Five Fitness Mistakes I am Going to Stop Making Right Now

1. Bitching to My Personal Trainer

An intense plyo circuit releases sweat and produces endorphin rushes. It also makes me spew verbal diarrhea. I typically begin by moaning about my physical aches and pains. “I don’t like to complain, but… my Achilles, my upper back injury, my left hip…yadda yadda yadda.” Then I moan about my personal life. “I love my baby, but…my exhaustion, my laundry, my empty fridge…blah blah blah blee blah.” Why on earth do I do this? Continue reading

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On Being a #GIRLBOSS

Blah blah blee blah.

Blah blah blee blah. Me at #girlbossyeg

Last month I was identified as a “Girl Boss” and invited to participate in a networking extravaganza, organized by Intervivos, a mentorship society in Edmonton. http://www.intervivos.ca. After saying yes, I googled “Girl Boss” to discover what in the hell that was. Continue reading

Appearance Makes the World

Being looked at is a powerful, identity-forming experience. Diego Velazquez, Rokeby Venus, c.1647-51, National Gallery, London.

Being looked at is a powerful, identity-forming experience. Diego Velazquez, Rokeby Venus, c.1647-51, National Gallery, London.

So what have I been up to lately? You can spot me most mornings wearing sensible shoes and sporting thick eye bags as I push a stroller—my adorable son is inside—to the café, the spray park, the public library, the grocery store, or the Shopper’s Drug Mart. Much to my surprise, Sebastian  attracts a lot of attention from just about everyone: male construction workers, female baristas, old ladies with boney fingers that like to poke chubby cheeks. Every single day, I hear the following phrases at least five times: “What a beautiful baby!” “Look at those eyelashes!” “What big blue eyes!” He is going to break all the girls’ hearts when he is older!” While I enjoy the first three comments, I bristle at the last one. I do not want my baby to be sexualized and/or hetero-sexualized in this fashion. He might grow up to be gay, trans, asexual, shy, or awkward. At least I hope so. These options are better than the proffered vision of him as an ultra-masculine sex bomb barreling through life, moving from one lady to the next. But I digress, for the main issue I want to discuss today is how this public reaction to my son’s appearance is literally creating his world. Continue reading

Riding in Cars with Mothers: Guest Post by Hissy Fit

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After years of their mothers shuttling them around, grown children suddenly hate riding in cars with their mothers.

Flicking through FM radio this morning, while driving to the gym, I hear two DJ’s talking about a Twitter survey they had just conducted.  “If you had to take a long car ride with someone, who would you LEAST want it to be?” The first nine answers they received were, “My mother.”  One tweeter elaborated: because she “always talks at me, instead of watching the road.”

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The Feminist Conspiracy

Real feminists hate babies!

Hey wait a minute…. Real feminists hate babies, don’t they? And what’s up with that nail polish, missy?

I am standing in line for the “family bathroom” at Southgate Mall, waiting to use the nursing chair. Although I am pretending to be relaxed—chatting with the mother of a one-month old son—I am in fact terrified. Are there any feminists about? I scan the crowd for the tell-tale signs of bra-less tits, angry fists raised in the air, and armpit hair. Continue reading