An Open Letter to My Parents on my Birthday...

39 years ago on August 31st, you brought me into this world...and on this day, when I'm the one receiving all the hugs and happy birthdays, I wanted to take the time to acknowledge you both and say thank you...thank you for my life.

I've learned a lot and have seen a lot in the past 39 years that has forced me to recognize how blessed I am to have such wonderful parents who gave me such a happy childhood

From the day I was born you've always been overprotective. I never had a smudge of dirt on me, my hair was always fixed, my clothes were always ironed and you'd carry me so I wouldn't scuff my shoes. Even though dad was gone a lot overseas, you mom, made sure you played both roles when necessary.

Mom, I remember the first day of 1st grade, how tightly you hugged me outside my classroom while I had tears in my eyes. And even though I was reluctant to step inside my new surroundings, the warmth of your smile and the security of your hug was enough to give me the confidence I needed to get through my first day. You never failed to leave an impression. I will always remember the late nights that you would stay up and make cupcakes for my class and hand decorate each cupcake with different roses with your special butter cream frosting. And as I grew older and more of a pain in the butt, we bumped heads a lot because I thought I knew everything. I was always pissed off that I had a 12midnight curfew...even in college. But you did give me a choice: stay in the house & go to college & not pay for anything or move out, get a job and support myself. Obviously I chose to stay and suffer the curfew rule. You were education oriented and could never stress enough how being educated was the most important thing I could ever do for myself. I've never been a kid to disobey, break the rules or push the envelope. I think the most hurtful thing I could ever do would be to disappoint you...and that was enough to keep me on the right track.

Dad..we've always had the closeness that many kids wish they had. You always brought laughter and music into the house. If it wasn't for you, I would've never learned all the lyrics to The Sugarhill Gang's Rappers Delight. I still remember the vinyl record sitting next to your record player and how often we'd listen and dance to it. And when it came to Freddy Fender or Little Joe y La Familia playing, I was quick to jump on your shoes and hug your waist and dance with you while you lifted your feet to the music. I could never do wrong in your eyes, dad. And when I made mistakes in life, you were always there to pick me back up with your reassurance and love. In a world where there aren't a lot of girls with fathers in their lives, thank you for being such a strong, positive role model. I'm know you are the reason why I have zero tolerance for idiot men. Pat yourself on the back for raising a woman who doesn't take shit...and who is raising her own daughters to be the same way.

Even though you both lead separate lives now, remember always, that you BOTH raised an amazing girl..who is so thankful for such a wonderful childhood and amazing life you've given her. Not a day goes by that she doesn't thank God for you both.

Every year, you always ask what i want for my birthday.
But you've given me more than I could ever ask for...

you gave me the gift of life...

*I love you*

An Open Letter to My Boobs...

Dear Boobs,

I remember when you first popped into my life. I was 11 years old. It was a brisk fall day and my mother made me stand under a cherry blossom tree to take a picture wearing a tight, cream turtleneck sweater. When she developed the pictures, there you were..poking out in broad daylight, like aspirins on an ironing board. I refused to accept that you were going to be a part of my life.

When my Wonder Woman Underoos weren't doing the job anymore, I started to wear tight tank tops under my shirts to conceal you. I wanted to hide you from the world because I wasn't quite ready to advance into 'womanhood'. My grandmother would refer to you as 'mosquito bites'. All the other girls I knew were already wearing bras and the boys would joke about "Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders". I didn't want any of that attention, but you didn't listen. Noooo... you just insisted on growing and forced me into the teen bra section at Sears- damn you.

But over time, my resentment of you started to fade away. It was hard being in junior high and seeing 'Tina' with the biggest blouse bunnies one could ever imagine...in the 8th grade. (Everyone has a 'Tina' in school--that one overdeveloped girl in their class that the boys flock to.)

As I started to take an interest in boys, your interest in growing seemed to be put on the back burner. You just couldn't make up your mind. You started to frustrate me and I took it personal. It was like you were paying me back for being such a bitch to you when you made your first appearance under that cherry blossom tree.

High school is when you and I started to become allies. You decided that it was my time to shine and you transitioned from mosquito bites to boobies. You weren't as big as I wanted...yet. But I was happy to occupy my bra with your presence. I started to feel more like a woman instead of a prepubescent schoolboy.

By the time college came around, you were in full bloom...your prime... you weren't boobies anymore..you were tits. Sexy tits. Victoria's Secret sexy tits. I referred to you as 'The Girls' and boy did you get a lot of attention. You were fondled, you were pinched, you were grabbed, you were sucked, you brought ecstasy to my life. I never realized how sensitive you were. You were perky and cute yet erotic and strong. You gave my self esteem the boost I needed. I was no longer embarrassed to be associated with you or my sexual self. You had become one with me.

Life went on and then came marriage and babies.

I never knew how much you would change when my babies entered the picture. Our relationship had become a roller coaster of emotions. When I was pregnant, You decided to transform into sloppy, ugly National Geographic fun bags. You were no longer 'tits'..you became 'breasts'. I couldn't even look at you in the mirror. You disappointed me...but I never gave up on you.
You redeemed yourself right after I gave birth. You became delicious flesh melons. I changed your name to 'stripper boobs' because you were perfectly round and voluptuous---- you were back to tits. I missed you. I wanted you to stay like this forever...

But life goes on, seasons change and so do boobs.

I would never consider replacing you with fake ones. You've been good to me. I'm blessed to have you. I'm sure that there are a lot of women out there with cancer-stricken boobs that would kill for a pair like you. So, just know, that I appreciate you and have never taken you for granted and never will.

We've had a love/hate relationship up until now and you will always be a part of me...

(even if I secretly wish to have the stripper boobs back )

Love Always,
Me

Mia Turned 10

Today my daughter turned 10.

It's a bittersweet moment for me. I'm excited that she's entered the double digits and has a lot to look forward to come her teenage years...and yet...my heart is heavy with the thoughts of yesterday...

Ten years ago at 9:43am and four hours of labor, she entered this world- all 7lbs 12oz. of her. Like any new mother, as soon as my eyes met hers, the love was instanstaneous. Her tiny little hand grasped my finger and she fit so perfectly in my arms; at that very moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

I named her Mia Angelica. I wanted a name that was short and sweet but exuded confidence and strong will. After seeing the world renowned soccer player, Mia Hamm, on T.V. I knew that was the name I wanted.

When we brought her home from the hospital, she had what seemed like, a never-ending bout with colic. There were many sleepless nights and endless tears (and that was just me). I thought I was supposed to have one of those "perfect" babies that you see on T.V.- you know, those shiny, smiley babies that never cry. I was in for such a rude awakening. She hated sleeping in her crib, always wanted to be held and insisted on falling asleep on my chest every time.

Mia hated to be away from me. I could not leave the room without her wailing like someone was pulling her toenails out one by one with a pair of rusty pliers. She always wanted to be carried and had to have me at arm's length at all times. I thought this phase would never end and that I would forever be joined at the hip with her.

But as time went on, she started to need me less and less...

She no longer needs me to kiss her goodbye when I drop her off at school in the morning (that just doesn't happen in 4th grade). She pours her own milk in her cereal bowl. She showers and gets ready for school by herself. When she talks with her best friend, Jade on the phone, she leaves the room. She doesn't need me to hold her hand anymore when crossing the street. She closes the bathroom door now and and can tie her own ponytail. She has her own opinions ...her own thoughts...her own dreams.What happened to that little hand that grabbed my finger so tightly 10 years ago?

All this time, she had been letting go; without me noticing, she slowly unleashed her grip from my finger and also...my life.

Independence replaced me.

As I sit here tonight watching her sleep, I can't help but feel sad. My little girl is growing up. Her little round face has metamorphasized overnight right in front of me. Her long bodyframe and her size 5 narrow feet show all the signs of a beauty in the making. I no longer see the chubby, fat toes of a toddler or a sticky mouth of a first grader.

I wipe away my "happy tears" and bend down to feel her cheek and kiss her forehead...

and out of nowhere...

she reaches for my finger

and holds tight...