Mamavation Monday: Ams and Am Nots

 10 Responses »
Nov 292010
 

@aspiringmama: Sometimes? Doritos really are the answer.

Let me tell you who I am not.

I am not:

*Perfect

*Able to spell anything corretcly

*Interested in geting over my Tofu Phobia

*Friends with my scale

*In posession of a heaf of hair that actually moves when the wind does.

*An expert in Pubic Relations (Click on the link above for this one to make sense)

*Working out right now. (I know…I know…But my Christmas cards are almot done and the tree is up and it’s preeeeeety! And, And, And? I finished and hit send on a zillion queries, mostly typo-free, so I’m busy writing a blog post as I wait for the rejections to start pouring in so I can stare longingly at The Husband’s unopened bag of Doritos while I read them because I will physically need some at that point.)

Now for what I am:

*Honest.

*The Typo-queen (Exhibit A? My tweet stream)

*An expert in making the Post Mama Muffin Tops and Cellulite look gooood. And? I know how how to turn a hoodie into Assmoflauge by trying it around your waist and making it look like you did it to coordinate your outfit and not hide the circumference of your badonkatonk.)

*Trying my damndest to not get discouraged by my body’s utter lack of interest in anything I AM doing right to try and shed some flab off my ass. (Damned Doritos.)

*Proud owner and curator of the world’s first social media approved Mexi-fro.

*Still looking for my point in this post.

Oh right. I wrote a book about trying to lose the weight after the baby blew out the candles on her second birthday cake. But do I have the answers? No. Do I have a rockin’ bod to show for my efforts? (Note the lack of photos in this post and assume the worst.) Hell no. Do I plan on going to the gym tomorrow? Nu-uh.

 But do I want to?

Yeah. I do.

Even when life kicks me in the softly padded ass, even when emotions sneak up and make bad things sound good (like that Doritos tweet above), I am still trying. I am still wanting to better myself and provide my daughter with a healthy example. SO i almost always eat right. I don’t bitch about my thighs or my muffin top out loud. I tell her she is healthy. I tell her she is strong.

The truth of the matter is that I have health issues that aren’t making anything easier. But that isn’t saying I want it any less. And while I am in limbo, I am figuring the best thing I can do is look in the mirror and love what I see. Mexi-fro, muffin top, fat ass, and all.

If I can show my baby girl I am happy where I am now while I work on getting where I want to be, then it’s all good. And if I never get there? I need to be able to smile and laugh and hug her close when she asks if eating her dinner will make her grow up to be healthy and strong.

Because it’s all about her, people. I’m just along for the ride.

The Typo Queen (strikes again)

 4 Responses »
Nov 242010
 

@aspiringmama: this might be a really funny story later. maybe. when i am dead.

Remember my pubic relations SNAFU?

I just topped it.

I know. I’m just as shocked as you are. I mean, really…sending off a cover letter for a pubLic relations job and unknowingly admitting that I’m an expert on pubes? How in the hell do you top that?

I’ll tell you.

I’m in the middle of sorta kinda proving myself wrong. In the past three days I have queried four agents for Baby F(Ph)at. And before that? I sent off a query to another who’s name I had already pink puffy hearted on my notebook. I’m not sure how you do it, but my little query method is to go into my Word documents, pull up the last query letter written, copy and paste into a new document, and then personalize accordingly. It’s not a genius system, but it is working just fine for me and helps me keep track of where I am at in the process.

Also?

It’s proven that typos are much easier to spot after hitting send.

Lemme expound on that.

I have one line in my query which uses the term “post mama muffin top.” It’s a quick and easy visual for the reader and a phrase I use so often on my blog and in real life I am considering having it tattooed on the actual muffin top which inspired the phrase. Right away the reader knows I am talking about having had a child, gaining weight, and then wondering why cellulite hasn’t been reclassified as a substance stronger than crazy glue (read: the shit sticks like nothing else.)

When spelled correctly, “post mama muffin top” works.

When it isn’t? When, say, the in on the muffin is somehow dropped in a moment of complete idiocy?

For those of you not keeping up with the program, let me (correctly) spell out my (incorrect) spelling for you.

My query to secret agent person had the phrase: “post mama muff top” in it.

As in “muff.” As in my mind automatically went to a really dirty place when I read it 1,000 times after having copied and pasted the last query into a new document.Which led to a momentary breakdown and thoughts of suicide by chocolate and this tweet:

@aspiringmama: damn it. just. damn it. #neverrereadaqueryalreadysent

Also?

@aspiringmama: I should write a new book. #thetypoqueen. Just think of the money a publishing house would save on editing!


All I want for Christmas

 4 Responses »
Nov 202010
 

Dear Santa,

I hope this blog post finds you well.

I am sure you have already received Buttercup’s Christmas list. And yes, I am perfectly aware that your sled is only equipped to carry so much,with the gifts for children all around the world thing and all, so I am already trying to explain to her that you probably won’t be bringing everything on her list.

Don’t worry. The Husband and I have got your back. We went out and bought a few things on your behalf and will sit back happily while she praises the man in the red suit who somehow managed to make breaking into homes not only socially acceptable, but a much anticipated event. Props to you, Santa.

Anyway, you can let the Elves know that the Sing-a-Ma-Jigs, Unicorn Pillow Pet, and Disney Princess Movies are already taken care of. We might even spring for the Dora the Explorer Power Wheel Jeep. But the rest is all you. And we’d appreciate it if you could possibly return the favor by sticking “Love, Mama and Daddy” on a few of the things you happen to drop off. Because really? It’s only fair. And? We’re now broke.

I’ve already had a few friends and family ask me what I want for Christmas. I’ve already got my two front teeth, so that’s out. And The Husband and I are already on the lookout for another puppy, so don’t worry about poking holes in a box for something cute to breathe out of. But really? My list isn’t really that long. I’d like a few books, maybe Stephen King’s On Writing. Perhaps the complete Harry Potter series because I have never had a chance to read it. (I know. I know. Shut up.)

I’d also like something sparkly. But don’t worry. I’ll ask The Husband for that. So you’re off the hook again. (See how considerate I am being?)

So what do I want you to leave for me under the Christmas tree? My laptop, opened and logged in to my email account (You got into my house, big guy, so let’s not be modest here. We know you’ve got the skills), with a brandy new and very pretty new message from my dream agent. One that, very clearly, states they love me and my manuscript. A contract would be nice, too. But you can save that for my birthday. It’s the day after. I can wait.

Just think! I’m saving you space in your sled again to allow for more Christmas cheer. I’m thinking that should count for some points, yes?

I’ve been a good girl, Santa. Pinky promise. And? I’m leaving you some cookies on the table. But forget the milk. Since Rudolph’s the one doing the actual driving, feel free to help yourself to the liquor cabinet.

Sincerely,

Pauline (a.k.a. Aspiringmama)

On Me and the Speed of Molasses

 2 Responses »
Nov 172010
 

Good gawd, I’m picky.

I was when I was dating and I am probably worse with querying agents for Baby F(Ph)at. Case in point: I got my first boyfriend when I was 16, had three serious boyfriends before The Husband decided he was the Prince this Mexican Princess was looking for and answered my ad, and walked down the aisle at the ripe old age of Are you fucking crazy? You have your whole life ahead of you!!! 24.  Maybe I missed out on some singles fun by declining that Spring Break trip to Mardi Gras with the sorority sisters I wouldn’t have paid to be friends with because I was too busy staring at the shiny new engagement ring on my finger prior to becoming Mrs. The Husband, but hell, I was happy where I was ( i had always said I would marry a guy who was half Mexican, taller than me, and spoke more English than Spanish. Guess what I got? Yep…exactly what I ordered). No need to go looking for what I wasn’t.

Querying is very much the same for me. I have compared the process of searching for an agent to finding love a few times on the blog, and the comparison is still true for me. And? It explains why I have only queried 10 agents since July.

Namely? I am not a query slut.

(Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I am not calling you a query slut. I am merely saying that I am not one. Big difference. Huge difference. Huge!)

Sure, I could have had my letter in the hands of 40 or 50 or more agents by now. Some may argue that I should have. But I respectfully disagree (in my case, anyway). Because when it comes to searching for an agent, I am being just as picky as I was when I was looking for my prince. If I don’t get all super excited and start dreaming about how my first name would match his last how insanely awesome it would be to have THIS agent take me on as a client, then I’m not going to bust my ass to perfect the personalization on the query and send the damned thing out. It’s hard enough when I want it to work out. I am not going to go that kind of crazy when I only have a name, an email address, and no idea who this person is or if anyone else has ever heard of them. (And yes, I did turn down one agent who refused to give details on her track record. Call me crazy.)

Which takes me to the search itself. I’ve gone through the requisite books at Barnes & Noble. I’ve highlighted names in my agent listing books. And? I have twitter-stalked enough agents long enough to know if I am going to continue following and query or unfollow because I’m not getting all googly-eyed at the thought of them calling me if I make myself pretty and send them a note with a box to check yes if they like me. Like my Husband requirements, my agent list is pretty specific. I’m betting she will be a mom, appreciate a properly placed F-bomb, and have an active twitter account or at least know what a tweet actually is when not referring to the sound the birds make in Snow White. Did I mention I was picky?

So maybe my search is moving slow. Okay, slow is an understatement. But that’s okay with me.I’m still looking. And I’m not sweating the small stuff. The Husband answered my yahoo ad the day I was clearing out the inbox because I had decided I was going to take a break from the dating scene. The rest is obviously history.

Now…let’s see how this agent match search of mine plays out. ‘Cuz I could query her…or her…or maybe? Maybe I’ll just wait for the next agent that has me doodling their name in hearts on the cover of my notebooks.

URAW seeks IA (See Ad for Translations)

 5 Responses »
Oct 292010
 

Pretend this is a personals ad. Hell, I got The Husband that way. I think my headline was “Mexican Princess Looking for her Prince.” I was bubbly. Cute. Snarky. And ended the ad with “Now give me a reason to call you back.”

And? He did.

Obviously, I can’t be as free with my words when querying an agent because I want to be published and have people laugh when they read my book and not unpublished with a laughable query letter. Granted, I don’t have an agent yet, so the query very well may suck. But that isn’t the point of today’s post.

Today’s question of the day, dear readers, is: If finding an agent was like finding an online date (or the old-fashioned newspaper personal), what would your personal ad say?

Let’s start with the acronyms.

Thanks to the roommate freak-fest of a movie that was Single White Female all know what SWF means (and I opted to get married right out of college rather than put myself into that kind of craziness. With a man I met online. I know. Let’s not talk semantics.)

Ok, so a person seeking person ad would read something like:

SWF duh, with K kids, AL animal lover,  ISO in search of AL animal loving SWM take a wild guess, K ok kids okay, who is DTE down to earth, funny, HWP height weight proportional. I love cheesy movies, nice dinners, and long walks on the beach.

Got all that? Good. Now let’s move on to the agent.

First we would have to have the description

I think it would go like this:

Name: Pauline M. Campos

Age: 32

Height: 5’6”

Weight: Shut up

Eyes: Brown

Hair: See Mexi-fro

Now for the actual acronym-filled personal

URAW unrepresented aspiring writer of SMMM snarky mama-minded memoir with plans to create a national movement to make said SMMM a mandatory baby shower gift is ISO in search of IA interested agent who is TF typo-forgiving and KWTI knows what twitter is. SOH sense of humor important. You appreciate the importance of a well-placed FB F-bomb for emphasis. I am waiting for the RA right agent to OMAC offer me a contract. SM sign me and I promise you the LOP lack of platform because I DHARTSIJOABI don’t have a reality TV show in Jersey or a Bump-it will become a non-issue as we begin our new journey together.

There. Now to sit back and wait for the flood of responses to come pouring in. Maybe I should go wash my hair and decide what to wear on our first date. Or buy a bump-it.

 Older Entries  Newer Entries
Copyright 2010 Aspiring Mama Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha
Social links powered by Ecreative Internet Marketing