I’m a Domestic Feminist

I’m a Domestic Feminist


I’m a huge fan of The Handmaid’s Tale and recently I’ve been told my ideals resemble that of Serena Joy. If you haven’t seen the show, I’ll do a quick synopsis. Serena Joy is the wife of a powerful leader. Prior to this new world, she was a speaker and author, concerned about the nations fertility crisis, encouraging women to fulfill their God-given role.


Usually, people call me this as a derogatory term but I actually take it as a compliment for a few reasons.

First and foremost I’m a Christian. As a follower of Jesus, it’s imperative I pay attention to what He is laying out for me. I don’t think the Bible leaves a ton of room for interpretation in this vicinity.

From the beginning, we have Adam and Eve. Eve is created from Adam. She’s a part of him. After some major disobedience, God lays out the order of authority.

Genesis 3:16 says, “Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”

Call me crazy but that’s pretty literal. I don’t see a ton of wiggle room here. In Ephesians 5:22, Paul tells us “wives submit to your own husbands.”

He has the final say 

Normally, this is where feminists throw their hands in the air and cry injustice. What they fail to do is read the rest of the chapter. 

Paul goes on to say that as wives submit to their husbands, husbands must submit to God. In Ephesians 5:25, Paul says, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” The point is that we both must sacrifice and love unconditionally.

That’s exactly how my husband and I function. This isn’t our first marriage and that’s no secret but it is the first time we’ve entered the marriage covenant with God at the forefront.

Yes, I am submissive to my husband in every sense of the word. When it comes to big decisions, he makes them. He has the final say.

Now that’s not to say I don’t have an opinion and that my husband doesn’t seriously consider it. I will say 90% of the time, we end up going with whatever it was my opinion was but it’s because we’ve become one flesh and share incredibly similar feelings, values, etc. we ensured we were on the same page before entering a sacred covenant. After all, the scriptures say we are one flesh now (Ephesians 5:31).

I have no problem speaking out about this topic. I know the idea of submission is still taboo, even for Christians. The world has created a perversion of God’s design for marriage. As a word nerd, y’all know I had to look up the meaning of submission as used during biblical times.

According to the Google Machine, submission as an archaic term is defined as, “humility; meekness.” Call me crazy but I live by those characteristics. It’s one thing my husband loves about me. I know exactly when to inject my opinion and when to let him take his God-given reigns.

So here’s what I believe based on scripture.

  • Women are to submit to their husbands and he is to love her the way Christ loves His people (Ephesians 5)
  • Women are blessed to be mothers. I never realized how sacred this was until I had children. My boys will almost always ask for their mama first. (Psalm 127:3)
  • There’s a serious attack on what God has planned for us. 2 Timothy 3:1-7 says, “But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people. They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over gullible women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth.” If y’all cannot see that happening, it’s time to open your eyes. People are lovers of themselves. The world is trying to convince women that being a mother is nothing special and abortions are a viable form of birth control.

As we get closer to the end times, it’s my mission as a Christian to share what God placed on my heart and what the scriptures tell us. This is a matter of eternal salvation.

So if you’d like to label me a Serena Joy, Tomi Lahren, or Kellyanne Conway, I’m okay with that.

Now I want to hear from you. Be sure to leave me a comment on this topic. 

I have an eating disorder

I have an eating disorder

I don’t love my body. At all.

Despite how many times my husband says, “you’re beautiful.”

Despite the likes on Instagram.

Despite the friends that comment on my hair and my makeup.

I don’t love myself.

I don’t ever feel enough.

Let’s go back to the start.

My eating disorder hates the body I'm in now but let's be honest, it hates every stage

Middle School 

I was always an active person. I cheered and danced every single day of the week. I was always doing something.

I loved what I did. Heck, if I hadn’t torn my rotator cuff I would still be coaching gymnastics every night of the week.

It was my life.

And in order to be in those sports, you need to be fit.

Have you ever tried holding a person who weighs the same thing as you above your head for a few minutes in one routine and then practicing that cheerleading routine for hours a day? It’s not an easy task but I loved it.

When I was in the eighth grade, I had all the normal body issues girls went through but I took it to an extreme.

See, I wasn’t always this outspoken person. I used to keep myself small and quiet.

Because there was so much chaos around me and things beyond my control, I looked to the thing I could control. My size.

So I skipped breakfast. No one thought anything about it. I would run out the door and skip breakfast.

Then I would skip lunch. I skipped lunch religiously.

And then would head to my own practice and off to coach cheerleading practice for two other teams. Practice 3-8ish every single night.

I’d come home, eat dinner and go on my merry way, knowing I was doing everything I could to maintain control.

Then, my best friend’s Aunt made a phone call. She called my mom and told her I wasn’t eating at school and she was concerned.

Since no one addressed my issue, things only got worse.

Right after high school graduation. I was under 115 and felt disgusting because my eating disorder didn't think I was small enough

High School

In high school, I was small. I was a sophomore in high school and still wearing pants from Limited Too Inc. which is made for little girls, not teenage girls.

I was on birth control because I had severe PMDD and any woman can tell you about the weight gain when you introduce birth control into your life. Well, that was not an option for me.

When I spent six weeks at DuPont’s Children’s Hospital for migraines, they gave me two medication options.

Option A: would make me gain weight and my birth control would no longer be effective.

Option B: would worsen my eating disorder and my birth control would still work

Clearly, I picked Option B because frankly, I loved my issue. It kept me thin. In control. Desirable. I didn’t know how to function without it.

I was back to coaching cheerleading and teaching dance while working hard at my own practices.

I went on a Devil Wears Prada diet before she mentioned it. I was eating crackers at lunch and calling it a day basically. I was burning over 1500 calories a day but taking in a few hundred calories max.

Then I fainted at school.

The nurse called my mother and said, “I think Ashley has an eating disorder and needs help.”

Instead, I was met with commentary about wearing a bikini at 104 pounds. I was told that I clearly couldn’t have an eating disorder due to my size. My mother said to the nurse, “look at her, she definitely does not have an eating disorder.” 

I remember going prom dress shopping and leaving the stores hysterical because I was “too fat” for the prom.

I felt disgusting. I still feel disgusting. 

Since no one addressed the issue, I continued to let it fester.

College Years

In college, I lived on alcohol basically to cope with all the issues and lead with my body. It was the thing I was in control of.

When things felt out of control, it was easier to just binge and throw up. I lived with a lot of girls so it was harder to pretend I wasn’t eating so instead we’d get drunk, I’d eat and then throw up.

I did things like binge eat, do cocaine and original Four Lokos so I had no choice but to get sick or die. Do not recommend this

I saw a therapist and all they did was prescribe anti-depressants, which my mom then told me I didn’t need. So, I ditched them.

Gave up on therapy.

Just sort of decided this was going to exist in my life, always.

After college, I took a different approach to control.

I still partied hard but I was eating.

Instead, I was working out obsessively.

I was still coaching cheerleading and gymnastics seven days a week but I added the actual gym to my routine.

I was hitting the gym 2+ hours a day six to seven days a week.

I was in control still.

Not seeking any help because I felt like no one wanted to help me and at this point, we were approaching a decade and an issue with my body and food became a norm.

So, you’re probably wondering where I’m at now at almost 30.

15 plus years later and we’re in the same boat. I’m going up the same stream in the same boat with the same tools.

After getting married the first time, depression seemed to consume me. Outwardly I was projecting happiness but internally I was suffering. We never had money to do anything due to another addiction in the household so I learned a new problem. I just ate whatever without regard for myself.

Now, I’m happily married to my perfect and patient husband and the same issues are ever present.

We started going to the gym together and I was struggling. He works out like a normal, healthy person. I do not.

One night I went alone and he had to force me to come home. I had been gone for two-ish hours and had no plans of leaving. My bad shoulder was screaming but I didn’t care.

Even today, he caught me doing shady things when it comes to my body.

I talked to a beach body coach and told her about my issues because whoever works with me needs to know I can go 0 to 100 really fast. He caught me pretending it was no big deal. That my issues aren’t a problem. He said something to me that sparked this post.

He asked, “when is it enough? When are you going to be skinny enough?”

To be honest, it won’t ever be enough for me.

I won’t ever feel like it’s enough.

I won’t ever feel good enough.

At least, not in the future, I can see.

I can’t tell you what the answer is. I can’t tell you how I’m going to fix it because I don’t know how.

I’m not sure what the next step is or how to approach it.

Maybe telling the world is step one.

Admitting it’s an issue is the first step, I guess.

What can I say is that whenever someone mentions weight in general, I get triggered. I can say that without knowing it a person’s commentary has sent me into the deepest pit of myself where only self-loathing and hate live.

What I can say is be careful with your words. You never know a person’s struggle.


If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help. Don’t delay. I promise life is not supposed to be lived like this. 

My Fertility Struggle

My Fertility Struggle

I’ve talked about this a time or two before but never in this depth. I have major fertility struggles. 

Everyone who knows me, knows I love kids. I have volunteered my entire life to help kids in whatever capacity I can. My whole life I just knew I was going to be a mom. It’s just who I am. 

Throughout my college years, I had a few miscarriages but thought nothing of it really. I wasn’t ready to be a mom then and just assumed that because of my party girl lifestyle I was causing it. Never once did I consider that I had fertility problems. 

After I got married the first time in my early 20’s, we reached a point about a year in where we thought we’d like to have a baby. Knowing I had miscarried before, I became obsessive over ovulation. 

Well, I was 25 and so naturally I got pregnant right away. The positive test came on a Friday and by Tuesday I was miscarrying again. I was devastated. That’s when I decided I needed help. 

I took two very different approaches to solve the mystery. 



The Science Route

First, I called a doctor. I went to see a top Reproductive Endocrinologist and Infertility Specialist Dr. Barnhart was amazing. He got me in right away and spent hours with me. He ran blood tests, genetic tests, the freaking works. We waited until my next cycle came to town to do a Sonohysterogram. I won’t lie, it’s awful. When a male doctor says it’s going to feel like your worst menstrual cramps, know he has no clue and it’s worse. 


So what did Br. Barnhart find? Nothing. Minus a few 1 in a billion chance of my child having a genetic abnormality, there is nothing wrong with me. My uterus, and forgive the TMI, is textbook. His words, not mine. 

The Faith Route

At the time, I was a practicing member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As an LDS member, we had a few things coming up that I knew would offer some guidance. 

First, I could go get my patriarchal blessing. This is a once in a lifetime blessing you get and it offers some major life advice for you. They are deeply personal and private. Well each region has one patriarch so the wait time can be long. I called ours and he said “for some reason I need to see you this week,” and the appointment was set. 

Well my Patriarch said a lot of things that brought me comfort. Even now, as a non-member, I still find truth in that blessing. There was a lot in there. 


The Faith Route Continued

During that week, we also had our semi-annual General Conference where Church leaders share wisdom. I swear, if you go with a question, it will be answered. 

Well, my questions were naturally around fertility. 

That whole conference there were countless talks about being a parent and more specifically a mother. 

Women spoke about how much they struggled with fertility, how they had to adopt, resort to  medical professionals, 


I can honestly say I thank God for the miscarriages during that marriage. 

With this knowledge that there was nothing medically wrong with me and hearing from inspired leaders that fertility issues are okay and that God is still on your side, I pressed forward. 

Flash forward and it did not work out with my now ex-husband and I am forever thankful that we did not have a child in that marriage. I can honestly say I thank God for the miscarriages during that marriage.

Well, here we are in 2019 and I’m now married to a man I know is capable of fathering children. He, of course, knew about my fertility struggles before we tied the knot. When we had two faint positive tests this past month, I was elated. Maybe this time we would be okay. Maybe this time it would hold. 

For the first time in my life,  my partner was excited. He was grinning ear to ear. He was talking to our baby and telling them to be strong. We picked names. 

I thought, “maybe I can get excited this time. Maybe this is the time I don’t struggle.”

But a part of me knew to keep my guard up. Not get too excited. Wait another 5 ish weeks to get excited. Keep it from the kids. Keep it from the people in our lives. Just five more weeks and we can tell the world. 

This past Sunday, we were at Church together and a series was wrapping up. Sam, our Pastor, was speaking about Joseph from Genesis and how he lived his life knowing God was on his side. Through all of the struggles, he lived knowing God has his six. I thought to myself, “what a beautiful message. Am I living like God is on my side?” 

We left Church and I was feeling good about that sermon. We stopped by the store because the hubs wanted some soup and I needed a few more ingredients to make the soup he wanted. While there, I got this pain. A pain I knew too well. I looked at him and said, “I’m bleeding.” 

We got home and my worst fears were confirmed. Just four weeks away from being able to share with the world. Four weeks from peace. 

Crushed is an understatement. 

When you’ve miscarried as many times as I have,  it’s hard to have faith. But my ever faithful husband reminded me that God is on our side. 

Sometimes I get resentful. I won’t lie. Sometimes it’s hard to be excited when your friend is having a baby shower. Even harder when a friend tells you about their abortion. I want to be supportive but it’s hard. 

But we still have two beautiful little boys who call us Mama and Daddy. 

While miscarrying again is heartbreaking, I have to live knowing God is on my side through it all and that’s what keeps me sane. That’s what keeps me going. 

If you’re struggling with fertility, know you aren’t alone. Know that God has your back. It’s all part of a bigger plan we can’t see. While it may not make sense now, it may make sense later. Maybe we’ll never know why but He does. He knows why and that’s good enough for me. 

Hubby’s Soft Pretzels

Hubby’s Soft Pretzels

I don’t like to brag but seriously my hubs is pretty perfect. I’m from South Jersey and currently living in South Georgia. South Jersey is just outside of Philly meaning I’m slightly obsessed with soft pretzels. 

Every time we go to Florida or head north, I ensure we stop at a Wawa and grab some soft pretzels with cheese on the side of course. We also grab Wawa Iced Tea too but that’s another story. Growing up near Philadelphia, it’s really the home of the soft pretzel. There’s a Philly Pretzel Factory in every town. Have you tried dipping a fresh soft pretzel in buttercream yet? Here’s a little Philly Culinary History for ya if you’re curious about why we love soft pretzels so much. Who knew the soft pretzel had religious origins? Maybe that’s another reason I love them so much. 

Or it’s just the fact that are delish, and I can make pair them with something savory or sweet and they’re just as fabulous. 

So I’ve been missing my ability to get a pretzel on every corner lately and that’s when hubs stepped in. Having a husband who loves to share the kitchen is one of my greatest blessings. Ladies, get you a man who can whip up soft pretzels from scratch. You won’t be mad about it. I promise. 

Ashley Price with Wawa Tea
Ashley Price is slightly obsessed with soft pretzels, especially the ones from Wawa

And because I’m so obsessed with soft pretzels my hubs decided he’d make me some. 

Y’all these are to die for so I had to drop the recipe for you.  

Without further ado, here is my hub’s soft pretzel recipe

Hubby’s Soft Pretzels

Prep Time: 25 minutes

Cook Time: 10 minutes

Total Time: 35 minutes

Hubby’s Soft Pretzels


  • 3 cups all-purpose flour, divided
  • 1 tablespoon active dry yeast
  • 1 teaspoon white sugar
  • 2 tablespoons butter, softened
  • 1 1/3 cups water
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 3 tablespoons baking soda
  • 3 cups water
  • 2 tablespoons butter, melted
  • 1 tablespoon coarse sea salt, or to taste


  • In a big bowl, mix together 1 cup of flour, yeast, sugar, 2 tablespoons of butter, 1 and 1/3 cup of water. Let it hang out until it gets some bubbles. About 15 minutes. Stir in the regular salt (not the coarse salt) and then slowly add the reamining fliur until you canpick that dough up and knead it. Add more flour when kneading if knead be. See what I did there?. But seriously, don't overwork the dough or you'll have tough pretzels.
  • Divide the dough into a few pieces (5 or 6) and let them take a little nap. They need their rest. Roll out a piece at a time until it's a little longer than a foot and make that sassy pretzel shape. *Personally, I don't roll them thing long and I make more dough piles so I can get a bunch of smaller pretzels.
  • Preheat the over to 450 degrees. Bring the 3 cups of water to a boil and then add the baking soda. Remove from the heat and dip your pretzels in for 45 seconds, flipping them halfway through. Also, do one at a time.
  • Put those pretzels on a baking sheet and paint with some melted butter and salt to taste.
  • Bake 8-10 minutes until a pretty golden brown and BAM you're done.

So anyway, here they are. Super simple. Amazing. Hubs dips his in horseradish mustard but I prefer yum yum sauce. Don’t knock it until you try it. So comment below if you’ve made pretzels or plan to make them. I want to hear how they turn out! 


P.S. I think my hubs looks like Chase Rice. AmIRight? 


Mrs. Price

Mrs. Price

If you haven’t noticed, we changed it up a bit here & for good reason. I’m now Mrs. Price! 

So let’s talk about all the new changes that came with the new name. 

The Price family after tying the knot.

If you look to your left, you’ll see three kiddos. These three kiddos are now my babies, even if the one is taller than I am. 

In all honesty, I’m so thankful for the business that I started building years ago. If this is your thousandth article with me, you’ll know I suffered from multiple miscarriages when I was married previously and so I thought I’d never have kids but I built a business with building a family someday in mind. I didn’t know how I’d be a mom, I just knew I was meant to be one. 

Along comes my now husband with his three beautiful sons and BAM I’m a mama. It could not have been more perfect. With the youngest in half-day preschool, I’m able to run my business, contribute to the household financially and still do drop-offs and pick-ups. I can make cupcakes for birthday parties. I can pop in during the Christmas celebrations. I’m here to make dinners. I’m around to make sure the laundry is done. I can visit Mr. Price at work and have lunch dates with him or grab something for the band if need be, 

Oliver and I at a school function
The Price squad at a school Christmas party.
Mama, Daddy and Oliver Price at school

So much of what I’ve wanted has actualized and I’m ready to kick some booty in 2019. Now that I have everything I want personally, I’m excited to share. For once, I have a plan because it impacts not just me anymore. But really it never just impacted me, if we’re being honest. 

 That means you’ll see more mom things. You’ll see a different and more intentional side to the business. You’ll see more of my societal articles here too. It was funny, I was on a call with a new client the other day and she asked me why I wasn’t writing as often anymore. Side note, people are always watching even if you think they aren’t, but that’s a story for another time. So that’s it. You’re getting more of me and the real me. 

No Pinterest perfect photos here. We’re never Instagram worthy at my house. My hair is almost always a hot mess. 


We’re Pricelessly Imperfect and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 


Lola’s Fall Dog Treats

Lola’s Fall Dog Treats

So if you’ve been following me on Instagram, you’ll know I added a new baby to my life, Miss. Lola Belle. Let’s be honest, puppies love treats and that’s what I want to share today.

So I’m a crazy dog mom, I won’t lie to you. I got her a pool. We get mommy and me Starbucks. We basically hang out all the time. She’s a spoiled baby and I’m okay with that.

Working for myself allows me to be home with her,  training her the way I want and spending as much time with her as I want.

As a crazy dog mom, I also make her treats. I have been getting a ton of DM’s about what goes into her treats so I thought I’d share my secret.

Lola’s Fall Dog Treats

Prep Time: 5 minutes

Cook Time: 15 minutes

Lola’s Fall Dog Treats



  • Preheat oven to 350 degrees
  • There's no special way to add them except when it comes to the water.
  • Mix your eggs, flour, cinnamon and peanut butter together.
  • Then slowly add water. A teaspoon at a time until you get a dough consistency
  • Roll out your dough
  • Use your favorite fall cookie cutters to create some cute treats
  • Bake for 12-15 minutes
  • Let them cool and enjoy!

Lola and her doggy friends love them! Everyone in the neighborhood is loving them and I bet your pooch will as well!

These treats are so fast and easy! In under 20 minutes, I can have treats that my dog loves and I can feel good about.

No worries here about additives or any of that jazz. Just some healthy treats I know they’ll love!

Enjoy Y’all!