Problems Women Over 6'0" Have

My mom sent me a link to an article today, and I couldn't help but laugh.  "Problems of Tall Women"
Go ahead...read it.

So, size 9 shoes are considered big?! Bahahahah!!! I'm laughing so hard I'm actually crying.

Now, this girl has some great points, all of them are true...but for those of us OVER 6 foot, I've got you covered. 

Problems Women Over 6'0" Have

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1. Chances are, you wear a shoe larger than a size 9. Chances are you wear a shoe larger than a size 11. And chances are, some of you are like myself and wear a shoe size that causes late nights of sobbing and drinking an entire bottle of wine. You often find yourself scrolling up and down the pages of Zappos trying to find something that doesn't look like it belongs to a stripper or an 80 year old nurse. Oh, you want to wear heels? Well, sure you can! But, understand that they are going to be made of clear acrylic and light up. (I wear a size 14 if you were wondering)

Story of my friggin' life.

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2. You express to your friends very clearly, "I HATE CAPRIS!" Considering that you've spent your awkward teenage years violently stretching the legs of damp denim jeans like you're pulling taffy in order to get them to "barely brush the top of your shoes"; you're not too keen on embracing the look that reminds you of what trying on pants feels like. Your friends say, "They'll look so cute on you!"
To humor them, you try them on. You exit the dressing room for them to see that you are indeed wearing BERMUDA SHORTS.
Oh, they say LONG? No, they say...LIE. I have a 37.5" inseam...let that sink in.

- 3. You cringe when your friend (who owns a Mini Cooper) says, "I'll pick you up!" Yeah, the seat is all the way back...and your knees are now dented from the dash. Once you get to the concert, you stumble a little bit, due to your circulation being cut off for 35 minutes and you can't feel your feet. The fans at the concert just assume you're drunk...go with it. Drunk is how you look after you get to the bathroom and see how your hair was destroyed from rubbing on the headliner the entire way.

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4. Counter-tops are ridiculously short. When you stand in front of your kitchen sink to wash the dishes, you always walk away looking like you pissed your pants...BECAUSE YOUR CROTCH IS HIGHER THAN THE COUNTER! Be aware of the dilemma and don't rush to do dishes before you run to the grocery store...everyone will stare at you...and not because you're abnormally tall.

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5. You can't hide, ever. You can't just run to Wal-Mart in pajama pants, a baseball cap, and sunglasses knowing that you will just blend in with your surroundings. Wearing a pair of old Chuck Taylors, messy hair shoved up in a Pittsburgh Penguins hat, yoga pants decorated with greasy hand prints from your son, and over sized aviators will cause a few folks to call the authorities to let them know one of the crazies escaped from the State Hospital. 

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6. Hotel showers will always be a disappointment. After a long day of travel, having circulated air blowing on you in the cabin of a machine with leg room adequate only for your 8 year old son; you can't wait to shower. You turn on the water, step in and realize the shower-head is a pervert. Those are my boobs...my head is up here! Damn-it...looks like I will be doing the limbo in order to wash my hair.

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7. Standard toilets are a big fat a joke. No other description is needed, as a photo is worth a thousand words.

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8. You don't/can't take baths. Unless you have the means to install a custom tub, a bath will never be the relaxing experience that all of your 'short' friends talk about. Picture a horse trying to go for a swim in a water trough, or an average person attempting to sit in a bathroom sink. With my back resting on the curve of the tub and my feet at the drain...my knees are in my ears. This is not my idea of a relaxing time...in fact, it reminds me of the position I take during my 'yearly exam'. No thanks. 

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9. You require bed risers under your desk. Try fitting your 'correct height' adjustable office chair under a desk of any sort. Yeah...it's the same height as the damned desk.

  Bed lifters.

I just changed your life...you're welcome.

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10. Gloves are just silly. What can I say, I can palm a basketball. I don't play, never have, never will. But considering that I'm taller than most of the men I know, my hands are as well. For once in my life, I would love to own a pair of gloves that don't say "Arctic Cat" on them, or have the old ladies at JC Penney's staring at me like I'm OJ trying to find a pair of feminine gloves. (Also...stretch gloves make me giggle. By the time I stretch the hell out of them and get the band to the wrist, they are completely see-through)

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11. You know that your friends NEVER clean the top of their fridge. GAH! There I said it! No one else has. "Come over for dinner tonight!" they say. You walk in the kitchen and you're like, "Thanks, I'll just eat these crisps I brought!" 

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12. Ceiling fans should be against the law. I'm not tall enough to take out an eye, but I've had my fingers nearly broken MANY times. Ever wake up late and try to get dressed while screaming at your kid to brush his teeth? You can-and-will forget the allocated safe zone for removing your shirt. Also, don't do Yoga in the living room. (I've been able to touch the ceiling since I was 14)

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13. You'll never fit in the camera frame. Yeah, that's me...Hello boobies. Talk about awkward.

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14. I am not a transvestite. I am 100% woman. Tall girls exist worldwide and we are here to stay.  


 

But, at the end of the day I hope all of you 'Taller than 6' girls' smile; knowing that you aren't alone.

We are a rare bunch, but I have a feeling we all share more than a few characteristics...and not just the tall thing. 

I think all of us super-tall girls were teased growing up. (I was called Sasquatch, Yetti, 2x4, Gigantic Jill etc..) I'm not mad. I think it defined me. 

I was that nerd who pulled away socially and decided to read books, draw, and listen to music. All of those names they called me made me think of snarky come-backs and slams right back.  I became the funny girl...and I think you did too.

Hey, super tall girls! I'm Jill, the funny girl that grew up, became a writer, and married a Rock Star. And I want to hear about YOU! Tall girls ROCK!

 

I'm third from the right. Standing in flip-flops taller than the security.

Enjoy life and don't let the 'little' things get to you...

Much Love from the Original Albino Sasquatch,
Jillian

Waiting Out the Storm...Groundhog Day

Winter...

It's a time of year that those of us who have chosen to live in the Great White North prepare for.  We cross our fingers, stock up on a lot of booze and wear a few extra layers when the weather man says "Blizzard". It's cold...it snows A LOT...and the wind will freeze your lungs if you go outside for too long.

Harsh is an understatement. This is North Dakota.

Yesterday we looked out the window to see nothing but white. We experienced a major blizzard. All roads were closed, a no travel advised warning was issued, and  we watched the snow racing across the land with furry.

My friend Miss took a photo from the safety of her home. Snow blurred the image as it clung to the screen, the drifts were growing high and nearly covered the snowman her son recently made. As I looked closer at the image, I laughed. The snowman appeared to be screaming, "SAVE ME!"

Wow, that's quite accurate; considering I felt the same way as I turned my head to peer out the window in the living room.

 Front and center...that was me yesterday

Some may say, "Enjoy the day off...have some spiked hot coco!"
Well, the truth is, I felt that way the last 6 blizzards...number 7 just didn't "do it" for me.

One would assume that school would have been cancelled today. Sure, the Interstates and highways were all closed, but this is North Dakota. My son was certain he wouldn't have school, poor kid...he did.

While driving back on the snow covered roads, I complained to myself, "THIS SUCKS!" The bad roads, below zero temperature, and ice everywhere caused me to say, "Winter is going to last all damned year".

Then, something happened.

I thought about my book.

You see, the title of my book, the stories, and the "message" symbolically mirror the brilliant movie "Groundhog Day." It's a story about understanding "perspective is everything".

And then, I remembered another photo posted by a local business in Fargo. (Zandbroz Variety) They took a photo looking North, then one facing south. It's quite obvious.

It's all about your point of view. 

Talk about not practicing what you preach.

So for the rest of the drive I pictured the events of the book, the quotes that I had cleverly written, and reflected upon the endless hours of frustration when I couldn't see the end.

I thought, "Winter is just a state of mind...I need to stop complaining, because spring is on it's way. It comes every year."

After 'gunning it' to make it through the drift in front of our house and parking the car in the garage, I went to the computer and put on a song my Mom used to play.  

Absolute Genius...

My parents had this record when I was a kid, but at that age I never understood what it meant.
I understand now, and wish mainstream music today still held this kind of message. It's unfortunate...kids now listen to over-produced auto-tuned consumerist tunes; encouraging them to believe they should focus on materialism, popularity, and being ignorant.
I wish they grew up with the music us older folks had.


I could go on for a long time explaining my conspiracy theories about the music industry...but this isn't that kind of post. This one is just about an idea that I hope all of you recognize and share.

Perspective.

So how do you look at your life?

Negative?

You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.

OR

Positive?

 When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

Even in the end, the ignorant “Rock Star” Phil understood what winter truly meant. According to extensive research and a quote from Harold Ramis, it took him 8 years, 8 months and 16 days of living in his own personal hell (Groundhog Day) to finally understand why he was living in perpetual winter.

We have all struggled through years of what some may consider a never ending winter. We love, we hate, we blame, we keep doing the same things over and over hoping for change; but once we accept the fact that what we NEED to change is our perspective; we can experience spring while the Alberta clipper swirls around us.

 Summer is coming...it always does. Until then, enjoy the season.

Much Love, Respect, and Support

Jillian

Give Me A Sign...High Enough

My life is weird.
Period.
It's been even more strange in the last few days.


 I spoke to one of my friends the other day about the way I see life. I told her, "We are all just like spiders, constantly going back and forth, leaving a trail behind us as we leave the people we meet and events we sometimes regret. As much as we try, we can't break the strands...it's all a part of the plan. There are times we look down at a small portion of our lives and think it's a horrible mess, but we just keep going.  Then one day we find the courage to go further out on the limb and look back to see a beautifully constructed web that is covered with the morning dew."

Listen to this song and remember the lyrics...

I think a lot of people find themselves defeated when it comes to their 'design'. They doubt their abilities to create something beautiful and just give up. It's a shame really, because all they need to do is climb a little bit higher and look down.

There were years I looked at the small patch of threads that surrounded the base of my feet and considered them the most poorly planned strings of events possible. But, because of my strange connections to music, a random phone call, and finally seeing the signs that told me which way to go next; I decided to follow my own advice and go a little "Higher"...and saw something beautiful.

My previous entry, "Loving A Musician...I Won't Give Up" was posted to this site on January, 21st...but I started writing it on January 20th.  I had spent the previous few days, buried in the depths of writing, ignoring my phone as I clicked away at the keyboard.  I listen to many genres, but Breaking Benjamin was on the top of the list. What can I say? I'm a fan. "Give Me A Sign" was one that received the heaviest of rotations.

Well, during my insane caffeine fueled week, I dis-regarded a phone call from my Dad. "It can wait", I thought.

 When I finally called him back he said, "I received a phone-call." in a very serious voice.
GULP...UH OH! That tone never meant anything good.
"A guy called one of my friends to try to track you down. He wants you to take his wedding pictures."

I got angry and said, "You know I haven't taken pictures for 5 years, Absolutely NOT!"

I remembered what had happened 5 years ago, the diagnosis, the hospitalization, the lawsuit I received WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL and the crumbling of my finances. SCREW THAT!

"NO!" I said.
"Jill...It's Scott."
"Who?" I didn't grasp the last name.
He said it again, and I felt a bolt of electricity through my body.

All of a sudden, I remembered the quirky little face of a young kid that used to annoy the crap out of me.
It was my best friend's little brother.  My best friend that passed away from cancer 21 years ago.

I saw her face for just a moment, and I said, "I'll think about it."
I hung up the phone after saying goodbye...and started to cry.

Wow, all of these years...and he found a way to get in touch with my Dad...The day he did was January, 20th 2014..

I called my Dad's friend today and said, "I'll do it. It's a one time deal...I'm still retired...and also tell him his sister paid it in full"

I sat there after getting off the phone thinking that it would be my way of letting go of the painful past of what MY disease did to me. It was time to bust down the walls of embarrassment and regret of how I wished things happened differently. I was an excellent photographer, but the tumors ended a great run of success.

I smiled. I was starting to climb a little higher...

This morning, I poured a cup of coffee and grabbed my High School Yearbook off the shelf. I sat down and opened it to a page that I hadn't viewed in almost twenty years. It was my first published works; a poem I had written the night my best friend passed away in 1993. As I read it back to myself, I pictured myself back in my bedroom, the yellow walls plastered with 90's Rock Bands illuminated by the lamp on the vanity table...I wrote it without it being my own words...but hers. I remembered the nights we used to lock her brother Scott out of the room while we blasted 90's Rock just to piss him off.  I smiled and remembered the song. It was one I couldn't listen to the last 20 years without crying.

I remembered how two weeks ago, my husband played the song from a 90's mix station over the sound system...I had to walk in the kitchen to hide my tears and wait for it to end.I never told him about the song and how it brought me back to those painful years. He felt terrible and apologized after coming into the room, seeing my red eyes.

Two weeks ago...I heard the song when I was in the proverbial trenches of writing the book.

Then, the events of the last two weeks occurred, symbolically telling me to climb higher and look down.

So I did...and it was...breathtaking.

I looked back at the book in my lap and I felt another wave of electricity through my body. I saw a date that I used to remember every year, but somehow after years of loving a Musician and being a mom...I had let it slip the past few years. January, 20th....If that isn't a sign...I don't know what is.

And then I went to the computer, put in my earbuds, loaded Damned Yankees-High Enough...and cranked it.

I didn't cry.

I could hear her laughing and pictured her wearing a Warrant tee-shirt...she got me good.

I laughed right back at her and said, "You were always a comedian."

 Get a little Higher, and your view will change.

Everything happens for a reason...and if you don't believe that...you haven't climbed 'High Enough'.

Love, Respect, and Support
Jillian

Loving a Musician...I Won't Give Up.

I sit here in front of my computer, watching my husband as his head slowly shifts to the left; falling asleep on the couch.

He's been my cheerleader these past few weeks as I wrap the final stages of completing this book.
Its taken on a life of its own in this house, as I remember moments going into garage and lighting a cigarette in stress, yelling at my dog as he lays a chew toy on my lap with eyes that say, "Throw it mommy", and my son  begging me to come look at the new Lego airplane he built, but I didn't.

I feel like my life is passing me by as I block out the world, focus on writing, and think to myself, "What is this for?"

I watched my husband reach both of his tattoo covered arms into the air and say, "Babe, I've gotta crash". He stands up, walks to the computer desk across the room, leans down, gives me a kiss on the forehead and walks into the bedroom.

I'm so tired, I am jealous! I WANT TO GO TO BED WITH YOU!

Anger fills my soul and I feel a need to find something to bring back my inspiration; only a few pages left...

I clicked on Youtube to search a music genre that will bring me back.
90's Rock? NO! Cheesy parody songs? NO! Active Rock?! NO!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! WHY CAN'T I FINISH THIS BOOK?!!! SOMEONE SHOOT ME!!

I see a video on the "suggested" sidebar. An XFactor video.
I think to myself, how about a good laugh to give me a reason to make fun of someone...go out with a bang, right?!
I clicked on the video...

I cried my eyes out.

I realized that I had spent the last six years living a life that most would never understand. The next few moments lead to an event that changed everything and guided me to find my final words. I found a way to finish the book...


I clicked on the link for the original song by Jason Mraz.

As I listened to it, I flashed back to a moment that occurred almost six years ago.

I was looking down at an event that I tried so desperately to forget.

It was of me...curled up in a ball crying in pain from the surgery I had just endured, unable to take pain medication due to complications.
He was laying right next to me, facing me, stroking my hair while saying, "breathe with me baby, it will go away."
I could see the yellow strands that cut across the blue in his eyes, just like I saw back then.
I could feel his hand on my temple.
I could feel him.

I could hear him say, "Breathe, baby."

So, I took a deep breath...

And...cried like I haven't cried for 6 years. I felt the release I was waiting for...while he slept in the bedroom not knowing what was going on in the other room. It was him...

Why do we 'do'? Why do some of us live lives that others look down on because we don't do it like they do it? Why do some of us never accept mediocrity and normalcy?

My answer is, "Because we were supposed to."

I remembered the words of encouragement I sent to my friend Christy, "You realize it all happened for a reason. It's like the movie 'Signs'. And then what I said to my friend Sarah, "Something is happening, listen and be aware of the signs, open your heart and listen".

All of a sudden, I was aware of all my own "Signs". The ones I wasn't paying attention to until this very moment.

I finally figured it out.

The ending wasn't supposed to be humorous, I was supposed to tell the story of why "Loving a Musician" is worth it. And, also for me to understand that the sacrifices I am making right now aren't being judged by the men that I love...they understand, and support me because they saw the signs before I did. They were standing beside me when I was fighting for my life and they know that 'right now' is my time to shine.

I flashed back to the night of our 4th Anniversary; as we slow-danced in the living room listening to INXS-Never Tear Us Apart. I smiled remembering how he dipped me backwards and kissed me while caressing the curve of my back; knowing he truly, madly, deeply loves me.

Say what you will about a musician. Think of all the stereotypes that you've been brainwashed into believing. I'm here to say, that you're wrong...and I wrote a book about it.

Thank you Jason Mraz, and thank you to my other-worldly companion...I got it. It's a love story.

Well, I won't give up on us, Even if the skies get rough...And they could never tear us apart.

Everything happens for a reason...the best is yet to come...

Love, Respect, and Support
Jillian

 

Mom Jeans and Music That Didn't Suck.

HOLY BALLS, it's been forever since I posted on this dad-gum thing.
My sincere apologies for the neglect. These are the things that occur when other things are taking shape.
Well...I'm gonna let the cat out of the bag...my book is almost finished. Yep, it's the real deal! Here we go!*
(* probably a bad idea)
 
My inspiration to finally re-open my blog site occurred after I decided I needed a "Brain Break" from editing and revising.  I went on to the book-of-faces and immediately loaded the news feed. My fellow "Rock Chick" Deb (Music Endorser Extraordinaire) decided to blind the virtual world with ocular horror by posting an image that caused me go running into the bathroom; while evacuating the dinner my husband so lovingly prepared.

Mom Jeans are back in style.

What...the...bloody..hell?!!!

 Really?

Take your time in the bathroom as you expel your anger and remember your 1981 Mustang. Yeah, the one from the decade that ALL vehicles were a design disgrace to muscle cars world-wide. Much like the automotive industry in that 10-year-span, the fashions were equally unflattering.

I still remain undecided if the "ones" who decided this would be a great idea were either emotionally scarred as an infant during that time, or if they are playing a big fat joke on those who lived through it.

This is how I imagine it going down...
Set Scene:
(Board room of pretentious hipsters surrounding a large conference table with drawings of their parents on foam board sitting on easels along the wall)
ACTION!

"Let's design a pair of jeans that make it appear the navel sits directly below the nipple. Also, design the cut to make all the women who actually had a 10 lb child yanked from their loins (who want to appear 'fashionable') look like the front view of a pregnant milking goat"

(face-palm)

 While we are at it, let's all wear 3 pairs of layered neon dyed socks, and smoke Pal-Mal's from Grandpas glove box? Screw you 1980's. I left my ugly blue glasses that sunk down to my cheeks and awkward body behind almost 30 years ago.

I sat here developing brilliant puns, snarky one-liners and ridiculous analogies to describe my hatred for this fashion era...and then something happened...

I flashed back to 1990.

I was standing in front of the mirror in my parents bathroom with the electric neon scribble wallpaper; ratting the living hell out of my bangs, wearing my Def Leppard tee-shirt...and something was playing at full volume in the background, bellowing through the doorway from my bedroom...what was it.....

Oh....My....God.

and then another!

SHRIEK!

And another!!!!!

IT WON'T STOP!!!
ANOTHER! YAY!

 And then this one...because Deb messaged me and informed me of my mistake of not including Tesla
*edit addition

That's when I had my epiphany.

1980's today...1990's ON THEIR WAY!

Well, needless to say, I went down to the basement and pulled out the grey rubbermaid tub in the storage room marked "Burn". Thankfully, I'm one of the biggest procrastinators on the planet and pulled out the size 6 acid washed navel biters.  You know, the ones...when you sit down and it looks like you have a penis?

Those ones.

Well, I barely got em on. I sucked it in, did a ridiculous dance that one might consider "Twerking", laid on the bed while I told my 7 year old son to sit on my abdomen and yeah....

Massive Mom muffin-top, but I got those sons-of-bitches on.

I'll play your little game.

Only a few more years and I'll be back in my little dream world of when MTV actually played music, radio was good, and my car was bad-ass.

Well played....but I'm on to you. You can't out-smart a smart ass.

Bring it.

One sec...I gotta re-adjust this damned button...God, these are tight, what the hell was I thinking? Also, I need to track down my old Mustang. I hope she still has the stock tape deck....


Stay tuned to buy my book...I'll be posting the link soon!
Until then, crank it up and grab a stiff screwdriver...something good is about to happen.

Love, Respect, and Support
Jillian