it's like, having a baby has made me more honest or "real" or whatever.

a little diddy from february. 

two weeks ago, we made the switch from nursing to bottle feeding. 

it has been one of the hardest things i have done.

jude had a fantastic latch. that first month and a half of nursing was, for the most part, great. then something happened. after about 30 seconds, jude started freaking out. like, legitimately freaking out. screaming, flailing, turning red. she was completely inconsolable. it was heartbreaking and frustrating and overwhelming.
what was i doing wrong? why was she not eating? why couldn't i do this?

i called her doctor. i called nursing hotlines. i talked to moms. i spent hours doing online research. nothing helped. after a lot of talking and crying (on my part), cory and i made the decision to bottle feed jude. i was determined to pump because it felt like the whole mommy world was telling me "breast is best" and if i didn't get breast milk into my baby, shame on me.

i had pumped a a few times before to save up for that blessed nighttime feed, but pumping for a whole day was a different story. when you pump, you have to keep a rigorous schedule in order to keep your milk supply up. so every three hours i pumped for an hour (20-30 minutes on each side) and prayed jude would stay asleep. i cried when i saw i'd barely gotten two ounces from both sides (and that was on a good day). there was nothing more devastating to me than seeing five drops of milk in a 4 oz bottle after 20 minutes of pumping. talk about kicking a sister while she's down.
i have all the love and respect in the world for mothers who consistently pump.
you are incredible.

cory came home to two bawling babies.
"i can't do this. i just can't."
"okay. then brissa, we're done. we're going to formula feed her because this isn't worth it."
"but cory. she needs breast milk. i am supposed to be able to do this. why can't i do this?"
and then he looked at me and said, "no. stop it. you are not a bad mom. this isn't something you did wrong. this is not your fault. she just won't eat. so many babies take formula. look at maty. look at how healthy and happy he is. he never had breast milk. jude will be okay."

so we switched. we switched and i had to learn how to not feel like a failure or a quitter or a bad mom because of it. and, honestly, how stupid is it that? how dumb is it that because of everything i read online and the pressure i put on myself, i felt like a failure because my baby simply didn't want to nurse?

it's amazing how quickly we all calmed down after we made the switch. jude was getting enough food and she was getting it fast. i don't think i was producing as much as she needed and she wasn't getting it quick enough. homegurl likes to eeaaattt. cory and i got more sleep and my crying sessions spaced themselves out a bit more. which was a blessing in itself. i finally felt like i was able to focus all my attention on being a good mom.

now that i've written this out, i'm wondering why i did. i guess what i'm trying to say is that we need to be kinder to ourselves. we need to remember that we are all doing the best we can. it's sad to see that so much of the mom-shaming going on today is mostly self-inflicted. no one is better than someone else. we need to do what works best for us and our babies. because, honestly. as long as they're happy, what else matters?


jude is happy.
jude is healthy.
jude is formula fed.
and that's okay.

more of this, please.

all hail jade beall.

these photographs and this article

are just what i needed to hear.

i had a baby four months ago.

my body is still loose.

my stretchmarks have faded from purple to brown.

my arms are bigger.

my boobs feel like they will never shrink back to their beloved c-cup status.

my bottom is more bootylicious than it's ever been.

everything is different.

my body changed.

my body may never "go back" to what it was.

and sometimes, i let that thought sink deep into my soul.

i let it cripple me.

i let it defeat me. 

but then, i read posts like this and articles like this

and remember that i once praised my body for its ability to create

and i have to stop.

i have to slap myself for hating 

the very change that brought me my greatest joy.

i am not ashamed of my stretchmarks.

i am learning to love this soft body of mine.

i am learning to accept myself. 

i hope to one day quiet that voice that makes me feel worthless 

because my body isn't airbrushed perfection. 

but for now, i'm trying.

{photos via} 

following iheartcatgifs on tumblr will change your life.

the only reason i know any of the words to "wrecking ball"

is because cory will randomly sing it throughout the day.

he likes to walk into a room belting,

"don't you ever say i just walked away

i will always want you."

followed by a very dramatic, almost operatic rendition of the chorus.

side note:

i didn't mean for yesterday's post to be so dramatic.

i had every intention of talking about holiday food and mashed potatoes

and the cheesecake i was going to bake this weekend,

but sometimes your heart takes over and you need to listen.

so thanks.

thanks for the honesty and love over the past two days.

it's always comforting to know we aren't alone.

okay.thnx.bye.

g2g before i make this

another dramatic day.

well, that escalated quickly....

warning:

i'm going to do that annoying thing

where i post a picture on my blog

that i've already uploaded to instagram.

i am officially 31 weeks pregnant.

i have been in the third trimester for three weeks.

google told me i should expect to gain an average of 

eleven pounds during these last few months.

god bless the holidays. 

speaking of final trimester weight gain...

i don't know how much i've gained this pregnancy.

i don't want to know.

i face my back to the scale at every appointment.

i've told my nurse to only tell me if my weight is hurting the baby.

it is one of the most freeing feelings in the world.

i have spent my entire life battling with body image issues

and for the first time in 24 years,

i can proudly say

i.don't.care.

i know my butt has gotten bigger.

i know my thighs are rubbing a little closer.

i know there are dimples in places that don't normally have dimples.

but i don't care.

it was touch-and-go there for a bit.

that first trimester nearly broke me.

there was something about looking bloated and not pregnant

that really rocked me and made me take a few steps back.

but here i am,

heavier and happier than ever.

i am grateful for this body.

for what it's capable of.

i am grateful for my big butt and thigh dimples.

i am grateful for a healthy pregnancy and a healthy mindset.

granted, some days are easier than others.

just because i have learned to love who i am now

doesn't mean i'm immune to that little voice

that weasels its way into the back of my head

telling me i'm too big, i'm too flabby, i'm not "perfect."

sometimes i give in. 

i let it tear me down, leaving me at square one.

but lately, i'm winning.

i'm shutting that sucker up and i'm owning who i am.

those are the days i like to remember.

those are the days that are slowly but surely taking over.

i love my little girl.

not just because she's ours,

but because of what she's helped me overcome.

early on i told cory i never wanted any of our children

to hear us talk down to ourselves 

especially when it comes to weight.

i was partly inspired by my realization 

that a healthy body image starts with my example

and also by this incredible article.

"don't you dare talk about how much you hate your body in front of your daughter,

 or talk about your new diet. 

in fact, don't go on a diet in front of your daughter. 

buy healthy food. 

cook healthy meals. 

but don't say, "i'm not eating carbs right now." 

your daughter should never think that carbs are evil, 

because shame over what you eat only leads to shame about yourself."

that article changed my life.

as a wife.

as a parent.

as a woman.

the hardest thing to do is believe in your beauty.

but it is possible.

and once attained, incredible.

i told you i'd come back.

i wrote this in may. 
courage came in october.

it's time. 

time to talk about this. 

time to get real.

time to come forward.

one of the biggest struggles of my life

the biggest struggle of my life

has been learning to accept my body.

learning to love it and appreciate the magic

of a healthy, functioning human body.

growing up i always believed,

"i'll be happy when i'm skinny."

and looking back at pictures of myself

in high school, 

i realize i was normal.

thinner than i am now, but normal.

and i still wasn't happy.

it's taken a long time for me to be happy

with this body. 

to accept what i have 

and to love it now.

i can't wait for those twenty pounds to disappear.

i can't wait until my thighs don't touch

or my stomach doesn't fold when i sit.

HAPPINESS CANNOT WAIT. 

i held off on this confession 

because being pregnant has changed it all.

these first few months have been some of the most 

exciting and emotional of my life.

one minute i'm thrilled because

i'm growing a tiny human inside of me

and the other i'm crying because i feel bloated

and nothing fits

and i'm afraid everyone will just see me as a fat fat.

i have never had a harder time

with my body-image.

and it sounds so stupid because
i'm pregnant and this is exciting and i'm happy,

but it is so hard.

it doesn't seem real yet

and it is so easy to tear myself down.

when those moments happen,
when i'm crumpled on the bed,
sobbing because i can't find a thing to wear
and i feel the furthest thing from beautiful,

cory has to stop me.

he makes me look in his eyes and he says,

"listen. 

i think you are beautiful.

and if you don't think you are,

i need you to know and to remember that at least one of us

knows you are beautiful.

you are the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.

you will always be my favorite."

he is constantly thanking me for 

"sacrificing my body" 

for our little baby.

he has to keep reassuring me

he'll love me after i've given birth

and my boobs sag lower

and my never-flat stomach

gets even fluffier. 

i don't get it,

but i guess that's love. 

when i'm with him, 

i forget my insecurities.

i don't worry about my legs looking huge

when i sit in the car.

i purposefully give myself double chins

when we take pictures.

and when he smacks my butt,

i can feel the cellulite ripple

but all he can say is,

"mmm...dat ass."

i will never understand how he can take my insecurities
and make them beautiful.

but he helps me see past all of it.

he has helped me realize

there is so much more to me than my appearance.

i am more than my body.

i am a spirit.

i am a soul.

i have a heart.

i believe in life.

i believe in beauty.

i am learning to believe in myself.

i am beautiful.

oh,

i never wanted to talk about this.

to open up so much

and to air everything out.

i like to keep it light.

i like to keep it easy.

but i made a promise

and i'll be damned if i don't keep my word. 

and dad, i'm sorry i swore twice.

but you can't ground me.

i'm an adult. 

there is no going back.

the other day i got dressed up

(read: put on clean leggings and a bra)

to go to costco with cory.

he looked me up and down and asked,

"how come you're not wearing your crockies?"

i think i've officially hit rock bottom.

hi.

my name is brissa

and i'm addicted to crocs.

i'll take a swig-a-that.

maybe it's the flu talking,

but i think pepto is beautiful.

just beautiful.

i also enjoy the taste of pepto.

this is not the flu talking.

i had the unfortunate chance to experience

generic pepto a few weeks ago,

after my onion ring massacre,

and i did not enjoy that little shot of pink

as much as i should have.

not.at.all.

confession.

yesterday, i licked the medicine cup clean.

cory witnessed the incident

and said he worried how much time

our future children would spend with me.

then he said i was weird for

liking nyquil.

i believe his exact words were,

" who wants to invent a pepto-nyquil combo shot?

what person enjoys those flavors enough

to combine them?"

i do.

i enjoy those flavors.

and candy-coated advil

and cough drops that taste like creme savers.

and no, i don't have a "problem"

but if i'm going to be sick,

i'm going to enjoy it,

dammit!

five years late.

my nails have finally reached that 

"perfect chip" pattern

all the cool girls in high school had.

i cannot tell you 

how many times i would purposefully chip my nails

to try and get the perfect "top to bottom" ratio.

i guess i thought my cool chips would get noticed

and skyrocket me into popularity.

it didn't work.
drama geek 4 lyfe.

confession session: heart disease

i told one of my fellow interns i had five justin bieber songs

on my wedding playlist.

after simultaneously dropping her pen and jaw, 

she asked me if i was serious.

"why would i joke about that? i love him."

she didn't beliebe me. 

i proved my love for him by telling her

i have more pictures on facebook

with biebsy than i do my own fiance.

cory = five total with two profile pictures.

biebsy = eight total with four profile pictures.

i honestly think she's shocked i'm getting married.

someone needs to tell her

it's possible to live with raging cases

of bieber fever and gingavitis.

not only is it possible,

it's one of the best ways to live.

attn: maxi skirt and dress haters

i used to be one of you.

i hated them.

with a passion.

i hadn't even tried one on.

i refused.

that's how real this hate was.

on friday i bought a maxi skirt and dress.

i'm not trying to be dramatic, but...

THEY HAVE CHANGED MY LIFE.

so free.

so comfortable.

so revolutionary.

it's like being naked in public.

literally the best thing that's happened to me.

ever.

the only problem is,

i can't stop.

two is not enough.

i need at least seven more.

seven.

one for each day of the week

and a few back-ups,

just in case i get sap on one of them.
yes, sap.

i eat lunch outside.

on a rock.

under a tree.

a tree that pees sap like crazy.

please,

just stop the hate.

it's probably straining your relationship

with your maxi-wearing friends.

no one likes a hater
[except little girls that don't care].

don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

i'm serious.

your life will change.

you will be able to sit cross legged

without worrying about flashing innocent bystanders.

you will be able to frolic in a meadow 

without being bothered whether or not

your undaroos are showing.

when you have to lift up your skirt

to deal with stairs,

you will feel like a princess.

you will feel fancy and carefree

and your boobz will look great.
tmi?
too bad. it's true.

trust me. 

moral of the story:

with maxi-skirts/dresses

no one can see london, france or your underpants.

and you don't have to shave as often.

#winning.

confession session: swag edition

march 28 was the last day

i was able to talk about my bieber fever.

that wednesday i admitted

biebsy let me down and 

boyfriend depressed me. 

after that post and several tweetversations

with sara and kelli,

i decided to give it another go.

that "go" turned into me listening

to boyfriend on repeat for days.

this is me, 

admitting i was wrong. 

boyfriend is the opposite of awful.

it's catchy and has even made me giddy.

don't get me wrong, 

i still miss my baby biebs, 

but there's just something about those swaggy's.

sidenote:

if you're disappointed in me for changing my mind,

i have a gif[t] for you.

listen again.

let it enfold you. 

trust me.

anyway...

his video came out last night.

his hair looks amazing.

like so good.

i smiled when i saw him on screen.

it's like he was looking right at me.

other than that,

it was pretty meh.

there are a lot of half-naked high school sophomores

driving {read: sitting in} really expensive cars

and he seems to be playing the same song

on the hood of a car all day and night.

 my favorite part of the whole thing

was chunky bieber. 

i love him almost as much as i love the real one. 

best.screen.clippings.ever.

thoughts on growing up.

yesterday, i looked at my planner
and it hit me.
in two weeks,
school will be over.
classes will be done.
a week after that i walk.
after an internship,
i'll be graduated.
before i turn 23 i will be an "adult."
diploma in hand
and degree earned.

i'm scared.
i don't know if i'm ready for this.
all i've ever known is school.
i don't know how to prepare for what's ahead.
no one ever tells you.
no one ever warns you.
as exciting as the real world is,
it's equally terrifying.

i don't know what i'm supposed to do next.
and don't say,
"whatever you want! you're free!"
because we all know i'm not.
we all know this is when "real life" starts.

i'm not ready to say goodbye to summer vacations.
i'm not ready for
 projects, assignments and deadlines
to turn into strangers.
i'm not ready to grow up.
i'm not ready and i'm scared.

i want to do everything and nothing.
i want to conquer the world
as much as i want to sit back and watch it be conquered.

i'm not ready.
i don't know if i will ever be.
22 is too young to be an adult.
22 is too young to grow up.
i'm still a baby.
but this time,
training wheels aren't acceptable.

that being said...

in light of yesterday's post
and my decision to be more open,
i have a confession....

this kid is the only reason

my weekends are eventful. 

careful, this one's a doozy.

last night i had a conversation about what it meant

to be part of a community.

i explained how i was hesitant to tell people my plans

because if i failed, 

i didn't want to be a disappointment. 

i get awkward when people ask,

"oh brissa, how'd that one cool thing you were really excited about go?"

only to have me say, 

"hmm? oh that? yeah. i decided not to."

or 

"oh, that's not happening anymore."

but last night i learned

that's what makes a community great.

"a community is able to share in your successes

and be sad during your failures."

it's something i need to work on.

being open without being scared. 

how can i claim to be a member of a community

if i only celebrate and cry when appropriate 

and not trust enough to contribute my stories as well?

confession session.

when i was fifteen i had a forbidden love.

i liked a boy and he liked me.

we danced in parks,

talked on the phone until three in the morning,

and went on illegal dates.

i thought he was so cool.

most of these cool points came from the fact

he was one of the first people i knew with an email 

not connected to hotmail.com.

"steak.rocks"

what a dreamboat.

steak.rocks emailed me songs 

nearly everyday that summer.

my fifteen-year-old heart melted.

he was so hip and cool and dreamy.

hotmail has since deleted my all my saved emails

but one song remains locked in my brain.

one song that will always remind me of

steak.rocks and that summer of secret love.

according to him,

i was the uptown girl
and he the downtown man.
after watching this video more times than i'd care to admit,
i can confidently say i'm grateful youtube didn't exist during our illicit affair.
if he sent me this link instead of the song,
i might have been more creeped than knee-weakened.
because, let's be honest,
how awkward is billy in this?
and don't even get me started on the choreography 
and half-tee shirts. 
there are somethings better left alone.

confession session.

 the cable in our house sucks.

we are devoid of all the good channels, i.e.

mtv, e!, vh1, disney, nickelodeon

EVERYTHING.

the only "good" tv we have besides network stations is the style network.

i consider this both a trial and a blessing.

trial because i can't watch wizards or jersey shore in real {read tv} time.

blessing because i'm now hooked on another jersey show.

enter:

it's about a hair salon {the gatsby} in jersey 

and all the drama inside it.

trust me, it's magic.

love: olivia and gigi

hate: tracy, alexa and freaking doria.

doria is the newest addition and  the most annoying person i've ever met seen.

don't believe me?

shame on you.

check out what the kids at yahoo!answers had to say.

boo-ya-kasha!

aand here's a video for added proof.

 hate.hate.hate.haaate.her. 

this is the story of how i got a gig at a chinese restaurant.

[part 1]

my friends and i were playing rockband on a saturday night.

justin started complaining about violent stomach pains due to the lack of food in his belly.

davey yelled "justin wants to go to @12!!!"

so after playing 'hands down' by dashboard

we piled into beffie's car and headed to fill our figurative tanks.

[part 2]

after a delicious meal of half chow mein, half rice, 

tangerine chicken and some 'cream chees wontons'

{please note this is how they spelled it.

they also have 'fried shrim'}.

reilly and i went into the party room and starting singing
operatic aaah's and oooh's.

then i started singing amazing grace.

[part 3]

at this point in the story, the manager of the store turns on the light in the empty party room and comes in to watch/listen. 

startled, we apologize for singing to which he quickly replies

"no no no! this is what the room is for!  i need more decorations!"

i then told him i would come back and bring my bongos next time.

he began a very enthusiastic air guitar performance. 

{please don't ask me why he thought bongos meant guitar,

i'm still trying to figure that one out myself.}

we also laughed/joked about me coming back every friday until i died. 

but i secretly think we were both serious.

i know i was.

[part 4]

i posted the following status on facebook:

everyone believed me.

................................................

three 'likes' and the following comments:

"BRISSA THAT'S AWESOME!"

"my boyfriend has his artwork up at the place! hahaha"

"lol the wanna be panda express nice"

"singer??? what? is that place good? i've wanted to try it!"

"you sing"

"does that mean you can get me free food if i come watch?!?!"

"bri$$a that is awesome!"

"can you hit me up with some free food?"

.................................

{please note none of these were edited.  

clearly some of my friends need to rehook themselves on phonics.}

my personal favorite is the "you sing"? one.

this little adventure also taught me my friends are moochers.

all this happened while watching easy a.

i laughed and shared the internet updates with me amigos and they said 

"didn't we just get done watching a movie about a lie that went a little too far?"

so i decided to explain my story just like olive.

in four parts.

now if only i had this waiting for me outside my window...

that sexy penn...gets me everytime.

purpose of the story: come see me next friday at @12 chinese cuisine because trust me, i will be singing.

any requests?

i get high with a little help from my friends.

every christmas since graduation,

 the brat pack has gotten together

and had a reunion of sorts.

2008.

temple square. party at the gateway. 

  make fun of beth getting hit by a car.

confession session.

2009. 

mario kart party at beffie's.

confession session.

new years eve party. 

2010.

head to ali's house in logan.

{view from kitchen}

eat sushi & aggie ice cream. 

{failed group shot}

spy/take ninja pictures. 

{rest are too ninja to share with the inter-web}

shop for breakfast foods. aka cereal.

discovered this classy brand: 

play quelf. watch elf.

{best.game.ever.}

confession session.

realized hil and i both wear our shoes fancy ways.

{over-sized sweats tucked into cowboy booties

and fuzzy socks that make feet too big to fit into flats}

oh, kids, i love those girls.

i look forward to these little reunions every year. 

they're the highlight of my holiday break.

note to self: next year bring an actual camera to document such greatness.  

the ultimate pizzle while great, does not substitute for an actual camera.  

i have failed.

i'm ashamed to admit something to you.

this glorious piece of literature has been sitting on my desk for weeks.

i've hardly touched the thing.

i kind of hate school for not letting me read.

i think i'm the crappiest addict out there. 

aa

hi.

my name is brissa.

 and i'm addicted to the hunger games trilogy.