Stepford Wives Challenge

 

Greetings, Chaotics!  

I'm having a bit(okay, a lot) of cabin fever. I got into an argument with my husband....my house is a mess...and my kids are being slight...pains in the behind. So, maybe my whole house is having cabin fever.
Recently, I watched the "horror" movie, The Stepford Wives. Don't ask.
Bet some of you didn't know the original(1974 version) was a horror movie, did you?
You're googling it now, aren't you? (O.O)
........or, maybe that's just me (*-_-).
Anyways, I know several of you may not of even seen any of the movies(FYI-there's four. Yes, four). But y'all know the idea, right? Pretty much any wife who is a housewife/stay-at-home mom has been, at one point or another, been accussed of being one. And usually in a demeaning or belittling way.
So, after watching the first(and fourth) and almost vomiting at the second, I got to thinking...what IS the big deal?
Granted, I know they are robots in the first, drugged in the second, and computer programmed in the fourth(spoiler alert. You're welcome.). And yes, I think its awful that the men they trusted did that to them against their will. I'm not arguing that.


Creepiest.Scene.Ever.

However, the notion that women who enjoy being at home...putting their husbands and children before themselves...that enjoy and passionately pursue cooking and cleaning...that they are somehow weird or not living up to their full "modern woman" potential...that I DO disagree with.
Please don't get me wrong. While I don't agree with the modern feminist movement, I do think that, the main idea was that women could and should choose to do what they wanted.
So...why is it that if women WILLINGLY, ON THEIR OWN choose to stay at home and make the home their vocation, they don't fit the feminist agenda?

Okay, rant over.  

Regardless, this movie got me thinking.
I am a housewife. As you can see in my first statement, I don't quite fit the bill for a robotic-perfectionist-type of woman. So, no my husband isn't putting me up to this. And even if he did, I don't even know how much something like that would cost...but either way, we probably couldn't afford it. I think they charge extra to convert plus-size gals like me.

But if I could spit out money, that'd be kinda worth it.

*Kidding*
But in all seriousness, with my husband and I butting heads, and me having to yell at the kids to clean up their messes every...five seconds...is it so awful to imagine that, maybe..maybe...the idea of willingly being a Stepford Wife...is not all bad? That maybe it's not the kids or my husband, but actually just...ME? That maybe if I change into something a bit more humbling, a bit more feminine...maybe our home will change, too?
So, I got to thinking. What if, for 30 days, I became a Stepford Wife?

Yes, cabin fever has hit full force. And, I love that dress!


I googled about it and it turns out, there are other wives that willingly chose to become Stepford Wives. Not as a challenge, but as a literal way of life.
And while a few of those websites may be...well, actually written by men, most are written by women and only a very small few are actual satire. The remaining actually live this out or progressing towards living this out.
So, with this in mind, I thought what if, for the month of January, I actually transport myself into a Stepford Wife?
Would my husband actually love it? Would my kids? Would I?
I am going to be using this website as my "rules" for the month(they have a more detailed list when discussing the Stepford Wives Book here. You have to scroll down a little.).
And while doing the challenge, I decided to actually finish(yes, because I've only had it for over a year and all) "Created to Be His Helpmeet" by Debi Pearl. While they do have a recommended reading list(which, if I were doing this longer, I'd start to acquire), I felt like this book would be better suited for a monthly challenge since 1. I already own it and 2. I'm trying to focus more attention on my personal issue of proper submission than trying to obtain robotic-like perfection in manners and grace.

Although, a bit more fairy dust in the grace and manners department wouldn't kill me.

And I'm going to upload my daily thoughts on the challenge on my YouTube Channel here.
What are your thoughts? Is this a form of insanity/cabin fever? Or is it just a glorified version of the same old song and dance(i.e. Biblical Submission, etc.)? Do you know anyone who is a proud Stepford wannabe?
Until Next Time,
Mama Jenn

Where Have All the Family-Friendly Movies Gone?

Greetings, Chaotics!
For the past few months, my husband and I have been struggling with something.
You see....we are having a hard time picking out family-friendly movies. Before we got married, and before I knew better, I assumed that pretty much any cartoon movie was a safe assurance it was family-friendly. I mean, children are(usually) the intended audience for a cartoon, are they not?
But, a few months ago, a few verses in the Bible jumped out at me, and I started to evaluate what I, myself was watching and listening to. I had started to connect a few dots, and the more I did, the more I realized how much shows, movies, and music was setting the tone for my attitude towards myself, my husband, and my children....and how quick I was to go into a sour/displeasing mood as a result of watching and listening to certain things.
Eventually, I felt convicted so much about what I was watching/listening to, that I taped the verses to the top of my TV screen. That may sound weird or silly, but it's amazing how much you won't watch if you have the Word of God staring at you each time you turn on the 'tube.
Last month, my husband stated verbally he was feeling convicted of what he was watching, as well. I didn't become a TV nazi, he came to this on his own, seperately. Then we started talking about our traditional Saturday Family Movie Nights....and how with each week, it was becoming more and more of a struggle to find something that everyone could watch without partial nudity, sexual suggestions, or cursing. So, we turned off the TV/movie watching for a bit, and turned Saturdays into Family Game Nights.
I started looking at Redbox once a week to see what new movies we might be able to watch. Before searching, there were over 30 movies listed on their app for me to possibly watch, many of them cartoons. I did a search for G-rated movies that were under the categories "Comedy" "Children" or "Family".
Do you know how many appeared on average, fitting that criteria?
A whopping three. That's right...THREE.
Out of those three...one we had already seen, one looked like it was a low-production/poorly made children's movie that received a "dove" approval, and the last was usually something we had either already seen or gave the appearance of having the suggested audience of babies and toddlers.
I tried increasing the rating to "PG".
And every single new cartoon poped up, along with some...questionable movies.
After reviewing a few of the reasons why a cartoon( a CARTOON!) would be rated PG, I started to see a pattern...
even cartoons today can't make a decent living unless they involve partial nudity, suggesting sex in some way(even if mildly by today's standards)crude humor, a mention of butts or backsides, and some popular but questionable singer doing their soundtrack.
What is going on? Now, we can't even watch 99% of cartoons without seeing a butt, partial nudity, or sexual inuendos!
We are coming to a rock and a hard place....
I have an 11-year old daughter who THINKS she's ready for teenage-related stuff in all areas...except the movies that are coming out today "geared" towards teenagers.
I have a 9-year old son who wants to watch super-hero related movies/shows, but is disgusted with how much nudity, cursing, and sexual references come with them.
I have an 8 year-old daughter who wants nothing more than to watch what the others are watching, but will get nightmares or can't get out of her head all the garbage that is associated with older-child intended movies.
I have a husband who hates musicals, and all girly-related movies, as does my son(which, by the way, is the only other option we have aside from the three mentioned above when looking into G-rated movies).
So...what are we to do? As more Saturdays come and go, we are both becoming frustrated and disgusted with the movie options set before us. Even movies we've seen as children we are starting to realize aren't safe/G rated(seriously, why the hello kitty did anyone let a child see movies like "Indiana Jones", "Batman Forever" and "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?"?!?).
I'm not trying to hold my family to my standards. I'm really not. There have been several occassions where I have allowed movies that I personally felt convicted NOT to watch, but they thought they were ready to watch...only for THEM to ask to turn it off because they realized it wasn't what they thought/had things in it they didn't want to see,etc.
And, with even Christian targeted movies having at least a PG rating and production companies only rolling out one every 6-12 months, we're finding fewer and fewer options that we'd all be willing to watch.
We WANT to watch movies together. We absolutely love having Saturday as our "rest" day and ending it with a yummy dessert and popcorn, all huddled/snuggling on the couches/under blankets, and watching something we're all excited to see. Plus, with my husband working and gone all week due to being a truck driver, it's the only time a week that we all can sit around the TV and watch something we all agree on. And it's always fun to quote a funny line or use the movie as a conversation starter/inside joke between all of us.
So, again I ask...what are we to do? Are we to merely limit ourselves to watching movies every 6-12 months, hoping something family-friendly will sprout up somewhere in between? Are we to just stick largely with game nights? Are we the only ones encountering this struggle? If so, what do you do?
We want something that will bring us together, to end the week as well as our "day of rest", but we don't want our children to be scarred or tramatized every other Saturday as a result.
I just want to know where have all the family-friendly movies gone...and when they're coming back.
Until Next Time,
~Mama Jenn

Raw

I had intentionally delayed writing this post for some time. I tried very hard to tell it all in a humorous way. But it was still too fresh a pain. So I put it off for a bit until I knew I could write it without crying.  Forgive me if it sounds random or bitter, m'kay?

The man I mentioned in the past two entries has decided for reasons that my heart will not understand to terminate potential anything’s going on between us. I wish I could have enough respect for him to continue calling him “the Gentleman”, but over the past week he has proven to me that he doesn’t deserve such a title.

I’m not saying that because I’m bitter or angry over the situation. I had full intentions on continuing to call him by that name. No matter how hurt or angry I was, I really did think he was a gentleman. That is, until I saw a side of him I never expected to see. And, of course, it wasn’t until my heart stopped having mushy feelings for him that it all made sense.

I won’t get into all the nitty-gritty details of it, but even when he had cut ties with me, even when he had the opportunity to tell the truth, he had instead opted to lie to me. After taking a few days to ponder it all, I finally saw what I didn’t want to admit. What I hoped was not true. He had lied to me.

I thought I had made it clear to him that no matter what, NEVER EVER lie to me. I don’t care if you’re doing it because you’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings. I don’t care if he did it with the intentions of still wanting to remain on good terms. He lied to me, and if anyone who knows my past well enough knows I have zero tolerance for liars.

And for whatever reasons, he did it anyways. Granted, it was in small ways that wouldn’t normally amount to anything. But, I have found, if people lie about the small things, then they are more likely to lie about the big things. With each lie comes the lack of concern for those involved, and truth becomes too harsh a reality to accept.

You see, in my past, I have had several long-term relationships with liars. You would think after dealing with so many, I’d spot one a mile away. And normally, I do. But because I had become friends with this man long before I had hoped for anything romantic, I had let down my guard. Shame on me for doing so.  

I have always told him and anyone else who I’m close with (friends, relatives, etc.)…don’t lie to me. I don’t care how angry or upset you think I might be with the truth. I probably will be angry, but I will respect you a thousand times more because you cared enough to tell me the truth. I will AlWAYS  forgive the truth, but I become bitter with lies. Dealing with a liar makes me see red. And seeing red is not exactly something you want me to do, especially if you fully intend or hope to remain in my life or the life of my family. And whether you care to accept it or not, all my friends I consider a part of my family.

I won’t tell my life’s story here, but when it comes to romantic relationships, I have pretty much had a taste of all the things that can go wrong- Emotional/sexual/physical abuse, incarcerations, drug addictions, etc. And I tend to think of myself as a very tolerant person, even when it comes to abuses made to me. That’s not to say I don’t go looking for such abuses, I just mean that when I was involved in such relationships, I could take quite a few blows in any given department before I walk away. I guess that’s just the part of me that always tends to hope and look for the best in people.

However, the one that hurts the most is under emotional abuse…lying. While all of them hurt and take years of undoing, dealing with notorious liars haunts me longer than the others. I guess because all the other abuses center on lying in some way or another. Sexual abuse affects the body, and the parts mentioned can recuperate, but it’s the lies we tell ourselves while undergoing it that make it hard to move past. Physical abuse may bruise the body, and the wounds will eventually heal; but it’s the lies of “I’ll never do it again” that make it hard to accept it for what it is. Drug addictions from those we love can be forgiven, but it’s the betrayal, the lying and stealing that often accompanies it that makes us lose trust in a recovering addict. And don’t even get me started on the jail issue.

A man that lies is a man that reminds me all too well of my past. And I have worked too damn hard to move beyond my past to have it slap me in the face once again.

Yes, the man mentioned broke up with me. And yes, it hurt. I blamed myself many times. Up until a few days ago, I didn’t dare say any of it was his fault(lack of communication) because I really didn’t think it was(maybe I was asking for too much too soon?), and I didn’t want to sound bitter. I cared enough about him as a friend and person that I didn’t want to ruin that because of my mistakes. I respected his unspoken desire for privacy and never mentioned his name. Only a small circle of people know his real name, and that’s only because I know they don’t know him or don’t talk to him.

But, after seeing him lie to me, not once, but many times before and after breaking up with me, I have lost all respect for him. I know he didn’t know it, but he brought me to a place in my heart and mind that I hadn’t been to in years.

I went back to my raw place. I trusted him long before I liked him. Whether he wanted it or not, for a brief moment he had a place in my heart. He had long had it as a friend, but he suddenly took up more space in there as a beau. And now that he has not only broken up with me but has also lied to me…that space I had in my heart for him is raw, vacant. All the pleasant memories gone. All the sweet gestures and good times we shared are now pushed back in the closet of my mind. He is no longer the friend I thought he was. He is no longer the man he presented himself to be.

The worst part is I haven’t had a raw state in my heart for years. When I did, I wasn’t living my faith. I didn’t have God; I didn’t know he could fill those spaces. I had instead filled the raw places with bitterness, anger, sadness and sex.

I’ve tried hard over this short time to not go to that place. To fill the space left in my heart with such things. And I will admit I haven’t done a very good job of it. All but one I haven’t allowed.

I can forgive the fact that we didn’t work out. And it’s going to be really hard, but I will eventually forgive the fact that I not only lost a potential something, but what I thought was a great friend.  But the lying is something I’m going to need God’s help with forgiving, because I won’t forgive it on my own. Right now, the scars of it all are too fresh. And until God can mend up the raw and vacant places in my heart, I don’t know if I can forgive him completely.

I never really expected this to come from him. Because he was so different than what I’ve dealt with, I held him to a much higher standard. I didn’t expect him to be perfect, because I know we all fall short. But, considering what he has told me about his past, I though he would have learned from that experience not to do what was done to him. Just as I’ve discovered that I’m not as far beyond my past as I thought, I see now that neither is he. We both have some learning to do. But because of his lying, there is no chance of us ever attempting to move forward together. He has burned bridges I don’t think he realizes he has set fire to.

Also, I simply can’t trust myself to fall in love or hope for something of the sort. A lot of people think that when you lose trust, you often lose it in others. The truth is that you do to some degree; however you often lose it more in yourself. You doubt your ability to have a sense of normal in that area, because your version of normal was twisted and skewed. You’re suddenly not sure of that feeling in your gut telling you something is right and wrong. You wonder if you even know what real love looks like, feels like. And that’s the worst feeling of all.

So, I’m going to intentionally stop hoping and trying to find someone. I know myself well enough to know I don’t think I can handle another possible betrayal. I don’t want to become bitter towards all men because of the mistakes of a few idiots I allowed into my life. Everything inside of me craves intimacy and God-inspired love in the right form. But I just can’t have it now. I can’t trust that voice inside of me that desperately wants the love only a man can bring. I just can’t do it.

Yes, I’m raw, but I’m not broken. Not yet, anyways. I pray with everything within me that I never become broken beyond what God has already brought me through. Do I want to test the depths of that? No. So, I am taking this time to go into a corner, lick my wounds, and mend. And I’m not going to put myself in a position to return to my raw place. It hurts too much. It takes too much out of me. As a friend of mine reminded me, romantic love is nice, but my kids always come first. Allowing me to be in this position takes away energy, time, and places in my heart and mind from my kids. And while the world may disappoint me many times over, two things will always remain- God and my kids.

And raw places that will eventually heal.

Until next time,

Jennafer

A New Season of Life, part 2: The Dreaded “E” Word

Last week, I revealed my decision to become healthier. The biggest challenge I deal with being healthy (and losing saggy boobs in areas where boobs don't belong…) would be getting and staying physically active. In other words…the dreaded "E" word. Don't you DARE say it, or else I will make you wash out your mouth with chocolate!!





Well, this past week has been a…interesting test run on keeping a mindset to stay active. I kept telling myself, if I can do it at least 3 times this week, I'll be as happy as a clam. I was all giddy about my bike purchase. I couldn't wait to try it out, feel the wind in my Ronald McDonald 'fro, and zoom past my jaw-dropped kids who, when they finally closed their mouths, mumbled to each other, "Wow, I didn't know Mama could ride like THAT!"

Guess what? I forgot one little thing…I have not stepped my wide behind on a bike in over ten years. I mean, I didn't totally forget it. It was looming in the back of my head, but not in the way realistic people think about it. It was more like, "Oh, I haven't ridden a bike in ten years…but, you know what they say, once you learn, you never forget!" That was pretty much the extent of my thinking. I was afraid of forgetting how to ride it. More importantly, since having children, I have become a bit more of a klutz in the balance department.



I didn't think about the pain. Who does when they dream up crazy notions as I often do? That's like thinking about sleep before signing up for online college, knowing the only time you'll be able to do it is when the kids are asleep. And forgetting your best thinking occurs when you're in a half-asleep state. This occurs between the hours of 12-3 in the morning.

Now you know why...

Think about pain? Uh…no. I'm still trying to remember to call all my kids by their proper name, who has time to think about pain? Well, regardless of my lack of thinking, the pain still arrived. No warning, no invitation from my body. It crept slowly alongside my bike halfway through the first day. Despite no invitation from me, Pain is rather polite. It gives you a warning (in the form of a slight burning sensation) in your muscles/fat reserves a few minutes or even up to a day before it decides to hit your body full force. My thunder thighs/wide behind certainly felt something going on that first day. But I was determined…I had a spiffy new bike! I used to LOVE to ride! I could totally rock this. The kids and I rode almost four miles that day. Once we neared the house, the Pain decided to hit me full force. It was not a pretty picture. We all had scratches on our legs. I'm almost certain we walked our bikes more than we actually rode them. One of the kids was crying. I was holding back tears. We were all sweating more than I thought humans could possibly sweat. The air conditioning could not cool us down fast enough. We could not stop drinking water. My ass HURT. I could not sit on anything that didn't have a cushion for three days without shifting and gritting my teeth in pain. If there is such a thing as hell on earth, this must surely be it- riding a bike after ten years, and not expecting to get hurt. Go ahead, laugh at my foolishness. I laughed…after the second day. My kids certainly got a good chuckle after seeing me attempt to plop down on one of the dinning room chairs only to scream like a little girl once my bum hit the(wooden, non-cushioned) seat. Not that they got that from me or anything. They didn't.



After hearing the kids whine and complain that day, I thought, maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have bought the bike. Maybe I expected too much from them. What if we can't keep doing this all summer…what if we can't do this one more time this week? What if they want to call it quits after such a horrible first day?

The next day (Tuesday), I decided to not bike. I could not sit on my bike without shedding tears. I felt I should be moving in some form, though. I didn't want to give myself a rest just yet. So, I woke up early, drank some coffee, and put on "The Biggest Loser: Weight Loss Yoga". If you don't think you'd like yoga, I suggest you hunt down this DVD at your local library. I did Yoga back in my late teens, and this is totally not the same.

This has been my idea of yoga for the past two years

 I won't go into details but I will say that it makes me sweat regardless of the temperature. Normal Yoga does not do that for me. Halfway through the DVD, I thought, I can't do this, I have to stop. Just as I was getting ready to hit the EJECT button, who comes out but my youngest daughter. She saw what was on the television, and with big, anime-type eyes, she asked, "Can I do it, too, Mama?"

"Can we Mama? Huh? Can we?"

Who can say no to that? So, despite my sweat and slightly sore muscles, I agreed. We finished the DVD together. As we both laid on the floor in deep relaxation, I couldn't help but thank God for my youngest and her waking up at the moment she did. That day, I asked the kids if they wanted to quit riding. To my surprise, they quickly said, "NO!" and said they couldn't wait to ride their bikes again. My, what a difference 24 hours makes!

Wednesday, the kids and I *gently* hit the bikes again. After getting a suggestion from a friend, and using an idea I said jokingly to my neighbor, I felt much more comfortable riding my bike that day. We rode to the park, and rode back home (about a mile total). The next day, we went on a field trip (which required a lot of walking…and also a lot of free food, so it canceled out all the walking.). Friday we biked the almost four miles again. My son also managed to get a hole in his tire this day, so once again we biked half way, and he and I walked the remaining way. I worried about this, because I was not sure how much it would cost to fix and when I would have the money needed to get it fixed. I prayed for some way to come up with the money needed. Saturday we stayed home and cleaned/re-arranged my living room (if you don't think this counts as a workout, then clearly, you have never seen my house!). Today, I thought we were going to walk back home from church, but a family from church decided to surprise my son with a new tire for his bike, complete with installation(and transportation home). Talk about a blessing! Thank you, God!

So, what I have learned this week? First off, I am no spring chicken. I can't just jump into physical activity, even with the best of intentions, and not expect pain. Second, I have to start taking a bit more seriously what I put in my mouth. Third, despite the pain and slight complaining, I really did enjoy biking this week. I even felt the urge to do it on a resting day, but I resisted the urge. I don't want to keep pushing myself until I'm exhausted and end up hating it.

What about you? Have you started to add small bits of physical activity in your routine? What form of exercise is your favorite? Why? Don't feel shy-share!

Until next time…
Jennafer

Why I really hate/love Disney Movies

I don't why I continue to watch Disney movies. Especially Disney princess movies. They always give me a hope I know I probably shouldn't hold my breath for. I love the sappiness, how none of the main characters in the beginning love each other, and how they can't see they complete each other. I love how something magical happens in the middle, where they see a spark in each other's eyes that they never noticed before. I love how they always have a misunderstanding, where all hope is crushed, only for it to be a false alarm, and somehow(semi) totally unexpected, they meet up and confess their love to each other and live happily every after.
*sigh* I love Disney movies for that. They are predictable, but never the less, they still tug at my heart strings. I almost always cry at the end of a Disney movie. Well, Disney movies involving love. And they nearly all do.

But, at the same time, I dislike Disney movies for that. I think they give girls and women a hope that someday, someway, an unbelievably handsome fellow will take interest in us, see our true worth, see that twinkle that they didn't notice before shining in our eyes. They won't notice our acne scars, our saggy boobs, our disheveled hair that looks like Ronald McDonald's little sister who put her finger in a socket before leaving the house, our love handles, our cankles, or the three children begging for our attention just as they are trying to lean in for a kiss. They won't care about the fact that we're so below them in socioeconomic status, that we should probably be on their payroll instead of in their arms. No, real men don't care about such things, Disney movies says, because all that matters is what's in your heart. Or what perils await you. Together, of course.
And yet, here I am, watching Disney movies with my three babies, crying like a baby when they almost lose each other, only to find each other once again, and live happily ever after.Here I am with no one to snuggle up to *in that sort of way*, kissing me and looking into my eyes and seeing something that they never noticed before.

I hate Disney movies.

But at the same time, I love Disney movies. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there are plenty of women out there that didn't need some evil stepmother/man lurking in the shadows doing illegal things to them against their will, in order to meet their "happily ever after man". I'm sure there are women out there who have men, great men, who they feel they don't deserve. That overlooks what others may see with the naked eye and can really see the princess or special(as in, not retarded special but "I think you're that special love of my life" kind of special) woman that they are. Maybe everyday they wake up and feel like they've won the lottery everyday, simply because they have their "happily ever after man". Or maybe most days. I really don't know.

Disney movies give me a hope of something greater. That, yes, there may be a "happily ever after man" out there for me, and if I work hard enough, dream big enough, hope against all odds, I will find him. Or he will find me. And we won't even know at first we're meant to be.
But, I've watched Disney movies for twenty years now. I know how every plot goes. And whether it was due to my lack of better judgement on wannabe prince charmings, or simply inexperience in the ways of the world, I'm not sure if I will ever have that once in a lifetime encounter. I'm not sure if I'll ever meet that "happily ever after man". I'm a mother of three, I've got saggy boobs, hair that looks like it's competing with a clown, I'm broke as a joke, acne scars, cankles, hate handles(who the heck loves having enough fat on their sides that someone could easily grab hold of with inducing too much pain? Uhhh..no one, thank-you-very-much!), and I'm almost certain I love food more than the ability to breathe. Okay, maybe...no, I really do.
 And while I like to think I'm a semi-good cook and baker, truth be told, I have a long way to go.

Oh, but I have heart! I've got hope against all odds! I have a twinkle in my eye...you may not see it until I've had coffee, and even then you still may not see it underneath the dark circles surrounding my eyes,but...gosh darn it, I'm sure it's there!!
And I have little mythical creatures(er...I mean, married friends) telling me, "Don't give up hope! You'll meet him when you least expect it! You'll see! You won't be looking, and he'll be right in front of you!". Why do people in relationships always say such crap? Maybe they watch too many Disney movies as well.
But yet, as I look for what options are available to me, I can't help but think,"is THIS all?!" What happened to handsome? What happened to charming? What happened to proper spelling in instant messages, and not expecting sex until marriage?! *sigh*
I watch Disney movies because they remind me that part of it has to do with me. Just like the female characters, I have to break out of the mold that everyone assumes I fit so nicely. I have do something daring. Go against what's expected of me, and leave the rest to fate. Or farting fireflies.
And despite the fact that these women have a waistline the size of one of my cankles, I know that maybe, just maybe, if I start to look the part...someone completely and totally amazing will take notice. Not that "happily ever after men" are concerned about size or anything, because I'm sure they will love you just as you are.  But the going trend in Disney movies says you must make some sort of effort on your figure...or your hair. And since I'm rather fond of my wild tresses, but not as fond of my stretch marks...the body's gotta go. Sorry, Fat Chicka Motorcycle Gang Members, but I really can't keep my membership any longer. It's killer on my (non-existent) love life.
And, I am working hard...well, mentally, at least. I'm attending online classes to complete my degree. I'm homeschooling my kids. Maybe I should hire birds to clean my house?? No, that can't be right. Oh, maybe I need to make more effort into cleaning and being a "domesticated woman". Because the newer princesses know how to hold down the house. Or the restaurant. Or the Chinese Emperor's Army. And they know how to cook for them all, too!
So...maybe Disney movies don't give us so much false hope after all. Maybe, just maybe, they tell us the overall message is to work hard, even if it means doing things that aren't expected of you. And maybe, just maybe...you'll find love when you least expect it. You'll find your "happily ever after man" sooner than you expected. And you won't even know it's him. Until he looks at you in a funny sort of way. At first, you might think it's gas...after all, the last time anyone looked at you in that sort of way, it was one of your kids, and yes, they had gas. But, then  you realize...there's a twinkle in his eye. He suddenly looks more handsome to you then you realized before.
Or maybe it really was just gas. And it wasn't his.
God bless the Disney movies, everyone!