It’s safe to say that my husband and I come from very different sides of the track. His upbringing was firmly upper middle class and my upbringing was firmly skipping class to go to work ‘cuz I got siblings and someone has to feed these damn kids.
It was ten years ago this winter, that I trekked up to my husbands beautiful little mountain town to spend Christmas with his family.
But first, a tale from the Ghosts of Christmases past;
I was raised between the foster care system and the streets. Most of my Christmases were spent in the faded lime green or grey walled buildings of mental institutions visiting my mentally ill mother. We used to drink dixie cups of chicken “soup” that came out of the vending machine next to the coffee and hold hands across metal tables, carefully supervised. My mother would give us bright little drawings she made.
Other Christmases spent in children’s shelters and homes were more eventful. Socks, toothbrushes, packages of underwear, new sheets, and one year a boombox from the local fire department; my pride and joy. Need-based gifts were the name of the game and there were no complaints from me.
So when I spent my first “real Christmas” with my then boyfriend, now husband, at the tender age of nineteen, I was still fresh from the Christmases of my childhood and totally unprepared for what was about to happen.
Continue reading “Gagging on Christmas”
I grew up poor. Like…in conditions that you don’t even associate with being possible in a first world country.
Abandoned building in Detroit poor. “Running water? What the hell is it running from?” poor. Three siblings glued together on a dirty mattress in front of an open oven in the kitchen in December CAUSE WE GONNA DIE! poor.
It has given me an appreciation of things. Physical things. Amazing, tangible things.
I swear to God, for the first five years I had a dryer, I legit used to take out all the clean towels and just lay in the pile, purring. “Where’s DGGYST?” “She fell asleep in the towels again.”
I’m firmly out of my towel fixation. (That’s a dirty lie. May I never become so jaded as to not appreciate warm clean towels.) My love of creature comforts continues, but I am trying put that aside. After all, happiness is an inside job. I’m going to try forest bathing, a vow of silence, a retreat of the spiri…oh fuck it let’s buy stuff!
Continue reading “Minimalism? Oh Fuck It, Let’s Buy Stuff.”
Damn, Girl has been growing a bit fast. OK, scary fast.
My little three-month-old blog is reaching toward fifteen hundred followers and tens of thousands of views. Companies are starting to contact me about promoting their shit. Every blogger’s dream, right?
But I am not writing this to brag. I am writing this because I’ve been getting dozens of emails asking for blogging tips… And apparently “day drinking” isn’t cutting it
So let me try and muster something better: Let’s start by knocking off that “I feel bad for promoting myself” shit.
I could tell you to “post pretty pictures” and “be patient” but those tips are everywhere and they are a lot easier than what you actually have to learn how to do:
As a blogger, you need to get comfortable with needing things. More than that, you need to get comfortable asking for those things that you need.
Continue reading “So, You Want a Blogging Tip…”
Uh oh, DGGYST has been reading again. Nothing good can come of that. I get new information and then I pass it on to you like some kind of horrible virus. You didn’t want to know about your giant clitoris, but I found out and just couldn’t help but tell you, so now you must take that information with you to the grave… or to the gynecologist where you will only think, “Zucchini clit, zucchini clit,” over and over and over again.
So when I read an article that the average cost of a wedding climbed to a record high of $35,329 last year, I was a bit stupefied and immediately felt the need to discuss it with you.
Now let me assure you, I think you are a big sexy adult who is entirely capable of spending her money the way she sees fit. There are a bunch of ridiculous articles out there telling you that weddings are a waste and stupid, and that you look fat and shouldn’t go to the beach (maybe my magazine pages got stuck together). I’m not going to do any of that.
I only want you to have a firm understanding of what you are getting for your money.
Continue reading “Your Wedding, Your Money”
Today we are tackling a pretty heavy subject: spoiling your children.
Growing up, my mother used to frequently say, “Money is the source of all evil.”
Not only was money evil but it was a personality killer, a relationship ruiner, and a poison to all things good and decent and fluffy in the world. Because of this, there was quite a shortage of things in my house: running water, reliable electricity, food….
Continue reading “The Pride of Poverty and Spoiling Your Kids”
Answer honestly: do you want your mother’s life?
I could actually hear the NOOOOOOOOO you screamed in your own head, that’s how loud it was.
We don’t want our parents lives. Don’t get caught in the same traps they did. The symbols that baby boomers affixed so much value to are ridiculous, obsolete, and genuinely not the symbols your contemporaries put value on. Below is a list of the shit that nobody hip cares about, and makes you look like a superficial idiot.
Continue reading “Fuck Status Symbols”