Why We Go To Waffle House (A Quasi-Pictorial)

You don't go to Waffle House for Michelin stars, you go because the sweet waitress who served you hands you the can of whipped cream and says "Go for it."

(disclaimer: the whipped cream container was low in content and also tossed after I used it.)

You're A Woman, and You Matter

You're a Woman, and You Matter

Kavanaugh will likely be appointed to the Supreme Court. We know he shouldn't, and not even just because of the allegations brought against him. 

So I'm telling you, as much as I'm telling myself, to not lose hope. Do not lose your fight. 

We still matter. Women, Women of Color, Trans Women of All Colors. We still matter. 

Despite what the government says, despite what a male-forward society says. In spite of what they say. 

Women are all things - ALL THINGS. And there are people in this world who can barely stand to imagine it. Men who punish women for saying 'no', women who think that, because we got the vote, that the fight is over. They may never admit it, but they know - Women, when emotionally strong, when empowered and self-assured, scare the fuck out of them. We piss them off. Because who do we think we are? Holding our babies in one arm and financially supporting our entire family with the other? Cradling our nieces and nephews while swiping paint onto canvas or laying down tunes to rival the most accomplished of male musicians at the center of the boy's club? Who do we think we are?

I'm here to tell you - keep scaring them. Keep pissing them off. You have just as much of a right to exist as they do. This is our goddamn world, too. 

So, create. Make all the things. Tell all the stories. Show the world that not only has the narrative always included us, but that we are far more instrumental in molding and creating the beauty that exists therein. And empower your sister - don't let them pit us against each other. This is our fight, even though there are still women who haven't seen the uneven playing field. Eventually they will. And they'll be as mad as we are. Be patient, but don't lose hope. Don't lose your fight. Do not stay silent. 

Springtime Stuffing for your Hungry Hungry Wallet!

Spring into Cash

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Google Search Terms and Realizing When You Fucked Up

Things I googled today: How to train for a 5K when you’re fat as fuck.

Google kindly offered an edited search phrase while I typed: “How to train for a 5K when you’re obese.” Thanks, buddy. I really do have to stop beating myself up.

Some of you were with me when I dropped 70 lbs a couple of years ago. I kept it off for about a year and then moved to Texas. All the amazing food introductions combined with the stress of acclimating to a new environment (not an excuse, just… a reason) and anxiety about 1) fitting in 2) not failing brought me to this moment: I’ve. Gained it. All. Back.

…

…plus ten pounds. That hurt to admit.

 All of the old physical aches and pains are back. The lack of confidence, the insecurity, the physical limitations, the general discomfort with taking pictures and looking in the mirror – it’s as if they never left. Which brings me to a conclusion that may or may not be accurate. I didn’t do this right the first time around.


I thought I’d be taking care of the inside as well as I had been the outside. But I’m guessing that all I did was put a band aid on things and went ahead and anchored my happiness in the weight loss. This is frustrating because I constantly told myself as part of my daily affirmations that I was doing the opposite.

You’re not your weight, Sam.

Weight & Inch loss or not, Sam, you’re beautiful.

…so, is there a second person in me that wasn’t buying any of it? How did I fool myself? Why would I fool myself? How do you ‘fake til you make it’, but then never actually make it?

I have answers for none of those questions. I also came to the realization about five minutes ago that it makes no sense to ask why or rehash any of the moments that led me to this renaissance. And how many renaissances do I, or any of us, get? As many as we fucking need, that’s how many. 

So with that in mind, I signed up for a 5K. Part of me thinks I’m crazy, part of me remembers that if I could build myself stronger than I was once, I can do it again. And training for a 3 mile jog/walk with my family will certainly get my ass into gear.

Now I’m downloading apps. And I took a new ‘before’ picture. And I got some new sneakers (because #treatyoself) and I’m rebuilding the work out playlist. And I’m carving out crucial self-care time that I’d spent the last two years filling with stupid shit. Except now, we make it stick. Like perfectly cooked pasta to a wall… wait, no pasta!

I’ve got this. And you all, whether you realize it or not (with zero requirements, because in my head you are *all* reading this), are holding me accountable. Maybe just be prepared to see a lot of Instagram and FB posts about working out again. Oh, and tweets. Don’t forget those!

Next Google search phrase: Best pre-workout powder for weight loss.