Category: Women Who Think to Much

So yesterday, I put on a sun-dress and all I could see was my skinny, saggy arms and my skinny, stick legs and no boobs, so I changed. I put on stretch pants because they look good on skinny legs and a big t-shirt which hid the no boob situation.

But it was too late.

I had already seen myself in that sun-dress and as I’d I removed it I’d thought; this may be the last time I put on a little sun-dress because I look like a crazy cat lady wearing little girl clothes.

Which is why I’m advising you to think carefully before you lose weight when you are over sixty…

I lost twenty-five pounds and the first thing to go was my boobs. It wasn’t long before my unlined face bloomed with wrinkles from hell. Then the neck caught up to the face. I’m not kidding. I…

The other day I sat on the side of my bathtub re-grouting the tile and I had plenty of time to daydream. As my mind wandered, I think I found the solution to overcrowded jails and repeat offenders.
Grouting is an exhausting, tedious process. While smearing a sponge full of grout into the numerous cracks in the tile, I began to regret that I had ever begun this foul task.
I hadn’t the faintest clue that the worst was yet to come. I let the grout dry for fifteen minutes as suggested and then took a dry cloth to wipe off the excess, just as the directions instructed me.
Ha! The excess grout did not wipe off and I had to scrape it off, inch by inch. I spent a total of eight hours getting the grout on and then off the tiles in my tiny bathroom.
To pass the…

I grew up in New England and if we were lucky, the summer lasted for two months.
In my more abundant winter memories, I see an African Violet on each mother’s kitchen windowsill.
I don’t know the reason for the flower’s popularity; maybe the women were trying to hold onto the illusion of warm weather, but African Violets were not easy to grow. They had to be nurtured, babied, misted and watered.
These women all had their secret tricks with this plant and only best friends shared their intimate knowledge of the mysterious African Violet. I remember playing under the table and listening to the coffee klatches’ swap advice. I remember hearing many different tips when Mom and her best friend were alone.
The African Violet produced bright pink, white or purple blossoms most of the year and if your African Violet was plump, green, velvety and flowering, you earned…

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Review of Women Who Think Too Much By Maggie Thom, Author of Tainted Watersand Captured Lies

“Wow. I don’t know where to even start with this but I can tell you that although it is a tough read, it is a must. Women Who Think Too Much is raw and will punch you in the solar plexus. When I started reading it, no I hadn’t read the blurb about it, I thought it was going to talk about how women are so hard on themselves. Which it did, sort of but it’s really one woman’s journey through co-dependency and abuse and her wish to wake up other women who might be living this kind of life or headed for it.

Jeanne Marie shares her journey through co-dependency and abuse but she does it in a unique way, she calls it the 12…

I dreamed of the farm-house again last night.
When I saw the numbers match the numbers on the ticket in my hand at the end of the 10:00 o’clock news, when I learned that I’d won the lottery, before I even had the money in my hand, before I took the tiny slip of paper to the Lotto office to be sure it was really the single winning ticket for the $90 million dollar jackpot, I threw my cigarettes, a tooth-brush and my Master Card into my purse. I ran out to the driveway, tore open the door of my blindingly yellow Dodge Hemi truck, turned the key, felt the thunder as the engine roared to life and I flew out of the driveway.
I sped to the Tulsa airport, disregarding the speed limit because I was rich now. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thinking that money made me…

As we walked into Wal-Mart, I told my husband, “I’ll meet you up front when I’m through picking up what I need.”

He said, “Ya. Right.”

He always claims that he has to search the entire store five times before he can find me.

He thought today would be no different. Well, since it was Father’s Day, I decided to be considerate. I ran up and down the aisles (if you can run in Wal-Mart, the aisles are so narrow and the people so plentiful) throwing stuff into my little basket. I rushed up front to meet him. He wasn’t there yet! I smiled to myself, because I never did believe he spent that much time searching for me.

So, there I stood for ten minutes or so, watching people rush by. I had never paused for that long in Wal-Mart before. (Except at the register, where my eyes stay…

Once upon a time women stayed at home. They took care of the kids and the house. Men went out to work, made money and supported their families. Then things began to change. The shift in power had been gradual, until the year 2025 and then change had advanced rapidly. Women had been essential in the work place for many years and the men just hadn’t noticed what was developing. Females became the stronger sex. They became more self-assured and with their newfound confidence, they grew powerful, assertive and aggressive. Yes, aggressive, just the way men had operated for centuries.
Now, a man was lucky to find a job that paid minimum age, if his wife would even let him go to work. Jake’s father had told him stories about how it used to be, stories that his Dad’s father had told to him, old husband’s tales about the way…

I have the beginning stages of Fuhgedia or as its also called on the street, Fuhgeddaboudit.
It’s a very peculiar illness and quite common in codependent women.
We go through life blocking out our daily experiences and feelings so well that we start to fuhged who we are and what we are doing, who you are and if you are related to us.
We don’t remember who we were before someone told us who we needed to be, what the desires of our heart really are and how we would like to wear our hair.
So you might have to tell me things more than once…things like the day my newest great-grand baby is due, your birthday, my birthday, what day of the week it is…stuff like that.
Otherwise, I’ll just fuhged about it.

Jeanne Marie, 2016