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Mommy Body
Category

  • L’eau de Snatch

    Don’t hate me because I am beautiful, but also don’t hate me because I am not beautiful enough.  You should only hate me because earlier I took your toothbrush and itched my bum with it- and I wasn’t wearing underwear.

    Beauty is a huge part of a woman’s existence.  Women feel bad about themselves when society doesn’t deem them beautiful, but they also feel sorry for themselves when they are too beautiful and prejudiced against.  Chicks are so often defined by their appearance that no matter what the circumstance, there is always something to complain about.  Beauty, or lack their of, is ultimately an objectifying force because it will forever be a descriptive to your identity.  “I am the pretty girl” or “I am not the pretty girl.”  But why can’t you just be that girl who has dope personality and a nice warm gooey vagina that men want to bury their penis in?  Is it just men who make us feel like beauty is everything, or do we also do it to ourselves?

    Where the tragedy lies is how women who don’t feel attractive enough also sometimes feel invisible to the world of men.  Dustin Hoffman who was recently interviewed about his role in the movie Tootsie, opens up about how hard it was for him to realize that plight of the woman.  He describes that when he was preparing for the role, he wanted to make sure he passed as an actual woman, so he took his costume to the streets to see how he was received.  And even through he was seen as a woman, he was not revered as beautiful.  In his heart he knew he made an interesting woman, but he also knew so many men wouldn’t get to know him/her because he wasn’t conventionally pretty.  And his own angst bled into the fact that he had to realize how many women he looked over and never approached because of his own biases and superficial impulses.  “There are too many interesting woman that I have not had the chance to know in this life because I have been brainwashed,” Hoffamn said through tears.

    Take another example of tennis player Marion Bartoli winning the Wimbledon Women’s championship and having a BBC on air presenter say “Do you think her dad told her when she was little ‘You are never going to be a looker? You’ll never be a Sharapova, so you have to be scrappy and fight.’” Okay this comment is idiotic for so many reasons.  For one, it is not like Sharapova won matches with her perky tits and flawless facial features.  She didn’t use her pout to ricochet the ball to the other end of the court.  Her ass didn’t serve, or hit volleys.  She played tennis well, just like the other lass Bartoli.  For this guy to imply that looks have anything to do with capabilities as an athlete is ridiculous, and by doing that both these woman are being subjected to the concept that their beauty either makes them better or worse as people.

    The focus on looks doesn’t only reside within the cultural standards, but also within our own heads.  And maybe that is because as women we are socialized to care about our beauty because we think that is what men want from us.  And maybe we are conditioning our men to be attracted to the beauty we find beautiful? Do men really care if a woman is conventionally beautiful from a biological primal perspective, or are they drawn to standard attractiveness because they want to be admired by other woman?  Like I am the man with the hot woman, don’t you other woman want me more as a consequence because I am so desirable?  Do woman define the beauty standards or do men?  Maybe as chicks if we had a more flexible definition so would the men.  Maybe us women are holding on just as tight to these oppressive standards?

    Okay but this is not new to you.  You all already know this bullshit.  Both men and women are totally brainwashed when it comes to beauty and the question isn’t is this happening, but what can we do about it.

    Well I think I have the solution.  According to this documentary called “The Science of Sex Appeal” a woman’s copulins has an extremely powerful effect on men.  If you are not sure what I am talking about, copulins are hormones/chemicals secreted by a woman’s vagina.  In this experiment, scientists created synthetic copulins for men to inhale while looking at pictures of women.  So just to be clear, scientists took the time to develop a scent of cootch, that they then bottled and administered through a gas mask sending the aroma of pussy directly into these guys’ noses.  Yes.  That really happened.

    But the findings were fascinating.  While these men were inhaling the fragrance of a woman’s front bottom, they were unable to distinguish between conventionally attractive women and less attractive women.  Yup.  So while guys are wafting on twat, they think all women are pretty damn sexy.

    So I am developing a fragrance called “L’eau de Snatch” for the ladies.  By smelling like muff you will be sure to attract men because ultimately all they care about is crawling into your love pocket.

    l'eau-de-snatch-blog-(i)

    July 10, 2013 • 3 years old, Current Events, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 4814

  • Maybe My Kid Should Start Smoking

    So this whole weaning thing has been wayyyyyyyyy dramatic today.  I knew this was going to be the case, which was why I have avoided it for so long.  I feel as if I am seriously detoxing The Munch.  Like she has been addicted to my tit juice and now she is in a state of total withdrawal.

    When kids breastfeed oxytocin is released, which is considered the bonding hormone, or the “love” chemicals of our brain.  So literally your baby gets high as fuck on love.  No wonder The Munch is so attached to the process! It is like nursing reboots her operating system and she is shot up with the love drug.

    So taking that away from her is somewhat traumatizing.  Not only for the ritual that she has become accustomed to, but also because The Munch’s body chemistry is used to that love boost.  So to take that away from her is this serious crash to her eco system.  Beyond the fact that it makes her feel comforted, The Munch is having to adjust to a life of total sobriety.

    Munch spent most of the morning asking for to do “nana” and I kept trying to distract her with cake, lollipops, and letting her watch Mickey Mouse Club House.  I was letting her indulge in every decadence I usually keep her away from, but by the time it was 2pm she had 60 grams of sugar surging through her veins and her eyes were bleeding from staring at the computer screen for 2 hours.

    It was exactly naptime, which is the key time she would usually breastfeed to fall asleep, and that is where everything fell apart.

    Today was the second full day without “nana” and I endured one of the hardest parenting moments of my life.  Unlike if a guy were crying in my face because he wanted to suck on my boobs, I actually cared about Munch was going through.  Obviously breastfeeding a toddler is not just about nutrition or their immune systems, but there is a huge emotional component as well.  She wept as if she were in a genuine state of mourning.  The expression on her face was so tormented I couldn’t help but cry too.  There was something so pure and primal about her distress.  The Munch was in a genuine state of suffering, and I felt like nothing could console her.  She was grieving that she had to leave behind this very important part of her existence.  I tried to rationalize with Munch, but I was useless through my tears as I watched this creature I love sob with such passion.  So I held her and let her weep thinking that if she were every going to move forward, it would only be through confronting her pain completely.

    Munch: “Please Mamma, please!!! I want to do nana! PLEASE!”

    Toni: “Munch, Mamma’s nanas don’t work anymore.  They only work for 3 years, and now that you are 3, they don’t work!”

    Munch: “But please Mamma! Just one side!! Please!!!!!!!!!”

    Toni: “Munch, I can’t.  The nana gnomes came on your birthday and took my nanas away, and now they don’t work anymore.  The nana gnomes brought them to the new babies being born so they can have nana.”

    Munch: “But Mamma please!! I really want to do nana!! Please Mamma PLEASE!”

    Toni: “But listen Munch, the nana gnomes have planed a really big surprise for you. To celebrate the end of nana.  Tomorrow there are going to be fireworks in the sky just for you!  The are like giant fairies that explode in the sky!! And it is all for you! Because they are so happy that you don’t do nana anymore!”

    Munch: “But Mamma I really really really want to do nana! Please! And I want you to wear a dress.”

    Toni: “You want me to wear a dress?”

    Munch: “A pink dress and tights. And I really want to do nana!!” PLEASE MAMMA PLEASE!!

    This went on for a while.  Finally, after I thought my heart was going to crumble, The Munch decided she would eat some cake instead.  So I let her have her 3rd piece of the day, and then strapped her to my back to take a walk so she could sleep.  As she slept my friend Gita and I saw a bald eagle.

    Gita: “Maybe it is a sign that you are doing the right thing with Munch.”

    Toni: “Maybe it is a sign that America is becoming extinct since tomorrow is the 4th!”

    The afternoon with Munch was peaceful.  I am hoping that our moment was her final lamentation of what was, and she has moved on.  That she had fully face her sorrow in order to truly let go.  Of course Munch will probably be in her 20s and still think that fireworks are for the celebration of her no longer doing nana, but I am thinking that is okay.

    I wish I could have gotten my hands on some Kiddy Klonopin for The Munch, or maybe I should have gotten her into smoking to make this transition easier.

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  • I Know You Are Going To Make Fun of Me

    You are going to make fun of me.  I know it. I can feel it coming. That’s okay though.   I am alright with it.  I have my big girl pants on. I am totally at peace admitting that I went to a Dave Mathew’s concert over the weekend.  Go ahead.  Laugh all you want.

    I know people hate Dave Mathew’s, but my love for him started when I was a 14-year old girl.  His music moved me.  His lyrics spoke to my soul.  I thought he was amazing.  I went to countless concerts and even followed him to Europe for his first tour over there.  Yeah that really happened.

    But I know what you are thinking.  Maybe it is okay that I dug Dave Mathew’s in his prime, but who the hell goes to a Dave Mathew’s concert nowadays? This girl that is who.

    I am not into any of the albums he has made over the past 10 years, but nostalgia for what was ran so deep that I just had to have one more experience with it.  But much like an old rocker chick wanting to relive her youth at a Poison reunion concert, I was in store for some harsh realties:

    1)    I kind of hate people, and being in a crowd of them makes me cranky, and hate them more

    2)    Cargo shorts are still a thing

    3)    A lot of people wear Crocs non- ironically

    4)    No matter how much beer you drink, people are really annoying

    5)    There are a lot of ugly mother fuckers out there.

    6)    Massholes really care about the Bruin’s and whatever was going on in the game.

    7)    Taping a concert on your iphone is irritating as fuck.  Do you not get how much the sound is going to suck? And how shitty far away shots are on a fucking phone? Do you really think later reliving some stupid video of sparkly lights coupled with crappy audio is better than just enjoying the moment with your phone in your fucking pocket?

    8)    Am I getting old?

    (Even if I was surrounded by a bunch of douche bags, it was super fun to have a mom’s night out on the town!)

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    June 17, 2013 • 2 years old, Adventures, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings • Views: 1699

  • I Am Committed To Not Being Committed To you

    What I have to do in my life is more important than what you have to do in your life.  But if I need you to do something in my life than that is more important than what is going on in your life.  Got that?

    Everyone is busy, and it is easy to think that what you are doing is the most important thing in the world.  And it is – to you.  But what if someone needs you to do something in their life?  Do you ever flake out on them? Probably you do sometimes.  But does that make you any less infuriated when someone flakes on you? Hell no it doesn’t.

    Being reliable is hard.  When you make a commitment to someone, you don’t always want to follow through when the actual time of the commitment creeps up, then feel overwhelmed and want to prioritize other things.  It is easy to say yes to something before you actually have to do it, but then feeling like no the day of.  The desire to flake is as strong as the smell of your armpits.

    In my 20’s I would sometimes be reliable and other times flakey as fuck. I was unreliable about being unreliable because sometimes I was really reliable.  I am not sure what that was about??? Maybe because I smoked an insane amount of pot those days – but I seriously doubt it.

    After enough people reminded me how lame it was to be so lame I made a promise to myself.  Every thing that I said “yes” to I would do… no matter what.  And maybe that would teach me to say “no” to more things in the beginning and only commit to things I knew I would follow through with.

    This life experience taught me a lot. Mainly that bachelorette parties get pretty messy pretty early on in the night.

    In order for things to be a priority in your life, you have to make them a priority.  If that is a project you are doing with another person, you both have to care about it equally and feel invested in the creation. And if someone asks for your help and you said “yes” because you want them to at least think you are a “good” friend, you have to care about their needs as much as your own.  Even if you are just pretending.

    “Ummm are any you guys going to help me out of here? Or are you doing your own thing?”

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    June 5, 2013 • 2 years old, Behavior, Mommy Body, Musings, Relationships • Views: 1743

  • What Do you Pray For?

    Some people pray for a world without war.  Others to end famine.  I personally pray for the day I can take a crap in peace.

    Munch: “Where are you going?”

    Toni: “I just have to go bathroom.”

    Munch: “Are you going just pee? Or poops?”

    Toni: “That is my business.”

    Munch: “NO IT’S MY BUSINESS! Oh… you are going poops.”

    Toni: “Sigh. Yes you are right.”

    Munch: “Here let me give you toilet paper.”

    Toni: “Munch, no, give that back to me.”

    Munch: “NO I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE TOILET PAPER!”

    Toni: “Fine.”

    Munch: “Here.”

    Toni: “I need more than square munch.”

    Munch: “You want another one?”

    Toni: “Yes.”

    Munch: “Here.”

    Toni: “Munch, give it to me.  I need more than one square at a time.”

    And with that… she just ran away laughing with the toilet paper.  Leaving me on the toilet to rot.

    Toni: “MUNCH! MUNCH!! COME BACK HERE!! I NEED THE TOILET PAPER!”

    But she had the nerve to just ignore me.  I could hear The Munch laughing in the other room.  So finally I waddled over to the living room with my pants around my knees… and there I found her.  She had taken all the last of the toilet paper and balled each square individually into tiny little balls.

    Toni: “Munch!! Why did you do that? I can’t wipe my bum with dingleberries!”

    Munch: “Maybe you can just eat them?”

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  • Cuntree Mouse, City Mouse

    Sometimes the cuntree mouse ventures into the city.  My friend Gita and I decided to go shopping in Boston, an act I have not done in over 3 years.  When I lived in NYC I kinda gave a shit what I wore, but now that I live amongst the trees and chicken shit, I don’t really think it matters if my outfit clashes.  Especially in a place where the only online dating site that is advertised on television is “farmersonly.com.”

    The other element that has been impeding my fashion choices these days is my attachment comfort.  It is hard to prioritize a really cute pair of pants that ride up my ass to the point of creating a canyon between my cheeks, or shoes that feel like foot binding. I kind of would rather wear a fleece onsie.

    So when I was trying on “skinny jeans” today that were supposed to make me look….ummmm skinny I guess… I couldn’t get over how restrictive they felt.

    Toni: “Are you sure these are the right size?”

    Sales girl: “Yeah…. Totally”

    Toni: “Do you have them a size bigger.”

    Sales girl: “Yeah…. Totally.  But those are totally the right size.”

    Toni: “There are just so tight around the waist.”

    Sales girl: “Yeah.”

    Toni: “Its just that I am used to wearing maternity jeans.  In fact those are the only jeans I wear these days.  They have this roomy elastic waistband that is stretchy and without buttons to constrict your flesh.”

    Sales girl: “OH when did you have your baby?”

    Toni: “3-years ago.”

    Sales girl: “Ummm seriously dude.  Buy those jeans.”

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    May 17, 2013 • 2 years old, Adventures, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Women's Business • Views: 13204

  • Why Don’t You Take Your Bag and Shove It Up Your Ass!

    Hey world.  So this really awesome thing has been happening to me where my vagina bleeds every 2-weeks rather than 4.  It is amazing. I love it sooooooo much! Thanks nature! I don’t want to kick you in the twatt at all!

    In case it isn’t clear, I am in a really shit-tastic mood. So you can imagine how pumped I was to go grocery shopping with The Munch at the stupid organic store, only to realize that I didn’t bring my own eco-friendly bag.  I don’t know if you know this, but needing a bag at the hippy store is about as offensive as taking a shit in the middle of the aisle and then refusing to wipe.  When the cash register lady realized I had the audacity to admit I didn’t have my own $30 hemp bag, she acted as if I was single handedly responsible for destroying the planet with my selfish needs.

    Cashier: “Wait, so you didn’t bring your own bag?”

    Toni: “No I am sorry.  I didn’t plan to go shopping today, but then I realized I had time so….”

    Cashier: “So you don’t leave them in your car?”

    Toni: “Well, I guess the last time I used them, I left them in my house and forgot to bring them back to my car?”

    Cashier: “Well that is what you have to do next time.”

    Toni: Okay… sorry.”

    Cashier: “Yeah, well you should be.

    Yeah I get it lady!! I agree with you…. but I made a fucking mistake! And then of course, as The Munch and I were walking to the car, the stupid hippy paper bag broke and all my groceries fell into the dirt – because a pavement parking lot isn’t organic enough!  It made me feel like the cashier pissed in the bottom of the bag specifically to make it tear on me.  So then I had to shove dirty groceries in my car that was just cleaned as The Munch demanded to eat her muffin on the ride home.

    Toni: “Please Munch… the car just got cleaned… please don’t make crumbs with your muffin.”

    Munch: “But Mamma, it is already all dirty.  See!  See how the groceries are dirty?”

    Toni: “Yeah, I see Munch.  Thanks for pointing that out.”

    The only thing that made any sense to my day was that I would have at least an hour to make voodoo dolls and stab them while The Munch napped.  But of course she didn’t nap because she “wasn’t sleepy” and wanted to show me something downstairs.   That something being a half eaten lollipop she wanted to finish.

    Munch: “I don’t want to sleep.  I want to go down stairs with you.”

    Toni: “Munch, you need to go to sleep.”

    Munch: “Can I lay on your tummy? I want to lay on your tummy.”

    Toni: “Fine…”

    Munch: “Mamma tell me a story.”

    Toni: “Once upon a time there was a little girl named Adelia and her Mamma really wanted her to go to sleep.”

    Toni: “Ummmm yeah… tell me another story instead.”

    LOVE YOU! I am going to go find someone to karate chop.

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  • Clap for Me and I Will Clap for You

    Over the weekend I had a dance performance at my studio.  It was a hippy pagan fertility love fest celebrating the birth of spring set to the music of Led Zeppelin.  Yeah I know.  Kind of the best idea I ever had.

    Even though we had made the show 18+ because there was nudity, I thought this was something The Munch had so see.  I want to share art with The Munch because I feel like learning to appreciate the idea of someone pouring their hearts out for you to observe is an important practice.  Going to performances and participating in that energetic exchange are meaningful life experiences.  I feel like the earlier she gets exposed to creativity, the more likely she will honor and want to partake in the artistic process.  I am not saying I need The Munch to be an esoteric abstract artist who uses bat wings to paint herself in sparrow blood while chanting Rumi backwards to the sounds of humpback whales humping as an expression against materialism – but I want her to at least be able to appreciate those who do.

    I also thought it would be cool for The Munch to see my performance so it could contextualize why I spend all this time dancing.  I was a little nervous about how she would behave, so I thought I would explain to her what was going on before hand just to make sure we were on the same page.

    Toni: “Okay Munch, so tonight not only are you going to watch all of Mamma’s friends dance, but you are going to watch Mamma dance too.”

    Munch: “I wanna dance with you!”

    Toni: “Okay! You can! But today you have to watch Mamma dance and clap for her okay?”

    Munch: “And then when you are done I am going to dance and you clap for me.”

    Toni: “That sounds really fair.”

    As I was waiting to go on back stage, the announcer of the show was saying our names and our bios before each performance.  Now, when my partner Cyndal had emailed the other dancer and me asking for our information for the show, I had assumed Cyndal knew my bio and didn’t really need one from me.  So as a JOKE I said “oh and my bio is Toni Nagy once went on a plane and farted really loud.”  You know TO MAKE HER LAUGH.  As I was waiting in the wings to go on stage I hear “blah blah blah Erink Lovett Sherman yadda yadda director of Arts Fest… and Toni Nagy, who once went on a plane and farted really loud.”

    Toni: “Cyndal!! I was fucking joking about that!!!”

    Cyndal: “Ohhhhhhh it totally seemed like something you would say!”

    Toni: “Touché….

    When I went on stage I couldn’t stop giggling thinking how the audience must be wondering if I would once again would fart really loud, and if they would be able to hear it over the song.

    After my dance I went to sit with Munch for the last performance.  My friend Elise was doing a piece to “In the Light.” She came out draped in brown robes like a monk and honored the four corners north, south, east and west, with candles.  Then she disrobed and entered into a kiddie pool full of mud.  While Elise danced naked in the soil, the audience was invited to embed these seeds with hopes, dreams, wishes and love for mother earth and themselves, then blow the seeds onto Elise and into the pool.  I thought this was a really beautiful concept and The Munch and I sent up together to blow our seeds in.

    Munch: “Mamma, she is getting all dirty.”

    Toni: “Yeah, you are right.”

    Munch: “Her hair is getting dirty.”

    Toni: “It is.”

    Munch: “Is she going to wash it in the shower later?”

    Toni: “Yes Munch I am sure she is.”

    Munch: “But we don’t get to watch her get clean in the shower.  We only get to watch her get dirty.”

    After the performances we had a dance party and of course The Munch didn’t want to leave because it was her turn to dance and my turn to clap for her.

     

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  • What’s That Smell? Oh, Its You

    I am going to tell you something about me.  I am relatively indifferent when it comes to taking showers and wearing deodorant.  I mean, of course I get in the shower – it’s just not this crazy priority of mine. I do it when it’s convenient.  Like twice a week.  And I have nothing against deodorant.  It’s not like it once beat up my mother or stole money from me.  I just don’t think about it.  Kind of like that time I punched your mom in the face and that $100 I owe you.

    I also move my body around quite a bit – dancing, practicing yoga, running away from The Munch.  So it is safe to say that it is common I have a slight funk.  As a consequence most people who are close to me, are familiar with my stench.  I wouldn’t say it was vomitus, but it has a distinct musk to it.

    So my friend Gita is visiting and was coming to dance class with me.  She asked to borrow a shirt and I gave her one I assumed was clean because it was on my clean laundry pile.  I knew I had worn it over the weekend, but I was Monday… so it had to be clean right?

    We were sitting in the car driving to dance class and Gita looked uncomfortable.  She kept making weird faces, looking around confused, and opening the window.

    Gita: “Oh my god.”

    Toni: “What? What’s the problem?”

    Gita: “Oh my GOD!”

    Toni: “Gita what is it? What’s wrong?”

    Gita: “I kept smelling something.  And wondering what it was.  Because it was so unmistakably the smell of your armpits – yet it seemed impossible that I could smell you all the way from here.”

    Toni: “Hey! I took a shower yesterday! And put on deodorant!”

    Gita: “Well, its not you.  But it is you.  It’s your shirt! I just smelled the armpit of your shirt!! And it reeks of you!”

    I guess it wasn’t a clean shirt after all. Then all during dance class Gita kept saying how the stench of Toni wafted into her face every time she lifted her arms.

    Gita: “I feel the need to announce to the class that that smell is coming from me, but it isn’t me.  It is actually the scent of Toni that has been imprinted on to this shirt.”

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    May 10, 2013 • 2 years old, Adventures, Mommy Body, Musings • Views: 4115