Monica Torres
  • Home
  • About Me
  • Contact
  • Blog

Tag Archives: mommy blog

F*ck F*cking F*ckity F*ck-F*ck or How Giving a F*ck Made Things Worse.

Posted on February 26, 2019 by monicatorres

As a recently-turned half-a-century young woman, I am finally starting to take the advice of all the self-realized women who have come before me, and stop giving a shit about the things that don’t matter. Let things go. Not care so much about the little things. More importantly, I have realized the importance of saying “no” and trusting my instincts in the process.

There is a great book that was given to my husband a while back, called “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life” by Mark Manson. I immediately picked it up and read it cover to cover. The title of this self-help book was so provocative and had me written all over it. What did this guy know that I didn’t? Was it the Holy Grail of life? I had to find out. The truth is though, I have spent most of my life of giving a f*ck about things that don’t matter, and I now realize that I need to lift that monkey off my back.

Like many women, I like to be liked. I need to be liked. I like not making waves. I like to make people happy. And all of that was making me miserable and not living my best life. I was saying “yes” to events that I didn’t want to go to, saying “no” to things I really wanted, and over-scheduling myself, trying to please everyone (and then eventually pleasing no one).

So, I decided to make some internal changes to help shift my perspectives and do some real Adulting and self-care.

As a young girl, I was taught to be “nice” and if someone was mean to me or bullying in some way, their actions were the result of something I had done. Standing up for myself wasn’t on the menu for me growing up, so it’s hardwired in me to always be “nice”. Getting those wires cut is going to take some time.

My husband and I have been raising our daughter to be strong, feel heard, and to take care of her emotional well being by loving herself. Even with our support, she does echo some of my feelings and challenges. That gives me pause and makes me think that this need to be liked, the reluctance to say “no”, is multi- generational. Does it get passed down from mother to daughter and so on, until one breaks the cycle?

My husband does not have this problem. “Do you want to go out to eat?” No. “Do you want to go that party?” No. “How ‘bout…” No. He says what he means. Being with him for almost 20 years, I have learned to be more proactive in trusting my instincts and saying “no”. But I’m not always successful.

Recently, I was invited by a friend, Jane, to a photo shoot at her house. The photographer is a friend of hers who has shot her for various events. I had seen her photos and was excited to accept the invitation. It was communicated to me that it was a ladies’ casual get-together, where the photographer would take shots as we were hanging out. That is perfect for me: low key, low stress and fun.

When I arrived, I was greeted with enthusiasm. Not only that, but I was also greeted with a staged background, that was similar to JC PENNY and photo lights. I started to tense up. The photographer explained that the shoot was going be a Glamour/Vintage set up and wanted me to put on a sexy sleeveless dress. Immediately, I started to stiffen, anxiety enveloping me. It’s been about 5 years since I have worn a sleeveless anything, especially without a spray tan. I’m a Mexican American Diane Keaton. She’s sexy, just covered.

Because the photographer was a good friend of Jane and I didn’t want to make waves, I ignored my feelings and my instincts and complied. I wanted to be easy going and agreeable, so I said “yes”, when I really wanted to say “no”.

Once she took out a fur and had me toss it into the air with the direction of “look sexy”, I was doomed. Beads of sweat were pouring down. She took a few shots and asked me to change outfits so she could move on to Jane.

I ran to the bedroom with clarity. “Get out of here, stat!” I said to myself. I exited the bedroom with a nice long sleeve shirt, approached the photographer and said, “I think you should just take photos with Jane, I don’t really feel comfortable with the way this is coming out. Glamour shots are not my strong suit.” Once those words flowed out of my mouth, I felt free. Wow, I took my power back! This is what it feels like. I love this!

Unfortunately, this feeling lasted only 10 seconds. She replied that I was “kind of insulting her” and that I was making her feel like a “bad photographer”. Boom, I was done. I relented and stayed. I felt bad. Damn. I carried on although I tried not to have too many photos taken. I ended up feeling awful because I knew I would not like the photos.

I drove home in the car wondering where it all went wrong. Why didn’t I just leave? I didn’t know this woman, but I felt I owed it to my friend Jane to stay.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The next day the photographer posted my photos on Facebook and tagged me without my permission. I was mortified! The photos were as bad as I suspected, and now there they were, for everyone to see.

I knew what I must do. Put my “big girl pants” on and buck up. I quickly emailed her, thanking her for inviting me to take photos, but then asked her to please not tag me as I was not comfortable with the shots. She didn’t take it well and ended up deleting the photographs altogether. My first thought was “Thank GOD!” I felt bad for a moment and then thought, her feeling bad is not my responsibility. I was being honest, not hurtful, and I communicated my feelings in a thoughtful way.

Not giving a f*ck.

I’m pretty proud of myself when I do trust my instincts and say “no.” But even when I say no, for some reason, I feel guilty. Guilty for what? I’ve talked to many of my women friends who also feel bad about things they shouldn’t—for being authentic, being honest, and taking care of themselves. Why is this so hard?

This process has also been challenging with my need for being liked. Just because we’re true to ourselves doesn’t mean others will appreciate our self-loyalty and we need to be okay with that…and that being easy going and saying “yes” doesn’t guarantee a good outcome. If a situation doesn’t feel right, I have to trust myself and go with my feelings.

To quote my guru of the moment, Mark Manson, “Maturity is what happens when one learns to only give a f*ck about what’s truly f*ckworthy.”

Posted in POV | Tags: blogger, comedy, friendship, Hollywood, Los Angeles, Mark Manson, mommy blog, motherhood, The art of not giving a f*ck, women, writer | 5 Comments |

The Bearable Un-Lightness of Being.

Posted on May 1, 2017 by monicatorres

I love Spring Break. Spring is the gateway to summer with beautiful weather and my daughter gets a nice long break to re-group before the end of the school year.  However, before this Spring Break,  I had some stress. Last November, I planned a family vacation in Mexico, a resort. It’s my dream getaway which includes but not limited to: margarita’s, Mexican food, snorkeling and paddle boarding. This time I planned the trip with two other families. It’s a first for us. With my daughter being an only child, it sometimes can get a bit boring for her with just the three of us. This vacation, she has friends and I can just sit by the pool for a bit and relax. You may be wondering why the stress? The thing is I NEVER get seen in a bathing suit with people I know. Well, almost never. I did go our community pool once and swam. Many of the parents of my daughter’s school were there which made me break out into hives and have a panic attack. Running from the pool deck to the dressing room was the closest I’ve ever come to being in the New York marathon.

Well, something had to be done. Being a procrastinator, four weeks before the trip I decided to hit the gym. I’m in Hollywood; there are so many places to work out. Outside is usually my favorite, but with the heat and my hot flashes, indoors it is. The LA gym scene can be intimidating.  I decide my first stop would be the Hollywood YMCA. I love the Y. I mean it’s a place where you don’t have to worry about what you look like at all. Roll out of bed and on to a machine. Everyone is different shapes and sizes and speaking multiple languages, I feel comfortable. I start my workout week with Pilates. Then I move to Zumba which made my head spin. I realize my rhythm is way off and I look like a flailing bird. After a week of classes, I’m starting to feel more energized and less frumpy. Ok, I got this. the classes are good, but I need to step up my game, really go where the hot people are so I can motivate myself and imagine the possibility of looking good. Next stop Easton Gym.

At Easton Gym everyone is hot, including the cleaning crew.  Since everyone there has a fitness level of a 9+, I decide to try the Yoga class. Why kill myself? The teacher went light on me given the state of my workout clothes. Shit, I forgot to have a pedicure. I force myself into a Zen state. The class was amazing, I was feeling my muscles again and energized. Being a gym rat is not sounding too bad at this point. After class it’s 11 am, the gym is packed. I’m wondering what these beautiful people do all day to have this kind of time. Being fit is hard work and these people make it their full-time job. I’m jealous; I just don’t have that much time or motivation. I may need something a little in between the YMCA and Easton, so I decide to try a new gym BUILT in Studio City.

20170329_114343 (1)

Our friends are the owners and let me tell you, they look amazing. I covet their fitness level. They are a dream couple. With that motivation, I get on my tummy hugger leggings and t-shirt with long sleeves and I’m off to the races. Now, this is my speed. The space is gorgeous, the members are various ages and sizes, but there is real training going on here. They have a wide variety of classes, but one in particular catches my eye, the ATTITUDES class. I can bring some attitude. I grab my spot and the ladies come pouring in. I don’t think I’ve been in an exercise class where I’m the youngest one by twenty years, ever. Joining, they eyeball me skeptically. I think how tough can it be? The playlist starts with Fitz and the Tantrums. Well alright. The instructor is fun and engaging. These ladies kick ass and take names. Huffing and puffing and lifting and sweating. The only distraction in the class is the ladies clashing over the air conditioner. By the end, I’m dripping with sweat and I can feel their acceptance. I’m in. A wave a relief and exhilaration washes over me and I’m ready to come back into the fold.

20170331_101939

However, as the four weeks whiz by and my routine is cemented, I’m feeling good; really good. But somethings off. My jeans are still tight. There are not falling off me. I’m not looking that great. far from that toned mythical creature I imagined myself to be at the end of 4 weeks.  I’m not as young as I used to be. I eat ok; I drink a bit of wine and have limited amounts of stress. The scale doesn’t move that much. I know what I put in my mouth is vital. I try to eat like a mouse. Crumbs. “Oh no” I gasp, vacation is imminent and I cannot wear sweats and a tank top all vacation. Reality sets in. Do I go into a panic mode and have liposuction right away or go to a sweat lodge and sweat for 24 hours straight only drinking water? Am I that vain? I threw cold water over myself and snapped out of it. You see, I’ve raised my daughter with positivity, loving yourself and your body. I better practice what I preach. I decided to do the opposite of my normal self and just let it go. LET IT GO. In my middle age, I strive to free myself from all things neurotic.

Long story short, I did it. I survived. Although I did have my moments, I managed my paranoid fear. For the first time in years, I posted a photo of myself in a bikin. I felt empowered and also thrilled that I could hike up to a gorgeous view after snorkeling all day and snap this photo. I did end up in my bathing suit pretty much 24/7 in front of friends; we were in Mexico for goodness sakes and in the water most of the time. Now that we’re back, I missed working out. The gym is becoming more of a friend than my foe  I’ll be headed to back  Yoga at Easton, Zumba at the Y, and my ladies at BUILT. This may be the start of a beautiful relationship of being.

17880624_10210580922492218_1438636919444312737_o

For more information on the gym’s mentioned in this blog, please see links below:

http://www.builtgymnasium.com/

http://eastongymco.com/

http://www.ymcala.org/hollywood

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in POV | Tags: age, BUILT gym, Built Gymnasium, Easton gym, friendship, Hollywood, Los Angeles, menopause, mommy blog, women, working out, writer, YMCALA, yoga | 5 Comments |

Tips for a Hollywood Marriage from a Real Hollywood Mom

Posted on October 20, 2015 by monicatorres

Screenshot (1)

Since I am at the age where I log into Facebook to find my daily news, I can’t help noticing all the headlines of the “surprise” break-up’s of some well-liked celebrities. This summer was a particular maelstrom of beauty and brawn colliding. One was particularly intriguing for me. I became obsessed with the Jennifer Garner/Ben Affleck break up. Facebook wasn’t giving me enough details so I went to People online. Don’t judge me. There was headlining news on my Yahoo page and minute by minute updates. After a week, I was all but bored and then THE NANNY happened; it sent me over the edge. I mean, how pedestrian. Who doesn’t have an affair with the nanny these days?

After reeling from this shocking news, I went to the deep corner of my mind to reflect on my own marriage. By Hollywood standards my hubby and I are ok, heck we might as well be booking a cruise ship to Alaska to celebrate the longevity of our relationship. Why us?  Why have we made it this long. We were quite different, he’s an athlete, never wears shoes, and has a regular outfit of Carhart shorts and dirty t shirts. I am lucky to exercise once a week, shopping is my cardio. My favorite band is Duran Duran. I decided to do an outreach to the couples I know on Facebook. I asked why do  men cheat with the nanny? The most pervasive answer was that maybe the wife was a dead fish in bed. Ouch. Really, there are plenty of guys that don’t know what they are doing. Not that I know anything about that.

Why was I so obsessed, was I scared, threatened? Not really, but it made me think about the aspects of why my relationship works, somewhat. So, I decided to compile a list of reasons, explanations, rationales, what have you’s as to why my Hollywood marriage has survived. Hopefully, this will shed some light:

1. Both of you must not hate each other at the same time. This is key. If you hate each other together, you might as well call it a day.
2. Always do an activity that you did before you were married. Do you think I want to go rock climbing for three weeks without a shower? No, I do not. But I will do it for a whole day and he gets all the attention.
3. Laugh. That seems easy, but it is not. As you go through the marathon of marriage things come up, responsibilities, kids, family. Don’t forget the laughter.
4. Do not leave each other for weeks at a time. That is my personal stance, I hear disagreement from some of you , but for me one week is enough time apart. You cannot bolt from someone when they are around all the time.
5. Last but not least, have sex, I know you’re tired, man I could go to sleep at 8PM. But, no excuses. Ante up people, there ain’t no free lunch.

 

There you go, my pearls of wisdom. Feel free to discuss, debate please. However, even after re-reading my list, one of the biggest pieces of the marriage puzzle is that you have to want to be in it, all of it, the crap, the tears, and the lack of hygiene, all of it. Who’s to say what happens in the future, but this is our present. Well, I’m off, I promised my husband we’d go camping in the woods with no bathroom or running water. Neat.

Posted in POV | Tags: comedy, Hollywood, marriage, men, mommy blog, women | 1 Comment |

Pages

  • About the writer and Hollywood mom…..
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Home

Archives

  • February 2019
  • January 2018
  • May 2017
  • March 2017
  • December 2016
  • July 2016
  • March 2016
  • October 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • January 2014

Categories

  • My Projects (6)
  • POV (14)
    • Guest Blog (1)

WordPress

  • Register
  • Log in
  • WordPress

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Pages

  • About the writer and Hollywood mom…..
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Home

Archives

  • February 2019
  • January 2018
  • May 2017
  • March 2017
  • December 2016
  • July 2016
  • March 2016
  • October 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • January 2014

Categories

  • My Projects (6)
  • POV (14)
    • Guest Blog (1)

WordPress

  • Register
  • Log in
  • WordPress
  • Home
  • About Me
  • Contact
  • Blog
MonicaTorresWriter © All Rights Reserved 2015