Shame, shame. I know your name.

I see a lot of public shaming on social media.

A LOT.

Fat shaming (Put down the sandwich!), skinny shaming (Eat a damn sandwich!), mom shaming (I cannot believe she fed her son processed fruit snacks!), non-mom shaming (She doesn't want kids? What is wrong with her? Being a mom is the most fulfilling experience a woman can have.), slut shaming (OMG Becky.  Look at her butt...).

If you don't know where that last line is from, we are not friends.

It's not like this is a new phenomenon.  I mean, as long as there have been people, we have been devising ways to tear others down, so we can feel better about ourselves.

But social media takes this to a whole new level.

Now, I'm not going to tackle the middle school bullying mentality of social media in this blog post.

That's a subject for an entire dissertation.

Plus, it's already been done.  And by better people than I.

No.  This blog post is just to focus on a new shaming trend I'm seeing in social media:

Exercise shaming.

What?

No, seriously.  It's a real thing.

I hate it when I see people doing bicep curls at the gym??  Curls are pointless.  They should be doing pull ups.

Ugh.  People need to get off the treadmills and get into the weight room.  Cardio doesn't help you lose weight.  You need weight training.

I see people in the gym spending hours on the treadmill.  They need to be doing high intensity intervals to see any real difference.

People need to get off the treadmills and run outside.  Treadmills = deadmills.  

Stop.  It.

Now.

You're getting on my f***ing nerves.

And maybe you should start worrying more about your own workout and less about everyone else's.

You are not a doctor.  You are not a sports therapist.  You are not a personal trainer.

Or maybe you are. 

But those people you're watching and judging at the gym?  You don't know them.  You don't know their fitness level.  You don't know what their health allows them to do.  You don't know their fitness goals.

You are the reason people are afraid or embarrassed to join a gym.  In the past, when people have told me they don't want to join a gym because they're so out of shape, and they don't want people judging them, I've brushed off their concerns.

No one's judging you.  People are at the gym to focus on themselves.  No one's paying any attention to you.

Now I know that's a lie. 

People are paying attention.  They are judging.

So stop it, people.

Worry about yourself.  Or if you are so worried about what other people are doing at the gym, help them.  Stop with the passive aggressive Facebook posts and tweets and whatever else the kids are doing these days.

Invite someone to workout with you.  Encourage someone to try a new class with you.  Suggest a trail run.  Or create a fun circuit and invite people to join you.

And just maybe you should break our of your comfort zone and try something new. 

There are a million ways to help someone improve on their workout and break them out of their routine.

But updating your status with some whiny post they're never going to see anyway isn't one of them.

A/N:  I am not Mother Teresa.  Or Jesus.  I am not so pure of heart that I don't have mean, nasty thoughts.  I like to think, most of the time, I catch it early and tell myself to stop being an asshole.  But if you do catch me being judgmental bitch, please say, "Hey, Rachel.  Stop being a judgmental bitch."

And anyone who has ever worked out with me is reading this and thinking, "OMG, she is such a judgmental bitch!  She gave me hell during that workout!"  To that I say, I wasn't being a judgmental bitch.  But if you ask me to workout with you, I'm going to push you to do your best.  Just like working out with you pushes me to do my best.

I'm sick & can't think of a witty title...

During a winter plagued with several different strains of the flu virus, various gastro-intestinal bugs, and who knows what other various types of germs and viruses whose sole purpose on this earth is to bring you low, I managed to skate through completely and totally unscathed.

While my friends and family were dropping like flies and trying to care for sick kids while sick themselves, I had nary a sniffle.

But as soon as the weather warms up to a balmy, beautiful 70+ degrees?  That's when this girl gets sick.

Oh, in the beginning I though it was allergies.  Because it's so nice out, and I was spending so much time outside.  So it's just allergies.

It is not allergies.

Last night, as I huddled in bed with several layers of blankets, while shudders wracked my body, I begged Winston to jump up in bed with me to keep me warm.

He was all "Whatevs.  You're on your own."

And really, I've gotten off lucky.  I mean, as I said, I know families who were out of commission all winter because as soon as they recovered from one strain of the flu, they caught another.

But it really doesn't help matters when I'm persecuted at work.

When I got in this morning, did I hear "Hi," or "How's it going," or "Are you feeling any better today"???

No.

Kerri:  You look like shit.

Well I feel like shit, so there you go.

And I guess after two days of listening to me blow my nose, she just couldn't take it anymore.

Kerri: Rachel... you need to do something about this.  Put yourself out of your misery or something.

Thanks for the love and support

As she started in on me for the third time today, I thought I'd pe-empt her by loudly blowing my nose.

But no.

Kerri:  Rachel... you're starting to develop man arms. 

FFS

Kerri:  No really.  I looked at your upper arms, and they're all ... like bulky.  Then I looked at your lower arms, and you can see your veins and stuff.  I don't want to see your veins.

You're not allowed to talk to me anymore today.

Rage Monster

I was pretty much in a pissy mood all of last week.  I'm talking seriously hacked off.

At everyone.  For everything.

My communications at work were, for the most part, limited to things like this:

Who ate all my cashews??? My cashews are OFF LIMITS.

Who left a soaking wet sponge beside the kitchen sink???  You have to wring it out when you're finished using it!  Why do I even have to explain this???

(In retrospect, I know who's responsible for that one... the only man in the office.  Because no woman would put a sponge away without wringing it out.)

OMG!!!  Who keeps leaving globs of soap in the bathroom sink???  Do I really have to explain to everyone how to wash your hands?!  Really???  You only need a little dab of soap. It's no wonder we're always out of soap!  How much soap are you using if this much is landing in the sink.  And HELLO!  If you dump a huge glob of soap in the sink, CLEAN IT UP.

Honestly, what is wrong with people???

Even when I was pissed about the soap thing, I was also marginally amused because the irony was not lost on me. 

When we were kids, my dad would go on these rampages about the shampoo usage in our house.  "Why are you using so much shampoo?!  You don't need that much shampoo to wash your hair!"

Then he would have a demonstration on how much shampoo you need to wash your hair.  According to my dad, you only need a pea size amount of shampoo to wash your hair.  Which is true if you have a buzz cut.  But he had two daughters with long hair.  Big difference.

And I always wanted to point out the amount of shampoo he wasted on his little demonstrations...

Another Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Mondays just aren't my thing.  Not in the typical "ugh I hate Mondays" kind of way.  But in the "what havoc will befall me today" way.

This morning as I was curling my hair, my curling iron blew up.  As in sparks flying, breaker flipping, what the f**k just happened???

Seriously.  There's nothing like sparks flying in your face to wake you up.

But it was still better than last Monday.

Last Monday morning dawned bright and sunny.  The promise of a beautiful day.  

Sunshine.  Temperatures in 70s!  The 70s!!  In April!.

It was going to be a good day.  I was up early.  Well-rested after a good night's sleep (Winston slept on his big boy bed the night before). 

Granted, I had a few bad dreams from Game of Thrones, but it was still good sleep.  

During our walk, Winston's friend Mika ran over to say hi and jump around.  He was happy.  And if Winston's happy, I'm happy.

I somehow made it thru my shower in record time, so I had plenty of time to do my hair and get to work on time. 

I sent The Guy a super chirpy text to start his Monday off right.

Then I got in my car, turned the key in the ignition... and nothing happened. 

That's not true.  There was some chugging involved.  Like my car had emphysema or something.  But no starting.  

Fabulous. Battery was dead.  And of course I pull in my car INto the garage.  So it would have to be pushed out to start it.

Dad was at work. The co-worker I knew would be able to help wasn't answering his phone.  My helpful, handy neighbor goes to work at the crack of dawn, so he wasn't home.  Becky and Lee moved, so they weren't available.  It would take The Guy a while to get to my house from his office...  if I could have even reached him at work.

I called my mom.  I figured I could push the car out if she could steer, and it's not like I don't know how to jump a car.  But she didn't answer.  So I called Dad again to see if Mom took a job (substitute teaching).  He said she should be home, but he was going to see if he could get off work to come out.  Which he did.

So then I was waiting for him to get there.  Worrying.  Because I had an appointment that afternoon,  and what if we did get it started, but there was some problem with the car, and I couldn't get it started again this afternoon???

While I was waiting and worrying, I took Winston out and played ball.  He got hair all over my lawyer clothes.  And of course, I put his flea & tick stuff on him this morning, so he was all greasy and he kept wanting to rub against me. 

Dad finally got to the house.  He has a portable battery charger, but still couldn't get the car to start.  

He said it sounded like it was flooding.  

But it's an automatic.  You don't pump the gas to start it, so it shouldn't flood.  Right? 

There was much chugging, and almost starting, but not starting, and instructions to try to start it and hit the gas, but not too much gas.  OMG I can't take the pressure!

He did get it to start, but then I was still worrying about whether it would start again this afternoon.  He ended up trading cars with me, so he could try to figure out what the problem was.

Oh, and I got a lecture about the air pressure in my tires ... in my defense, I only noticed how low they were a couple of days before all this went down.

And you what to know what sounds really ridiculous?  I was so abjectly sad to hand over my time turner key chain from The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  The pins come loose sometimes, and once it fell apart, and I almost lost some pieces.  So I texted Dad and told him to tighten the pins to it didn't fall apart.  

That evening, Dad sent Mom to the gym in my car, so we could switch back.  I also received several texts from him.

Dad: Checked battery. Ok. Air filter new. Filled with high test fuel and added fuel injector cleaner. Filled wind washer fluid. Put a dab of nail polish in threads of key chain. Won't come loose now.

Ohhh, that last one's a good idea.  Why didn't I ever think of that?

Dad:  That's why I'm the dad.

Touche.

How to do yardwork with your dog

Saturday was a beautiful day here.  So much so, I decided to take advantage of it and get a little yardwork done.

With all the storms we had in the fall and winter, my yard was filled with dead leaves and twigs and branches of various sizes.  Time to get that stuff cleaned up.

And because it was so beautiful, I certainly didn't want Winston stuck inside while I was enjoying the sunshine.  So he could come out with me and run around the yard while I was cleaning up.

Great idea... in theory.

We headed into the garage to grab a rake and some work gloves, then out to the yard to get to work.

As soon as we hit the yard, Winston ran to grab his ball, then came over and spit it at my feet.

Me:  No Winston.  We're not playing.  You go play.  I need to get the yard cleaned up.
Winston:  NO! I BROUGHT YOU THE BALL.  YOU THROW THE BALL. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. BARKBARKBARK

I threw the ball.

He immediately brings it back because I threw it all of 10 feet.

Don't judge me.  Have you ever tried to throw a deflated soccer ball?

Winston: THROW IT AGAIN.

So I threw it again.  I really hurled that thing.

It went about 12 feet.

But this time, he decided to do a victory lap around the yard, which gave me a chance to dig the dead leaves out of the corner of the fence.

I had a very nice pile by the time he came back over and spit out his ball.

Winston: OMG this is sooo much fun! Are those for me?! They are right! Wheee! I LOVE jumping in leaves!
Me: Winston stop doing that! YOU ARE NOT HELPING.
Winston: Okay. Ill go play over there...
Me: Winston! Do not poop in there! I have to pick up those leaves & throw them in the brush pile!!
Winston: Huh? Oh... Well you might want to be careful with that one.  Sorry.

He didn't look sorry.

So  it went.  Me wondering around the yard.  Winston at my heels, digging in the dead leaves and fallen branches.

Along the back fence line, I uncovered a fairly large rock.  Which I figured I'd pick up when I went around gathering up all the leaves and branches.

After a while, I realized Winston was being eerily quiet.

I looked around and realized he was digging at something in the wet earth.

A big rock.

Me:  Winston what are you doing?
Winston:  I HAVE A NEW TOY!!
Me:  Winston... that's a rock.
Winston:  A rock?!  I LOVE my new rock! 
Me:  Winston. It's not a toy.
Winston: I know! It's better!
Me:  Fine.

I watched him paw at that rock and roll it across the yard and pick it up in his mouth to toss it in the air, only to run over and grab it back up again.

Guys... he played with this rock for forty minutes.

For real.

Do you have any idea how much money I've spent on toys for this dog in the past 7 years???  And he had more fun with that rock than he's ever had with any toy.

After he wore himself out, he went over to cool off by laying in the mud I uncovered in the corner of the yard.

By then I just accepted the fact that I'd have to wrestle him in to the bathtub, so I did no more than sigh.

After I finally worked my way around the yard, raking up all the flotsam and jetsum, I was too tired to worry about picking up all my piles.  And I figure there will be nice days ahead to finish that.

So I called Winston over, and we headed into the house.

Me:  What is that smell?  Winston?
Winston:  Umm... I might've pooped other places while you weren't looking.  I'd leave your shoes in the garage if I were you...

As you wish...

You know how there are some movies that define your childhood.

Movies, that no matter how old you get, all you need to hear is one line from the movie, or catch one scene, and you're automatically catapulted back to those carefree days of your youth.

When your most important decision was which door to take in your Choose Your Own Adventure book.

For me, that movie is The Princess Bride.

If you've never seen the movie (or read the book), stop reading now.  

A love for the ages, told in Columbo's gravelly, comforting voice, with Carey Elwes when he was still hot, ditto for Mandy Patinkin- with an accent, Andre the Giant who became adored by children everywhere for his rhyming skills, a miracle man and his crazy wife, a six fingered man, not so scary monsters, magic pills, daring rescues, happily ever afters.

Has ever a better love story been told???

Inconceivable!!

However...

Friday night, as I was lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come, I was flipping through channels.  And you can imagine my elation when I found The Princess Bride on TCM.

Huzzah!

I tuned in just as Buttercup made her daring dive into shrieking eel infested waters.

Do you hear that sound, Highness...?

How have I never before realized that this was the first of only two moments where Princess Buttercup actually makes any attempt to save herself?

The second attempt being only a short time later when she pushes The Dread Pirate Roberts into a ravine...

Except then she follows him down because "Oh my sweet Westley, what have I done!"

There I was, happily reliving my childhood fascination with sword fights, hand to hand combat, battles of wit.  And then suddenly they're in the Thieves' Forest, and Westley's saving Buttercup from this, that, and everything else.

When they were attached by the ROUS, and she picked up the giant branch, I was all, "Yeah, smack it, get it, hit it in the head!!"

And Winston was like "What in the hell is going on in here???"

But she didn't hit the ROUS with the giant branch.  She just stood there.  All kinds of "someone save me."

Seriously.  She just watched when that giant rat sunk it's fangs into her beloved.  And when it grabbed her skirt in its fangs, she ineffectually nudged at it with her makeshift weapon, instead of giving it a good hefty whack.

I was disgusted.

Completely and utterly disgusted.

Fast forward to Buttercup telling Prince Humperdinck Westley would save her...

You know, there are some women I just want to sit down and gently explain, "Honey, we don't need men to save us.  We are perfectly capable of saving ourselves."

I was way past that point with Buttercup.  If I could get my hands on her, it would go something more like this, "Bitch, please.  You don't need a man to save you.  Save yourself!!!"  Jeez!

I mean for the love of wilted buttercups everywhere, Step. Up!  Don't sit around waiting for Westley to save you!  You don't need him!  You're (questionably) smart.  You're capable.  Escape!  Go save Westley for once instead of making him do all the heavy lifting.

And after the wedding, when she decides that killing herself is preferable to either living as Humperdinck's wife or getting herself out of her own damn mess, well...

Just like that, my quintessential childhood movie crashed and burned for me.

All those years... wasted.

I mean, next you're going to tell me Santa Clause doesn't exist...

 

Love & Marriage

At the ripe old age of 3, I decided I was going to be a lawyer.

I'm not sure where this idea came from.  Considering neither of my parents are lawyers, and we didn't even know any lawyers.

I did spend quite a lot of time watching Matlock and Perry Mason with my grandparents.

But for me, it was less about finding the real killer and getting my client off the hook in 60 minutes or less and more about standing up for people.  Standing up for what I think is right.

You see, regardless of how many times life kicks me in the teeth, deep down, I'm still an idealist.  I have this strongly ingrained belief that things should be fair, and everyone should be treated equally.

I guess you would say I wasn't really a "typical" child....

While my friends were reading The Babysitters' Club and Sweet Valley High, I was reading biographies of Abraham Lincoln, Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rosa Parks.

I just knew that had I been alive before the Civil War, I would've worked on the Underground Railroad.  Or during the Civil Rights Movement, I would've been a Freedom Rider.

The one and only time my mom was ever called to the principal's office about my behavior was when I was in the third grade, and I tried to incite a rebellion in the cafeteria to protest unsanitary eating conditions.  (We had lunch after the younger kids, and it always looked like there had been a food fight.)

My mom says I was the Norma Rae of Valley View Elementary.  My elementary school principal still refers to me as the Little Advocate when my mom runs into him.

Despite my early leanings toward activism, that isn't the road I took after law school.

Much to my regret.

But just because my professional road led in a different direction, that doesn't mean I shelved my desire to fight unfairness whenever I see it and advocate for the rights of others when they are trampled upon.

Which is why, on Election Night 2012, I cried when I saw on the ticker at the bottom of ABC News that Maryland voters had passed the Civil Marriage Protection Act, legalizing same-sex marriage in the State of Maryland.

I was so immensely proud of my neighbors to the north.

I am not shy about sharing my thoughts on gay marriage.  Even though my opinions often put me at odds with members of my family and my friends.

But that's the great thing about being a rational adult.  I can respect you and your right to have your own opinions.  Even when those opinions differ from mine. 

And we live in a country where you are free to voice your opinions without fear of persecution or prosecution.

A right which I will gladly defend for you.  Even when I don't believe in what you're saying.  Because that is your right. 

It's amazing how many people are so eager to quote the First Amendment or the Second Amendment when they feel their rights are being infringed upon, yet they seem to forget that the Constitution has 25 other amendments after those two.

But you're in luck.  Because I'm something of a Constitution fangirl.  I get excited about the Constitution like some people get excited about Harry Potter or Twilight.

So here are some things you might noT know about the Constitution.

First of all, I have yet to hear a single argument against gay marriage that did not have a religious aspect.  And people readily throw out the First Amendment to support their arguments.

It is true that the First Amendment promises citizens of the United States freedom of religion.

In the converse, it also guarantees freedom from religion.  Which means while you can believe what you like, neither you (nor any governmental entity) can force your religious beliefs on anyone else.

So while you may feel gay marriage is wrong, while your religion may say it is wrong, your religion is not everyone's religion.  And you can't create laws that affect everyone based on the religious beliefs of some.

That's why we have separation of church and state.

Which brings me to my next point about the First Amendment: The Establishment Clause.

While constitutional debate continues as to the scope of the Establishment Clause, if you look at the records of the First Congress, it's clear that the intent of the Establishment Clause was to prevent the government's imposition of religious beliefs on individuals.

So while lawmakers are free to have their own religious beliefs, they have a duty to the citizens they serve to respect the ideals upon which this country was founded.

Now that we've explored the First Amendment, we can move past it to an amendment most people never think about.  Either because their Social Studies class only included a brief study of the Bill of Rights, or because they just choose to ignore it or don't understand it.

The Equal Protection Clause.

You may be thinking "What?"

The Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution states that no State shall deny any person equal protection under the law.

But what does this mean?  Well, it means that everyone has to be treated equally under the law.

I think Justice Harlan said it best in his dissent in Plessy v. Ferguson: "In view of the Constitution, in the eye of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant, ruling class of citizens. There is no caste here. Our Constitution is color-blind, and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens.

To paraphrase, there are no second class citizens here.  Everyone has the same rights.  There can never be an "equal" when laws are designed to exclude a certain class of people.

So when a state passes a law that permits marriage only between a man and a woman, that state has violated the Equal Protection Clause.  It has extended a right to a certain class of individuals and excluded another class.

It's wrong.  Every person is equal in the eyes of the law.  You shouldn't have laws that give benefits to only some people, but not to others.

In one week, the Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in Hollingsworth v. Perry, in which the Court is asked to pass judgment on the constitutionality of gay marriage bans.  I can only hope that they can put aside their personal religious beliefs and protect the spirit of the document they swore an oath to uphold.

That they will remember the words Justice Harlan so eloquently penned.  There are no classes in this country.

And right now, some of you are still arguing that marriage is not a legal institution, but a religious one.  To that I say, who issued your marriage license???

Marriage is very much a legal institution.  Your marriage license is issued by the county clerk and registered with the county clerk.  You and your spouse receive government benefits based upon your marital status.

Benefits same sex couples to do not receive.

But all the constitutional arguments aside, how does anyone else's right to marry affect you in any way whatsoever?  The answer is, it doesn't.  It doesn't affect your marriage, or your right to believe what you want or to practice your religion as you see fit.

I don't know who said it first, but it's so appropriate: If you don't like gay marriage, don't get gay married.

And quite frankly, maybe if people would worry a little more about their own marriages instead of others', the United States wouldn't have a divorce rate (among heterosexual couples who are legally allowed to marry) of 50%...

Something to think about.

Author's Note: This post represents my personal opinion and in no way constitutes legal advice, nor does it create any type of attorney-client relationship. If you have questions regarding your rights, you should consult with an attorney of your choosing.