My Mom, The Liar

The title may deceive you into thinking my mom is some type of pathological liar. Someone who when you're telling her a story from your work or school day, tells you she has to go to the bathroom real quick and then you find her laying on her bed watching tv.... Okay actually she did do this - multiple times- but my mom is (usually) not a liar. My mom is cooler than your mom, cuter than your mom, and way more fun than your mom. But there are a couple of times my mom has “earned” this title.

At the young vulnerable age of 6 my very best friend Jenner (our precious Golden Retriever) passed away on my first day of first grade at a new school. Cue the pity tears. My parents woke me early that morning so I could say goodbye to my sweet BFF. I had no idea why I was saying goodbye and also why the heck they were waking me up at 5am, but nonetheless I laid down on my sweet buddy (no he didn’t die from me laying on him) and kissed him goodbye. Cue way more tears.

Later, my sister and I went to school, came home and opened our first day of school presents.

Oh you didn’t get first day of school presents? My parents did it right. First day of school presents were the BEST! A new tea set, a new outfit, cookies…. Food - always the best present.

While I was opening my beautiful new tea set, my parents said they had something they needed to tell us. My mom started to cry and my dad choked up. He gave us the terrible news that Jenner had died that morning. Seeing as though Jenner was my BFF I was heartbroken. Seriously, I thought about having to go to grief counseling!

So now that I have you crying and have yet to tell you how my mom is a liar – fast forward 3 years. I’m not sure how it came up, but we were talking about sweet Jenner one day and how that day was so hard. My mom mentioned how it was tough on her and my dad when they had to take him to the vet and …

PUT HIM DOWN.

WAIT. WHAT???!!!

MY PARENTS killed Jenner??!!! This whole time I had imagined him passing away peacefully all on his own, not Dr. Kevorkian style! Who have I been living with?? My childhood has been one huge lie!

*Disclaimer: He was really really sick and had to be put down, my parents didn’t actually kill him.

I also found out that day that a year prior, the “hairstylist” (SuperCuts) had cut my hair uneven - like a good inch difference. Do not blame me for being unaware - my hair was crazy. But that’s another story...

All trust was gone. Complete devastation.

My mom, the Liar.

Another account of my mother lying and I promise you, you won’t cry.

I was a cute kid. Blonde, curly hair, chunky, cute kid. Then my baby teeth left and the monster teeth grew in. Literally my two front teeth were twisted, one with an under bite, one over. It was a mess. I had always thought braces were so cool- I was like 9 okay? I even used to use the twist off part of the Mondo drink as braces. If you don’t know what Mondo is I feel SO bad for you!! I suggest buying a pack on Ebay, that is surely expired, for $50. #worthit. Spoiler alert – Mondo twist offs don’t fix your teeth.

Due to the makeshift Mondo braces failing me, my mom set an appointment with our orthodontist. The only thing I kept asking was if they had to pull my teeth. For some strange reason I had a fear of my teeth being pulled. I made sure I pried out every last one of my baby teeth so the dentist had nothing left to do. She PROMISED me that no teeth would need to be pulled. So after hearing this wonderful news I was once again excited about braces. I went in for my consultation, was gagged by the horrible teeth molds- seriously can we not find a new invention for this?? - and then was placed in the orthodontist’s office to discuss the plan of attack on these mutant teeth.

The doctor pulls out the x-rays and starts to circle teeth. He first informs me that I am missing my laterals (the ones on either side of your two big front teeth for all you non dentist loving people out there) Um excuse me?? I’m missing teeth?? He explains that this is genetic. I start making my hit list in my head of family members who cursed me with this. Then he circles a tooth. “And this is the tooth we will need to pull.” I immediately come out of my hit list coma - ORTHO SAY WHATTT?? 

Naturally, like any well behaved 10 year old, I FREAKED out. I practically shot daggers with my eyes towards my mom and calmly called her a liar. I start to raise my voice and tears stream down my face. Luckily, the office was a glass box in the area where everyone was getting their teeth contorted fixed so they all got to be a part of the show. I’m sure the patients thought I had been given 6 months to live by the way I was acting. Business was good that day.

After fully embarrassing my mom and horrifying our orthodontist we left. Silence and rage filled the car. My mom started to scold me even though this was ENTIRELY her fault! She PROMISED!! It took me a while to forgive her that time- probably like a day because I’m pretty sure she took me to get food, seriously it’s a fix all people! It probably didn’t help that when the dentist eventually did pull my tooth she jammed the shot so hard into my mouth she hit my sinus cavity so that was pretty fun.

My mom, the Liar.

In all seriousness, my mom is not a liar, but a wonderful person. She keeps all the secrets (secrets like you are going to have to get your teeth pulled, but I’m not breaking the news to you), refuses to talk bad about her kids (unless she is talking bad about me behind my back and I don't know about it..) and is the most amazing mom. I feel bad for everyone else, because they’ll never have Jana Kennedy as their mom (except for my sisters). 

Happy Mother’s Day Mom and to all the other moms who have had to lie to their kids a time or two!

Trust The Process

You may not laugh hard but maybe you will be encouraged or maybe you will never read something of mine ever again. I’ll take my chances. I’ll go back to random embarrassing stories of myself soon J

So these days I am pretty into every weight loss show - I need the motivation, people! From Biggest Loser to Fit To Fat To Fit, it's all the same thing. People have an eating addiction they’re trying to break to create a better life for themselves. At first they are REALLY motivated. They’re working out, changing their eating habits and dropping weight fast! Week 2 rolls around – only a 2lb weight loss. Okay, a little disheartening but it’s progress! They continue the next week going through the motions, but not as excited. Week 3 weigh in – NO weight loss!!! You watch how hard they work and they lose NOTHING. This is when they have a full on MELTDOWN. The trainer starts in on their motivational speech to pump them up - that’s usually when I start to zone out – but something caught my ear this time. The trainer said “trust the process”. You’re doing everything right, giving it your all but you aren’t seeing results yet?? Trust the process. This hit me. This happens to me (like as in this week) when I’m working out and eating healthy and see no results. And maybe I cry and contemplate breaking the scale and eating a box of Samoas.

But trusting the process doesn’t just pertain to weight loss. So you’re praying and believing for something and you think God is just not hearing you? Trust the process. You prayed for something that you needed at a certain time – trust the process. It’s not OUR way but it’s HIS!! Our plans are so insignificant in comparison to what He has planned for us. But we have to, trust the process.

For months, I had envisioned my wedding ceremony taking place at certain spot at our venue. An outside wedding, in a pecan grove, in the middle of March, in Oklahoma. You could call me a risk taker, or crazy take your pick (my mom will totally pick crazy. Sorry for the stress Mom!)  Two weeks before the wedding it snowed a good 3-5 inches. Then the day before it rained ALL day. Like did not stop, pouring down, flooding, type of rain. I had prayed and dreamt about this day and now everything was ruined. The morning of, I had to just let it go. What was done was done. There was no reason to be upset- I was getting married!

As I drove up to the venue I saw the most beautiful setting. The chairs were set around the circle drive with an amazing pergola adorned with the perfect flowers at the spot I would say “I do”. This was better than what I had envisioned. This was something I never even thought about! This was God saying, “Always trust MY process”. Earlier in the week we had marked the previous ceremony spot by a couple of orange flags. We still went out to take pictures in the grove and wouldn’t you know it – the only (HUGE) puddle was right in the middle of those orange flags. That’s something I would totally do if I was God.

This is just one of the many ways God has shown me how good He is. God may “screw up” your plans. You may question it and maybe even get mad. Stop. His ways are better. SO much better. Better than you could ever dream. So whether it be weight loss, financial needs, or a detail on your wedding day. Trust the process. 

Mawwage Sweet Mawwage

Our wedding was my favorite day of all time. I got to marry Nathan (the coolest, most fun, funniest, kindest, cutest guy around) and there was ZERO stress - that day. It was beautiful, I felt beautiful, and all of my amazing family and friends celebrated us so wonderfully. Though the honeymoon was slightly stressful (only the flights – Delta, I’m still salty), it was still so fun and relaxing! If you’re living in Kauai, aka paradise, and you’re stressed – we need to talk.

Then it happens. Back to life. Back to reality.

If you didn’t just sing that line, then we are not friends (jk!). Or you are my husband who doesn’t know any music (I asked him later if he recognized that song lyric and he said yes…bold face lie)

Back to reality where I now have a new roommate. A new MALE roommate. Now granted, I will put money down that I live with the most enjoyable laid back man ever. He is far from high maintenance, needy or loud. He is calm, kind and asks for nothing. But still, a man. Like a man who leaves his oatmeal bowl in the sink to let it “soak” for 2 days, because, of course, you can’t just rinse it out right away. Or the man who leaves the toilet seat up. I made him explain to me WHY men can’t pee with the seat down. I just don’t get it, and maybe I’m okay with not really knowing so please don’t give me a science lesson.

Our first night in our new apartment we were discussing cleaning. He asks, “Now would you like me to just put the dishes in the sink or would you like me to put them in the dishwasher?” And this is my example of living with a man. It’s just different. And poor Nathan was in for a whirlwind with his new roommate (me).

The first week back to reality felt so normal. Creepy normal. Like we had always been married normal. It was so fun (and still is). Eating terribly and staying up late watching countless hours of Netflix. Until it struck. Saturday early morning at around 3:30 I woke up breathless. I walked around the room for 5 minutes trying to compose myself. I went into the other room so I wouldn’t wake Nathan, who had work in just a few hours. I could not catch my breath. Every thought came to my head. I’m dying. I’m having a heart attack. How do I know if this is a heart attack? Is my left arm hurting? I heard your right arm could hurt during a heart attack, too. Yep, this has to be a heart attack.

Don’t Google. Don’t Bing. Don’t Yahoo. Just don’t. It will always tell you that you are dying and then your symptoms become worse. WAY worse. Like yelling in the room at your husband that we have to go to the hospital NOW type of worse.

Okay, I didn’t actually yell but I was panicked. He immediately prayed for me and we jumped in the car. We sat in the hospital parking lot for 2 hours. I didn’t want to go in and get slammed with a huge bill for something that could possibly be nothing (I’m a budget-er and this was NOT in the budget), but I wanted to be close enough to the hospital in the case I really was having a heart attack (pathetic and sad, I know). No one else plans things out like this? Liars.

Sweet Nathan never complained and was really just concerned- probably more concerned that he made a huge mistake and married a crazy woman. He stayed awake with me until I fell asleep and then he had to get ready for work. Selfless- you can leave the toilet seat up any time. Just kidding you earned 2 free passes *He used these within one day so the pass is now GONE*

The next day I felt totally normal. I chalked it up to indigestion (it was really a pulled muscle in my back) and vowed to never eat On The Border in bed at 11pm ever again. This was probably a good decision all around.

The small annoyances (and my craziness) are so small in comparison to how fun marriage really is. Are we perfect? Almost Not at all. Should I cook, clean and do laundry more? Sure! Should I stop asking for things? “Oh, since you got up from the couch could you turn on the fan, bring me a water, make me dinner and scratch my back when you’re done with all of my other requests?” Maybe Yes, stop being high maintenance. Should Nathan put the dishes away (he doesn’t have many downfalls to choose from)? Yep! But we are learning and if you don’t like it you can sue us. *But don’t actually because it’s not in the budget*

**Also, if you don’t understand the title, you need to download The Princess Bride immediately, stop whatever you’re doing and watch it – your boss will understand. For those who don’t like the movie, I can only apologize for your poor judgement**

 

Nose Job

#FlashbackFriday to Fifth Grade. I loved everything about that year. I had the best teacher, all of my friends were in my class, and I won Student of the Year. Life was good. Despite my chubbiness and horrendous teeth, I was a cool kid in elementary school. God blessed me with a beautiful best friend, Brooklyn, who was very popular. This in turn made ME popular. This was truly a miracle from the Lord and I’m pretty sure it’s recorded somewhere in the Old Testament.

One day Brooklyn and I were “playing” on the playground during PE. I use the word “playing” loosely because I’m sure I was finding the least physical activity to be a part of.  I was the kid that only got picked for tug-of-war because I was big. The kid that always wanted the presidential patch, but wound up with the participation. Seriously, who can do a pull up in 5^th grade?!

While on the playground, Brooklyn decided to climb up a contraption I like to call, the Rainbow of Death (ROD). This death trap “toy” was a ladder that twisted in an upside down U shape and there were no directions! How was this even fun?! Or safe?! Yep, I was also that other kid. The kid that thought about safety at age 7. The kid who followed all of the rules and who loved reading any handbook just to find out what kind of rules we should be abiding by. I still love a good handbook.

Being besties since birth, Brooklyn knew I wouldn’t climb. She asked me if I would help her get down after she was finished playing on the ROD. I obliged and watched her from 60 8 feet below. After a few minutes, she had had her fun and I was ready to help her down. She started on her departure and screamed, “Oh no! I don’t need help anymore!’ I saw a shoe flying towards my face, but I didn’t have the quickest reaction time. Everything went black. I instinctively covered my face while blood gushed from my crushed nose. Brooklyn screamed and I assured her I was fine. She started to tear up and I started to chuckle.

This was always the reaction with the both of us.

In second grade we traveled to Dallas for her birthday and stopped at the Galleria to ice skate. I, Miss Safety, held onto the rail the whole time while Brooklyn was basically Michelle Kwan.  While I was gripping the railing for dear life, I see her aunt trying to get my attention. I shuffled quickly to exit and learned that Brooklyn had cut her lip and may have to get stitches. I started bawling. I run hobble to the medic’s office and she is laughing. WHAT?! Yes, we always had the adverse reaction. This event also scarred me for life and I am NOT a fan of ice skating. Hello! Sharp blades all around you! What if you fall and someone skates right over you and cuts you in half?! Sorry for now scaring you from ever stepping on the ice again.

Brooklyn led me to our PE teacher, and informed her that we had an accident. As expected of a PE teacher she was quite tough and demanded that she see it first – as if I were trying to get out of something physical! HA! I opened up my palms and she gasped after seeing the blood. She immediately became very sympathetic and instructed us to go right inside to the nurse.

You’re probably thinking “and then she went straight to the nurse, the nose was broken, and she went home! The end!” Nope! Fun Fact #21- I was NOT a doctor fan. I really appreciate everything they do for us, but I truly believed that if I went to the nurse she would tell me I had a terminal illness. Yes, I really thought she would give me a life altering disease diagnosis instead of just telling me my nose was broken.

I blame this fear on Little House on the Prairie. You may have thought this show was sweet and heartwarming. WRONG!! It instilled fear into the lives of innocent T.V. watchers everywhere. Sweet Mary, her eye sight was just a little blurry so she goes to the doctor, BAM she’s BLIND! Oh Albert, you have a nose bleed? Let’s go to the doctor. BAM he DIES! It didn’t help that Bailie told me that I also would go blind, and that when I had a nose bleed I was going to end up like Albert. Sisterly love.

So needless to say, we bypassed the nurse and went straight for the bathroom. All I knew before I looked in the mirror was that my nose was bleeding and that I couldn’t see very well because my glasses had been knocked off into the sand pit- Crooked glasses, broken nose, chubby and crooked teeth, just trying to provide a good visual. Removing my hands from my face I assessed the damage. My nose was HUGE and I was kind of excited. I knew I would be getting a lot of attention from this baby. It was split down the middle and was already turning black and blue. What really impressed me was that I was wearing a white Gap t-shirt (of course I remember what I was wearing) and not a spot of blood was found on the shirt! Skillz.

I cleaned myself up and Brooklyn and I headed back outside, avoiding the angel of death nurses office at all costs. My friends were so apologetic when they found my bent glasses. I laughed and reassured them that that’s how they looked before! Who let me go out of the house like that??!!

My nose swelled and pulsated all day, but I lied and said I was fine. Brooklyn felt so bad and tended to me all afternoon. At the end of the school day, I walked outside and my BFF Sam yelled to my mom from across the parking lot, “Mrs. Kennedy!!! LOOK AT CORY’S NOSE!!!” My mom was horrified. She was angry that I didn’t call her, but what if she would’ve taken me to the grim reaper doctor!! She assessed my nose at home and we decided it was in fact, broken. It was even bigger the next day, and the attention I received wasn’t what I had hoped for. People gasped when I walked by, children pointed, babies cried, dogs barked. It wasn’t pretty. Eventually, the swelling went down, but the bump still remains.

The moral of this story: A friend that breaks your nose is a friend for life. And don’t watch Little House on the Prairie. 

Hair: An Excerpt From Backstop

When I found out my dad was writing a book I knew it'd be selfish of me if I didn't share it with the world. He's probably the funniest/wittiest/well written person I know and I won't hate you if you never want to read my writing again after reading his! 

Here is an excerpt from his book, Backstop.  


I had a lot of hair back then.  In 1972 hair was in and the more of it that you had, the better.  Pre 1972 and pre pubescent, a lot of hair would have worked great for me.  I had straight brown hair that would turn blonde in the summer, just like the cool guys in all the cool bands.  Unfortunately 1972 was post pubescent for me and along with all the other stuff puberty brings it delivered to my head a coarse, wiry tumbleweed that made all those picture-day combs obsolete for me.  Along with all the insecurities a kid brings to 7th grade, my hair was one of them. 

Dippity Do ( “a little dab will do you”) was the only hair product of that era for men.  Designed really only for a 50’s style “greaser” look my dad, who never threw anything away (a Depression Era thing), would pull this thick, green colored glob out of the jar and try to COMB it through my hair, yes I said COMB!  I don’t know why, but for some reason he could not accept the fact that my hair was not straight like his and my oldest brother.  He basically used the “it worked for me and my family when I was young” theory in every aspect of life.  Do everything the same way EVERY time and do it as FAST and as rough as you could!  I was on the bad end of that theory a lot as a kid.  I’m not sure why my dad was so rough and in a hurry to do everything, my god just watching him attack his teeth with a toothbrush was barbaric.  I don’t know how much stuff you can blame the Great Depression on, but what his teeth did to deserve that punishment was beyond my understanding.  My teeth also suffered from his lumberjack sensitivity when it came time to pull a tooth.  I cannot explain accurately the feeling I had in my gut when I would discover the tiny initial movement of a loose tooth. 

He was not the guy to be dressing a 5 year old.  When my mom was out of town he was trying to button and zip my jeans (Huskies) and in his "do it rough and fast" way he zipped my kindergarten penis up with the zipper.  Of course if you zip a penis up you have to zip it down to get it out, no worries because my father was at the helm gently guiding the zipper with its gouging copper barbs down until my once unnoticed penis was free.  I paid more attention to my penis afterwards and quickly learned to dress myself.  

Okay, where was I, oh yeah Dippity Do, and if that was not bad enough for a confused boy with crazy hair, hand held hair dryers were not invented yet!  My hair was at the mercy of the elements.  A few drops of water were enough to send it into a frizzy frenzy.  Swim day in gym was a cruel joke played on me by the straight haired gods, so was the fact that I had gym first hour which allowed me to parade this intruder on my head for the entire day.  My body had turned on me and my hair was the biggest traitor of all.  My 7th grade yearbook picture was a portrait of helpless confusion.  I stared into the camera wearing a too tight shirt and wearing a tie that was of course handed down throughout the years.  My eyes were pleading for help or at least an explanation.  Looking back now, the obvious remedy would have been to shave my head.  I have a perfectly shaped head.  I know this because a brain surgeon told me this once.  I also have one of the largest heads in the state, but it's shaped perfectly and a shaved head, or a burr as it was called back then, would have looked great.  As fate would have it, this “look” was not in and the only boys wearing their hair burred were the hillbilly’s in Jenks.  It was 1972 and I was rebellious and different.  Well, not really….it was my brother Dicky who was 7 years older than me who was different and rebellious.  The original hippy, he was selling grass (weed) before most kids had even tried it.  I knew he was selling it because in 4th grade I helped him load the grass into small matchboxes that were sold for $5 each.  

Anyway I was different and rebellious by proxy only.  I never broke a rule, went to church and made excellent grades.  My hair was the one truly rebellious act in my life, a “tyranny of hair” as one English teacher put it.  Half way through 7th grade, my dad, who still used the picture-day combs, took matters into his own hands and forced me to go to a new type of barber called a “stylist.”  The stylist was a bold new breed of barber who instead of asking you if you wanted a “regular” as my old barber would ask, would embark on giving you a “style” that was your own.  They would also have (and would sell you) hair spray, not your mothers hair spray mind you but hair spray for men!  Never was this heard of before. 

 My stylist was Nelson.  A tiny tiny man of about 5’3” who was incredibly effeminate and married with two kids.  Back then a man could wear a dress and lipstick to work but if he was married AND had kids he obviously was not a homosexual.  Nelson was entertaining and told me stories that were so nasty my dad would fall right off Plymouth Rock, where all good Pilgrims sit, if he were to hear one tenth of the stories I was told.  Nelson also disfigured my already disfigured hair so badly that not even the 3 bottles of hair spray, men’s hair spray, that he sold my dad could repair the carnage wrought by the shears held by the tiny tiny hands of Nelson.   Even my dad, who had no style and relied on my mom to lay out his clothes everyday, recognized that what had happened on my head that day was a travesty and I was never forced to cut my hair again.

Toga Throwdown: A Tale by Sixth Grade Cory

Sometimes it’s nice to flashback to a simpler time. A time where you could get away with calling your fat “baby fat” with the hope you would “grow out of it.” A time where your mouth was so full of metal it looked like the orthodontist was conducting a clinical study. Today, I will reflect on one of my shining moments from those so called simpler times. With that, I give you -  

Toga Throw Down: A Tale by Sixth Grade Cory

During a quarter in 6^th grade our whole “pod” studied the Roman Empire. Every day in history class we prepped for our big Roman Bowl we would have at the end of the unit. As you know from my previous blog, I love a good game show. The year before, I single handedly won the Geography Bowl so I was a pretty big name in the Bowl world. I hadn’t come to the realization yet that being smart wasn’t super cool in junior high, so I was PUMPED for this competition. A fun addition to the day – you had got to wear a toga. Thin sheets adorning awkward 6^th grader’s chubby bodies. I could NOT wait! I am a quarter Greek and who better to wear a toga than a legit Greek goddess? I had it all planned out. I would curl my hair and pin it up perfectly, letting the curls fall gently down from the tussled up-do. I was going to look so ethereal and all of the boys would fall in love with me. Just call me Aphrodite. If you are thinking I must have looked drop dead gorgeous, I have included a picture to better your judgment.

 The night before I couldn’t sleep due to the anticipation. Not only because I was going to transform into the hottest thing the school had ever seen, but I was going to kill that competition. The morning of, my mom helped me with my sheet toga. She placed the pins perfectly so there would be no Janet Jackson moments, or so we thought. I literally rode the bus in a toga, walked around school in a toga, and had never been more confident.

The Gold Pod assembled upstairs in a large conference room where the Roman Bowl would commence. Food stations lined the room along with uncomfortable 6^th grade kids dressed in their bed sheets they had slept on the night before.

My team was up first to compete. There were 6 of us on the team and honestly I can only remember one, my crush, who I just knew I was going to marry (definitely did not – no regrets!). Pretty sure he was totally checking out my toga the whole time and probably loved my two curled tendrils that fell nicely on either side of my face.

The buzzers laid in front of us and we were ready. I think I literally scored every point. My team was ecstatic! The boy of my dreams picked me up threw out his back, twirled me around and kissed me! THE END.

PSYCHE! They surprisingly weren’t as competitive as I was and didn’t really care. My mom warned me to stop getting so many questions right and let other people have a try. UH what???!! I just won the first round for my team and you tell me to back off the buzzer?! Jana, I am going for the GOLD!!

A few more teams competed while we waited for the semi’s to start. My team started pressuring me, “Cory, we didn’t study” they tell me. “You HAVE to win this for us, you’re our only hope”. I now know the pressure of Obi One- If you don’t understand Star Wars references I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems but R2 ain’t one.

I reassured my team, “Guys! I got this! Did you not see how I dominated?? Don’t you know I’m a quarter Greek??” Roman/Greek, Potato/Potahto. They were confident and I started to get a little in over my head, trash talking to the other teams and such. Yep, trash talking over a SIXTH GRADE history competition. I was the coolest.

Semis were up and I was more than ready. I sat in front of my buzzer and Mr. Travelstead, my amazing history teacher, read the first question. I looked over to my mom and she spoke to me through her eyes. “Don’t even think about touching that buzzer, give the other kids a shot.” Mom. You don’t understand! This is my time! I could be the hero! Everyone would love me and all the boys would be fighting over me! I think the toga was giving me a little too much confidence. 

Too much telepathy thinking went by and someone had already buzzed in and answered. Fine. I will give them ONE answer. During every question I couldn’t get my mom out of my head. Yoda  Mom, out of my head you must get!!

I was letting my team down. My buzzer stopped working and I knew it had to have been another Jedi mind trick. My mom was sabotaging me, but really saving me from TOTAL Loserville (I was only a visitor not a resident). The game was over and my team had been defeated. I let them down and I just knew I would never hear the end of it. I turned to apologize but they were already stuffing their faces with Roman delicacies (Lunchables). Did they not even care?! Ugh, 12 year olds.

The school bell rang and the day was over. I had been conquered and my title of Bowl Champion was stripped from me. I walked somberly to my bus, thinking that this day could not get any worse. I stepped outside and felt the cool breeze hit my stomach… MY STOMACH?! One by one the safety pins had popped. I looked down to find my white sheet lying over someone’s shoes that were not mine. I slowly raised my head to find none other than my future husband crush standing right in front of me. “IM NAKED!!!!!!” I screamed. Okay, I didn’t scream that and I actually wasn’t naked, but I might as well have been! Dressing that morning I thought I should wear something tight under the toga just so it wasn’t see through, because no one would ever see it, right??!! I wore my shortest tightest shorts and a TIGHT white t-shirt. I apologize for the visual. Sadly, this wasn’t my most embarrassing moment in junior high. I called off the wedding before he had a chance to, grabbed my sheet, mummified myself, and hopped on the bus to Loserville. 

The Object Of My Affection

********************************Guest Blogger************************************

Sometimes it's fun to switch it up a bit. And sometimes I'm just lazy and would rather have my sister write. So here I give you, my first guest blogger, Bailie Land.

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The object of my obsession affection

Do the words: ER, Grease, Lois and Clark, Remington Steele, Star Wars, books, running, Shang (from Mulan, duh), liquid tights, S’well bottles, Zumba, (the list goes on) mean anything to you? #probznot. You’re looking at a short list of some of my past and current obsessions.

Let’s face it, we all have our things that we love. Sure, you see a movie that’s really good and tell some of your friends, maybe even go a step further and give it a nice rating on Rotten Tomatoes…but then you go along living life.

Or, you get a new water bottle (that keeps liquid cold for 24 hours and hot for 12 – um MAGIC) and just go about your day.

Or, you see a character in, let’s say, a Disney movie about a young girl who needs to bring honor to her family and dresses as a solider to fight the Huns (so vague) and think, that Shang guy was pretty cool. And then YOU LEAVE IT AT THAT.

I’m not a specialist, but I think those are pretty normal reactions.

Cue the Broadway music, hit the lights and ever-present dance moves…

Enter, yours truly.

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Swim Fan, so just stop that thinking right now…seriously, STOP**

Confessions:

•  I can’t wait for a movie to end so that I can Wikipedia the heck out of it for all of the facts. Um, seriously – how fun is it to Wikipedia old movie stars and then click on other stars related to them and then the movies they were in and then their kids…… oh, that’s not fun?

• I openly tell people that I am a S’well bottle ambassador. (PS> that’s not a thing) But I feel like it is my mission in life to bring awareness to how amazing these things are! THEY KEEP YOUR LIQUIDS COLD FOR 24 HOURS!!!!!!

• I became incredibly obsessed with ER while in junior high…to the point that I wore one of my dad’s white button up shirts and called it my doctor’s coat. Oh, and nbd, but I taped and labeled every single episode (thanks, TNT for the throwbacks) and might have cried when Cory taped over one.

• Speaking of taping things, who else was totally in to The Adventures of Lois and Clark? I bet you figured out how to set the VCR in your condo in Florida to tape it, too. #Knewit.

• But guys, we can’t forget the ever-popular, Remington Steele! Aka Pierce Brosnan’s greatest work! You may ask, “Uh, have you seen James Bond??” and I will say, “But, have you SEEN Remington Steele?

• I saw Hairspray 10 (ten, T-E-N, 5+5) times in theaters. Like, by the time Zac Effron and Nikki Blonsky were doing the twist to You Can’t Stop The Beat…my heart was ready for another round of the movie. [Side note: Zach took me to my 5^th viewing of Hairspray for our first date…see, the movie is magical]

• I broke my VHS of Grease because I watched it too much. Um, I’m sorry I wanted to rewind the dance-off over and over to make sure I was doing the right moves when I performed it for my class in junior high school.

• My parents grounded me from watching my box set of Star Wars movies  (the OGs – let’s not talk ep 1 right now, I’m having a pretty good day) one summer, because I started to talk about painting my room black and was talking to my life-size cutout of Han Solo. But seriously, Han was the U-L-T-I-M-A-T-E! But even more, I mailed in an application to be in the Star Wars fan club… haven’t heard back, but I’m claiming membership.

• So, yes, I had a MAJOR crush on Shang from Mulan (I was young, people!!!!) His performance of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” was amazing. [Side note: Years later, I found out that Donny Osmond was actually Shang, and that pretty much cast a shadow over that brief period of my life]

•  I’ve been reading so much that for a brief moment, I thought I was the character in my book. But that’s totes norms, right? That wasn’t this week or anything. Shout out to all my readers- HOLLA!

Actually, as I type this, I realize that these aren’t really confessions, because if you are around me enough – I have talked about all of these things because, hello – OBSESSED PASSIONATE.

Basically, when I get into something, I go all in. Who wants to be so nonchalant about things anyway? And seriously, who wants to drink out of a water bottle that only keeps your water cold for 10 minutes?