Monthly Archives: September 2013

Your catty (and slightly scary) friend

Do you have a friend who tells it like it is? She’s smart and witty. She is brutally honest, delivering cutting remarks with a straight face, but has you rolling in the aisles.

She’s confident in herself. If she has doubts about her parenting skills, job, or body image, you’d never know it. Or she masks those concerns with hilarious deprecating remarks about herself. You love being around her because she says all the evil things you’re saying in your head, but too afraid to say out loud. Let’s face it, she has a gift for cattiness. And you’re a little scared of her. And you feel lucky that she  counts you as a friend.

Remember Clairee Belcher and Ouiser Boudreaux from Steel Magnolias? Yes, I’m definitely a Clairee, and I have a Ouiser.

Clairee and Ouiser – BFFs

They deliver catty remarks and they don’t care who hears them – it can be behind someone’s back or directly to their face.

“Lord, what was Jenny thinking when she put on those pants? Did she gain 10 pounds since leaving the house this  morning?

“Those babies are practically naked, JoAnne. And where are their shoes? This isn’t the Piggly Wiggly in Booneville. Are you trying to make people think you live in a trailer park so you don’t have to host Tuesday’s Bunco party?”

Yes, I’d like to think everyone has one of these friends. We love him or her dearly, but we cringe a little when they unleash their tongue on others.

They have a gift. Let’s be honest. They are the scrapbooking queen of catty.

And we’re just a little fearful of the day when they turn on us. Sometimes it’s a biting remark that leaves you crying in the pantry eating your way into a box of Ho Hos. Other times, you have to laugh because you know it’s not meant as malice, and besides… it’s so damn funny. You tell yourself it’s just their way of delivering the message.

Other times, let’s be honest, you just want to slap them.

She needs her very own t-shirt.

But every so often, you see the soft side.

You see the part of her that very few people see–the side of her that needs you as a friend, needs a hug and a glass of wine and a crying session. And this is the most remarkable of all, because you know that because she allows you to see her vulnerable side, she values you as a true friend who won’t judge or say, “Karma’s a bitch.”

And you can’t help but feel a little bit lucky.



#ouiser #notsomeangirls #keepyourcattyfriendscloser


Here Comes Monday!

When you realize that Sunday is half over
and your much coveted weekend is almost gone…

My Two Stomachs.

Most of my life I have always viewed myself as fat, I was quite thin when I was younger but then my body began to change around the time I hit 9th grade.  That was about the time I developed what my son calls, my two stomachs.  Now I know that endearing term sounds sweet and oddly reminiscent of that wonderful sitcom starring a young Paul Reiser but I swear my jelly roll is not as entertaining.


This piece was difficult for me to articulate, it is hard to admit to strangers that you’re fat.  I know I’m overweight, I can feel it when I try on the skinny jeans that reside at the top of my closet, but somehow I think I have you all hoodwinked.  I have learned how to dress appropriately, I know the fabrics and key words to avoid when ordering from catalogs.  While you might be able to see that I am overweight you can’t really tell how bad the train wreck has become.


I even know where to put my hands in a picture, it’s all in the position.

I thought I had all of these insecurities under wraps, until I caught myself trying to hold my shirt away from my spare tire as I walked through a parking lot on a windy day.  I was afraid someone would see my secret – my fat.  Then it happened, it was like a light bulb appeared on the top of my head as I thoughtfully crossed the automatic doors of Walmart.


I am fat.  I have a spare tire.  Do I really think that this t-shirt is the perfect camouflage and no one can see the extra 30 lbs I am carting around these days??

In just over a year I have lost a little over 30 lbs, and while that is no small feat, I still have a little over 20 lbs to go before I feel I will be in my healthy range.  I am a member of a karate dojo and have been actively trying to achieve my weight-loss and fitness goals.  I shouldn’t feel ashamed anymore, I am shooting for the moon and I am getting pretty close to grasping at the stars.


I will no longer let my muffin top make me feel like a bad person; a person that should be ashamed when the cool breeze caresses her plump face.  The extra toddler sized weight I carry around every day doesn’t make me less of a person; it doesn’t make me an unfit parent or bad friend.  It’s just weight.  While it might have leased space around my waistband, I ensure it’s a short lease – one I don’t plan on upholding.


For now I am going to wake up every day and do at least one good thing for myself.  I’m going to make sure I keep these legs moving.  I have a life to live, people to love, and an image of health to promote for my son.  While I might not be who I want to be yet, I can go to bed at night knowing I tried my hardest to be more than the woman with two stomachs.

— NinjaKitty

#mymuffintopisallthat  #yeahimfatsowhat  #thewomanwithtwostomachs

One of Those Days

I can just feel it. My day hasn’t even begun yet, but this is going to have to be my mantra. Here I go – Happy Wednesday, right?



I Am Catty About Fantasy Football

Football is a big deal in the South.  Anyone who has even driven through SEC country can attest to the fact.   As an Alabama girl transplanted to Georgia, nothing lets you know that the seasons are changing more than the Fall television roster and chatter about team rankings from …you know… everybody.

And, like I’ve done my entire life, every time football discussions arise, I respond in one of two ways, “Roll Tide, y’all!” or with complete silence.

The ‘Roll Tide’ comes from years of conditioning.  I was raised to believe that there was only one team in the great state of Alabama, and it was filled with elephants and bears wearing houndstooth hats.  I still watch the scores, but never the games.

The silence comes from not giving a crap.

Needless to say, an SEC-bred girl knows little of football and NOTHING of the NFL.  In my Dad’s world, and subsequently my own, there was Alabama vs. Georgia, Alabama vs. Arkansas, Alabama vs. LSU and the penultimate:  Alabama vs. Auburn.  And, unless Alabama moved into a national championship, that’s where football season ended.

So, you can imagine my surprise, when at the ripe, old age of 39, I joined a corporation filled with NFL fans.  I mean, I suppose it’s a reasonable expectation in Atlanta Falconland.  But, I didn’t even know Atlanta had a professional team until I moved to the area and the office began its annual fantasy football league discussions.

In.The.Dark.  I totally don’t get it.  Maybe it’s my gender, and maybe it’s my childhood, but I think fantasy football has got to be the dumbest invention since Dungeons and Dragons.

My co-workers even block time out of their day for the drafts — from the EVP to the the lower echelons of the group (like yours truly).  I use this free time to browse for memes which help me mock them.


And they play EVERY YEAR.  It’s like clockwork.  Office banter becomes boring, obsessive, and stupid.  I’ve purchased a new set of ear buds, and if I did nothing but set my Pandora to the Rick Astley channel, I’d still leave work in a better mood than if I’d tried to listen and comprehend the intricacies of playing imaginary sports.

This year, I’ve begun planning for the 2014 football season early.  My new goal will be to convince them that fantasy football has run its course.  It’s old.  It’s tired.  We need some new fantasy competitions — one I can play in, too.  But what kind of fantasy competitions could I win?  There’s no point in suggesting them, if I couldn’t roast them, you see.  (That’s catty.  I know.)

My ideas for fantasy games that don’t involve protective wear:

  • Fantasy Broadway Casting
  • Fantasy Figure Skating
  • Fantasy Smut Romance Novel Cover Art
  • Fantasy Internet Dating (redundant, I know)
  • Fantasy We Are the World II group
  • Fantasy Miss Mommy America
  • Fantasy Celebrity Rehab

I’m sure there are other fantasy-gameplay options.  We just need to find and implement them.  Input welcome — what fantasy games do you think we can get going to distract the rest of the football playing world from this practice?

Ultimately, of course, my fantasies only involve Colin Firth, who I obsess over regularly.  Is there such a thing as a Fantasy Colin Firth game?  I’d totes ace it.


Oh, yeah — and Roll Tide, y’all!

Life is Too Short to Miranda Yourself

When I hit puberty, it hit me back. I grew big boobs rather quickly and, despite being involved in a sport, I gained over 60 pounds (of course, living in an area in which practically everything but the water was fried didn’t help). After high school, I lost that weight and have managed to keep it off. Nowadays when discussing things like weight gain or body issues associated with weight (like back fat), I get these looks that, to me, seem to be saying, “Shut up. You’re thin. You have no idea what it’s like.” Well, yeah, I actually do.

But that’s not what I want to talk about.

I want to talk about body acceptance. In our culture, women are constantly told in direct and indirect ways that we’re never good enough, that if we only lost some weight, if we only used this product, if we were only younger/sexier/smarter/dumber/blonder/redheaded/brunette/tanner/lighter/bustier/less busty/taller/shorter, then everything would be perfect. Well, I said “Screw that!” a long time ago. I quit reading the fashion magazines when I was a teenager because every new issue was about the same old things — how to get boys, how please boys when making out, the clothes I should be wearing, the make-up I should be wearing, how I should be wearing my hair, the latest fad diet news, and of course the obligatory “how this person overcame these odds” or “why you’re ok the way you are” piece. All of these stories were surrounded by tons of ads for products that were supposed to make me a better person with pictures of models that have been retouched to an impossible (sometimes very warped) and homogenized beauty standard. I quit reading them because I realized that I was actually paying them to make my feel bad about myself! Oohhhhh, I don’t think so!

I was sick of my self-esteem being in the toilet, so I decided to find one thing that I liked about myself and focus on that. Instead, I found two — my hair and my lower legs (I was overweight, but I had very defined muscles). A few years later, there were some major changes in my life situation and I lost most of the weight. However, it took at least another year for me to stop seeing myself as the fat girl I used to be and to realize that I didn’t wear the same size clothes that I had before!

These days, I don’t own a scale. If my clothes fit, I know I’m doing ok. If they start to get tight, I know I that I need to take a look at what I’m eating or the exercise I may or may not be doing.

I don’t watch the fashion or modeling shows.

My boobs sag (and they have since I was about 13).
I have the remnants of all those stretch marks I earned as a teen.
My inner thighs have always been jiggly.
I am not a size 2. Or a size 0. And I don’t want to be. I don’t know exactly when sizes 0 and 2 became the most desirable sizes to be, but I find it ridiculous. I remember hearing about “the perfect size 6” growing up…well, I’m about a 6-8 now and I’m not supposed to be satisfied with that?? Whatever!
I find those chin hairs none of our mothers ever warned us about and hope that no one ever noticed.
I have never since been in as good a shape as I was at 22-25.
I have a skin condition.
My nose is pointy.
My teeth aren’t perfect or perfectly white.
I usually don’t wear much make-up (if any at all).
Without any kind of ladyscaping, I’m sure I could easily look like a Sasquatch. However, I don’t obsess over making sure my legs are perfectly smooth at all times.

And you know what? I’m ok with all of it (ok, except for the chin hairs). Though I’m sure she would disagree, I am no less a woman than fashionista Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada — just a different kind of woman.

Geez, Miranda, we’ve never even met!

Changing these things and trying desperately to look 20 and to live up to Miranda’s standards won’t make me a better person and it won’t make my life all roses and butterflies.

If you want to strive for something physically, strive for better health. Life is too short to hate yourself. Quit trying to hold yourself and others to standards created by folks trying to profit from your insecurities.

Even Miranda tried to change for the better. Oh wait, no, no she didn’t. Don’t be a Miranda.

Mommy Miss America?

The Miss America Pageant is overrated.  It is women in their absolute prime dedicating all their free time (trust me, ladies, whether you believe it or not you really do have free time) to practicing their talents, staying abreast of current events, and working out.   It is a façade that people really can be perfect from the tips of their perky boobs to depths of their super smart grey matter.  It provides opportunity to hear the cattiest of the catty comments via social media and allows us to feel bad about ourselves because we can’t match them or feel better about ourselves because of us or others tearing them apart.  It allows me to wish we could have a more realistic view of women.  Hell, why don’t we hail mommies of the world?




Candidates are scored on curriculum knowledge ranging from 1st grade Social Studies to 12th grade Calculus.  Bonuses are acquired for number of baking contest blue ribbons, completed Pinterest projects, length of time it took to potty train children, and vegetables children are willing to ingest on command by judges.


  • BandAid application – judged on accuracy and speed
  • Best science project completed by mom with assistance from child
  • Minivan hood modeling
  • Profanity speed spelling – judged on accuracy and speed (children must be pre-readers to compete)
  • Last minute Halloween costume concocting
Yes, I really DID do this and I asked my almost five year old to snap it for me.  Don't judge.

Yes, I really DID do this and I asked my almost five year old to snap it for me. Don’t judge.

Evening Gown/Swimsuit

  • Least dimples and varicose veins in swimsuit cover-up competition
  • Most endearing crow’s feet and laugh lines (Botox disqualifies you)
  • Most improved by girdle and push up bra (Before and after walks required)
  • Least offensive Keds.

See?  There are a gazillion realistic ways in which mommies can excel.  I am not sure why this is not already an existing competition because I would watch the HELL out of it.  Talk about finding a middle aged role model!

What categories would YOU like to see?