oh my yes, i love swimming.

now, i should start by saying i do indeed love swimming. in my former much skinnier life i was a swimmer. i was the go to girl for the 500m freestyle. now, don't be confused...i was not the go to girl for a first place ribbon, but i could actually finish it in a reasonable amount of time. good enough for my team full of underachievers. but, now as a grown up who spends very little time swimming laps i have been dreaming of the water a lot lately. why would that happen? is this an old flame regaining heat? hmmm... actually, this may be best explained by all that hoopla in london. for me, it seems that every four years this love is rekindled. yes, that's correct, the summer olympics have touched my heart once again and most specifically those darn swimmers. i mean their determination, speed, grace, drive, grills, and backstrokes. i find myself engrossed. good thing i have sweet loving friends who kindly oblige my obsession by acting interested themselves. wait... ok, let's cut the crap. no one loves swimming that much. no one goes to swim meets by choice except the parents of swimmers. and i can tell you from experience, sometimes they are not that excited to spend a day watching a bunch of people swim back and forth. swimming is not a "spectator sport" so to say, but it has been nothing less than a spectacle in recent days. is it really the swimming, or maybe the speedos on those perfectly trimmed olympian bodies? i vote for option 2. i am just as guilty as every other female in america (and possibly the entire world); i tune in just to watch them bend over on the block then climb back out of the pool after they finish their little races. i like those fancy swimming pants and all that stretching when they walk in the aquatics center. and of course standing on the center pedestal getting new jewelry doesn't make those boys any less appealing. there, i said it, swimming is more fun when the swimmers are pretty and wearing precious metals. shallow...not entirely. honest...unfortunately. so here's to the 2012 olympic men's swim team...congratulations. here's to the hours of practice...apparently it paid off. here's to the smell of chlorine that most likely lingers in your skin...you wear it well i'm sure. here's to the lovely locks that you keep under your caps...no green hair for you. here's to speedos...may they never cover more than they should. and here's to winning...cause no one loves a loser. and p.s. here's to aaron peirsol..i think i missed him most of all.

i have no secrets...

true story. if you want to know something about me...ask. i am usually just chomping at the bit to talk about myself. i mean, let's be honest. some people, however, over share. you know the type. instead of saying my tummy hurts, they exclaim in graphic detail how their women's problems really cramp their style. or instead of saying, where is your restroom, they announce what is about to go down once they get behind a stall door. i mean, really, is information always necessary? because in LOTS of situations i'm inclined to say that don't ask don't tell is a fair policy. but some people...
today i set out on a lunchtime adventure with a co-worker. our lunch conversations never lack substance, never lack humor, never lack a certain inappropriate fun factor, but they are typically our conversations. we have mastered the art of telling the whisper joke. we have perfected the art of pointing out "that person" without calling attention to ourselves. we are pros at leaving just enough to the imagination that the innocent bystander (if eavesdropping) would be curious and confused all at the same time. we are southern women and we know how to act.
but back to lunch...today we shared our area with some tourists from the north. we often share lunch with tourists since we live in a tourist town, but this day was extra special. these sweet visitors who are gladly pumping money into our local economy were textbook tourists. they were pale (with the exception of their sunburned necks), they were toting nylon backpacks, they were wearing sandals that would make you squirm, and dear old dad was sporting jorts. yes, they were textbook. but, what came from their mouths was neither anticipated, appropriate, nor quiet. and i loved the nightmare for all it was...awful.
the poor daughter was dressed like a hobo. every item was striped, bright, and too small. a happy as a lark little mis-matched girl. a girl who clearly has some concept of fashion (some tiny concept) but was stifled by her anti-stylish mom. when this little girl took a spot on the bench to wait she could not help but call attention to her mom's poor choice in apparel. "ugh, mom's wearing her spandex again." insert my giggle here. i was loving the honesty...until...mom replied in a loud and rather nasal sounding voice "yes, i am. when i get wet i chafe."
BOOM. what the crap just happened?! how do i not pee my pants with laughter? how do i not jerk my head around to look? how do i not yell "ewww!"? how do i stay calm and collected, and better yet, how will my friend not jump at this opportunity to bust a gut?
like i said before, us southern ladies know how to act...so we convulsed silently and waited for the traveling side show to leave our ear shot. then, we lost it. really? was that real life? did she say "wet" and "chafe" in one sentence? was that really out loud? was her husband not about to die of embarrassment? does she always share so so so very much info with the general public? and for goodness sake where was she going that needed a spandex lining?! (we could only hope dollywood's water ride department) regardless, it seems as if that conversation was neither well placed, well planned, nor well received.
again, as an over talker myself i know the temptation to be a goober. i know it is hard to stop yourself once your mouth is open and words are in progress. i know it is so easy to blurt a response. but i also know it is not always smart...and well, i always want to seem smart :)
so here's to the ladies who talk to loud in public--no we don't care what you ate for lunch or who you ate with, but we'll get over it. here's to the gals who can't keep a secret--secretly, we love all the information you share and would never admit to being closet busy bodies. here's to the females who must have the last word--we know it's a sickness and really you can't help it. and here's to the gals who tell way too much--please know chafing is never an appropriate subject for public places. and, chances are, the details of your child's birth, your recent stomach bug, the surprise romantic weekend, or your recent trip to the lady doctor are also not appropriate topics for the waiting area at your (or someone else's) local cafe.

p.s. jorts are so 1986...please have your husband return them to the decade in which he found them. bless his heart.

now you sir are a rare bird

so i recently went to have my car serviced. you know the routine oil change, tire rotation, alignment, brake inspection...the standard 2 hour activity. well, as i walk into the waiting area (complete with a gumball and runts machine) i notice that there is not an empty seat in the house. bummer.
why were so many people getting oil changes on this particular day? the answer is this...there weren't all that many people. however, when there is limited seating it fills up fast...especially when people are rude. much to my astonishment as i was standing in the open area near the bathrooms and taking a survey of the room i observed one man on his ipad taking up two seats (one for his butt and one for his bag), another man with a baby taking two seats (one for he and the baby and one for the carrier), and another man taking up two seats (one for his butt and one as a desk). a room full of men (and one sweet little me) and not a one of them cared that they had left a female standing by the bathroom. now, where i come from, that is unacceptable.
just as i was about to take my place in the middle of the room to preach about chilavry and common decency one little who in the corner looked up from his book. the youngest man in the room stood up. he abruptly moved and called across the room for me. he not only offered his seat, but he offered an apology as well! what?! he apologized for not offering a seat sooner and noted that he was embarassed he waited so long. (honestly it wasn't long at all but his production was just so kind i hated to interrupt him).
as the youngest man in the room insisted that i sit in his seat every other man in the room squirmed. bags and computers were cleared out of seats in rapid fashion...too little too late.
now, i believe in women's rights. i believe that women can do anything they want to do. i believe that women are strong and capable. i believe that i am no less valuable than any man. however, i also believe in being a gentleman and likewise, a lady.
the youngest male in the room set a rather pointed example. the youngest male in the room thought it mattered how he treated women. the youngest male in the room showed up all the other curmudgens with one swift move. and the only female in the room was so appreciative she just nearly invited him to dinner.
so here's to the guys who are willing to stand for a girl...thank you. here's to the guys who still know the value of being a gentleman...it's always in style. here's to the guys who plan to raise their sons to be respectful...their mommas will be so proud. and here's to the guy who gave me a seat...that little move made you the most attractive male in the room.

do these heels make me look intimidating?

Katharine Hepburn once said "it is the plain women who know about love; the beautiful women are too busy being fascinating." i have to say, Katharine, i agree with you. i also have to say that i identify with the latter woman (the fascinating kind).
now i have never been accused of lacking confidence, opinions, or intelligence. as a matter of fact i believe in my heart that i am stocked up on all three of those qualities. that sounds like a good thing i know, but i am learning that fascinating is not always appealing. which, in my professional opinion, is a modern day tragedy.
i have a dear friend who i believe is similar to me in so many ways. i actually have a few dear friends who i consider like-minded. and i must say, that while i consider us each to be the total package, apparently we all have a fundamental flaw that is leaving us at the singles table at every wedding reception. it is also causing us to be replaced by less accomplished, more needy, and completely boring females.
now i have thought long and hard about what this flaw could possibly be and i have determined (after careful consideration) that it does not exist. it is a myth established by the authors of dating books to make us think that we need to amend who we are in order to be a marketable human being. i am here to say that is complete crap. i should never have to hear that i am sporting a defect. i should not pay $16.99 to read and that as soon as i get a total body, mind, and soul makeover i will be a 10. it is a scam and it is creating a generation of women who are worried about being professional, powerful, smart, and funny. if there is a flaw in this train of thinking it does not exist in us. it is a flaw found in others. others who are simple, unimpressive, sometimes rather handsome, and plain ole intimidated.
why is it bad to be a successful female capable of maintaining her own finances, dwelling, appearance, and mind? why is it bad to have a good job, be a good friend, and go great places? why would anyone be off-put by someone who does not need to be "tended?" why would anyone avoid someone who wants nothing more than to share her positive situation with you?
if you can answer any of these questions than i assume you are aligned with the enemy forces and your answer will be deemed outrageous and invalid. because, honestly, it doesn't make any sense to dodge people who are "together."
as females we are taught to be graceful, polite, fun, witty, and mild. but, in my house we were also taught to be self-sufficient, smart, well-rounded, and driven. i was taught that a smart girl is a pretty girl and that a pretty girl is fascinating. i want so badly to believe that i was taught correctly, but i seem to (more often than not) encounter people who were taught something so completely different. as a result i am often not invited to the ball and labeled sassy, intense, and harsh. which (lucky for me) i'm too shallow to stay bummed for too long. in my world, however, these descriptive words are simply synonyms for quick-witted, focused, and direct. none of which are bad things and we cherish these qualities my male counterparts.
so here's to all the gals who sit at the fundraiser dinners with their co-workers and make solid business transactions at the drink table. here's to the girls who wear heels everyday because we know that height is directly related to success and income. here's to the ladies who always open invitations addressed to ________ and guest. here's to the females who check emails and bank accounts on their iPhones. here's to the to all of us who understand how to be polite and firm. and here's to our dad's...may you know that even though we have not provided grandchildren yet, we will never need to move back into your house to get on our feet...we're good.