your pets): Black Dante

10. NATIVE NAME (Fun activity, element in nature, name of wild animal) Dancing Rain Cat

I will tag Carly and Courtney...this one is too funny.

Happy Mother's Day

Over the past few years, I've received some interesting home-made gifts from my children. A few have made it to the mantel, some on the coffee table or the fridge and some...well...they've gotten "lost" over the years.

Tonight, I opened a wonderful gift that Olivia made at pre-school. This one will definitely make it to the mantel and be held onto for years and years.

First, there was a card she made with a poem on the front:

My little handprints on the walls

On the mirrors and in the halls

I'll be grown some day

And all those tiny handprints

Will surely fade away

So here's a special gift

Just so you can recall

Exactly how my hands looked

When I was very small

Beware the New Neighbour

As you may or may not know, I've recently moved. I am slowly getting settled into the new crib. So far I'm loving it. And the downstairs tenant? Single mom of a 6-year-old girl. All she said the day she was moving in (when we were talking about bedtimes and the "mommy quiet time" that takes place afterward) was something along the lines of enjoying a glass of wine and my ears perked up. She looked at me and said "Yeah, I love wine". Can you say instant connection?

It also just so happens that I've moved directly across the street from an old friend of Dum-Dum's and his wife. Nice family. We haven't really been in touch much in the last 3 years since "the breakup" but it was more because I had in my head that he was Dum-Dum's friend, I'm not going to make other people feel uncomfortable, stuff like that. Apparently I had no reason to worry because they hardly talk to him anymore - they've grown apart since P is now a family man and actually grew up and matured a wee bit (while that's a big fat NO for Dum-Dum).

So, I saw my new neighbour a week ago doing some work in his front yard. Apparently he's not aware of the fact that I take photos of my neighbours when they're dressed funny or inappropriately (or are just wardrobe-aly-challenged?) and then post the photos on the internet. Should someone warn him? Or shall we wait until I am ready with my camera? I gave him a freebie that day. I even kind of warned him. But next time...I won't be so nice.