“You’ve come a long way, baby” (or have you?) A hell of a lot has changed in the last fifty years, but surprisingly, we are hanging onto a lot of our grandmothers’ dating habits! I have compiled a list of five dating behaviours that you need to stop doing, stat. We are all guilty of doing some of these, but it’s never to late to change your ways! So, what shouldn’t you do, you ask? Well, for starters:
1. Don’t put yourself second.
This one is huge. A real man will love you as an equal. There’s no reason to put him first all of the time. Besides, a real man would feel uncomfortable with it. You and your partner should stand side by side facing the world as equals. If he is worth your time, he will feel much more comfortable when you know how to express your needs and if you stand up for yourself. There’s nothing sexier than a woman who Continue reading “Don’t do these five things if you want him to respect you”→
In July 1999, I was invited to a costume party. The theme was “lounge,” so my date and I dressed accordingly. We went to a thrift shop and bought hilarious outfits befitting the occasion. He was a younger Hugh Heffner, and I was some-kind-of-fabulous in black velvet, satin gloves and a feather boa. My date was in the “friend zone,” but he didn’t know it at the time. He made me laugh more than anyone, and I absolutely loved being around him. He was my BFF, but he wanted more. I was 24 years old that summer.
Over the course of maybe two hours, my BFF got me drunker than I have ever been in my life. He accomplished that by continually refilling my glass before I had time to finish my drinks, thus making it impossible to gauge how much I had had. Before long, I was feeling nauseous and had to step outside for some fresh air (or risk bathing the shag carpets in repurposed orange-flavoured California Cooler.) Another boy at the party offered to Continue reading “My Vanilla Rape”→
I recently heard of an interesting exercise to teach privilege to a group of high school students. They were each given a balled-up piece of paper and told to throw it from their seats into the waste-paper basket at the front of the room (regardless of seating position.) The teacher said, “The game is simple — you all represent the country’s population. And everyone in the country has a chance to become wealthy and move into the upper class.” Everyone took their shots, and — predictably — most of the students in the front were successful, but only a handful from the back row made the shot. He concluded, “The closer you were to the bin, the better your odds. This is what privilege looks like. Did you notice how the only ones who complained about fairness were in the back of the room? By contrast, the people in the front of the room were less likely to be aware of the privilege they were born into.”
I know that I am privileged AF. I am a university-educated, white Canadian with a good job, a good salary and a beautiful home in Vancouver. I can eat basically whatever I want, I have a family and a job that I love. I live in total peace and safety and I travel to exotic places fairly regularly. But sometimes, it’s good to keep an eye on the checks and balances in life. You don’t want to see one girl having all of the fun, now do you? Worry not. I, too, have suffered. Continue reading “My First World Problems”→
“Anything that you do to increase the self-consciousness of a teenage girl makes you a bad mother.” Hanna Rosin, writer at The New Yorker
This past Halloween, I dressed my daughter as a mime. We had gone to the costume shop together, and I was utterly appalled at the costume choices available to young women and girls. Every single thing she picked up was some hyper-sexualized version of a tired old archetype. Of course, there were the old standbys: sexy nurse, sexy police officer, sexy maid, sexy schoolgirl, but this year, it seemed even worse than usual. Perhaps that is because my little girl is rapidly coming of age and I was horrified at the idea of her wearing any of them. Continue reading “Wow, you look so much better (with makeup)”→
In the wake of the massacre in Paris, an obviously well-meaning person posted this picture on facebook along with the caption, “Our thoughts and prayers are with France during these difficult times.” The sentiment is one that is shared by most people. The attacks were senseless and despicable, perpetrated against innocent civilians in places where they were going about their everyday lives. What an unforgivable, unspeakable act… Our hearts collectively go out to those affected.
This comes from my friend and fellow blogger Levi. (Read his post here.)
He sums up what most of us are thinking. It’s time to get out there and make a change. It’s time to be accountable for our country and its politics. It’s time to shake off the apathy and the “what good will my vote do?” attitude. We young people are the future of this beautiful nation and we have to live here long after many of these tools are dead and buried.
Let’s finally give a shit. Get on out there and vote.
So a few months ago, I posted some things on facebook that I probably shouldn’t have. I had a couple of weak moments, and I am totally willing to accept that maybe cooler heads did not prevail. I became one of the many “over-sharers” of the Internets. My bad. Nobody’s perfect.
On the day in question, my twelve-year-old was acting more like a two-year-old. She was protesting my parenting decisions, but her derpy attempt at a tantrum was just as riveting as OJ Simpson’s slow-speed car chase.