Posts Filed Under Getting to Know Me

I’m Not Like You

posted by Momo Fali on June 16, 2011

So, there was this post on BlogHer’s Own Your Beauty page yesterday about authenticity and the things that make us stand out as individuals. I kept thinking about it, wondering what makes me unique. Other than my Lebanese nose (read: Jamie Farr), how am I different? It was harder than I thought to come up with a list of 25 things that aren’t typical.

I think women spend a lot of time trying to look like one another, but it is our unique traits that make us beautiful. Now, don’t get me wrong…I’m not going to stop dying my hair, but maybe I won’t worry so much about that darned chipped tooth.

1. I have big hands.

2. I have big feet. Size 11, to be exact. But, you know what? They’re pretty.

3. I hate to fly.

4. I hate to drive long distances almost as much as I hate flying.

5. I’m convinced I will die a tragic death. Probably in an airplane crash or a car accident.

6. I take Zoloft for anxiety.

7. Coffee, chocolate, peanut butter and beer are my four food groups.

8. I don’t mind all of the scars on my body, because they all have a memory associated with them. Good or bad. Even this one.

9. I shave every day. My legs, that is. I can’t stand the feel of hair against clothing. *shudder*

10. I save articles from magazines and newspapers for my daughter to read when she’s old enough to move out. Things that I hope will keep her informed and safe.

11. I think it is disgusting when people bite their nails.

12. I bite my nails.

13. I also pick at my cuticles constantly (see above re: anxiety).

14. I hate elevators.

15. And, carnations.

16. I am terrified of cats (not kittens, but the full-grown, sneaky, pouncing, scratchy kind).

17. I have a cowlick on the back of my head. In the 4th grade, I cut it off because it wouldn’t lay flat for school picture day. It looked delightful growing back.

18. I open my mouth and throw my head back when I laugh. Probably so everyone behind me can see my cowlick and everyone in front of me can see my fillings.

19. You know how people have those camping chairs in a bag that they lug to fireworks or their kids’ baseball games? Well, I still use a good, old-fashioned lawn chair. The kind with the interwoven straps.20. I’m good at painting walls and never need tape.

21. My musical tastes range from Joni Mitchell to Black Eyed Peas.

22. I’m tone deaf. Well, not really…because I can actually hear that I can’t carry a tune.

23. I constantly have songs stuck in my head and they will change at the drop of a hat. Someone says the word “prerogative” and it’s suddenly all Bobby Brown up in here. You’re welcome.

24. My favorite flavor of popsicle is banana.

25. I have a crooked smile.

Now it’s your turn. What makes you different boys and girls?

 

I know two ways you could be different…you could be the winner of a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting Goods courtesy of BlogHer and sponsored by Gatorade or the winner of a $100 gift card to Best Buy courtesy of BlogHer and sponsored by Samsung.

It’s a Gas

posted by Momo Fali on March 23, 2011

My kids have embarrassed me a lot.  I know it’s supposed to be the other way around and it’s possible that I have skipped in the supermarket and walked down the aisle at Home Depot with my hand in my husband’s back pocket just to get my tween daughter all worked up.

But, I have never turned their faces red in church.

A couple of weeks ago, my son not only applauded after the priest finished his homily, but my daughter also leaned over and whispered loudly, “Mom, your roots are really dark.”

But, even they can’t trump what my husband did in church when he went rummaging through my purse looking for mints and instead pulled out a package of Beano.

A Little Help From My Friends

posted by Momo Fali on February 7, 2011

I am not the healthiest person you will ever meet.  I have asthma, migraines, sinuses that drive me crazy from October to May, some strange auto-immune stuff going on and, on top of all of that, I don’t sleep much.  I am a blast at parties!  Call me!

I’m halfway kidding, because I am a blast (I’m modest too), but one of the worst things about being sickly is that your friends have to deal with it.

Sure, last year’s swine flu/pneumonia/suspected pulmonary embolism stopped my husband and his dad from leaving for a weekend trip and my mom was the one who rushed me to the emergency room when my doctor thought I was coming down with my SECOND case of viral meningitis, but it’s different when you have to put a friend out.

Like the time when I got a concussion a couple of years ago and my husband was out of town or when I went on my annual girls’ weekend and ended up with a migraine that made me so sick that I couldn’t keep my anti-nausea meds down.  I’m sure that watching me get IV drugs wasn’t on my friends’ lists of things to do when they were away from their kids for a few days.

But, maybe all of this happens to me for a reason.  Maybe it’s to show me that I have amazing friends, or to prove to the world that there really are good people who care about each other; or care for me…same difference.

In addition to being a creative outlet, a place where I have connected with other parents of children with medical issues, and being the board off of which I dove into a new line of work, blogging is a bonus because it has enlarged the group of people who would drive me to the hospital.

Photo courtesy of Mishelle Lane

Boy Friends

posted by Momo Fali on February 3, 2011

When I was growing up, my immediate neighborhood had a handful of kids my age.  Within one block there were three boys and a girl with whom I spent many a summer night climbing trees and playing baseball.

One of the boys was a good friend and I spent a lot of time at his house.  He introduced me to Monty Python and he had a one-eyed, guinea pig.  No, that’s not a euphemism.

I had so much fun at his house.  I played his keyboard (oh my goodness, NOT a euphemism!), we battled at bumper-pool and there was a time, or two hundred, when we played video games.  Geekdom rules!

Fast forward to high school where one of my best friends was a boy.  I hung out at his house so much that when he moved away for good after high school, I still hung out with his mom all the time.  She and I used to have playdates for my daughter and her granddaughter.

I had another really good male friend during college, a group of men with whom I used to work that I’m still close to and, of course, there’s my ultimate best friend…my husband.  He has been with me through highs, lows, trauma, drama, thick and thin.  Mostly thick, if we’re discussing my thighs anyway.  Oh, and blogging; he’s been with me through that too.  He also pays our mortgage.  He’s a friend with all kinds of benefits.

Every one of these guys are people that I could see for the first time in years and pick up right where we left off.  There is no judging each other about the way we look, or what kind of moms we are, or feeling guilt because our house isn’t clean and theirs is, and they’re the head of the PTO and just made a craft and cupcakes and let their daughter have a slumber party where Supermom blended up cauliflower and put it into the punch, but the kids don’t even know they’re drinking vegetables!  Men don’t care.  I’m pretty sure they’re lacking the superficiality gene.  Because, there totally is one.

I am lucky that I have a husband who trusts me and understands that I like beer and football as much as I like home decorating and flowers.  He has a girl-friend (that’s a friend, who’s a girl) who goes to hockey games with him, because she loves hockey.  I don’t.
 
I feel more comfortable that he’s hanging out with her than with a lot of guys I know.  No offense, fellas.

And, if you are offended and feel like you need to argue that men and women can’t be friends, then me and my male, blogging bestie will take you down.  That’s right.  Downtown, Buster Brown.

Photo courtesy of Angry Julie.  Word.

Either that, or I’ll squish you with my chin(s).