I’ve been blogging for about seven years. My blogging has moved from place to place – geocities.com, tripod.com, bolt.com, kiwibox.com, diaryland.com, and then on to domains – orgasmic-bitch.org to kiss-my-kitty.com to xoxo.nu and a handful of domains in between – but I’ve been blogging on, blogging continually over these past seven years.
And I enjoy blogging. I really do. I’ve always been one to keep a journal (I started my first around the age of eight), scraps and keepsakes, so when the opportunity to do so electronically presented itself, you better believe I grabbed on with both hands.
Since this is a personal blog, I obviously blog about what’s relevant in my life. Currently, I’d say that 99% of my blogs revolve around my family – my husband, my daughter, my son. I also ramble on about our pets, housework and parenthood in general. Sometimes I touch on current happenings, controversial subjects and internet related things, but overall I talk about my husband and children.
I never thought to do otherwise, as I am under the impression that my blog should cater to nobody but myself. If I choose to make it publicly available, so be it. But that doesn’t mean I have to cater to the interests of the masses. You see, that’s the beautiful thing about the internet. We’re all blessed with the ability to close websites we’re not interested in (clicking the X in the righthand corner, hitting alt + F4, etc.), and we always have the opportunity to search for something that interests us. Most of the time the “feel” of a website will jump right out at us, but if it doesn’t, most blog authors have included category and/or tag features in their blogs, which makes searching and pinpointing our favorite subjects so much easier than reading over every little entry.
But apparently these nifty and useful little search features mean nothing to certain people. These individuals continue to flock to my site for the sole purpose of insulting me. I – along with my children – have been the target of many insults, and even a few threats. I admit, I’m not happy to be at the receiving end of such nastiness. I’m disgusted with most of the individuals, hurt by the actions of a few others, surprised at the actions and about-face attitudes of still a few others, and the remainder I can only laugh at, as they have plenty of their own problems to deal with. One in particular is guilty of stealing blog entries, poety and layouts, and is definitely one who shouldn’t be casting stones at others. Another should be busy enough, what with juggling the lies and stories he tells to various young women all over the internet in the hopes of getting some ass.
So what makes me such a popular target? After reading a lot of the comments, I can only come to the following solutions:
I’m fat.
Time and time again it’s “Jenn is so fat”, “Fattyfer”, “Jenn is obese”, “Fat ass this” and “Fat ass that”. Really. I never knew one person’s problem and struggle with obesity could be of such import to other people. But you’ll be pleased to know that my weight is something I’ve been working at reducing for a while now, and I’ve been really buckling down over the past few months. Before I had Ryan I weighed 324 lbs. Now, at eleven weeks postpartum, I am down to 275 lbs. Now I can’t help but wonder – once I lose the rest of the weight I plan on shedding, what new insults will people come up with? I hope they don’t work their panties into a twist over it.
I’m confident.
I’m referred to as snobbish and egotistical. I’ve been accused of having an overflated ego, of thinking too highly of myself, of looking down on others, and thinking I’m better than others. I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s simply not the case. I’m sorry that my confidence intimidates you. I’m sorry that me feeling good and sure about myself upsets you so much. But I’m not going to turn into some blubbering, insecure wreck to appease you.
My husband works at Burger King.
Yes, my husband is a loyal serf to The King. But he’s a well paid one. I’m not one to brag about money or really discuss it, as I feel it’s nobody’s business but our own, but as an assistant manager he makes enough for the four of us to live comfortably. We have our own home, two good vehicles (one of which is only a year old), utilities that are all current, good meals on our table three times a day, every day, and money left over for the fun extras. Our children are both nicely and appropriately clothed, and are never lacking in food or health care. Since I am a mother and have a responsibility to be there for my children, and to take care with my own nutrition for the sake of my son’s, I am never without good health care, vitamins and healthy food. My husband’s income provides for us, and I am able to stay home and take care of our children and our home. It is because of his income that I am able to stay home and do the things we take for granted – clean, organized home, meals every day, clean laundry, etc.
My “questionable” parenting practices.
Somebody accused me of breastfeeding and cloth diapering for the attention. Um, whose attention? The attention of the cashier who may wonder why one woman is purchasing so many bottles of detergent? The attention of people I pass in stores who see a baby but no bottles tucked in the diaper bag? The attention of my cats as they attempt to dive into the dryer several times a day? The attention of my husband who is very supportive of breastfeeding?
Let’s be realistic.
I breastfeed because it’s the best nutrition available for babies. I breastfeed because I enjoy the bonding experience. I breastfeed because I would rather have that extra $200 a month to spend or save, rather than use it for formula. I breastfeed because I can, and because I want to.
I cloth diaper because it’s better for the environment. I cloth diaper because I got tired of seeing marks on my children’s legs. I cloth diaper because my children look cute with all of the extra padding on their butts. I cloth diaper because we save, on average, $50-$75 per month.
I’ve gotten a hell of a lot of flack for having the nerve to use vaseline and a baby spoon to break apart a large lump of hard fecal matter that was stuck half in and half out of my daughter’s butt. It doesn’t matter that I’m not the only mother to have done so, it doesn’t matter that rushing my daughter to the doctor or ER would only result in the same treatment – and at the expense of her being in great pain for a much longer period of time until I could get her there and explain the situation. No, what matters is that I used a baby spoon in a manner other than its usual intent. The rumors have escalated to me shoving the spoon into my daughter’s rectum, and that afterwards I put it in the dishwasher (that’s funny, considering that at that particular residence we did not even have a dishwasher!) to be re-used. Once again – not true.
Fecal matter was stuck half in and half out of my daughter’s butt. I used a baby spoon to break off the protruding poop and sort of “scoop” out the middle of the mass – without ever touching my daughter’s anus/rectum or putting the spoon inside her – and she was then able to pass the rest on her own.
So go ahead. Insult me. Call me a terrible mother. That’s fine. But if you’re ever faced with the same situation, and your daughter is screaming and writhing with pain, go ahead and try to tell me you wouldn’t do the same (or use your fingers, if you’re not as squeamish as I was).
And I’ve also gotten flack for not going to the hospital when my daughter’s finger was caught in a door. I’m sorry, but while I was upset for my daughter, I knew her grandmother and father were both with her, and there was nothing I could do. Leaving my at-the-time job for that would have resulted in immediate termination, and since my daughter had her father and grandmother with her, I did not see the need to lose our second income – which we then needed – by joining them. It ended up that my daughter’s finger received two stitches and she and her father and grandmother were in and out of the hospital within an hour. When I came to her that night she was fine, and acted as if nothing had even happened. To tell you the truth, I think I was more upset by what happened than she was!
I post pictures.
I post pictures of me, my husband and my children. My husband has full knowledge and gives his consent to such pictures. I watermark everything due to some of Alyssa’s infant photos being stolen and passed off as another woman’s photos. I never disclose my phone number, address, or even my city. [private], Pennsylvania covers a much broader area than a lot of you realize, and I don’t even live there. I cut out or block out any identifying landmarks or signs that would otherwise be visible in photos.
I may be a little photo-happy, but why is that such a bad thing? Is it because I’m fat? Is it because I’m confident? Is it because I’m not afraid to be realistic? Because I blog about things that bore you?
Conclusion
I’m not going to stop being who I am just to please a bunch of people. I am Jenn. I am fat. I am a mother. I breastfeed. I cloth diaper. And God help me, if poop is stuck half in and half of out my child’s butt, I am going to use vaseline, a baby spoon, or if it came right down to it, my fingers, to remove as much of the mass as I could without causing pain or possible damage.
I will talk about my children. I will talk about my breasts. I will talk about breastfeeding. I will talk about sex because I like sex, and find nothing wrong with mentioning so. I will post pictures of myself, my husband, my children. I will post pictures of my breasts if I’m in the mood to. I will post pictures of breastfeeding Ryan, as both Ryan and breastfeeding him are important things to me, and I feel pride in showing both off.
Nothing anyone says will change who I am. If anything, it just makes me that more determined to go on being who I am, as I’m not out to please anyone or cater to anyone, except my family and myself.
With that said, go ahead, take the iniative and move on. Stop obsessing and talking about someone who you deem as such a terrible, boring, disgusting person. Stop insulting toddlers and babies. Stop insulting a hard working man who provides for his family and happily does so out of love. Stop making xoxo.nu your must-visit blog, since there isn’t anything here that pleases you.
If you’re so much better than me, why are you still here?
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As the domain name suggests, my name is Jenn, and I own this blog. I'm 26 years old and married to my one true ♥, Daniel. And while I have two kids (Alyssa is five, and Ryan is three), you won't find "mommy" in my username or email address, nor does my blog revolve around them. I'm a mother, but most importantly I am me, with a passion for love, blogging, reading, and photography. I'm also a busy freelance writer, web designer & SEO goddess, and a blogger relations person for an adult toy company.
