Tag Archives: nashville

Nashville Clothing Crisis!

People of Nashville,

I wanted to make you aware of a clothing crisis going on in our area. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. From what I can tell it’s affecting women ages 16-29, roughly, but who knows how fast it could spread to our children.

I saw signs of it on social media when people were posting prom pictures, but it wasn’t until recently that I saw it with my own eyes. I went with my family to the Nashville Sounds game and couldn’t stop staring. It was like I had walked into a filming of National Geographic.

So. Much. Skin.

Women were walking around with their bums hanging out of their high-waisted cut off shorts. I can only assume they were hand-me-downs from their mothers because they looked like something from the 80s. Are women here really walking around with 30+ year old tattered, holey shorts? They can’t afford new shorts that cover their WHOLE behinds? Guys, we can do better than this.

Other women were in such dire need of clothing they were wearing shirts that were obviously made for toddlers. It was appalling. Grown women so destitute they had to wear children’s clothing because they couldn’t afford a full shirt in their own size. Their concave bellies must be showing all the time because they were very, very tan although it’s not quite summer yet. They’ll probably have skin cancer from all the exposure. Can you imagine? Being forced to buy from the children’s department because it’s more affordable than adult clothing! These poor girls.

Girls were also resurrecting the infamous bodysuit. You know, basically the onesie made for an adult that was popular back in the ‘90s? Yep, that’s the one. I guess these girls were raiding their mothers’ closets and thought those would be a good throwback because who on earth would buy that tragic piece of clothing now? It’s saying to the world, “Hey World, I know you can’t see it but I have a front wedgie!” It was hard enough to snap those silly onesies when I had babies, why on earth would I want to do that to myself? And, lesbihonest, I’d have to be some sort of contortionist to make sure they were snapped correctly on myself. “Limber” has never been a word used to describe me.

Women of Nashville, I implore you to help with this clothing crisis! Do we need to hold a clothing drive for these poor young ladies? They shouldn’t have to walk the streets with their fannies exposed to the world. And we should be able to provide them with shirts that actually cover their sunken bellies! Oh sweet ladies, we need to help these young girls and get them clothes that cover the necessary body parts. Maybe we could have a sponsorship program like they did with the millennials (see the promo video here). Hmmmm, it’s a thought. If you have any ideas on how to solve this clothing crisis, please email me. Together we can end high waisted shorts and body suits.


*If the sarcasm was lost on you in this post, my apologies, let me be direct: Girls, put some clothes on.

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Faux Empty Nesters

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to steal someone else’s life? Maybe not any one person in particular but a lifestyle? Kyle and I felt like we did that very thing a few weeks ago. We stole the “City Living Empty Nesters” lifestyle. Basically we had a staycation in downtown Nashville to celebrate our anniversary. It was mentioned several times over the course of the weekend how weird it is to live in the city. Not weird in a bad way; weird in a “this is totally unlike anything we know” kind of way. It’s not like Kyle and I have never left our kids before and stayed in a hotel. We’ve just never done it in Nashville. It was strange to consider that this could be our life in 12 years if we wanted it to be. Kids move out, we move downtown to do some “urban living.”

The only problem with this scenario is Kyle and I reek of suburbia. It seeps from our pores. Our SUV and Costco membership are dead giveaways. And the fact that we don’t sashay around town outfitted in Lululemon carrying yoga mats. We also eat at chain restaurants. CHAINS! We don’t stand a chance in the big city. We tried our best to fit in–walking everywhere, eating local, shopping at eclectic hipster shops, attending concerts at the new amphitheater. We talked all weekend about how we felt so cool and young. Wanna know one way to know you are most definitely NOT cool and young? When you talk about being cool and young.

As fun as the weekend was we couldn’t help but feel like imposters. It was hard to imagine our lives ever getting to a point where we could do whatever whenever we wanted. The truth is our lives, like many of yours, are consumed by the 3 little people who live in our home. Our weekend in Nashville felt like one of those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books where you choose the ending to your story. We got to experience what it would be like to live in the city once our kids were out of the house. It was a ton of fun but I’m not sure I would choose it for our Empty Nester season. If I’m being honest, it felt sort of selfish. Being footloose and fancy free isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But that’s the way of life, isn’t it? When we get exactly what we think we want it never quite lives up to our expectation. Because Kyle and I didn’t have much time together as husband and wife before we became mom and dad, I wonder what it will be life when it’s just us again. I think it will be fun because if you know my husband at all you know he brings the fun everywhere he goes. The reality is I’m going to miss those 3 little ones something fierce. I know they won’t be little when they leave but my mind is good at playing tricks on me. For instance, my oldest just started middle school but I swear he’s 5 years old. I’m sure when my daughter goes to college I’ll believe in my heart she’s only 9. Then there’s the youngest. The baby. He keeps promising me he won’t grow up but dadgummit if he doesn’t keep doing it every year. He even told me he wanted to live with us after he gets married but I have a feeling he’ll renege on that too. And if he doesn’t, his wife might kill him.

I’m not ready to leave this season of life yet. The homework and the sports and the school programs and the overall rush that comes with having kids is giving me life and sucking it right back out. It’s a wonderful/awful/crazy/busy/fulfilling/draining/bizarro season and I’m just not ready for it to be over.

It’s fun getting little sneak peeks into what our next chapter might look like but it just confirms that in my heart, I’m not there yet. So bring on the ‘burbs and Costco samples, this girl is staying awhile.


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PSA to all the technicians

Let me start by saying I am eternally grateful for people that come to my home and fix things that my husband and I have no idea how to fix. The plumbers, electricians, yard people, cable guys, pest control, etc., you all are awesome at what you do. First of all, I don’t think I could have a job where I physically go into people’s homes every day. It’s the same reason I couldn’t be an in-home nurse. There’s way too much I don’t know about on the other side of the door. What if the house smells? What if someone’s naked? What if the people that live there are hoarders? What if they have 100 cats? Or indoor farm animals? So many variables! I can’t even handle it! So kudos to all you brave men and women who go into people’s homes with straight faces and the ability to choke back your gag reflex.


That being said, if you are a person fixing anything in my home, please I beg you, don’t try to explain to me what you did to fix my problem. I always dread when the technician is finished and wants to go over what he/she did. When they open their mouths it’s as if they begin speaking in their native techy language that sounds like English but makes absolutely no sense.


I had a cable guy come to our house recently to fix our cable, hence his title “cable guy”. He kept asking me all these questions about our cable boxes and wireless information and lots of other questions he should have known better than to ask me. If only he had known on the front end I have no idea about anything technological that goes on in my house, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble. He’s asking me things like when did we get new cable boxes, did I know some of our electrical wasn’t grounded, when’s the last time we had electrical work done, and so on and so forth. Hey Buddy, maybe just pretend that I don’t speak techy and I know absolutely nothing about anything that you’re talking about, ok? It will make both our lives a lot less frustrating. Oh and when my eyes start to glaze over as you begin talking about routers and HDMI cables, this is your signal that you’ve completely lost me. I’ll nod and say intelligent things like “Oh” and “Really?” while you talk, but all I’m really thinking about is what I’m going to eat for lunch and when are you going to leave so I can do that?


Like I said, I am so appreciative to have people that will come and fix things at my house that my husband and I are too inept to fix, but please don’t tell me about it. You are wasting your breath and billable time. But thank you for making me electrical outlets work so my family can continue charging our precious electronic devices. And thank you for making sure our DVR is able to record our TV shows that we can’t live without: Nashville, Fixer Upper, and Full House. We finally just bought our kids the set of Full House videos for Christmas so it wouldn’t take up so much space on our DVR. Who knew my kids would grow up on the same show we did? They are addicted to it like crack. I digress.

So thank you sweet technicians for all that you do!


Anybody else not understand a word when a technician opens his/her mouth to talk?



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In life, I don’t like it when people make excuses. I think people nowadays (is that even a word?) like to place blame rather than accept responsibility. It’s epidemic in our culture. Everybody has an excuse/reason for whatever his/her shortcoming may be. And as much as I preach that I hate them, I have them too. None more than for working out and eating healthy.


I don’t have time.

I just took a shower.

I don’t have time to shower after.

I need a quick lunch.

I won’t know anyone at the class.

I have other errands to run.

Healthy food is too expensive.

I didn’t shave my legs.

I don’t want to get sweaty.

There’s no parking at the gym.

I forgot my earbuds.

I don’t have time to “fix” anything healthy.

But ice cream tastes sooo good.


And on and on it goes. For someone who hates excuses, I’ve got them in spades.

Since Elsa cast an eternal/6 week winter over Nashville, I definitely had my “no work-out” excuse. Dry-fit clothes and freezing temps aren’t meant to go together. Because of Elsa, I’ve neglected to exercise and have been eating lots of “comfort” food. My kids were out of school for 8 days. 8 DAYS!!! Mama needed comfort. Another word for comfort is carbs. I looked it up and they’re practically synonymous. So many carbs were consumed to provide the insulation needed to make it through this epic winter. You’ll be happy to know I’m alive and well now that it’s spring but the insulation has got to go.

In an attempt to start working out again, I decided to try out a Beatbox class with my friend, G. G had gone many times and loved it and was still alive. She said it’s an intense whole body workout that burns a ton of calories. Since my whole body partook in the comfort food, my whole body needed to be worked out. This sounded perfect. She did warn me the specific class (Beatbox Mat) we were going to was the hardest so keep an open mind. I asked her to describe the class and she literally said, “I can’t. It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before.” Sweet. I should probably go ahead and kiss the hubs and kids goodbye because chances are I will die in this class.

And die I did.


This class was no joke. I know the girl that teaches the class from church and when I walked in she smiled real big and had this look in her eye. G told her it was my first time and she did this laugh thing. Not like a haha funny laugh; it was more like a pity/bless your heart laugh. Then I realized what the look in her eye meant. It was that “I know something you don’t know” look which I’m quite certain meant she knew exactly what I was in for and clearly, I did not. Bless my heart.

It started with a warm-up. I’ve done my fair share of work out classes in the past and they all usually start with a warm-up of some kind to get your muscles ready. This, my friends, was no warm-up. By the end of it, my heart was beating out of my chest and I was panting like a dog. It had only been 5 minutes. I’m in trouble.

The rest of the class was a combination of me sweating, dog-breathing, and cursing the clock for not making time go faster. I also made my “You’ve got to be kidding face” A LOT. I couldn’t help it. I mean, at one point during the class Ellen, the instructor, lunged herself forward into a handstand and donkey-kicked her legs out. I’m sorry, what? I think I stood there and blinked for a whole minute. Even though I was nervous and pretty sure I did every move wrong, I was certain at the end of the class my body had done all it could do. Except donkey kicks. Sorry, Ellen.

Because I had heard Beatbox Fit was “easier” I tried it out the next week. “Easy” isn’t a word I would use to describe this class but it was at the very least, the cardio and plyometrics I’d done before. I was still a puddle when I left. I was still dog-breathing. But I did it. And now that I’ve done it a couple of times it’s getting better and I’m getting stronger. Something I may never be good at is any exercise that involves my legs and arms doing things simultaneously. My brain literally can’t do it. It’s like the whole patting your head while rubbing your stomach thing. This class has a couple of workouts that have my legs jumping while my arms do something else. I look like an uncoordinated fool but no one seems to care.

If I’m being honest, classes like these are the ones I tend to make excuses for because they’re hard. They leave my body feeling so ragged I don’t want to do them. But ya’ll this class was different. I’ve never taken a fitness class that was so motivating. Ellen makes you want to be the best version of yourself. She makes a point to say that her classes are not about making people skinny, they’re about making people healthy. She actually makes you say it every class. She also told us our bodies are to be trained and they can do more than we think. It’s inspiring to watch someone who lives out her passion. Ellen is passionate about fitness and health but she’s also passionate about God. She’s uniquely combined these things and produced Beatbox. She knows God cares more about our health than our body type and she makes sure the people in her class know that too. No one is there to judge or compare. Everyone is so focused on making it through the workout alive there’s no time to look at anyone else, much less make a judgment about her. I’m usually the one looking around sizing everyone up to make sure I’m not the most out of shape person in the room. I know, my shallowness is disappointing on so many levels. But, in this class, there’s no time for those shenanigans. For the love, we’re just trying to survive the planks and burpees! (Sidenote: I think burpees may be one of the plagues not mentioned in the Bible. I’m doing some research on it now.)


Yes, there’s definitely something different about Beatbox. It’s based on a truth I can get behind. Train your body. Funny thing, the Bible never talks about being skinny. Isn’t that something? My brain has got a ways to go to switch from “skinny” to “healthy” but I’m glad to know there’s a place that advocates for it. Thanks Ellen, for being brave and sharing your passion. The world needs it.


Me and the amazing Ellen…post workout, obvi.

Go check out the Beatbox website and find out more about the classes they offer!


(Sorry, out-of-towners, it’s only offered locally. Insert sad faces here.)

If you go check the classes, let me know what you think!



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