enough.

Lately, I have been a little obsessed with looking in the mirror.   It is getting kind of ridiculous, and is taking up way too much of my life.  Usually, it is to make sure I don't look tubby, or that my booty doesn't look too big, or that I don't have peanut butter smudged across the front of my shirt.  While one of the three are valid reasons to check the mirror before you head out the door, I think that we can all agree that the other two can be a deadly combination.  My obsessive mirror checking is usually followed by a demand of Joe's full attention to ask how I look.  He always answers positively, which annoys me and forces the follow up question, "Do I look fat?".   Like the genius that he is, his response is ALWAYS no.  ALWAYS.  (He has his Masters Degree, people.)  He only seems slightly annoyed that I have asked him these two questions every day for AT LEAST four years (read: eight years), so mad props to him.  However, it is now to the point that I am actually over it myself.  So, TODAY friends, I am making a change.  For TODAY, I wrote this on my mirror:

Why this word? I have my reasons, and the first is to stop the madness.  I am declaring to myself that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. That's right, enough is enough, Tiffany Graham.  How many times a day must you look at every angle of your ass?  Why must you obsess over your chubby knees?!  Are chubby knees an actual thing?  And if they are, why do you CARE so much?  And your stomach.  STOP IT with the stomach.  You had two babies.  You're older.  You're doing the best you can.  GET OVER YOURSELF.  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

Here's the second reason:  I wrote it on my mirror to remind myself that I am enough.  I am enough.  I AM ENOUGH.  I wonder what would happen if I actually lived into this statement?  What would my days look like?  How would I treat myself?  What if, instead of looking in the mirror to find every little flaw, I looked in the mirror knowing that I was enough?  What if I looked into the mirror to remind myself that I am a beloved Child of God, that the Creator of the Universe thinks I'm worth dying for, and so that MUST mean that I am enough?

Instead of seeing a body that could tone up, I want to look at myself and remember that I am a good wife, a loving mother, a caring friend, a faithful daughter & sister.  I want to look at my laugh lines and remember that I am happy, that I am funny, and that I know how to have a good time.  When I feel a little flabby, I want to remind myself that I carried two babies, and that while my body might not look how it did when I was 20, I feel SO loved and valued.  (I was TOTALLY TOO SKINNY then anyway. ;))  I am smart, I am kind, I am sassy, I am loud, I am passionate, I am loving and thoughtful. And I will still be all of those things even if my pants are a little tight.  I AM ENOUGH.

I'm going to try to stop with all of this mirror obsessing.  Or maybe, I'm going to stop with all of the NEGATIVE mirror obsessing.  Maybe now when I look in the mirror, I'll say "Damn, girl!  You look GOOD!  Being enough looks fab on you!"  And then I will talk to my mirror about how I got my cute shirt on clearance at TJ Maxx, and then Joe will get annoyed because I'm still spending a lot of time in front of the mirror, but now I'm just cocky and weirdly talking to myself.  But still, no shady Tiff talk!  All good vibes, baby!  ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH.  This is going to be strange and fun, and could possibly drive my husband to drink... So of course I shall do it.

What about you? Do you know that you're enough?  Because YOU ARE ENOUGH.  I know this because I am very smart, and that makes it true, so you must believe me.  (Have I mentioned that I am also a little bossy?)  How would you live if you believed that you were enough? Would you do something you never thought possible?  Step out and take a risk.  Ask for support and see what happens.  You don't have to be alone... We can walk through this together.    

So, wear that dress, girl... and I mean WEAR IT.  You are enough for that Dress.  Stand up for yourself.  You are enough and deserve to be treated with respect.  Apply for that job that you think might be out of your league.  Don't let that boy break your heart again.  YOU ARE ENOUGH.  You don't need him to make you complete.  Don't let him steal your joy, your worth, your heart.  Let yourself be loved.  Run that race.  It will be hard, but you can do it.  You are enough, so take care of your temple.  Whatever it is, it is worth a try.  Let's do this.  Let's believe we are enough and do this together.

I Woke Up Like This.

Hello out there!  Happy New Year!  Yes, I realize that it is March, but can I be frank?  January and February have kind of blown.  I mean the SNOW, the SNOT, the SCREAMING, the WHINING (mostly by me) is enough to make anyone go insane.  So I'm putting those months behind me, and the new year starts today!  Woo!  Where's my champagne?

I'm stepping into this new year a little terrified, as I have made some commitments to myself that are out of my comfort zone.  It has been a while since I have stepped out, and I'm not sure that I am fully ready. But are we ever REALLY ready to step out of our comfort zone?  So I'm taking a breath, saying a prayer, and trusting that I can do hard things.  So here we go...

It will come as no surprise to most of you that I am a bit Beyonce obsessed.  Bey and I go way back to 2011 when we shopped together in Soho.  (Read: My friend and I were shopping at a store, Beyonce was standing 10 feet from us, we watched her every move while texting all of our family and friends, then squealed like school girls with the rest of the employees while she went down the escalator.) Basically, we are best friends.  Soul sisters.  She even cut her hair like mine after she saw me at her concert last summer.  (There is no way she saw me at her concert last summer.)

ANYWAY, while joining our world's fascination with Queen Bey, I have noticed a few things about myself.  One, I have an unhealthy knowledge about a person who does not know that I exist.  :) Two, I have placed some unrealistic expectations on myself by comparing my life to hers.  I look at her and see a powerful, THIN, gorgeous woman.  I look at myself and see a tired, flabby, average looking mother of two.  I don't just compare myself to Beyonce either.  I catch myself looking at friends, strangers, and co-workers to see where I add up.  Am I thinner than them?  Prettier than them? Are they smarter or more creative than me?  Do they look better in that outfit?  It is a never ending battle that I fight on a daily basis, and I am ready for it to stop.

I have always been known for my confidence.  I have been successful at most things, and that makes people assume that things don't get to me.  I give off the vibe that what people think doesn't matter, and what they say doesn't hurt.  Since I'm committing to honesty on this blog, I will now admit that I mostly fake it.  Fake the confidence, fake the toughness, fake the thick skin.  And that is why I am terrified to step out this year.  I fear what people might say if I show the real me.  I'm scared that people will be mean, that they will judge me, and that they will use my past to dictate who I am today.  I am scared to fail.  Most of all, I am scared to peel away all of the layers and get to the root of why I feel how I feel, because that means I will be facing some demons that I have managed to lock down for a while.  Those demons terrify me a bit.

You see, I WANT people to see this when they look at me:

But let's be honest.  Most of the time, this is how I look: 

I WOKE UP LIKE THIS.  I'm tired, I'm sick, and I just yelled at my kid.  I don't have a Glam Squad. In fact, I am confident that the squad I have over here tries their best to strip away whatever glam I have left.  (I'm hanging on to what little I have with clenched teeth & a solid grip.) I'm not the best at anything.  I'm not the best mom, wife, friend, writer, Christian... Not even close.  I'm not okay with that, but I'm going to try to embrace it.  Currently, I'm the best at knocking myself on my ass, being my biggest critic, and getting in my own way.  So I'm pushing that girl down and letting my real self step out for once in her life.  I'm always going be a mess.  A BIG HOT MESS.  But I'm ready to wade through it and name what is holding me back.  

I'd love for you to join me on this journey. I promise to be as honest as possible, if you promise to be honest too.  I promise to be kinder to myself and to others, because really?  We are all just doing the best that we can.  It is going to be effing hard, (yes, effing is a word) but I'm going to suck it up and do it anyway.  Wanna ride?  I'll see you soon! 

xo

tiff 

(Mom, I would just like to state, for the record, that I only cursed ONCE in this post.  "Effing" does not count as a curse word, and "ass" really isn't so bad, is it?  I have a problem.  I'm sorry.  MESSY- remember?!)

Here's to You, Ms. Turney

Mic check – one, two, one, two.  Mic check – one, two, one, two…  Is this thing on?  Ahem.  LADIES &  GENTLEMEN, BOYS & GIRLS!  I PROUDLY PRESENT… MY OPEN LETTER TO THE CEO OF VICTORIA’S SECRET.  Enjoy.

Dear Madam,

Happy Holidays to you and yours!  I trust that you had a lovely Thanksgiving, and are eagerly anticipating the most wonderful time of the year.  I know we have never met, and I hope that you don’t mind me dropping you a line. I just could not let one more year pass without telling you how I really feel about your company, and more specifically, that “fashion show” of yours.  

Can I be frank, Ms. Turney?  Your company bothers me a bit.  Actually, a lot.  You see, I’m an average looking gal with an average post baby body, and an average (okay, maybe small) chest.  Every day, I look in the mirror & tell myself that I am MORE than my pant size, MORE than my bra size, & MORE than the little wrinkles on my face.  I now have a baby girl, and someday, I will tell her these things too.  I will tell her that being smart IS sexy, that being funny IS hot, & that being kind IS more important than being popular.  She will be told every day that she is loved by the God of the Universe, and that He is the One who defines her worth, NOT boys, NOT money, and definitely NOT YOU.  But you’re not making it easy; not for me as a thirty something mama, not for my baby girl, and not for other females like us.  

I am confident that you are a very smart woman.  I am sure that you had to work hard to become successful, and that you are now enjoying the fruits of your labor.  I’m wondering, however, if anyone asked you how big your boobs were before you got the job.  No?  How about your waist size?  Yeah, me either.  Because you are smart, and savvy, and talented.   Your looks have nothing to do with your success, because it didn’t matter.  SO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME AND MY DAUGHTER THAT IT DOES?  

The women you employ are gorgeous.  I am sure that they are fun, smart, and fabulous.  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous of their bodies.  I mean, look at them!  I completely understand the idea behind modeling, and I know that they need to “look” a certain way.  (We can discuss the brokenness of the modeling world at another time.) I can respect them and their endeavors to become successful.  But when my husband (and soon, my son) sees your commercials, I GUARANTEE they are not thinking about the intelligence of those women.  And that holiday fashion show?  Girl, please.   You might as well broadcast that in July, because you and I both know it has NOTHING to do with the baby Jesus, Hanukkah, or any other holiday, for that matter.  (SIDE NOTE – No woman wants sexy lingerie from Santa. Give me jewelry, give me shoes, give me a gift card.  Want to make me mad at Christmas? Waste $100 on some bras that nobody is going to see.)

I read somewhere (Wikipedia –duh!) that you wanted to “dim the hooker looks” and move to more of a “Vogue lifestyle layout”.  I assume you wanted to make VS a little classy.  So do it.  Class it up.  Stop making stupid underwear that says “call me”.  Stop making commercials with women in Santa hats rolling around on the couch laughing at one another in their tiny bras & thong underwear.  WE DON’T DO THAT.  I lived in a sorority house for three years, and even THEN, WE DIDN’T DO THAT. Stop telling us we are not enough with our kindness, our brains, and our wit.  Because we are ENOUGH.  Smart is sexy, Funny is hot, Kindness wins.  So, there.  Stuff THAT in your diamond encrusted bra. 

Wishing you Many Blessings -
Tiffany Graham 

Leaning Back and Choosing Kindness

"I would rather make mistakes in kindness and compassion than 

work miracles in unkindness and hardness" 

- Mother Teresa

Hello!  How are you?  How was your summer?  Mine was good, thanks.  Yes, I know I had a brief blogging sabbatical, but I'm back!  Those two blog posts this summer SLAYED me, y'all.

Tonight's post is provided to you by one of the hottest topics around... POLITICS.  Oh, yeah... I'm going there.  Now, before you get your panties in a wad, or your pits start sweating for fear of what ruckus I'm about to start (I'm looking at you, Mom & Dad.), take a deep breath.  It's not what you think!  I promise.

If you are reading this post, chances are good that you know me in some way.  (I am of no illusions that my two previous writings have drawn the masses in.)  And since you know me, I think it would be fair to assume that you know where I stand politically.  (That would be leaning a little left, for anyone new to the party. :))  I was team Obama twice, and I'm not ashamed of it.  In fact, I brag to anyone who will listen that I shook the man's hand. (I may or may not have knocked a young boy down in order to do so.  My bad!)  That's right guys.  I just outed myself as a (moderate) liberal.

Wait!  Don't get mad.  Don't be scared.  Don't stop reading.  I promise I have some good points, and it has NOTHING to do with Obamacare, the Debt Ceiling, or Nancy Pelosi.

Here's the thing, friends.  Over the past couple of years, I have read  A LOT of posts on all political sides that get me all sorts of worked up.  People making blanket statements about liberals, conservatives, Democrats, Republicans, Tea Partiers... The whole kit and caboodle.  Some make me laugh, some make me mad, some actually hurt my feelings.  It seems to be worse now more than ever, as not a day goes by where I don't see one side bashing the other.  Facebook has become the place to say whatever we want, however we want, with very little consideration to those we might be hurting.  What in the world are we doing to each other?  We are literally lashing out at the very people we are calling "friends".  

I am thankful that we live in a country where we are free to speak our minds.  But sometimes, speaking freely gets quite ugly.  And just because we CAN say it doesn't mean we SHOULD.  Trust me, I am queen of saying things when I should keep my mouth shut.  I can be pretty mean, and I'm not proud of it.  How about you?

Here is a challenge for all of us;  Let's stop assuming people who lean left are without brains, and those who lean right are without hearts.  Some of the smartest people I know vote with the Democratic party, and some of the most generous people I know are conservatives.  It is wrong what we are doing to each other, and it needs to stop.  NOW.

Currently, we are witnessing the ridiculousness of our government over this shutdown.  These jerks that WE put into office are acting like babies and cannot get their shit together.  I'm mad at them.  ALL OF THEM.  They are being little punks, and all need a serious kick in the ass.  (See how mean I can be?) However, instead of taking responsibility, they are pitting us against each other... Again.  Do you see it?  The blame game goes on and on and on and ON; and here we are, playing into their hands.

What if we did something different for a while?  What if we spoke with kindness?  What if, for one week, we thought about who we might hurt before we posted something on Facebook?  What if we refrained from bashing someone else's political view, and instead sat down and really heard what they had to say?  Maybe we could learn something.  Maybe our view would change a bit... Or is that too scary to think about?

Please know that as I am writing, I am basically challenging myself.  If you would like to hop on the journey, I'd be happy to have you!  If not, that's okay too.  (See?  That's me being nice and not calling you an a-hole for not doing what I want you to do. :))  I know this seems completely idealistic and out there, but it's worth a try.  Being kind isn't a new movement, but I could always use the reminder.  Thanks for listening, friends.  I'm off to bed... I have a feeling this being kind thing is going to wear me OUT.

xo

 

I Threw Away My Scale Today

So yesterday, I was a multitasking master.  We had just arrived home from a trip to St. Louis the night before, and in a very short span of time, I had cranked it OUT, folks.  Before noon, I had fed my kids, put one down for a nap, played, done laundry, cleaned my kitchen, figured out how to make homemade mac & cheese without milk (thanks, google!), pulled something out for dinner, fed my kids again, dressed them, & showered & dressed myself.  BOOYAH.  Then, I went to work, came home, & in an hour's time, I managed to bake said mac & cheese, change diapers, make baby food, pack a diaper bag & swim bag, & make it to a friend's house ON TIME for dinner.  HOLLA AT YA GIRL!  YEAH!   I FREAKING ROCK.
After the cookout, Joe headed home to put the kids to bed, & I ran to the grocery store to get some much needed essentials.  As I stood waiting my turn at the deli, basking in the glory of getting through this day like a BOSS, a kind man started talking to me.  We chatted a bit, and then he said, "So, you're expecting, I see!".  Um, WHAT?! NO.  HELL NO.   Just like that, my little happy bubble burst into a thousand pieces.  Day shattered.  Accomplishments thrown by the wayside.
While I would like to say that I was able to let the man's assumption roll off my back, I am afraid the opposite is true.  As I walked down the aisles, my mind filled with so much self loathing & disgust for the current state of my body that I could barely continue to shop.  I was on the verge of tears, & as hard as I tried, those mean things I thought about myself could not be silenced.  Finally, I stopped my cart, pulled out my phone, & texted my three close friends to tell them what had just happened.  I dumped it on them so that I could stop dumping it on myself.  It was the only thing I could think to do, & in that moment of desperation, I received an outpouring of love.
The texts started rolling in, telling me not to believe the lies in my head, that I was a good person - a beautiful person, that I was loved, that I wasn't alone.  When I got to my car, I cried.  I cried a lot.  Partly because I was sad, but mostly because it felt good to know that people had my back.  
I read once that if you wear good jeans & your hair looks nice, people often think you have it all together.  I think I dress pretty well, & I love a cute hairdo, but can I tell you something?  I am a MESS sometimes.  Like, a BIG one.  And right now, I am struggling.  I am struggling with my body image.  I am struggling with not liking what I see in the mirror every day.  I am struggling with the idea that I might not ever look how I used to look, & that people might talk about it.  I'll be honest; I love attention.  I love being the funny one, the cute one, the best one.  I really like being the cute one.  I know it is dumb - it is totally ridiculous that I am in my thirties & still care about this, but I do.  So when I don't look how I think I need to look, I tell myself some really crazy lies.  I tell myself that I peaked in high school, that everyone thinks I'm fat, that I need to lose this last 10 pounds or I'll never look good again, that I'm not enough, that I'm ugly.
I know I'm not the only one who struggles with what they see in the mirror each day, because my friends (who I think are gorgeous, thin, & fabulous!) tell me they struggle too.  I don't understand how they could struggle, since I see them as so fantastic, but they say the same to me.  So what is WRONG here?  Why are we doing this to ourselves?  When am I going to believe that I am enough, & that I am doing the best that I can?
This must stop.  And I know that I'm only one person, but I'm going to name it again.... and again... and again.  However many times I need to name it, I'm going to do it until it stops.  Stops for me, stops for all of us.  We are enough.  We are smart, kind, fun, beautiful, creative, and loved by God.  I am enough.  I am funny, emotional, loud, silly, compassionate, & giving.  I am more than my weight, more than my face, more than a number on a scale.  So I'm throwing that dumb thing out today.  Out to the trash it goes. I'm letting good into my heart & I'm going to try my best to silence the lies.  I have family, friends, and a God who sees me & knows me.  They think I am enough, & I'm going to try to believe it too.
If you are reading this, could you do me a favor?  Can you reply in the comments & tell me one good thing about yourself?  I would love that.  And maybe, just maybe, you need to be reminded that you are enough too.

I Can't Fit Into My Jeans - And Other World Problems.

Oh!  Hey there, guys!  Remember me?  The one who said she was going to write at least once a week? Yeah, I lied.  I lied BIG TIME.  Can you forgive me?  Because I just don't know what I would do if we couldn't get past this...

Anyway, one & a half years and a baby girl later, I'm BACK.  So let's chat, shall we?  The topic I want to discuss tonight is one that is (unfortunately) very near & not so dear to me.  And by very near, I mean ON MY BUTT.  (I wanted to say ass, but I didn't... Oh, wait.  Sorry, Mom!)  That's right, friends... I CAN'T FIT INTO MY JEANS.   There it is.  There's the hard hitting issue I am dealing with right now.  I know there is a small chance that other more important things are happing in the world, but I doubt it.  And this is my blog, so I can do what I want.

"But Tiffany, you look so great in all of your Facebook/Instagram pictures!" DUH.  Shoulders & up only, people!  SHOULDERS & UP ONLY!  I review each photo with the accuracy of a fighter pilot (You know, because they have perfect vision.  Is that a horrible comparison?).  Photos are tossed, lives are threatened, tears are shed... And then the chosen one is posted & presented as if it was just snapped on a whim.  And then I appear to be pleasantly surprised with the lovely batch of compliments on how fabulous I look.  Trust me, I KNOW how fabulous I look in that picture... I worked HARD to look that fabulous.  So don't let the rainbows & butterflies fool ya.  Mama's got a system.

I've been thinking about this a lot as I struggle to lose the last of my baby weight.  (How long can I blame it on the baby?  Five years? Ten?)  I'm not one of those girls who pops out a kid & goes back to her high school body the next day.  (I've been telling myself that I was too skinny in high school, anyway.)  I gain the allotted 45 pounds when I have babies.  They say that's how much you can gain, & damnit, I am gonna gain it!  Sometimes I am an overachiever & even gain more.  When I'm pregnant, I don't really WANT to work out.  I don't really want to work out when I'm NOT pregnant.  I'd rather lay on the couch & watch "The Real Housewives of Wherever" while eating french fries & ice cream.  So that's kind of what I do.

Here's the thing, friends.  I will take full responsibility for being lazy while creating another life in my womb.  (WOMEN - REAL SUPER POWERS - WE MAKE HUMANS!)  But I'm so tired of obsessing about how I look after the fact.  I beat myself up - badly.  I get depressed.  I say & think horrible things about myself.  I tell my husband that I'm ugly. (He disagrees EVERY TIME, & I tell him to shut up.)  So, I'm naming it.  I'm calling out this crap so that I can be free from it, & maybe someone else can be too.  I've made two babies - two beautiful babies!  (Yes, Joe helped, but really? Come on.  We all know who does the real work.)  So who cares if I am not good at losing weight right away?  I'm good at other things.  Like getting kids on kick ass sleep schedules.  And being fun.  And encouraging people.  And dancing (I'm SO GOOD at dancing).  And being a DJ (Did you know that I can drop some fresh beats?!)  I'm a pretty good wife, a decent mom, a sassy but loving daughter/sister/friend.  So THERE, society.  Suck it.  I don't have to be skinny to be awesome.

Recently, Joe's grandma passed away.  She was an amazing woman who I respected a lot.  At her funeral, people were called to witness about her life.  During that time, not ONE person talked about skinny Norma Stalker was.  No one mentioned what size clothing she wore, or how fantastic she looked.  Instead, person after person spoke of her love for Christ, her commitment to her family, & her passion for others.  That is how I would love to be remembered... How about you?

This might seem a little heavy for some of you.  I promise to be lighter the next time, whenever that will be.  (Don't hold your breath!) But I couldn't shake the need to put this out into the Universe... Partly to help myself, but partly to help other women too.  Because I know that I'm not the only one.  So if you are reading this, & you feel a little chubby, or ugly, or all around BLAH, this is for you.  You're not alone.  And I think you look FANTASTIC.

Cheers!

PS - To my last eight pounds... I'm coming for you.  So quit being an a-hole & back up off me.

I Love Jesus, but I Drink a Little

A dear friend of mind has, on more than one occasion, told me that I should start a blog. I have brushed her off a few times, but the self-absorbed, attention seeking, over opinionated part of me cannot be quieted any longer. And so, I shall blog. Please know that if you are reading this & have your own blog, I am in no way suggesting that you are an attention hog. But I AM, and you already know this if you know me. (In fact, if you are reading this, I am SURE that you know me. Because as much as I would like to believe that I am almost famous & have a hoard of fans awaiting my every move, I know that this is FAR from true.)

So, here is my disclaimer regarding this blog... If you are looking for something deep, something inspirational, or something life changing, you might want to search a little further. I am not your girl. I also have several sweet friends who do a great job of writing about family, house projects, & recipe ideas. I LOVE their blogs. I read them every week. But this blog will not cover any of that stuff either. I adore my cute hubby & am nuts over my fabulous son, but I think I’m just going to keep this about me. :) I'm sure they will be included in some posts. They deserve some sort of shout out for putting up with my crazy shenanigans, & we all know that spouses & kids make great material. But as of now, that will not be the main theme on this site. If, however, you are interested in all things superficial, my thoughts on life, or just a good laugh, please feel free to stop on by. I know A LOT of useless information, & have an opinion on almost everything, so why not write about it?

That being said, I want to address a few things before I get started. All of those reading this have known me at different places in my life. I have been a preacher’s kid, a cheerleader, a sorority sister, a mean girl, & a drama queen. (These ladies still pop up on occasion.) My past has some “color” in it. Compared to my husband, Saint Joseph, my past has all SORTS of color going on... Compared to Britney Spears, not so much. I have done things that I regret, but I have also done things of which I am proud. I have a short temper, a sassy mouth, and judge people too harshly. But I also love deeply, give freely, & can be your biggest fan. I have been a really good friend, but I have also been a really crappy friend. Same goes for wife & mother. But I’m at a point in my life where I’m okay that I don't have it all together. I’m sooo not perfect, & I never will be. I eat more than I should, yell more than I should, & think I know more than I actually do. At times, I'm a walking/talking contradiction. I love Jesus, but I drink a little. (& curse a little too.) I’m a mess, but in Christ, there is love & grace, right? So I guess I'm okay with my messiness... And maybe this will make someone else feel a little more normal in their journey too.

This, my friends, starts a journey. . It is meant to be fun, so don't take what I write too seriously... And on that note, Kim & Kourtney Take New York is on, so I must leave you. Until next time, homies.