The carrying thing confusing to me. And making me worry about that woman’s spinal health.

As a mom who breastfed my first kiddo (until she started biting HARD at 11 months) and is currently 6 months into breastfeeding my second, I try very VERY hard not to judge these moms. Emphasis on try. However, once you’re into the 3 and 4 year old territory, I kind of wonder if this isn’t an extension of the whole…

I absolutely fucking hate him. I don’t know what else to say at this point.

I actually met Mr. Bells at church.

Being fat shamed by the doctor is one of the reasons I’ve put off making appointments lately. Which as a public health person, I know is bad, but after having a nurse at the student health center spend most of my appointment time talking about my weight instead of what i actually went there for (birth control), I…

I used to think that weight was between a person and their doctor. Then I had sciatica about 10 years ago. My first neurology appointment the doctor shamed me for 45 minutes about how my weight was causing my sciatica. Fast forward 9 years and 50# lighter.... I still fucking have that sciatica and wish I could scream…

I was of the JNCO generation. I used to wear these absolutely massive JNCO jeans with burgundy swirly panels down the sides. Add to that black platform sandals and a white tank top and a uh....black blazer for some reason with a lace skinny scarf that I would tie into a bow at the back of my neck.

Excuse you I have always been a fashion ICON

I know I’ll be in the greys forever, but I just had to post a picture of my super awesome dog who turned two this week. And yes I put him in a bow tie. I sure as shit did. 

You will never again have nothing to do on a weekend with a house. BUT you have a place to keep your crap. Congrats. 

Ohhhh. I am here early enough to comment rather than read!

The older I get, the more the term hysterical provokes a cold, decidedly unhysterical, fury.

I’ve converted my entire wardrobe (pretty much...) to leggings, knit dresses, and cardigans.  I love it.  It’s like the best thing that has ever happened.  It’s like you’re wearing pajamas 24/7 BUT NO ONE KNOWS HIS BUT YOU.  Everyone else thinks you’re being fancy because you’re wearing a “dress”.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. This is heartbreaking. I don’t know if I’d be able to send my kid back to that school knowing this.

I’m sure these assholes’ children are just delights to be around too. Hopefully social services can step in and remove them from a toxic environment with such unfit parents. There may be hope for them yet.

Dear Mr. Whitley,

For many of us who breastfeed, it is the hardest part of becoming a mother. Even if you are lucky enough to have a baby who latches well, feeds well and gains weight regularly, it’s insanely isolating and exhausting (don’t get me started on the nights my husband would wake, well-rested, and exclaim “Wow, she slept…

It’s just a tit, people.

Do they not think that babies have hands? Hands that will pull a blanket right the fuck off? 

As someone who just finished breastfeeding for a year, this part had me cracking up- “Even once you get the nipple into the baby’s mouth, the air-punching continues, because the baby is wondering why the fuck you’re hiding it under a blanket.”