Excuse Me, MIss?

Excuse me, miss? I just wanted to let you know that your butt check is hanging out.

I’m sure you know this. You probably think that this is sexy. And I’m sure to many it is. But not to us, your elders.

Listen, girls. Your foremothers had to endure corsets and hoop skirts. They had to pretend they enjoyed bell-bottoms and floor-length hippy skirts. My generation had to wear parachute pants and ZCavaricis. Do you know what those are? They are the most unflattering pants ever. We had to wear neon, for gods sake. Neon.

But you girls are in the age of the yoga pant. The stretch pants. The trendy sweatpants. You gals get to be comfy and still look adorable. You are so lucky. Even the jeans are flattering these days. They fit nice and tight at the ankle. Not one of you has to take a safety pin and wrap the bottom of your jeans tight to make your legs look better in jeans.

I know you think that showing off your ass cheek is a sure-fire way to land a man. And, it may be. But trust me when I say that the ass cheek, sadly, is the first thing to go as you get older. Like a deflated balloon, they start drooping lower and lower, until they simply cannot be raised into the air ever again.

You will learn how to rise out of the bed, post-coitus, and make sure that no one catches a glimpse of your sorry-ass. Forget the dressing rooms that have a three way mirror: even you won’t want to see it anymore.

Normally, I would not care how you girls dress. But I have a daughter who emulates what you older teenagers wear. And we ladies have come so far in today’s society. We are finally being taken seriously. We can do anything. We are “leaning in.” One of us might be president one day soon.

So please, stop doing this to us. Take that cute ass and show it off in a nice pair of Lululemon.

I’m sorry. I simply cannot turn the other cheek anymore.


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Jackie O

My husband is a weight loss doctor. He’s very passionate about weight loss. He’s on boards and committees all around the country. He speaks and lectures about the best ways to lose weight and to maintain it. And he recently informed me that in three years, he hopes to be president of the national bariatric society. Which, I decided, will make me the First Lady of Weight Loss.

This, of course, is a dream position for a woman in her 40s whose metabolism is on permanent vacation. I cannot wait until the nation turns to me as their weight loss Nancy Reagan.

I immediately began to ponder my upcoming role. Will there be an inauguration? If so, what should I wear? A pill-box hat and pearls? A pant suit? Everyone will surely look to me for fashion trends. Can I wear yoga pants? Sweats?

Do I have to pick a platform to push? What would it be? Just say no to drugs? (Um, no.) Michelle Obama is doing a great job singing and dancing with vegetables, so healthy eating is off the table. What was Mary Todd Lincoln’s platform? Did they have those back then?

Do we move into a special weight loss white house? I don’t want to have to pack my stuff again. Does it count that we just painted our kitchen cabinets white? Will I have to host foreign weight loss leaders in my home? Can I just make everyone sloppy joes? Do I have to get another dog?

I sat and thought about all of the good work I could do as the first lady of weight loss. I could make a national campaign to end the posting of unflattering selfies. I could banish all people who drive slow to Florida.

But I don’t feel that that would be making good use of my power.

Suddenly it hit me: my main objective. My very own Betty Ford clinic. My personal “whatever the hell Barbara Bush’s legacy was.” It will be called the “let kids be kids again” initiative. Upon my coronation, I will make it a law that kids only be allowed to do activities only one hour a week. There will be no competitive teams. Weekend competitions will be abolished. No child will be forced to declare their “thing” by age 5. Kids will simply be allowed to have fun, with the understanding that they are spending these years figuring out ALL of the cool “things” that exist in this world.

Today, I am simply the Duchess of weight loss. The princess of weight loss. The ambassador to the country of weight loss. But when my time as First Lady comes, America better get ready.

Not only will it be okay for children everywhere to wear pajamas and slippers all weekend long, but it will be perfectly acceptable (and fashionable) for their mothers to be wearing them too.


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First Professional “Mom On The Road” Review!


From “SRP: Self Publishing Review”
3/10/15 Starred Review

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The Lord’s Prayer

Dear Lord,

I do not know if you are in charge of the Christians or Jews or what, but we need you very badly. It seems we have a demon in our house.

Please help us Oh Lordy Lord! (I will now speak as if I was a Southern Baptist which is my favorite religion) This demon is angry! This demon is scary! All who dwell in my home fear her.

The demon appears in the form of a pre-teen girl. She emerges from the room that our sweet baby daughter used to occupy. She sounds like our daughter, looks like her, even. But she is not our daughter, Oh Lord. We have looked for months, but we cannot find her. Has this frightening creature taken over her body?

When we least expect it, this female demon screams at us in a language we do not know. Sometimes we can make out the words, and it sounds like she is saying : “You don’t understand my life! I hate you people!” But the angry figure disappears behind a slammed door before we may speak to it.

We try to calm it down, find out what we did to upset it so much. The creature just rolls it’s eyes and mumbles a language we don’t understand. She throws things. She slams doors. She hates us. She brushes her hair for hours. She hates her hair.

We feed it: she does not like our food. We provide it clothing: it hates her clothes. We offer her shelter and we tell her to invite others of her kind over to share in our shelter: she says it’s too boring here. Others have cooler dwellings than us. She hates her dwelling.

Please Lord. Help us find our way. We fear we may have years with this monster. We know not what to do. We want to know where our little girl went. Is she ever coming back to us? Is she doomed to be this scary creature for all of eternity?


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No need for a bookmark!!

Get it as an E-Book now!!!  You can read it on your computer, your phone, and on a boat, and on a train.  You can read it here and there.  You can read it everywhere!  image



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The Mirror Has Two Faces

I only blog after dark.  Just like a vampire, I wait until the sun goes down before I start spilling blood.  Well, not really blood, more like words.  I spill words late at night.  But never during the day.

That is because I am two people.  In the daytime, I am Allyson: the mom/wife/sister/daughter focused on getting through the day and making sure that everyone around me has what they need.  Then, at night, I’m Al: I am (somewhat) relaxed, loose, and start thinking about what it is that I want to do.  Do I want to read a book? Watch t.v.?  Have a glass of wine?  It’s me-time, baby.  Show’s over.

I am not alone.  Everyone has two sides of themselves, whether or not they want to admit it.  There’s the one face that you show to the world, and then there is the real person inside.  It takes a lot of bravery to show both of your faces at the same time: Bruce Jenner is doing it.  Lady Gaga did it last night at The Oscars.  It can be scary and it can also backfire: Brian Williams is in trouble for doing it.

My little Aidan is having trouble with his two sides.  On the outside, he’s a 6 year old, who is missing his front teeth and who enjoys soccer and fruit snacks.  On the inside, he’s a much older person, who, for fun, reads all forms of historical non-fiction, watches documentary on famous inventors, and loves discussing cell biology and disease.  The best way to illustrate this is the following story: while observing his brother Sam at a final callback last week for a musical, he asked me what the director was doing.  “He’s lining them up,” I told him.  “He wants to see who he likes, and who he doesn’t.  He needs to figure out who he wants.”  Aidan turned to me, and, without skipping a beat, said, “Yeah, you know who else did that?  Slave owners.”

Poor Aidan lives with these two selves all the time.  He can’t figure out when to take out the little kid and when to take out the older one.  He gets in trouble at school if he brings out his teenager mentality while still acting like a little kid.  People don’t know how to react. He’s conflicted, angry and confused.  It’s tough to learn how to live with two different people inside of you.  I have only now learned how to keep both parts of myself alive at different times of the day.

Perhaps the reason why people so far have loved the “Mom On The Road” book is because there are many people who know me by my daytime “mom-ish/charitable/vanilla” self, who are somewhat shocked to read a book written by me that includes sex, masturbation, and several other graphic and controversial scenarios.  “Wow.  I never knew you had that in you!” said a woman I have known from places like school pick-up and the grocery store.  I don’t.  At least, not during the day.  (I wrote most of my book at night as well.)

This past weekend, I watched a friend I have known for over a decade show a new side of herself to me.  Diagnosed with breast cancer only months before her daughters’ dual bat mitzvah, she soldiered through a weekend of celebrations with one goal in mind: do not feel bad for me.  Do not pity me, and do not take the focus off of my daughters.  I’m fine.  Now, I know she’s not fine.  I went to chemotherapy with her last week, and have watched what her body is going through.  She’s exhausted and in pain and weak.  But no one would have ever known that this weekend.  One person: two people.  Both are amazing.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with having dual identities.  It’s incredible if people can juggle them both, and it is heartbreaking to watch them be simply unable to do so.  It’s even worse if the world doesn’t know how to react.

So, tonight, I will quote the great Johnny Castle from Dirty Dancing, combined with some knowledge that we gained from “American Sniper”: nobody puts a fake baby in the corner.  It’s very hard when you are trying so hard to put on an act that no one with any sense will believe.

If you can, don’t hide who you really are.  Embrace the two sides of yourself.  We have learned Lady Gaga can be strange and also incredibly talented.  We have learned that Bruce Jenner can be a loving father, while wishing he was a woman.  And our family is trying to figure out how a toothless 6 year old who has temper tantrums over empty bags of chips, can also compare callbacks to a slave auction.

Join the best parts of yourself together, if you can, and see how the world reacts.  See how you feel.  That’s what blogging does for me.  That’s what writing this book did for me.

(Momontour legal disclaimer: the book is not about me.  It’s about a woman who worked for the Mariposa County Public Defender’s Office and, in real life, I worked for the Maricopa County Public Defender’s Office.  The first stop of her tour went to West Haven, Connecticut, but in real life, I went to New Have, Connecticut.  See?  IT’S TOTALLY DIFFERENT.)


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Get It On The Kindle!

Maggie is officially there waiting for you inside of your Kindle……..


*Still waiting on the Nook.  But really, who owns a Nook?

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