An Open Letter to My Vagina...

As most of you know by now, I'm pretty open when it comes to my body parts and all the primping and upkeep that I speak so freely about. But when I came across an article about 'Vaginal Trainers' in this month's Cosmopolitan, I thought it was a joke. Yes, there really are V.T.'s out there that will help get your vagina in tip top shape! It's not enough that we're forced to do Kegel's to keep those muscles in shape, but now we have weight sets? This article moved me to write an open letter. Yes, an open letter to my vagina....

Dear Vagina,

I hope you know how lucky you are that you have an owner that takes such good care of you. When I was young lass, I would jokingly refer to you as the 'front butt' or 'pee-pee' or if I wanted to go back to my ethnic roots, 'chocha' or 'pek-pek'. You weren't of much use to me back then, you were what you were.

Then puberty hit...

I didn't want you to grow hair. I think it was partly because I knew that it meant I was leaving my Barbies and cartoons behind and now entering the world of bras, boys and pads (ugh).

I resisted.. but you insisted. And you started to sprout hair every which way you could. The once lovely, pristine patch of skin was now overtaken by an ugly, wirey sparse rug of hair. I was scared to shave you because of all the horror stories about hair coming back 3x thicker. But as time passed, so did my wrath against womanhood.

I knew the time had come to embrace you; because with you came boobies....yay!

I remember when you decided it was time for me to have my first period. I was turning 13 and you couldn't wait until I was at home or maybe in the shower. No..you waited until I was walking on the balance beam playing around behind the school with my friend, Cheryl Delz. She noticed the rust colored spot on my jeans and informed me of my impending doom.

"WHAT?! No! I can't start. I'm athletic, I'm skinny, I'm too young to start my period!! I probably held my pee in for too long!"

I was in denial.

But you remained adamant.

You insisted I move into the next stage in my life.

I know you hated being suffocated by the pillow-size pads that my mother insisted on buying me. And God forbid if I asked her about tampons. Tampons were for 'non-virgins' and I'd "rupture my hymen" if I tried sticking a tampon in you. Girls were dying all over the world from Toxic Shock Syndrome! (Mom had a way of being a little over dramatic). I hated going to the store to get the big, orange box of Freedom pads. There was no way to be discreet when you were at the grocery store. The big ass box took up half the shopping cart and I always prayed that I wouldn't run into any cute boys from school when we lugged around this box of pads with a graphic on the front of a woman in a flowing dress running on a beach; that cheesy picture will forever be imprinted in my brain.

The teen years came and gone. And as the years passed I became more comfortable with you. Sure, I know there were times when I was a teen when you felt you were ready to take that big step and leave the 'V-Squad' (Virgin Squad), but I held onto my morals and didn't let that happen too early. It wasn't easy. Oh boy..it wasn't easy...but I knew you were too precious to give away to just anyone. And when that time finally did come, I made sure the it was right and that you, along with my heart, would walk away unscathed. I know it wasn't all that it was made out to be...it was my first time..and yeah, I agree..it pretty much sucked.

I was so proud of you when the time to have babies came around. You refused to let me go to the operating room and have my gut cut open. You insisted that you were going to help me push these 10lb babies out naturally. I worried that you'd be stretched out forever...that you'd never go back to normal...that sex would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway. But you again, you didn't dissapoint me. You regained your strength (and some muscle, I might add).

When I decided that I wanted to change you around a bit and chose to introduce you to Brazilian bikini waxing, I know you were nervous. But I could tell you were excited and impressed by the end results. You looked like a new 'you'. You had the option of the "Playboy"- clean cut and bald or the "Landing Strip" (aka as The Hitler)...and you looked glamourous either way. You could pull both looks off and I was rather impressed. You were red-carpet worthy.

As I've gotten older, I've also tried to keep you in shape. No,I haven't resorted to the vaginal weight set. But I do the Kegels when I'm at a redlight. I hope you've noticed how strong and more limber you've become. I think I see some definition forming!

The whole concept behind this letter to you, was one of gratitude. I also want you to know that I will always have your back. I will never let you down. I will never let you look like Chewbacca from Star Wars or subject you to any piercings. I will never, ever suffocate you with XXL pads again (Tampax Pearl tampons are the best, don't you think?) or ever wear cameltoe jeans to irritate you.

I hope you appreciate all the effort that I put into you to make you look snazzy and feel your best.

We only get one vagina in life...and I'm glad you're mine.

Self Nurturing~ The Art of Being Good to ME...

I recently attended a women's empowerment seminar and learned a lot about "Self Nurturing".

As a mother, this word was foreign to me. I really couldn't comprehend the actual nurturing of myself. I mean, really... my family came first and if there was a miniscule of time left, it didn't go to me. It went to other areas of life that needed tending to (i.e. baked goods for school, Girl Scout meetings, science projects). But for the last 8 months, I've been trying to carve out that "me" time...

Alice Domar, Ph.D. defined self-nurture as "caring for yourself and putting yourself amongst your own list of priorities." Right away, we automatically think about how selfish a behavior that would be. But...why is it selfish to want to be happy and to take care of yourself and your needs? Stress, right now, is the number one problem cited by American women, mostly because balancing work and family is so hard. And when we juggle them, we leave ourselves last which takes a huge toll on our mental and physical health.

Self Nuture. That's what I've started doing 8 months ago. I've dedicated time to myself to get back in shape, reconnect with close friends and just take that 'breather' that I need. I'm not a party animal on the weekends by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been carving out time, every couple of months to fly out to my hometown, San Diego to see my family and friends...solo. Even for just a couple of days, I truly appreciate that alone time. I think it's made me a better person with a more appreciative, more grateful view on life.

It's hard amidst all the chaos of our daily family routine to find restorative moments that can be squeezed into the schedule. But, I'm much more conscious about my life and find myself deep in thought about what will help me get through this time better, what my needs are, and what I can do for myself the next day. Even something short and very simple, like my drive home from work listening to my iPod, can help me regroup.

I get very emotional when I think about this "perfect person" that I've been struggling to be all my life: the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend. And it's still a struggle to give myself some compassion instead of pretending to be strong all the time. I stop myself during these moments and I think about what's worked in the past to make me feel better~ calling a friend, watching a funny movie... I think about what recharges me and brings out my strength. And when I think about it..it is my San Diego getaways that I do by myself. For a few days, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. I don't have to bathe anyone, cook, clean or break up fights. I don't have to clean up dog poo or do laundry. For those few days, I can be irresponsible (to an extent). But most of all, I feel like I'm giving myself the gift of time, and I really enjoy it...and I'm blessed to have it.

The catch? The catch is that to find that time, and then take it, we need to believe we deserve it -- and the bottom line, it seems to me, is that we must. I was always the one saying, "I'll take some time after they get out of school.." or "When things slow down at work, I'll do that...." Postponing self-care until "life calms down" can mean a very long wait.

And life is too short.

I truly believe the words of Dr. Alice Domar, "From my experience, you are not the best mother, daughter, wife, sister or friend if you have depleted yourself. When you feel exhausted, resentment starts to build up, and your loved ones can sense it. . Taking "you" time is crucial and should be guilt free.."

In the end, it's not selfish to do what allows us to continue giving to others.

It's not selfish to treat ourselves with the same thoughtfulness we show those we love.

When I'm doing for myself, every cell of my being is fully alive...and nothing could make me give it up.

I owe to my family....

but most of all, to myself.

An Open Letter to All The After School Moms with Shitty Attitudes

"..You say High Maintenance like it's a bad thing..."




Dear After School Moms with the Shitty Attitudes:

Do I care about the way I look?
Yes.
Do I try and dress in things that flatter me?
Absolutely.
Do I love my shoe and purse collection?
Ab-so-freaking-loutely.
Do I give credit to other women when I see them "put together"?
Totally!

But you know what pisses me off? When I get looks from you After School Mothers that pick up your kids when I do. What "looks" you might ask?

Well...

Let me get up on my soapbox for a minute, because I really have to get this off my chest (and if I offend you, I'm sure you'll get over it)...

It never fails. I will always get the "look" from you After School Moms. You know the "look" that comes so easily to you~ the one-eye-brow-up...the full body scan from head to toe...the neck roll from side to side...the pursed lips...the non-smile...the avoidance of any eye contact.

You After School Moms fit a certain profile, too. You are the ones that are unkept, sloppy and wear your husband's sweatpants. You are the women who are 250+ lbs and wear your greasy hair in a ponytail. You are the women wearing the Wal-Mart flip-flops with dirty feet and pizza-stained Nascar t-shirts and waist purses. You are the women that volunteer for every freaking school function and then try and make the working moms feel bad when they can't make it to the class Play-doh party.

I cannot tell you how much effort I put into being social and nice just to break the ice with you women and I just can't make any headway. So then I choose to dissect your psyche...

Maybe you're unhappy with your life.
Maybe you feel that being healthy and clean is not a priority.
Maybe it's easier to be unfriendly.
Maybe you're upset because your baby daddy doesn't even acknowledge your presence
Maybe you feel threatened by a woman who can balance a family AND career and STILL take the time to look good.

But don't be mad at me because you've given up on yourself.

I think women, especially mothers, need to come together and be more supportive of one another. I don't think we take the time to acknowledge each other like we should or give compliments like we should.But we are so quick to be so judgmental and critical of one another.

And such is life...

I will continue to smile like I always do (even when you look away). I will continue to acknowledge your presence (even if I am invisible to you) and I will continue to wear my Christian Louboutin heels (even if you are flopping around in your Walmart flip flops with the Tweety Bird plastic character).

I will continue to be the woman my daughters look up to and respect and want to be like.

I am not claiming to be better than you, I'm just claiming to be me.

And I kinda feel bad for you, because you're really missing out on a pretty nice person....


Sincerely,
The Smiling Mom with the red-bottom shoes

Sriracha-cha-cha!

PARENTS, TAKE NOTE:

Your children are ALWAYS listening. Oh, they act like they aren't..but they really are. Behind that Dr. Suess book they act like they're reading- they're really listening. When playing their Nintendo DS- they're really listening. When watching The Wizards of Waverly Place- they're listening. They have supersonic hearing that starts at birth and grows in sensitivity as they enter "tween-hood"...

Let me use an example and let you decide if you change your mind about watching what you say around the kiddos..

We love taking the kids to Pita Jungle. Great, healthy, menu with lots of choices. The staff is friendly, the place clean and the food comes almost instantaneously. Part of enjoying our food is squeezing the Sriracha chili sauce on everything. The bottle is dark red with a green spout and rooster on the bottle. Because I can't seem to ever pronounce 'sriracha' correctly, I always privately joke about calling it "cock sauce" because of the rooster on the label.

Unbeknownst to me, Mia would continually hear me refer to the tasty sauce in this manner. She loves the hot sauce and is actually the one at the table that uses it the most. Well, on a recent outing to Pita Jungle she decided to order for herself:

"Could I please have the pita with chicken and a side of spinach? Oh, and could I please get some cock sauce?"


Umm, yeah...

Just so you know, the correct pronunciation for Sriracha is SEE-rah-chah...and the whole family now knows how to say it.

And remember, the kids are ALWAYS listening!

Booty Pop

Call me gullible.

I just had to order them.

I want a Kim Kardashian ass.

I don't want to pay $11,000 for an ass implant, but I will pay $20 for a pair of panties that give me that "lift" I need.

Yes, I gave in and ordered the BOOTY POP undies.

You're probably wondering WTF?

Let me give you a quick recap on how this went down....

My friend Jaclyn McGill, always complained about not having a butt. She is 5'9, 110lbs and beautiful, but always complained about not having enough junk in her trunk. Recently we had lunch together with some friends and she spoke about how she received BOOTY POP as a gift. At first, I didn't know what she was referring to...a candy? A music video? A porno?

After our lunch I went back to the office and googled Booty Pop and I was pleasantly surprised to see a cute pair of panties with shapely butt padding! So..I didn't stop there. I am a researcher at heart and continued to delve deeper into reviews on this product. Everything came back positive. Then I saw a video clip of the women on The View talk about it and Kelly Ripa try it out. (Ok, Kelly Ripa is what sold me on it). I logged onto bootypop.com and watched the infomercial. The girls looked amazing in jeans wearing booty pop. I wanted to look like that! No amount of working out and doing lunges is gonna give me an ass like that!

So I'm cheating. I'm buying a pair. And the best part, I get one free!

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my ass. I come from an Asian/Latino background. Unfortunately, I was blessed with the Asian ass, which means it's pretty much non-existent. No offense to my mother, but I would've much rather had the Latina ass in exchange for the thighs and hips. I do have a "bump"...just not a nice, plump one; a biteable one..a la Kim K. I want a video chick ass like the ones you see in rap videos. I want the ass that "...swallows up a g-string..." (ok, ok..maybe not THAT big).

I'll let you know how they work out.

If worse comes to worse, I can always use them as padding when I take up snowboarding....

Mia & Sofia's Conversation of the Day...

Sofia: Ewww, I have a uni-brow! It looks like a caterpillar!

Mia: Don't worry, when you get older, you can get it waxed like mommy does her pee-pee.

Wiener on Parade!

So it's the typical elementary school program. All the parents show up with their cameras, video recorders, Blackberries, iPhones, etc. to tape their little munchkin sing the well-versed medley of America's favorites: a remix of It's a Grand Ol' Flag with a touch of America the Beautiful peppered with The Star Spangled Banner. The music teacher is a flustered mess as she races from one part of the stage to the other. The usual cast of characters take their place on stage: the crying kid, the kid that won't keep his hands to himself, the clean kid that looked like she just stepped out of a Nordstrom catalog, the booger eater and the mannequin kid (you know that kid, the one with the eyes wide open and lips sealed shut that don't move).

Of course my 6 year-old, with the stage presence of Oprah Winfrey and the charismatic voice of Celine Dion, is in the front row singing her heart out void of shyness. This is the same kid, when at home, asked what she was singing for the program responds with a disinterested, "I don't know" or "I don't remember" and runs off to tackle the dog.

The show continues and the 2nd graders now enter and partake in the familiar sounds of patriotic hymns. And, like the 1st graders, the cast of characters aren't too different: crying kid and mannequin kid are on stage along with booger eater...but now throw in wiener boy*.

Yes, it is EXACTLY what you are thinking. Let me paint the scenario...

The 2nd graders are on stage doing their rendition of It's a Grand Ol' Flag and I see a boy on stage fumbling around with his pants and messing around with his zipper.

At first I thought, "Ok, the kid is just nervous, he doesn't know what to do with his hands..."

Then he started fidgeting and pulled his zipper down.

"Ok, maybe he's fixing his underwear..."

Then, in a Matrix-like, slo-mo fashion, he whips it out.

Yes... he pulls out his wiener.

And continues to sing loudly in his most patriotic voice while his little baloney pony stands at attention.

Parents who were sitting in the front row flew up in a rage to grab a teacher nearby to yank wiener boy off the stage. The teacher was oblivious to Admiral Winky & the Twins coming out for the show. So, wiener boy was pulled off the stage instantaneously and whisked away like a criminal...

Enter wiener boy's dad.

Wiener boy's dad races towards the teacher demanding to know why his son was pulled from the program. While I didn't hear the conversation...his facial expressions said it all. He made a beeline to the back of the auditorium where wiener boy was sequestered for the rest of the show.

The parents who had front row seats to the shenanigans were so up in arms and talking about how awful it was. But.. you know what? I thought it was fricking hilarious.

Inappropriate? Yeah, ok...

But I'm chalking this up to this kid "being a boy". Yeah, he's 7 years old and old enough to know better and ok, hold him accountable by punishing him appropriately....but then...let it go.

I don't think this kid premeditated anything. He wasn't at home before the show strategically planning on how he could display his frank & beans and piss people off.

Sometimes in life, we just gotta learn to laugh and not take life too seriously.

This kid could very well be our next president.

If not, his parents will always have a funny story to tell...

*name has been changed to protect the very embarrassed parents of wiener boy