Big Girl Pants

Big Girl Pants


Life has a little bit stunk over the last five or six weeks. I am “quirky” on my best days, and me under stress is a little bit like Edvard Munch’s most known work. Yeaaaaah. Not pretty. In fact, I let myself get so worked up over statistics that my body literally revolted and started to shut down non-essential functions in my body. What is the last thing a borderline manic lady needs? Mother Nature has a wry sense of humor. Yeaaaaaaah.

My mother informed me that I’m now in competition with her chihuahua for being the Queen of Drama. Thanks Mummie, love ya, too! 🙂

Just shake your head and extend massive amounts of pity toward Rugby Fellow as he weathered Hurricane Jennifer. And, he was the one asking me how could he help me? What did I need? He wasn’t running for high ground, oh no, not at all. As much as I like him, I fear that my annoyances to him and his frustrations to me will soon become more than slight annoyances and confused frustrations and morph into each other’s pathologies that drive the other one crazy. Oh, wait — I’m already crazy. And he was (is) still willing to buy my brand of crazy. But, I believe, if we stay together, we will eventually lose respect for each other. As he said, reflecting on me explaining why I wasn’t happy, and the reasons why I saw our differences ultimately coming between us, “It’s sad… you needed XYZ… and I needed ABC… we both could get parts, just not all of it… if that makes sense.” It does… and I don’t even know if Y is a vowel or a consonant. And XYZ & ABC are at total opposite ends of the alphabetical spectrum, and that’s about as opposite as Rugby Fellow and I can be.

So, the same day that I inform Rugby Fellow and we end our relationship, I get a call from my mother about my Pere-Pere. Bam! Bam! Bam-Bam!

This is life. It’s not always pretty. Or easy. Or fair. Pull on my big girl pants and suck it all up with a big enough straw. Because, I really do believe everything will work out the way they need to resolve. And, most things I don’t understand, don’t need to be understood.

And Pere-Pere, my mom, Rugby Fellow, and I will come through all of this standing tall. Because Pere-Pere is a badass who has knocked “C” in the kisser and beat it down before – so he will do it again! And my mom can tease me all she wants because at the end of the day, she has to accept that I am of her DNA, quirky is as quirky makes (and, believe me, I LOVE my mother — she’s so amazing and so fricking funny, so I can tease her)…. And Rugby Fellow is a fantastic, hunky dude, with wit sharper than a whip and a heart bigger than the Pacific. And, even when I feel angsty, I look for the precious metal lining of the darkest clouds that loom overhead.

Shares 0


  1. October 31, 2010 / 1:13 am

    …Thank you so much for having read my blog before Jennifer…it really means a lot – a makes me sad at the same time that it's over…I've contemplated just changing the name/URL or starting over…but I don't even know anymore.

    Either way, God Bless – and beautiful blog! The purple makes me happy 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *