I Was a BOSSY Little Girl…and I’m OKAY With That.

Shit’s about to get real here, people. I have a confession.

I’m about to admit something that makes me feel shameful. And weird. And like I really am not allowed to say this on the internet.

I’m afraid I’m about to get some hate mail up in here. And that terrifies me. A lot.

But I’m going to do it.

I’m going to admit…

That I am not a feminist.

The reason I feel so ashamed to admit this is that I feel like I SHOULD be a feminist.

I’m a lady. I’m a hard-working, strong, competitive lady. I have a job. I have a life. I have confidence. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. I know what I want and I say what I feel.

Except when it comes to admitting that I. Am. Not. A. Feminist.

Because I’m afraid of what the world will think.

It’s hard not to identify as a feminist. Because everyone’s a feminist these days. Except me. Sure, I care about women and equality. But I don’t think that’s what feminism stands for right now. What I see is feminism attempting to squash men and be their superior, not their equal. And I can’t get behind that. So no, I am not a feminist. I’m a humanist. I believe in the rights of every single person on this planet. And the ability for every single person to have opportunities. Because THAT is what we should be about.

Last year, at BlogHer, I couldn’t sit through Cheryl Sandberg’s chat. I just. Couldn’t. Because she didn’t make me feel empowered. She made me feel like I should stomp on the hearts of men until they hear me roar. I walked out.

And I felt judged for walking out. And for not joining the “Lean In” buzz or the “Bossy” buzz. That’s how feminism makes me feel: Judged.

I thought that after a few weeks, the buzz would die down. I thought after a few weeks, I wouldn’t have to hear about how little girls should NEVER be called bossy.

I was wrong.

Months later, here I am…boldly stating that I was bossy. Because there is a campaign to #banbossy. You can’t BAN a word in the English language. You can’t STOP people from using it. And you certainly can’t REPLACE it with a word that is NOT its equal. Especially when being bossy is something that is real. And yes, it’s got a negative connotation…but it probably should. Because above all else, being bossy is not an attractive quality in a man, woman or child.

I was bossy. I sometimes still AM bossy. And that does NOT mean I have executive leadership skills. That means I have a flaw that I need to focus on bettering.

Of course, because I am bossy, does not mean that I lack executive leadership skills. I have them despite my occasional bossytude. My executive leadership skills come from my ability to LISTEN to others. To take ADVICE. And to work WITH others in a TEAM setting and not DEMAND that they do as I say.

My executive leadership skills landed me as president of the Lombard Jaycees in 2010. I wasn't a beloved president by all, but I tried my hardest to be the best leader that I could. And I had to really work past my bossytude. (This was my last event as president...and I really wanted to post my pretty dress again.)

My executive leadership skills landed me a gig as president of the Lombard Jaycees in 2010. I wasn’t a beloved president by everyone, but I tried my hardest to be the best leader that I could. And I had to really work past my bossytude. (This was my last event as president with my board of directors…and also, I really wanted to post my pretty dress again.)

I was a bossy little girl. I wanted everything done my way. I didn’t listen to reason. Or logic. Or my mother. I wanted what I wanted and I didn’t want to think about anything other than the word, “yes.” I wanted to play Barbie or the Game of Life or watch the Zombie movie (Night of the Comet. It’s on YouTube. Look it up. You’re welcome. Sort of) or watch Labrynth. And I did not want to listen to anyone else.

My poor brother received the brunt of my bossyness. I made him play Barbie. And a game I invented called “Little Things” where we had to get all of our little toys out into the hallway and match them up in like a cage match type thing. I was a strange child.

I can still sometimes be bossy. Like when I tell Brian that he should fold my laundry. (And then he doesn’t, because he shouldn’t, because that’s MY laundry.) Or when I tell my mom that she should cook something in a way that I cook it, and not the way she has cooked it for the last 30 years. (And then she doesn’t, because she shouldn’t, because it’s HER cooking.) Or when I tell my co-workers that they should do something my way. (And then they don’t, because they shouldn’t, because it’s THEIR work.)

But this is something that I’M working through. I have some OCD tendencies. That makes me meticulous, but it also means that I have to actively take note when my OCD tendencies are making me bossy. Instead, I try to give others a chance to voice their opinions and speak up. THAT is what a leader is SUPPOSED to do. Sure, I’m not perfect and I mess up sometimes, but that’s MY goal. To be a true leader.

And I know bossy little boys. And I know boys who grew up into bossy men. And that’s not leadership. It’s not attractive. It’s not desirable. I have a partner who listens when I talk, who voices his opinion and expects me to give him the same courtesy in return.

So I’m going to try to forget I saw anything about this #banbossy campaign, but if you’re down with it, I won’t judge you. Please don’t judge me.

I’m confessing with Kat from Vodka and Soda (mostly because I’m really thirsty after all that ranting!) with #HumpdayConfessions. Now THAT’S a hashtag I can stand behind. 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: I Love the Smell of Skunk

What? Yes. Skunk.

So I didn’t ALWAYS feel this way. When my dog, Buck-the bad dog was skunked, I was headed out on a quasi-date and very displeased. The weeks that followed were smelly and unpleasant.

When our roommate’s dog, Dexter-the snuggle pup was skunked, I panicked. It was leading up to our Disneycation and everything was coming up skunk. It was more than unpleasant to say the least.

The thing is that I have a RIDICULOUS sensory memory. OK, I have a ridiculous memory, regardless…But now, when I smell skunk, especially now that it’s fall, all I can think of is: DISNEY! When do we go back? I miss you, Disney! Brian, puh puh puh leeeeease? And then I see images in my mind, something kind of like these: 

 

Disney Halloween Katie and Chrissy Disney Brian and the Crocodile Eeyore5 Disney at Halloween

And then Brian says to me, “No.”

Okay, he says that there are lots of other places that we should go, but all I can do is smell skunk and smile.

What about you, blog friends? Any crazy sensory memories that just completely bring you back?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: I’ve Taken My Love of Cheese to a New Low (or High)

Guys, I have a confession to make. While some of you may be new around here (Shout out to all my new blog friends from BlogHer!), the rest of you loyal blog friends understand my cheese obsession…

Or do you?

It has come to my attention that while some people sneak spoonfuls of ice cream out of the carton, and that seems completely rational, logical and relevant…

I am busy hiding in the corner of my kitchen with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar (in my case, the cheese carton. With a spoon.)

slide-almond-swiss

This cheese carton. Photo from Merkt’s Cheese website.

I know. I’m a little gross. But really…who needs crackers at a time like this? Especially when gluten free crackers are expensive, yo.

So yes, confession Friday ends with me. Eating Wisconsin cheese spread. With a spoon.

Why?

Because I can.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: Sometimes I’m a Hot Mess. Sometime’s I’m Not.

Let me start by saying this: Anxiety Disorder is a fickle bitch. For me, it’s like I’m a complete contradiction of myself. Take that one time I met Jenny Lawson, for example.

Within two hours of freaking the fuck out when I met Jenny Lawson (Shaking hands, heart racing, rambling uncontrollably about nothing, and basically making a complete fool of myself, when all I wanted to do was impress her with my clever wit and overall adorable-ness…neither of which I was able to showcase), I went out to the bar where I proceeded to stand up in front of an entire bar full of people, and sing a song about masturbation without a second thought. (I’m kind of a karaoke nerd. For the record, I was singing the Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself,” loudly. Proudly, even.)

Why?

No, seriously. It doesn’t make any sense! I can make a fool of myself (ON PURPOSE) in front of a hundred strangers…but meeting one famous person sends me into a pile of incoherent goo. IN THE SAME NIGHT.

Karaoke Queen Karaoke Queen

Do you have any crazy quirks that make you question your sanity? Tell me, Blog Friends!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: My First Poem

Chrissy

Children's Poetry

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: Things I Did in College…

Ahh… not just things I did in college; but things I did in college that I STILL do today. Don’t judge me. In fact, I bet you do some of these things too. Be honest.

6 Things I Did in College That I Still Do Today

1. Use Febreeze as a substitute for washing clothes. Sometimes, I just don’t have time to wash my favorite pair of jeans…and I’ve already worn them 4 or 5 times. They could use a little freshening up. Especially when I pull them out of the hamper. From the bottom. Febreeze still works like a charm. (I don’t do it often and it’s never acceptable for socks or underwear…but I know it’s sometimes okay…until I find a pasta sauce/chocolate/soup stain on the shirt in question…several hours later…from the week before. Oops.)

Things I did in college that I still do today

I swear there’s a hamper under that pile… Also…this was a week ago. And I just did the laundry yesterday.

2. Waiting as long as possible to do laundry. I know that in college it was either take the laundry home for the weekend or break…or trek down several flights of stairs to the over-used laundry rooms, where dangerous or naughty things happen often and unexpectedly. (Seriously, go click that link. It’s one of the best stories I’ve written.) And I know that now it is a mere 4 feet from hamper to washer. But for some reason laundry just doesn’t happen as often as it should. (Of course, because Brian has significantly less clothing in general, I do have to do it more often than I did in college…but back then I would just go commando if I ran out of clean underwear…)

3. The 48 hour shower rule. Yes, I tend to shower every other day. I’m okay with this. If I’ve worked out, or have some strange odors coming from my body, I’ll shower sooner…But I mean, I wear deodorant. I brush my teeth. I wear clean underwear every day. I’m not totally gross. But when you’ve got hair the color of my hair and you want to keep it that color (especially considering how much it costs to get it that color)…you gotta be cautious with the hair washing/wetting.)

MAN, you guys probably think I’m the dirtiest creature ever. I promise that I’m not. I have excellent hygiene…I’m just a non-germaphobe who doesn’t like to do laundry and sometimes considers showering a chore. I don’t smell. I swear.

4. Go out of my way for a free meal. I know that I’m a grown up. I have some money. I am well-fed. But something about getting a free meal is exciting. And necessary. because I’m Polish and I don’t like to spend money if I don’t have to. So, I find free meals. And then I drive x amount of time to go and eat them.

5. I will fall asleep anywhere. Just last month…the night before Christmas Eve…I was exhausted. It was 3 AM. And yes…I passed out with my purse as a pillow on the floor of an ER curtained room. My mom freaked out on me for fear of the germies…but really it was the floor or a plastic chair. At least on the floor, I could stretch out.

6. I drink vodka. OK, so I don’t drink vodka in the mass quantities that I consumed in college, but I’m pretty impressed that I can still hold down my college poison without feeling like I’m still in college…Alright, so I can’t drink flavored Smirnoff anymore…but whatever. Bring on the Stoli.

There you have it kids…College me meets grown up me. Do you still do any of these things?

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: Christmas Music is Coming

Yes. Yes, I said it. Confession Friday: I am a Christmas-obsessed-giant-freak-of-nature-who-wants-to-start-decorating-now kind of girl. You think I got into Halloween… You haven’t seen ANYTHING yet. But I will try. try. try. to refrain. For Brian’s sake. For your sake. For at least a week or two. As soon as Thanksgiving week gets close…I make no promises. Christmas music is coming…

(But not that horrible song: Do they know it’s Christmas? Of course they don’t know it’s Christmas. And they don’t care. They do not celebrate Christmas because it is a Christian holiday and non-Christians in Africa who are starving and sick do not care that they won’t have snow in Africa, you ignorant prats./rant)

When I told Brian (long before I was officially living with him in Aurora) that we were one day going to have a Christmas tree in every room, he may or may have believed me…Much like when I told him that the Olympics was going to be 24/7 Sports TV for 2 and a half weeks…And when I told him that I had a cheese obsession…And when I told him that I had a lot of stuff…Come to think of it…maybe HE does believe me.

Regardless…when he realized that half of the boxes that were carted up the stairs to our new apartment were Christmas boxes…he may have gotten a little scared. It’s a fact: I love Christmas. I love everything about Christmas. It’s joyful. It’s bright. It’s cheery. It’s wonderful. Our little apartment is going to look amazing. and Christmas-y. As soon as the rest of the boxes are unpacked…Christmas boxes are next.  and the trees go up.

Yes. I said trees. Since I was a young child, I have always made the Christmas tree my responsibility. And no one was allowed to help…Because they didn’t know how to do it right. Really…it’s because I’m slightly OCD and have a need to see every ornament as it goes on the tree. You’ll note that the baby picture of Chrissy goes front and center every year.

Confession Friday Christmas Music is Coming

We made her pose like that.

In closing, fair readers…I have borrowed a brilliant idea from Lauren of Filing Jointly. I would love to send you a Christmas card this year! As a thank you for being awesome and reading my blog and all of that good stuff. Just send an e-mail to quirkychrissy @ gmail with your name and address, and you will receive a fantastic Christmas card. I haven’t quite decided what it will be yet…but you can bet it will be hilarious. Last year, a girlfriend of mine convinced me to send out this beauty:

Christmas Cards

I know, perfect right?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: The Last Minute

Confession: I wait until the last minute to do lots of things, which often works out smashingly for a girl like me, but sometimes…not so much.I guess you could say, I’m a bit of a procrastinator.

So, several weeks ago, I was talking to Katie (Of yesterday’s guest post and Words for Worms Katie) and she said to me, I’m in on a sweet Secret Santa blogger thing. You need to get in on this. And so I looked up Pocketful of Joules, and her fun Fall Swap. I e-mailed her and requested to join the club.

When I received my secret swapper…I was so pumped! I felt honored and excited to get Heather from the B(itch)log. As a Chicagoan(ish) myself, I felt that it was my duty as a blogger and new blogfriend to find Heather the perfect little piece of Chicago (as she is currently residing in California).

As any good Chicago-land native knows, if you’re born here…this will always be your home. If you move here and acclimate into the joy of northern Illinois…this will always be your home. They don’t call it Sweet Home Chicago for nothing. It’s the best.

Bon Jovi Loves Chicago

Me too, Jon; Me too.

So, I decided that dammit, I was going to give Heather a piece of Chicago, come hell or high water. And I searched. And searched. And I realized that sending something from Chicago will give the secret part away immediately. So despite my better judgement, I moved to the online world. I found a lot of “Chicago in the Fall” products…but they were cheesy and uninspiring. Even the “Chicago in the Fall” Apron, after reading that Heather digs aprons…it just wouldn’t do. I’m a perfectionist by nature, and I really wanted to get this right.

So finally, in the home stretch, on the last week of the swap, I was searching the digital world like a maniac. And came across this SWEET poster. Sure, it may not be completely “fall” themed. But shit! It was the coolest thing ever. A World’s Fair Chicago poster dated May-November 1933. And it was everything I was looking for (you know except for the fall theme). But it did say November… November = fall… Truth be told, I totally searched “November Chicago.” I call it a success.

So I had it shipped to Heather without any purchasing info, and the really nice guy even offered to throw in a secret message!

Of course, because it was shipped from a third-party to keep my identity a secret…and I waited so long to send it…it took forever to get to Heather. Joules was worried. Katie asked if I had sent it. and Heather was waiting and waiting and waiting.

Then she got it, and I was worried that she didn’t like it (I worry a lot…an ex used to tell me I was wound tighter than an 8 day clock…douche.) I kept thinking, “Maybe she was hoping for a cute scarecrow or pumpkin or fall snack…”

In the end, I think I did alright… You can read about Heather’s super excited reaction (She loves me more than French toast! MMMmmmm French toast…maybe I’ll make some for breakfast—nah Fritos and queso is more my style) on her blog post about being homesick for Chicago.

In other procrastinator news, I finally get to send my giveaway today to the winner! Lily from It’s a Dome Life… I had to dig through a lot of moving boxes to find my Huck Finn books.

Procrastination is a lot like Masterbation

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: The Poop Story

WARNING: This post contains a poop story. It is highly inappropriate. It is (a little) graphic. It is poop. If you are squeamish (or eating), stop right now and come back on Monday. 

Disclaimer: My boyfriend would probably rather I did not post this story. But I couldn’t help myself. Also, if you know my boyfriend’s dad…never tell him this story. Ever. 

Dear Twitter followers, You’re welcome.

Last winter, Brian and I escaped the unusually-less-than-frigid Chicago weather with a long weekend away to Florida. Had we known that I would be losing my job a few weeks prior to the trip and take 8 months to find another one, we probably would have gone for a whole week. Regardless. Florida. Trip. Warm. Beach. Sun. Yay!

Brian’s dad lives on the coast of southern Florida. I spent most of my days barefoot on a beach. Brian spent most of his days sleeping until 2. It was the perfect trip. One of our days, though, Brian’s Dad took us out on a boat trip. This was very exciting for me. One of the perks of living on an island full of canals is DOLPHINS. If anyone didn’t know, I love love love dolphins. Love them. They are amazing creatures. (No, I’m not giving away free dolphins. If I had dolphins, I would keep them all to myself.)

Dolphin love

Yes, Brian puts up with me…even when I do things in public that embarrass him

So we took a boat from his Dad’s backyard through the canals out to sea. In the canals, as promised, I got to see dolphins playing! It was the most amazing experience ever. One day, I will swim with the dolphins, and that will trump this.

Dolphin in the Canal

This dolphin was not only 20 feet away in the canal…he also swam up to us and did wild dolphin tricks–stood up on his flukes to see what was going on inside the boat. It was the most exciting thing ever. Ever!

So we took a nice long boat ride in the Gulf of Mexico around the southern tip of Florida to a little island, which I will not name. The ride was a good hour from door to island. It was beautiful. We shelled along the beach, and had packed a picnic lunch. I was walking along, looking for sweet shells…when all of a sudden I felt a rumbly in my tummy. I tried to let it pass, but within two minutes I knew… I really had to poo.

Now in all actuality, I’ve got some sick digestive issues (that would be probably be diagnosed as something if I had health insurance and a doctor…), and there are times that I will go far too long without releasing the toxins. So when I gotta go–I go. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.)There’s no such thing as holding it. In fact, I don’t understand people who go and spend 20 minutes on a toilet waiting for it to happen. But that’s another story entirely.

So I walked over to Brian…

“Babe, I’ve got…a problem.”

Now, Brian is the best boyfriend ever, and he puts up with me talking about poop on a somewhat regular basis. That’s love right there.

“What?” He said to me, all innocent-like. He really had no clue.

“I have to go. Like bad.”

“Pee?” He looked hopeful. Squatting to pee on an island is not difficult.

I shook my head…

“Can you hold it?”

I shook my head again…

“Well, we’re about an hour away…even if we left right now.”

So I thought. And I thought. I didn’t want to embarrass Brian. Or his dad. Or make a scene. I wanted to enjoy the day. And I thought some more. And when I couldn’t take the stomach pains anymore, I said, “I’m going to go dig a hole. I’m going to need toilet paper. or napkins. or paper towels.”

So Brian and I casually walked back to the boat, as his dad was shelling. He acquired paper towels for me and waited by the boat. I walked deep into the not-very-sheltered island, where I found a semi-secluded spot. I dug a fairly deep hole. Took off my bathing suit (while keeping my skirt and shirt on–like MAGIC). Squatted. And birthed a small child out my rear end. I cleaned my person. Re-dressed. Covered the hole. Hand sanitized. and called it a day. I was proud of myself.

I would so survive on LOST. Or Survivor. Or even The Amazing Race. I am a winner.

I walked back to Brian, who didn’t want to know details…

…but I told him anyways.

We proceeded to picnic on the island…As we started walking in the direction of my man-made bathroom, I was fearful that we would end up dining a little too close for comfort. Luckily, we were still pretty far…ish away.

picnic on the beach

Cute picnic, right?

Funny Face Because I just pooped

The Best Boyfriend Ever

Plus I made him that sandwich (before the, um, incident).

When we got back on the boat, I texted Lily, as she is my go-to poop story friend. She was thoroughly impressed.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: My Jealousy Complex Leads to the Project: Fairy Tales

Yes, it’s true. I have a jealousy complex. Honestly, I think that most people do…

I’ve always been a little bit jealous of the majority of my pals (I mean, they all have qualities that I admire–that’s why they’re my pals!), jealous of girls who are skinnier than me, prettier than me, taller than me, shorter than me, have more money than me, are smarter than me…you get the point. Jealousy. It’s a problem.

I love my best friend with all my heart. Alas, I am just slightly jealous of her brilliance (and her adorableness, and her amazing-ness). My favorite Word Worm over at Words for Worms proclaimed yesterday that she was participating in a super cool reader-blog-dealie… in which everyone reads a fairy tale of their choosing and then reads other versions/modernized versions of said fairy tale and discusses them in future blog posts (sometime in early 2013).

Obviously, I wanted to play. I realize that I am not a book blog. Or a reader blog. But I love reading. In fact, I have several posts dedicated to books. OK. I have two posts dedicated to books. But still… you get it.

Luckily for me, in her post, she directed me, just as I shall direct you to Project: Fairy Tale if you, too, would like to be as cool as the other readers and writers and play the fairy tale game.

The rules for said game are simple: Choose fairy tale. Read fairy tale. Read 3 like-stories. Write. Write. Write. Write. Excitement! I happen to have just the book for the assignment!

Classic Fairy Tales

I knew this book would come in handy one day!

So, I made my way over to the Project: Fairy Tale page, perused the already chosen stories, and decided on Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumpelstiltskin Fairy Tale

I’ve always been a fan

As Rumpel is my favorite character on Once Upon a Time, and it was one of my favorite Faerie Tale Theatre episodes starring Shelly Duvall, I got super stoked to look into his tale a little deeper…and find more stories like his.Wikipedia gave me a few suggestions, but I’m going to try to find some more.

So I’m pumped! I’ve already got a bazillion fairy tale esque blog post ideas brewing in my brain. The month this blog circle goes live is going to be so so fun.

From slightly feigned/slightly real jealousy to fun with fairy tales…does that mean a happy ending?

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!