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Padded bikinis make your child a potential rape victim

If my sisters ever wore a padded bikini , I'd flip. If I ever saw anyone dressing their daughter in a padded bikini, I'd flip.

Why would you want to be fake? Are we teaching our children, our youth that putting or adding things to your body is OK? I don't think it is, actually I know it isn't ok.

Sometimes I worry that even make-up is too much. I'm putting stuff on my face tha makes me look like a different person, may even make me look insecure. I know that push up bras, padded bras are all very deceiving, shallow and speak of low self esteem, of insecurity.

Plus, putting a padded bikini on a child is liking asking that child to mature a little faster, grow-up a little faster. Its like putting a sign around their neck that says "Rape me." You want your seven-year-old to wear a padded bikini? Then be prepared for teenage boys to hit on your daughter.

Children need to enjoy being children and wait till they are actually developed and adults need to focus on RAISING their children and not dressing their children. The End.

They've blessed my life and so many others

A lot of things have happened in the years that I've been away at school. Things I haven't been able to truly take in. The greatest thing? Death. I haven't been home in a while, not for a long while. What does home mean for me? It means my family and this means my home ward, I've always considered them family.

I haven't been able to take in the events that have ripped through my ward these past few months. We had a very . . . alive ward. I don't remember there ever being death or hardly ever. And when someone did die, it was someone I didn't know or hardly knew but lately . . . there have been some people I have always held a dear and will continue to hold a dear place in my heart.

To one of the most recently deceased, Vicki Brown, your happy presence will be missed by me. Vicki Brown's life wasn't easy, probably one of the hardest lives to live in the ward. But she always smiled, always had a special smile for everyone. I won't forget the last time I saw her. There was so much joy and happiness in our exchange. And I will never forget spending the day wrapping presents with Vicki a couple Christmas' ago. I remember going with my visiting teaching and we'd go visit Vicki Brown. That was when I first truly met Vicki and I've loved her dearly since then. I will never forget her stories of Ricks and I will never forget the love I most admired between Vicki and Sam Brown. Such love is a testament to all of us that this Church is true.

I will never forget when Patriarch Zane Mason laid his hands on my head, when he gave me my long procrastinated patriarchal blessing. I will never forget the sailing trip he took us on last summer, I'm so glad I chose his sail boat. I will never forget my joy at seeing him in Idaho Falls last Spring. Such happiness I needed at that time. He was a piece of home and I hadn't seen home for such a long time. I remember when I first saw Patriarch Mason, I believe I was five, and for years I thought he was the Prophet. I will never forget the Sundays he would come up to me and tell me how beautiful my mother was, how she was someone to be admired. I couldn't agree with him more.

John Everett, truly an amazing man who left a completely wonderful family behind. He always boosted my self-esteem. As a teenage girl, who thought she was ugly, I didn't feel so ugly when John Everett made sure to always hug me and tell me how beautiful me I was. John was always great with people, great at understanding what they needed at that moment, whether it was loving words or playful ones. His kindness was immense. I know he is missed. I know from the way his grandsons talk of him, the love the ward felt for him. I miss his kind words, his kind face, his kind soul.

Frederick Fischetti was a quietly kind man. I remember I used to babysit for the Fischetti's. I was at first intimidated by Brother Fischetti. He was a strong man, with a strong presence and even when he was sick, he was strong. It was a couple years after I started babysitting, when he was in charge of Sunday School that I saw such greatness in him. His testimony was one I'd never forget. His comments in class were always deep, one's that touched the hearts of those in the class. He was a quiet, strong, kind man that loved his family very much. His actions always spoke of that to me.

Frank Smith, such a viral, strong man. Even during his last days he had a strength that was unbelievable, an ability to hold on to life, to appreciate life and make the most of it. I remember Diane Smith's stories of Frank. He was a great husband, a great father and his kindness will never be forgotten. I know my parents admired him and always enjoyed visiting Frank and his family. We were so excited when they moved into the neighborhood, it was great to have members of the Church so nearby. The simple sweetness of the Smiths was so very refreshing in a world filled with so much fakeness, such a kind, loving family. There were a lot of people who cared and loved Frank, I saw that during his last days here on earth.

Sandy Rose, when I was little I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the ward. I always thought there was a quiet, radiant beauty in Sandy Rose. Her testimony was strong, I always felt that in her words, in her deeds. Her style was simple, her actions poignant. Sandy Rose was an extremely intelligent woman and while I didn't know her too well, I remember she loved gardening, loved her calling in the Family History Center and she was always so willing to help, to love those around her.

I would also like to mention Jon Caless, he passed a couple years ago but I will never forget Brother Caless. I was shy when I turned fourteen and started attending youth activities. I didn't make friends, I was often standing alone. Jon Caless friended me. He saw my photography interest and found a way to connect with me. We always joked, talked of cameras and I believe he is one of the overwhelming factors in choosing journalism as my career. His death was the first death in my life that I actually truly felt, truly understood. He gave so much in this life, I can't imagine how much more he is giving in the next.

And so, my memories do poor justice to such amazing people and they truly were . . . truly are amazing. They have moved on, gone to do even more amazing things. They had great impact on my life and so many others. And so, I mourn them, I miss them but I also look forward to the day when I shall meet them again.

Walking away . . .

I walk away. I've made it seem easy to the men I've dated. We breakup, or we end what never really began and I never talk to them again. Its easy. Right?

It's not. The walk away doesn’t hurt too much, at first. Actually, it burns. It stings and my eyes water for the next 24 hours. After that the presence of tears disappear, the hurt fades quickly. I find someone or something to replace them. But they don't just disappear.

Even with this last one. He was fine, he feels no regret, no sadness. It seems the men I "walk" away from are always fine. But I never feel quite settled. Even now, I still wonder what I was lacking, I still miss the conversations, I still miss what we seemingly had.

And while I don't talk of them and I pretend I never really felt anything for them; I believe I must have felt something because later they are still not forgotten.

A song plays, "Skinny Love," "Unchained Melody," "Start a Fire," something that links me to them and then I miss them, I miss those moments, those memories. And so they never really disappear and I never really just walk away. I either miss them or I resent them -- maybe its mixture of both.

But eventually they'll fade, they're fading, they've faded, they are forgotten, nothing but a bitter taste and yet the taste still arises.

I wish I could just walk away, completely forget but it seems I never forget. But, I move on, I love some one else and eventually they're love encompasses all and all those seemingly forgotten, bitter memories are truly forgotten.

I must remember my Savior, always.

I truly can't wait for the scripts of this past General Conference to be published this Thursday. Yay!

I wanna get a beach body for July. Maybe I want it too bad. But if things work out then I want to take my man to the beach and I want to look hot for him. So, we've both started dieting. But freaky story.

I was down ten pounds when a couple days after reading this weight I was feeling fat. I've been eating healthy, eating less. I didn't know what my deal was. I thought I was just being a girl, just feeling fat. I was wrong. I complained to my boy that I was feeling pleasantly plump. One pull on my stomach and he agreed. It was huge. It wasn't hard, I wasn't in pain, I had just chubbed-up. It was crazy.

I was feeling down, feeling fat. But, oddly enough, just a couple days later I was back down ten pounds. It was all pretty freaky, pretty weird. In the long run, I am just happy to be back down and losing weight. Can't wait to reach my new goal weight, cause guess what? I've reached my original goal weight!

I'm gonna write a book about a window

The tiny house, built in the 1890's, between two similar looking houses but that’s where the similarities end, appearance only.

She walked out, her hand wrapped in his. "A porch swing would look so great, right here," she said as she pulled her hand from his and gestured to the nook on the front porch that begged to be filled with something. He agreed and mumbled something about an A.C. unit and putting in real A.C. but she really wasn't paying attention.

She was looking at the little window; the window that seemed so randomly placed. It didn't make sense. Admittedly it gave it charm, when seen but it was never really seen and it was never really used.

But she noticed the window and because she noticed it, she felt it was used. But the door blocked it from really being used and looking in nothing could be seen. She smiled over the window. To her it showed that the house had a little something, a little extra.

And the house had something extra but it wasn't something she would be smiling about.