Superheroes…In Bustiers?

September 4, 2013September 8, 2013jeanjames 6 Comments

Faster than a pre-ejaculate
More powerful than Viagra
Able to heave over tall buildings in a single bounce.
Look! Up in the sky.
It’s a bottle, it’s a balloon,
No, it’s Supertits!

Who is Supertits you ask? Well she’s not really just one who, but a symbol of the many super busty, super women, keeping the world safe with her knock out powers, and eye candy costumes, distracting bad guys, and catching criminals with her cavernous cleavage, all in a days work.

Recently my five year old son (and my 45 year old husband), has been fascinated with the Justice League. You know, DC comics band of super friends: Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, and The Flash. Included amongst these titans in tights are a couple of super heroines known as Wonder Woman and Hawk Girl. As I sat and watched these cartoons with my son, I couldn’t overlook the buxom bosoms heaving out over these daredevil divas tight fitting bustiers; yes, bustiers! It was as if all their superpowers were concentrated in one spot.

I said to my husband during one of our Justice League marathons, “I don’t understand why these super hero women need to be dressed in bustiers, with their swollen breasts spilling out over their costumes. It belittles their power; it’s so sexist”, to which he replied, “ No it isn’t. Those ARE the most powerful things in the universe!”

I laughed out loud. Leave it to a man to state the obvious. Of course breasts control the power of the universe. Breast augmentation is the second most popular plastic surgery. Breasts provide sexual pleasure, feed life to newborns, and rally millions in support and dollars when they’re ill.

Let’s face it, it’s not like an A cup is going to stop a speeding bullet.

Fighting crime and getting ahead is hard work, and our super heroines are entitled to use whatever forces of nature help them to accomplish this. And for those of us not so fortunate to have cosmic cleavage, there’s always booty brawn to knock out bad guys.

But I’m not much of a comic book type of gal, so in the name of research, I had to check out how many other tensile strength tits were bouncing around out there in the name of truth and justice. Let me tell you, the list was longer than America’s Most Wanted. Here’s a synopsis of five of the top heavy super ladies, and their claim to fame:

1.) Power Girl. From Superman’s home planet of Krypton, Power Girl is sporting a powerful set of double D’s protruding through the hole in the center of her teddy. With a lot of support, she rises to the position of chairman in the Justice Society.

2.)Ms. Marvel, leader of the Avengers, is clad in a black leather bustier teddy with matching leather gloves and black leather thigh high boots. She makes pretty woman look like a catholic school girl.

3.) Storm, a member of the X-Men, is scantily wrapped in tight fitting leather. She has the ability to control the weather. Perhaps it’s her thunderous breasts channeling this ESP.

4.)Emma Frost. Forget the bustier, this frosty fem fatale cools down in a set a of pasties and Le Mystere panties. It’s no wonder she becomes leader of the X-Men.

5.) Wonder Woman. I had to save the best for last. This is the one Super Heroine I do remember growing up with. An American Icon, she gives a whole new meaning to the red, white and blue. Her American Eagle adorned bustier and star spangled booty would make any man stand up and salute her flag. But it’s her lasso swinging skills, bullet repelling bracelets, and super strength that made every girl feel she could be powerful too.

Now look, I’m a modern woman, a self proclaimed feminist, and an A cup. But I couldn’t help think, ‘Is this dominatrix image one that should be projected toward young kids, or is it just a reflection of reality?’ Voluptuous, strong women do rise to powerful positions; it’s just hard to see their bustiers under those power suits.

We all have to use our strengths in this world to get ahead, and we might not be glamorous superheroes, or super models, or even super mom’s, but we all have something super to offer as women. So hats off to the tantalizing, titillating, tightly topped titans of feminine mystique, Supertits, and her boobalicious powers to fight crime while climbing the comic strip corporate ladder.

Reposted by Jean James courtesy of: http://www.inthepowderroom.com

School’s Out for the Summer

July 1, 2013July 1, 2013jeanjames 2 Comments

Summer 1974 with my brothers, my sister, and my cousin. Yes I’m the short one in the blue bikini.

The days are getting longer, and the sounds of summer sing to me outside my window. My dog sleeps in the warm shadow of light streaming through the sliding glass door, and I feel a sense of calm approaching. A hectic year is coming to an end and I can feel the lure of sandy beaches, fireflies, and camp fires drawing me near. My olfactory sense is stimulated by the smells of sunscreen, and salty skin, grilled meat cooking on the BBQ and fresh flowers blooming in the garden. The arrival of summer means the end of school for a brief, but fabulous 12 weeks of committing to tough decisions like: beach or pool, long walks or bike rides, hot dogs or hamburgers, and iced tea or lemonade.

I’m not sure who’s happier that school’s over; me or my kids. This past March I started back to college to complete my nursing education. All I can say is thank God for whoever really invented the internet. I don’t think I would have ever gone back to school if it wasn’t for online programs like the one I’m enrolled in. It has been a chaotic couple of months: managing three kids school schedules, managing my own school schedule, writing many, many papers (all in A.P.A. format of course), working a twelve hour night shift twice a week, and of course the everyday nonsense involved in running a house. So if I seem a little giddy and nostalgic about summer, I am.

I’m not one of those schedule loving people. So with school out, we stay up late, and sleep in. I follow the sun instead of the clock. Breakfast is whenever you feel like it, and dinner is served whenever I get it on the table. The counters are filled with fresh fruit, and triangles of watermelon sit at the ready waiting to crown this year’s winner of the seed spitting contest.

Our small community beach hides, nestled down a dirt road, and tucked between a half moon of trees; it’s the perfect local getaway; not too big, not too smal, and not too crowdedl. The kids inevitably run into their school mates, and I see a mom or two whose company I enjoy. My daughter swims her heart out in hopes of passing the swim test each year, so she can swim to the dock floating in the middle of the lake where all the cool kids hang out. My little guy digs into the sand, and with the effort of a contractor begins construction on his sand castle empire.

It’s summer, and I couldn’t be happier. This year it’s a trip to South Dakota to see my brother. My first road trip out west; Mt. Rushmore here we come. How Americana of us right? So while I bask in my early summer glow, I pray that time slows down for these short, 12 weeks of a much needed break.

I hope everyone reading this has wonderful plans for their summer, or at least wonderful memories of summers past. I’d love to hear about them.

Happy Mother’s Day

May 12, 2013jeanjames 3 Comments

Mother and Child by Gustav Klimt

To all the mother’s out there I just wanted to wish each and every one of you a blessed and Happy Mother’s Day.
What an honor it is to bring life into this world.

Rude: A Four Letter Word

May 9, 2013May 15, 2013jeanjames 10 Comments

I have three children and I’m painfully aware of their behavior at all times: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have a face for every moment: a look, a sigh, an exasperation and a few exclamations. Lately I feel like a soldier alone on the battlefield. While I’m running for cover, intercepting my children’s barrage of ills, I see other moms and dads detached and disinterested; no beads of sweat, just a cool look of apathy.

What are these parents thinking? Are they too tired to care, or are they just as rude as their children? After careful observation, I think the latter. Most parents these days feel entitled, and then pass that on to their children. Why should little Janie conform to the rules, if mom and dad don’t? Little Janie can run around the bookstore like an animal, because her mom lets her, showing total disregard for the people around them.

Mr. Rude by Adam Hargreaves

As if the public display of naughtiness is not enough, have you noticed the way these children are speaking to adults? Call me old fashioned but fresh talk, and back talk, irk the crap out of me.

When an eight year old feels free to question my authority with the tone of a ruler swinging nun, I’m speechless. I once said to a guest, “Susie, please don’t run on the stairs”, her reply, with attitude, “Why? My mom let’s me run on the stairs at my house!” There’s something to be said for not talking back to your elders. It’s at that moment I’d like to respond, “I don’t give a F- what your mom lets you do, this is my house, my rules (you little shit)“, but that’s a bit harsh, so I smile, and in my best ‘Leave It To Beaver’ tone of voice, say “Well Susie, in this house we don’t run on the stairs.” Five minutes later Susie’s running on my stairs, and I’m ready to stick my foot out, trip her and end the play date early.

Instead I take a deep breath, pray for an early parent pickup and continue to wonder: Is it me, or are children getting ruder?

Reposted by Jean James courtesy of: http://www.inthepowderroom.com

Identity Theft

May 1, 2013April 30, 2013jeanjames 8 Comments

The other day I was in motor vehicle to renew my drivers license. And as anyone knows, going to motor vehicle is not much different than a trip to the dentist: it’s a long wait, a painful experience and when you leave you’re left numb and vow never to return.

As I was waiting on line, I couldn’t help but overhear this young girl behind me talking on her cell phone. She had just gotten married and was there to change her name on her drivers license. Straight ahead of me, on the wall was a giant poster that read: ‘PROTECT YOURSELF, STOP IDENTITY THEFT BEFORE IT STARTS’. I had to laugh out loud. Maybe I should turn around and warn that girl she’s about to participate in the very first form of identity theft: marriage!

Women have been giving up their identity since the first arranged marriage. Transferred like property, a maiden was sent from her fathers house to her husbands house, the only real value being her dowry and her virginity. But what’s a maiden left unmarried but an old maid. It seems women have worked so long and hard for independence and equal rights, only to throw it all away the second they say ‘I do’.

It got me thinking about my own drivers license; who was that girl in the picture looking back at me with the long auburn hair? The smile was carefree, thin and young, absent of worry lines. I had changed my name after I got married, and there it was this new name attached to that old face. It didn’t fit. Then there was that M next to the D on my license that once represented my Harley riding motorcycle days, now it just stands for Mom. This was clearly a picture of mistaken identity. Why hadn’t I changed that picture when I changed my name? Or really, why had I changed my name? Like my drivers license, my name was clean; no violations, no points. I traded it in for someone else’s identity. Little by little the maiden that was once me was being chipped away; and for the ‘me’ that was drowning, that picture seemed a lifeline to my past.

But was my present state so bad I needed a lifeline to my past? If I could change it all today would I really go back? Isn’t a maiden nothing more than a racehorse that has never won a race? In other words, not much different from an old maid. I like who I am, my short blonde hair, the furrow between my brow. And although my smile isn’t as carefree, it is the smile of a woman with three wonderful kids and a great husband. These are the things I identify with now. Is identity just a state of mind, or perhaps an evolutionary process?

As I looked closely at my picture, I knew I had evolved. I wasn’t that girl and she wasn’t me. I was who I am at this very moment and that was okay. As I heard the loud call ‘NEXT’, I looked back at the girl behind me, still talking on her cell phone, I quickly scribbled a note on piece of paper and handed it to her. When the gum chewing clerk was done shuffling through my paperwork, she looked up at me and asked if I wanted a new picture. I took a deep breath, and decidedly said, “Yes, I think it’s time for a new one.” It felt good to be caught up to the present, and that was one identity I could finally relate to.

As I got into my car I heard the young girl call out to me to wait. She held up my note with and inquisitive look, and said “why?” I said better to know who you are now, than wait twenty years to figure it out. She held up her new license to show me. “New name and new picture to match”, she said.

I smiled and got into my car, and what song should be playing on the radio: Another One Bites The Dust!

Reposted by Jean James courtesy of http://www.inthepowderroom.com

No Offence, but…

April 18, 2013April 3, 2013jeanjames 9 Comments

Have you ever noticed that when someone prefaces a statement with “No Offense, but…” what follows that but is bound to offend. That this is really just shorthand for, “What I’m about to say is going to piss you off, but keep in mind you‘ve been forewarned.”

I’ve heard this saying fired off over the years, and while talking to a friend recently I found myself looking down the barrel of her loaded mouth. Like a sociopath lacking empathy, she fired the words out, then completely unphased, watched as the sting of those words pierced through me.

This ‘friend’ of mine was in the market for a new house. She and her husband are pretty well off. When I suggested she look at a house for sale on my block, similar to mine, she had the nerve to say, “Your house is great, and good for you. No offense, but we’re just looking to move somewhere a little bit more upscale.”

Translation: You live in a shit hole we wouldn’t be caught dead in. We’re social climbers, and need to live among other tight ass people like ourselves.

I was shocked with the ease of how these words flowed out of her mouth, softened only by the phrase ‘No offense, but…’ I couldn’t help think if I had been the perpetrator of this offense in the past.

Let’s face it, “No offense, but…” is nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing; a trap waiting to spring and impale unsuspecting, hubris free individuals with hurtful or opinionated comments.

No offense, but, if you begin to hear the words, “No offense, but…” coming out of your mouth, do us all a favor: Shut your pie hole, and walk away!

by Jean James Reposted courtesy of http://www.inthepowderroom.com

NY vs. Boston

April 16, 2013April 30, 2013jeanjames 4 Comments

Duane Hoffman/MSNBC.com

Unless you live under a rock, everyone knows the longstanding rival between NY and Boston, the Yankees vs. the Red Sox. I live it in my own family. It’s the rival to beat all rivals. That was, I thought until 9/11. Could rivals still be as hateful in times of tragedy?

Three months after 9/11 I found myself in a shop in Chinatown looking for I Love NY kitsch for my nieces and nephews. It was Christmas time and I was feeling especially sad knowing how many people were never going to know the joy of waking up on Christmas morning (or whatever holiday they celebrated that season) with their mom or dad, brother or sister, grandma or grandpa, son or daughter. I couldn’t help but overhear a woman asking the clerk if he had any I hate NY T-shirts! I thought she must be kidding, but she said it again. So in a joking tone I said to her, “You don’t really mean that do you?” She said, “Yes, I’m from Boston.” I was stunned. She wasn’t joking. I then proceeded to unleash a few expletives, followed by a get the hell out of my city, and cried that someone could be so hateful in the wake of a wounded city.

Yesterday terror was unleashed upon the beautiful city of Boston on what should have been a happy Patriots’ Day, and the Boston Marathon. Two I.E.D. type devices were deployed in a crowd waiting at the finish line of the marathon, causing mayhem, traumatic injuries, and death. My NY heart goes out to all the people affected. I understand how unbelievably horrific and heinous this crime is.

Rivalry is only fun until someone gets hurt. I’m not laughing, and I won’t be looking to buy any I hate Boston T-shirts either.

Will the Real Mrs. James Please Stand Up?

April 11, 2013May 15, 2013jeanjames 4 Comments

Anne-Taintor

Have you ever noticed that there are women out there who were born to be grown ups. They always seem to know what they’re doing; they know everything that’s going on in the neighborhood, or at school. They usually volunteer for everything, like class mom, cafeteria monitor, or field trip volunteer. Everyone knows them as Mrs. So and So. They seem to have it all together. Well I’m embarrassed to admit that I am not one of those women. I’m not sure if I ever will be. But I find the older I get, the more I covet the skills required to fill those shoes.

When I was younger, my mother, and all the mothers I knew seemed to possess those skills. It was what they did. They got married, had kids, became moms, stayed at home, and became Mrs. So and So’s. Their roles were so clearly defined; they didn’t think outside the box. But then came the next generation of mom’s; the working mom, and roles changed, identities changed, and women didn’t want to wear aprons over their carefully pressed dresses, while pouring their husbands an evening cocktail. Women wanted to be independent, liberal, divorced (if need be). They didn’t want to Mrs. Anybody, they wanted to be Ms. Somebody, or better yet, just call me by my first name.

Somehow the formality of being a mom shifted into an unknown gear, and expectations were as out of fashion as that evening cocktail with the hubby. When I was growing up, I didn’t think much about calling my friends moms by their last name, but when I entered my twenties, it seemed a little too formal. What was the big deal calling someone by their first name? And as I partied my way through my twenties and into my thirties I grew into a much more relaxed person (maybe a little too relaxed).

As my friends started to have children, I insisted they call me by my first name. I knew when I had children I wanted to be the ‘cool mom’. I thought I would be the kind of mom that would have lots of boys, and have all the children at my house. I wanted to pull my kids out of school, and travel the globe with them. I used to roll my eyes when my sister wanted her kids in bed by a certain time. And why can’t you have ice cream for dinner?

Then I had kids…I could probably stop here, but I won’t. I ended up having two boys, and a girl. Let’s just say, if they could bottle the energy of boys, we would have no need for fossil fuels. As for all those extra children in my house, No Way! And bedtime, well that’s just the nectar of the gods, and ice cream is for dessert, on special occasions, not including a school night. I would still like to take my children around the globe, but only if I can be properly medicated.

As I’m learning the do’s and don’ts of motherhood, I still don’t feel like one of ‘those’ mom’s. I hear my kids calling their friends parents by their first name, and I cringe. I’m not the class mom, the cafeteria mom, or even the field trip mom. I have, however, mastered: the disorganized mom, the late mom, and the non-showered look mom. And when I forget to wear that apron, I then become the food stained mom. When my husband gets home from work, I’m asking him to pour me that cocktail, and I’m guzzling it down while throwing together some kind of meat paste disguised as dinner.

I have these fantasies of the future where I’m in my sons school helping out and everybody knows my name, and I’m always the first to arrive. My hair is neat, my clothes are clean, and I’m carrying freshly baked goods, that I made myself. My children are well behaved, and their manners are impeccable. And by 7pm, all three wee ones are soundly tucked in their beds, while I’m pouring my husband that long overdue evening cocktail, and we sit together in our his and hers chairs and discuss our day like two real adults would…

Anne Taintor

Then, off in the distance, I’m pulled from my reverie, back into reality and I hear this loud question ringing in my head, “Will the real Mrs. James please stand up?” I look left, I look right, then I look straight ahead. Where is the real Mrs. James?

She’s still stuck somewhere between being almost on time, and just about out of cocktail mix.

by Jean James Reposted courtesy of http://www.inthepowderroom.com

Diagnosing Puberty

April 4, 2013April 3, 2013jeanjames 9 Comments

About a month ago my 7 year old daughter (soon to be 8), came to me one night, with a nervous complaint of a lump behind her right nipple. With a slight sense of unease, I got up, palpated the spot she was pointing to, and sure enough there was a hard, pea sized nodule lurking under her skin. Thinking the lump was probably normal breast development, I sent my daughter back to bed with a kiss and an “everything is normal” hug, then immediately jumped on my computer Googling 7 year old girls with breast lumps.

To my relief, most of my research pointed me in the direction of early thelarche. Thelarche is the development of breast tissue, otherwise known as breast buds, and is one of the signals of the onset of puberty. According to a study in the journal Pediatrics, American girls are maturing earlier. What was once a normal pubescent age of 10 or 11 is now being seen in 7 and 8 year olds.

However, when these signs and symptoms of puberty occur before the age of 8 in girls and 9 in boys, then precocious puberty could be to blame. Early puberty has its problems and could lead to shorter growing times, and shorter overall height. The psycho/social problems with early puberty could lead to poor body image and low self esteem.

Signs of precocious puberty in girls:

Breast growth
First Period
Pubic Hair
Rapid Growth
Acne

Signs of precocious puberty in boys:

Enlarged testicles/penis
Body odor
Deepening voice
Pubic Hair
Rapid Growth
Acne

The following morning I placed a call to my pediatrician, and after explaining to the nurse my daughter’s finding from the night before, I expected her to say, “That’s normal, nothing to worry about.” Instead she said my daughter was too young for breast development, and needed to come in and see the doctor. My stomach did a little flip as I made the appointment. Was I missing something? Was this normal development, or a new anxiety to keep me from sleeping at night?

My daughters experience got me thinking about my own development, or lack thereof. I have no memory of breast bud development; I would have been horrified to touch my own growing flesh, let alone go to my mom about it. When I was growing up girls didn’t do that sort of thing. I was twelve when my period came, and I remember the shock and embarrassment that brought on. I was horrified by the painful, hemorrhaging happening between my legs, and there was no way I was going to my mother. My sister, (through my tears of objection), did it for me.

My daughter is a different breed, thank God. She is the daughter of a nurse. I don’t lie, or make up silly names, much to the chagrin of my husband and father. When my daughter was three, she used to run around my parent’s house singing, “I have a vagina; I have a vagina!!” My father, not quite understanding her sing song, turned to my smiling mother and asked, “What is she saying?” To which my mother replied in her best sing song voice, “I have a vagina, I have a vagina!!”

There’s a look that father’s, not men, but father’s give when they hear the word vagina that makes them squirm in their seat, roll their eyes, and huff and puff a little bit as if some sort of taboo has been broken, fearing the word period, or perhaps feminism might slip out next. This was the look my father gave that day. It’s no wonder I was afraid to get my period.

So thankfully my daughter is comfortable in her own skin, and so far, not afraid to come to me for help. But could she be facing puberty at age 7, when I could barely face it at age 12?

The pediatrician examined my daughter later that day, and felt the pebble like nodule of what? She didn’t know. “Wait three weeks, if it’s still there then I would like her to see a pediatric endocrinologist.” Really, I thought? Was this necessary?

With anxious weekly reminders from my daughter, we got to week three, and the lump was still present, along with what appeared to be soft breast tissue, or as my daughter likes to call it, “the hill.” After a thorough examination by the endocrinologist, we were still no closer to an answer. She too agreed that the lump seemed odd, but thought we should run some tests to determine if she was entering puberty. Since when did the normal transition from child to adult become so complicated?

So what are the tests for puberty? Here is a list of the most common ones:

Blood work is first collected to test for the hormones of puberty: LH (Luteinizing Hormone), FSH (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) Estrogen Levels, and Thyroid levels, (Testosterone levels in boys).
A bone X-Ray of the wrist is performed to measure the growth plates and determine bone age vs. stated age.
An MRI of the brain may be done to look for any abnormalities.
An ultrasound of the ovaries may be done in girls to rule out a cyst or tumor.

If the tests are positive and early puberty is diagnosed then there are treatment options which include a monthly injection of a hormone that blocks the onset of puberty. This hormone is given until a more reasonable pubescent age and then discontinued, allowing the body to take its normal course.

This treatment option was discussed with me by the endocrinologist, and I have to say it weighed heavy on my conscience. Medicate my child to prevent early puberty, or let nature take its course? I was more than hesitant to have to make that decision.

After blood work and a wrist X-Ray, it was determined that my daughter was not in puberty; a relief on the one hand, but leaving me with the question, “Then what is that pea sized lump in her breast?”

Only an ultrasound will be able answer that question.

In the meantime I wait and I worry (a little), about what I’m putting my child through, and if I really have anything to worry about at all.

I can’t help but wonder if after all this testing, we’ll come full circle to find out her breast lump was nothing more than premature thelarche, and the premature wanderings down the inevitable path to a diagnosis of puberty.

To Spank Or Not To Spank

March 21, 2013March 20, 2013jeanjames Leave a comment

Zen-and-the-Art-of-Child-Discipline

A study published in The Journal of Pediatrics stated 3 year olds who were spanked were more likely to become bullies by the age of 5. Researches from Tulane University studied 2500 children and their mothers and determined that those children spanked frequently, were more likely to show aggressive behavior. In lieu of spankings, researchers have determined we should be giving our children positive reinforcement and praise.

The researchers at the Yale Parenting Ccenter and Child Conduct Clinic, out of Yale University, have been studying behavioral influences on children for the past several decades. What encourages a child to behave well vs. the motivation for malcontent? Time honored research has determined that praise, not punishment is the key to well mannered children.

But not just any old praise will do. When our children complete a task, or do as they‘re told, we as parents must extol them with all the pomp and circumstance of a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader. When they bring home an A on their report card, heck, even a B+, we must eulogize them as if they were the second coming of Albert Einstein.

As far as going into raptures every time my kid does something he’s supposed to do, I can see the short term benefits; he feels loved and satisfied that he’s not just doing a good job, but that he’s AWESOME and doing a FABULOUS job. He can also be secure in the fact that he’s not just smart, but his work is BRILLIANT, it shows INTELLIGENCE beyond belief.

I however, have one problem with the long term effects. When he’s in his twenties, and has his first big job and his boss comes along and pats him on the back and says, ‘nice work son’, will he be satisfied or suicidal? Will a smack on the ass once in awhile keep him grounded enough to handle his future or turn him into a serial killer?

Is it really smart to overstuff a child’s ego, then send him out into the real world where private cheerleaders don’t exist?

Reposted courtesy of: http://www.inthepowderroom.com