Flattery.

Sitting at an intersection the other day, I noticed it.

The heavy stare. The primitive instinct.  The male bonding.

Thankfully I was not on the receiving end of it.  Otherwise my face would be crimson, and I would probably trip and fall as I ran for the nearest tree to hind behind.

A beautiful woman crosses the street.  Two men sitting inside a cafe at the window, stare her down simultaneously. Not sure if one tapped the other to look up, or they both had an instinctive radar for heels and long hair blowing in the wind.

I sat at the intersection staring at the men…wondering why.

Why do they do this? I know I have stared briefly at a good-looking male from time to time, but look away immediately for fear of him catching me glance at him, so I have kept my stares down to a half of a second.

These men seemed to stare for minutes…pondering something…not sure sure I care to know what…but definitely thinking about something.

It must be some strange form of flattery from men.

If they can find minutes to stare someone down like this, it must mean that this woman is something these men only dream about or just plain old lust.

For some reason,  I cannot get past it feeling invasive or rude. Almost a sort of harassment.

A woman should feel confident and beautiful at all times, not as if she is taking part in creating a scene in guy’s mind of some disturbing fantasy.

I am more of a sincere flattery kind of girl.

A few months ago, my husband’s friend was chatting with us at a restaurant. He then turned to me as we were leaving, and said how he noticed that I had looked very different after losing a lot of weight, and in front of my husband, he told me how he thought I looked great. 

That takes guts. That is a gentleman. He dared to be honest in front my husband and to my face. I was speechless.

Yes, I was slightly embarrassed at someone noticing my transformation, but as we talked about it about it later that night, I realized it was just so sweet.

My husband stood proudly next to me.

I stand taller now, realizing that I should be more confident.

If I was that woman the other day crossing the street, and felt the glare on me, I would shrivel.

It must truly be a primitive instinct for some men…or maybe even all men. I get it.

But if a man wants to win a woman’s heart or make her smile…or just make her day a little brighter, walk over to her, tap her on the shoulder, and tell her this…

“Excuse Miss. But I just wanted to let you know that you look beautiful. That your efforts to leave your home and feel confident and pretty today, have not gone unnoticed. Have a wonderful day”…I truly believe she will be taken aback at first, but then make her smile for the rest of the day as she recalls that moment…and I am pretty sure, the man will too.

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Wacky Women.

  I am not sure I can stomach one more story on this disturbing topic….Wacky Women.

     And People Magazine on my Facebook news feed seems to find every single wacko in this country.

     Either People is obsessed with making us women look like we are out of control, deranged, psychopaths… or it really and truly is becoming a tragic state of affairs in our country.

     Are hormones the culprit? Combined with stress/single-parenting/abusive family history?

     Torturing their children. Murdering them. Hiding them in a freezer while you still live in that house with two other children. Stabbing your spouse       over salsa??????

WHY?

These are just a few of the nauseating and insane examples of my constant updates from People (which I am about to unfollow due to lack of mindless celebrity gossip and enough violent and heartbreaking stories to create years of Lifetime movies) and even local news in our quiet little beach town…“used a large meat cleaver to threaten a male acquaintance”.  Why does one need to own a meat cleaver in the first place?

All joking aside…what IS going on in this world? T.M.I.?

Social media overload when there is nothing else to talk about? Or are women really and truly going mad?

My healthy side would love to blame gluten and G.M.O.’s.

And my p.m.s.’ing self would love to blame hormonal imbalances.

I fear menopause may make me crazy. I skip over that show Snapped whenever it is on, afraid I may be like one of those crazy mommas some day. When I have the rare opportunity to have complete control of the remote, I go straight for the happy-go-lucky channels…DIY…cooking…home decorating…with the occasional splurge of Real Housewife drama to make me feel like a grownup.  But then I wonder how these crazy fame/money-hungry women found rich men insane enough to marry their sorry diva butts to show off on national t.v.  And most importantly, why  am I putting more money in their lazy/sorry pockets by watching them whine and complain behind each other’s backs , making asses of themselves in public, all due to large doses of wine since breakfast.

I added People to my long lists of “likes” way back when Facebook was just getting started with poking and snowball fights. Up until recently, the articles were what was to be expected. How awesome Kim Kardashian’s rear end looked in black leggings for the millionth time or what celebrity Mom left the hospital in her size 2 skinny jeans after delivering a baby…all due to breastfeeding of course.

These wacky women posts have replaced my idiotic celebrity gossip with horror that keeps me up at night.

Where are these women hiding? 

 I hope I never tick one of them off at the playground.

It is definitely not just women, regardless of what People magazine says…it is a wacky world.

I will take the good with the bad yet again as I did when I was a kid (always watch the scary movie first, then the comedy).

I will read the bad news first about us wacky women in our wacky world when I pick up a copy of People (no more newsfeed on Facebook for me) at the Doctor’s office, then check in with Celebrity News on who Leonardo DiCaprio is dating this week.

Guess It’s A Girl Thing…

Maybe it is the few beers I just had at dinner.  Its been a long week.  I am pms-ing pretty bad(exit most males after that sentence)…the worst it has been for years….honestly. Even though my hubby will probably say last month was equally as bad.

Whatever it is, I am over emotional and possibly overreacting.  I will take the courage from my two beers and hormones and say what I think.  I am hurt.

I am a woman who wants to scream on the boardwalk that is a few blocks away from my house or on a social media outlet and rant and rave that I AM HURT.

I vowed after parenthood began for us, that I would live my life as an honest and caring and giving adult. I maybe have faltered here and there, mostly out of immaturity and ignorance,  but would own it as soon as I realized I was wrong.

I won’t specifically say why I am hurt for fear of adding bad karma or negativity to my life. But all it took was one innocent look from a child to know someone is spinning a web of lies about me and my family…and as a pms-ing/momma bear/fierce woman at the moment, I want to call out a liar.  But I won’t.

That person will have to wallow in the deep dark sadness that they are stewing in,  that forces them to try to make people think they are so much better than me…well, sadly they are not better than me. As I am no better than them. They are hurting for whatever reason, so they want to hurt.  Well, me too. I am damaged goods too. But after all these years, I would rather vaguely blog about my feelings or talk to someone quietly that I trust, than talk badly about anyone to spread rumors and hate…that was SO high school….