When one asks what you’re thankful for during this Thanksgiving season, it is very common to blurt out the obvious: family, friends, good health, etc. So, I took it upon myself to think about the everyday things that I use, I rely on, I count on to make me the woman, mother, and otherwise goddess that I am. Here is my first annual “Of course I’m thankful for my friends and family, but I couldn’t live my life without my___________” list:

Sunless tanner: Oh, my bronze friend- thank you for making my ass look less flabby and for disguising my cellulite. Thank you for faking that I have toned abs and golden gams!

 Victoria’s Secret Very Sexy Push-up Bra: Thank you for helping me to pretend that I have the perfectly perky and forward pointing boobs that I had before I had kids. Thank you for coming with 1/2″ thick pads for me to place my doughy breasts on to make it look like either I’m 23 and a DD, or that I’ve spent $6,000 on a new set.

Kegels: Thank you, Dr. Sara, my OB/Gyn for both pregnancies, for instilling in me the importance of doing kegels. Thank you to myself for doing them, and for allowing me to sneeze and laugh without peeing on myself. Thank you God for designing women’s bodies so that you can do Kegels without anyone knowing- I think it’s always an adventure to see how many I can do, say, in line at the grocery store, or at a stoplight. Someday, I intend to learn how to do them without holding my breath, so that I can be doing them while talking to someone- could be you!

Wine: Thank you for giving me solstice at the end of a crazy day with my kids. Thank you for being so soothing, calming, nurturing. Thank you for having lots of fans, so that I’m always busy at work! Thank you for making me laugh, and for allowing me to think that I really do sound like Robert Plant when I sing Led Zeppelin when I’m drunk at karaoke.

Adhesive Breast Petals: Thank you for allowing me to go braless in revealing dresses that are made for 20-something girls who’s nipples still point forward. Thank you for masking unsightly “headlights”, and letting me go one more year wearing skimpy shit that a woman my age probably shouldn’t be wearing in the first place.

Jeans with lycra: Thank you for being so stretchy, and for allowing me to pretend that I still wear a size 4. Thank you for being made with a button with a metal rivet, so that I can keep pretending I’m a size that I’m actually two sizes larger than, and use a rubberband around the rivet and through the buttonhole to give me an extra inch around the middle. Thank you zipper for putting up with my constant pulling up with a set of pliars.

My Hairstylist: Thank you for letting me fake being blonde for so many years. Thank you for cutting my hair so that it looks thicker than it is, and coloring it so that it looks “natural”.

Candles: Thank you for making my house smell so good, and making it look so festive and elegant. Thank you also for your “airbrushing” properties- everyone looks hotter, younger, thinner in candlelight (and after a couple of glasses of wine)!

Spanx: Thank you for sculpting my thighs and ass and making it look like I just spent two hours at the gym. Thank you for having cut-off legs so that I can wear you under a short dress, and no one knows I’m wearing sausage casing that keeps all my lumps and bumps smooth under a slutty little black dress. I’ll thank you more next year if you come out with a version that allows me to breathe while wearing, or even better, come out with a crotchless version (it’s like a wrestling match with myself trying to get the damn things off and on in a bathroom stall…again thankful to Kegels)!

God: For allowing me to be a mom/woman/warrior who’s boobs may sag a little and butt may jiggle a little, but for giving me a body that can give birth to a human being and still be able to sneeze without peeing down my legs. And thank God for creating other women who come up with brilliant inventions like Spanx, or nipple covers. And mostly, thank God for the gift of laughter and humor!

Have a most fabulous Thanksgiving!

“If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ” ~Edgar W. Howe

I just cracked up when I read that quote! As a stay-at-home, work-at-home, working Mom, I can absolutely relate to that! Sure, there is a small part of me that is very sad to see my daughter go to school and be influenced by others, and become more independent, but in the words of Mitch Hedberg, “If the (I’m sad my kid’s going to Kindergarten feeling) was represented in a pie chart graph, it would be as small as the slice of pie that shows ‘If I won the lottery, I’d give it all to charity’!” Yes, she’s getting grown up, yes she is not going to have me as the center of her world, but let’s be real here- when she screams at me “I hate you, stupid dork jackass!” from accross the backyard at me when I’m on the phone with my Mom, because I took away the Sharpie that she was using to grafitti the side of our (rented) home- I’m not feeling held real high in my daughter’s rank of things that are important to her!

I get my fix first thing in the morning, usually before I pour my morning coffee. I get another hit before I get dressed- must have a little more. Then usually at least one more time, before I leave the house. I’ve done it at work, once or twice- just a quickie, though. I would do it at Starbucks, at an airport, even in my car, if I had the means to do so. I do it while I’m writing- I even do it in front of my kids. (Bubble popping sound)- I’m doing it right now….must keep in touch with someone who I haven’t seen in 22 years, since we were in fifth grade together, but for some reason, I feel compelled to talk to her about her daughter peeing in the potty for the first time, on Facebook!

It is a global obsession, and I have fallen prey to it! Three years ago, I was very content in my little world of a handful of friends and my family, until one night, I went to a bar to hear a local band play, and after, they said “You can hear more of our new music on Myspace!” What the hell is that, I wondered? So I asked my sister, who is eight years younger than I, and way more hip what it was. Like a crack dealer, she snuck me into her room upstairs at my parents house, locked the door behind us and said, “Dude- check this out…” Then she pulled up her Myspace account, and showed me all these pictures of long lost friends, bands and music that she loved, tons of pictures….my first question was, “You can just look someone up by their first and last name?” “Yeah, TRY IT…” she said in a low, convincing voice. My fingers trembled as I entered the first and last name of the first ex-boyfreind to pop into my head. Voila! He appeared- picture and all- pictures of him, his wife, their kids. Holy cow! This is fun! I started typing in the names of all of my ex-boyfriends, and one by one, got the scoop on all of them, what they were up to, whether or not they were married, whether or not their wives were hotter than me- if they upgraded or downgraded ( I know I’m not the only one who does this…don’t judge)! And like that- I was hooked!

Just when I really started getting into Myspace, and had even dared a couple of times to play drunk Myspace (kinda like drunk-dialing, but not as dangerous, ’cause you can’t really talk to anyone), and started friend requesting all these ex-boyfriends…I do not recommend operating a Myspace page while under the influence, by the way. I would run into people at the mall or around town, and feel super cool and uber-trendy when I could tell them “find me on Myspace- we’ll keep in touch!” I would change my song every day or so, I would “pimp” out my page with graphics and codes and glitter, send comments, post pictures- I had become a Myspace whore.

Then one day, I saw a comment from a gal I worked with that said, “Peace out, Myspace- I’m moving on to Facebook!” Facebook- what is that? Some Myspace knock-off, no way! I’m staying true to my roots, I’m sticking with Myspace. Oh, sure, I took a little peek and I was totally bewildered by the “status” the “posts”, the applications and getting “Poked”- yeah, don’t think I want to be “poked” by some creepy dude I blew off in highschool- thanks, but no thanks.

So, as my friends started to drop off Myspace like flies to jump onto the Facebook bandwagon- I was steadfast. I kept answering the “all about me surveys”, posting pictures, changing my music, until one day I realized that the people I really wanted to keep in touch with were all on Facebook now. That I went from trendy Myspace girl to not-cool girl who’s not yet on Facebook. Nobody wants to be the not-cool girl, right? So, I did it- gave into the peer pressure, and opened a Facebook account.

At first, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I posted a bunch of pictures into what I thought was an album, that ended up instead on my “wall”. I would send my friends messages, instead of writing on their wall, and they would bitch at me, “You never wrote me back! So, I figured you didn’t want to go to girl’s night out…” “WHAT? I totally wrote you back! I messaged you!” I would exclaim. “Noooo- you write on the wall- it’s faster” they explained. Oh. Not a cool girl quite yet.

After a couple of weeks, I got the hang of it. I was posting my status daily, finding friends, suggesting friends, even drunk friend requesting ex-boyfriends! After a month, I even closed my Myspace account- “Myspace- that’s for amateurs”, I thought to myself. I’ve had people friend request me that I went to Sunday school with when I was seven, and a girl that hated me in high-school- even slapped me once, were now my “friends”. Some, I had to reach into my deepest depths of memory, past all the haze caused by years of partying in L.A., to try to grasp who this person was, but I would always add them, even if I couldn’t remember how on earth I knew them, ’cause I’m an equal opportunity friend adder.

BUSTED! I’m supposed to be writing a book review, but I’m playing Facebook instead!

I even walked the uncharted territory of adding people I work with, my bosses and co-workers. I struggled with this one. Do I want them to know that my status is “Kristin is recovering from a blaring headache from a bottle of red wine she drank last night.” Or, do I lie on my status, censor myself, ignore my whole First Amendment right to my freedom of speech? I finally figured, “I’m a bartender, I’m not curing cancer- it’s not that big of a deal if my boss knows I tie one on once in a while.”

Then out of no where, WHAM!  “Charlene would like to add you as a friend”. *Gulp* I only know of one Charlene…my Mother. Now, I am close with my Mom, and I love my Mom, but if she’s my Facebook friend, she’s gonna know all kinds of crap that I might otherwise omit from casual conversation. For example, if she asks how my night was out with my girlfriends, I would tell her, “It was fun! We had some drinks, we were safe, took a cab.”  But, if she was my Facebook friend, she will see pictures of my drunk ass dressed all slutty singing “I Touch Myself” at karaoke, or the occasional cigarrette in my hand in pictures snapped before I could quickly hide it behind me… all evidence that would certainly out me from being the sweet little wifey-poo and mommy dearest that I would like for her to believe that I am! Now, I’ll really have to censor myself! But, she’s my Mom- she gave birth to me, I can’t NOT add her- how disrespectful is that? But if I do, then Facebooking is no longer fun, and every time I post a picture or a status, I have to wonder “what would my Mom think about this?” After half a day of agonizing over my decision, I decided to add her. Thankfully, she seldom checks her page, hasn’t even uploaded a picture yet, and definitely doesn’t get on enough to catch all my updates, so, it’s really not a big deal.

Yesterday, I received a message from my cousin, asking if I received a Friend request from my Grammie. Are you kidding me? I type her name in the “Friend Finder” and sure enough, my 78-year-old Southern Baptist, heart of gold, pure as snow, knows the bible from cover-to-cover Grammie is on Facebook. Now that would definitely put a damper on my Facebook party! The woman has never let alcohol touch her lips, or sinned in her life, and I’m gonna let her see status posts about ”Kristin is still voiceless after singing ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’, and twisted an ankle while doing cartwheels on Main Street while she was out with the girls last night”- I THINK NOT! So, for now, I’m in Facebook undercover spy mode- adding a hyphen in between my two last names every couple of days, taking it back out, changing my location once in a while, and so far, sweet Grammie hasn’t found me yet! But, if she does, believe you me- I will be forced to jump ship, and give into the enemy, at which time, you can chose or chose not to “Follow Me”.