please –

 

teach our sons to

open doors, to

ask for permission

 

our daughters to know

NO is not taboo to

roll their shoulders back

and drink in the world

 

my son sleeps on my husband’s

strong chest and somewhere

I am thinking only of my family

not how big your dick is

 

I am someone

I am wife, mother, lover

flesh, blood

tears

 

the hyenas laugh, punch each

others arms, stumble into the

bar with stars in their eyes

 

please,

please do not become the

fathers to our daughters,

to our sons.

Eat Clean, Train Mean, Drink Lots of Wine.

Hey guys!

By now most of you have probably heard of the 21 Day Fix, Insanity, P90X, and other Team Beachbody programs.

Well my friend Nadia has had amazing results using the 21 Day Fix and is now coaching others to stay motivated and fit, and I’m just helping to spread the word. I’ve done blocks of Insanity and I’ve never hurt so good in my life.

So please, if you’re interested in any of the Beachbody programs, give Nadia’s personal page a look, and contact her for more information.

You can also LIKE her on Facebook, for more info, motivational posts, recipes, and workouts.

I’d also appreciate if you could social media the crap out of this post. Any little bit helps (and gets Nadia more clients)!

Thanks, guys! Now let’s all run a few laps. And drink wine. Lots of wine.

xo,

Nicole Marie

Fullest

(http://www.pinterest.com/missbuhle/i-m-a-g-e-s/)

I have never

been more aware

that we are dying than when

my body came full as a

banquet – there are

new roots that run from

every fingertip I am

swollen, full and only

thriving, easy even on

my own green eyes

in the bedroom mirror

and my whole self is

a terrified power house,

I have never tried so

hard to be alive now I

can feel it in my blood

in how my husband

cups our whole world in

his hands just beneath

my paper skin I lay my

own hands on our future,

I am shifting, busy living

to the fullest, truly.

My House

(http://fedetoth.blogspot.com/2011/05/francesca-woodman-fotografa-surreale.html)

my house is young

the wallpaper is paisley

it warms every room

it’s only an old soul,

my house

 

there is a snaking scar

in the foundation

of the eggshell ceiling

it looms just over the

bouquet of roses

 

only a shifting

a timely settling

 

there is an aching draft

that invades my house

sometimes I wedge

blankets at the bottom

of every door

 

there is a certain window

in my house

where I watch the sun

rise and fall

I dream through the glass

 

when night comes

I weave through my house

jiggling locks and chains

I straighten photographs

until morning

 

I hang words and shapes

over the puncture wounds

of my house

it breathes regardless

it’s reliable, after all