Good Marksmanship

Over the past two years, I have actively pursued some sort of dating life.  Mostly through online efforts via dating sites and most recently, Tinder.  This has been a mixed bag, to put it in simple terms.  I’ve had some pretty good dates, a few I would rather forget, and even been stood up on more than one occasion.  Despite any amount of frustration, I soldiered on, hoping that the next time my luck would change for the better.

 

A few months ago, I met someone new.  We chatted/texted for a little bit, and decided that we liked each other enough to meet in public.  We ate dinner, conversed over Starbucks, and had a pleasant evening.  We continued texting, and went out at least another handful of times.  I liked him, even though he had a lot of extenuating personal circumstances that made things challenging. 

 

Then one night he made this offhanded comment about how he thought that we were from two different worlds.  At first I dismissed it, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that something had shifted.  Ultimately, he had already decided to end things, but didn’t let me know until two days later.  What I ascertained through his explanation/comments was that I was demanding and had impossible standards.  No one wants to hear that they aren’t perfectly delightful, and it hurt me a great deal because I felt that I had invested myself in him, and cared about him.

 

Why am I telling you this?  It’s just another relationship casualty, right?  I’ve had failed relationships in the past, and this is just another notch in the proverbial lipstick case.  Just pick yourself up Selina and say “next!”  You are enough just the way you are.  Any man who thinks differently doesn’t deserve you anyway.  Typically I would agree with that theory; this time was different.  I tried to move on – but his words had hit their mark.  I didn’t want to be that way.  I pondered how to do things differently, but without knowing what the root of my problem was, I sat in my quagmire of self-doubt.

 

This morning, it finally hit me: I’m lonely. 

 

Yes, I have my kids.  I have friends.  I make plans and go out on occasion.  But the truth is that I lack that element of adult companionship that I long for desperately.  Someone to talk to about the daily minutiae of life in general.  That’s been my core problem all along.  That gaping hole in my emotional wheelhouse had clouded my judgment and ability to be a calm, rational human being.  Many, many times.  Too many to count.  And now, chased someone away whose thoughts and opinions mattered a great deal to me.
 

I’m trying to make amends for my delusional/self-important behavior.  I don’t know if it will make a difference in the long run or not.  What I do know is that I don’t want this to happen again.  At the very least, I hope that with this newfound knowledge that I can move forward in a more positive direction.

 

In the spirit of the things we do despite ourselves, here is a little tune by one of my favorite sassy gals, Patty Loveless.  May we all find what we’re looking for out there! 

 

Theme Song #42 – Lonely Too Long by Patty Loveless

https://youtu.be/wZHMS3Vho-o

 

 

Stay beautiful and rebellious,

Selina

Circle of Hope - Woman of Courage Award

Exactly one year ago today, my boys and I moved into our own apartment.  A lot has happened during this year.  Tonight we spent the evening at the Circle of Hope dinner to support PA Women Work.  I was one of their four participants selected to receive their Woman of Courage award.  I gave in front of a room full of people who had paid to be there and support this worthy organization.  Here is what I said:

When I hear the word courage, I think of soldiers, policemen, and fire fighters.  However, most days I relate more to the Cowardly Lion.  He’s not brave at all, and his own shadow could have scared him at the wrong angle.  He wants to be brave but he hasn’t a clue how to go about it. 

I felt that way.  In 2012, I separated from my husband.  Six months later I lost my job.  Despite having a college education and marketable skills, I spent a long time unemployed.  For a while I attempted things on my own, with too little success and too few interviews.  I knew the economy was rough, but had faith that I would get the right opportunity in time.  When that didn’t happen, my house went into foreclosure proceedings and my two boys and I became homeless.

At that point, we needed to rely on the kindness of strangers for survival.  It was January of 2013.  It was cold, and finding a place to go in the winter is not easy.  I credit the United Way’s 2-1-1 information line with helping me connect with Allegheny Valley Association of Churches.  We resided at their headquarters during the day, and slept in churches in the Natrona Heights area at night.  We spent a month in their program while looking for something more permanent for housing. 

At that point we were accepted into the HOMES program at HEARTH in the North Hills.  This was a huge blessing because we had our own apartment and a stable place to call home while I worked on finding employment and getting us back on track to living independently.  In mid-February, I went to the Information evening about the classes being offered by PA Women Work, and I enrolled in two classes.  I worked on refreshing my Microsoft Word skills, updating my resume and practicing my interview skills.  I want to thank my instructors, Gail and Nieves, for their guidance and inspiration to keep trying and not give up.

In August 2014 I finally obtained a full time job placement at a health insurance company thru a temp agency.  After six months, and with the kind words of two supervisors about my skills, they made me a permanent employee.  I cannot stress enough the idea that no one can do it on their own.  I couldn’t do it on my own, and neither could the Cowardly Lion.  That’s what I think is so wonderful about his story – when Dorothy was in trouble, he reached deep inside himself and – with the help of his friends the Scarecrow and the Tin Man – found the courage he needed to overcome his fear. 

This is actually a special day for me for another reason. Today marks one year to the day that we moved into our own apartment and finally achieved true independence.  In some ways I still can’t believe that much time has passed.  And in some ways I feel like it must have been a horrible nightmare and not at all part of my story.  If I had been by myself, I’m not sure if I would be standing here today.  What I know is that having my two little boys – Gavin and Mason – depending on me – and looking to me – helped me to reach deep inside myself and find the courage to get out of bed every morning and keep fighting.  They are my constant inspiration and my reason for striving make our lives better. 

In the past two years, so many wonderful and caring people have crossed our paths and helped us in many ways, both large and small.  We are just three of the many people who have been positively affected by the mission of PA Women Work.  I cannot ever adequately express my sincere gratitude for this program.  I can only hope to find ways to pay it forward and help others.  Thank you so much!

I was truly humbled by receiving this award.  I feel like I just did what I had to in order for the three of us to survive.  I would do it again if needed.  If you would like to support an organization that empowers women and provides them with resources to succeed, this is it!  No one can do this alone. Period. So I will put my shiny star on the mantle and it will help me remember that. 

Finding my courage,
Selina

All The Single Ladies (and Men Too)!!!

I had a big date planned last Saturday. We were going to see Furious Seven since both of us enjoy this movie series.  I looked forward to it all week -- and then I got the call.  My date had succumb to the flu and would have to take a rain check.  Talk about a huge bummer!! Now what should I do?  I pondered it for a while and decided that I would make a daring and bold move; I took myself out on the date anyway.  I dressed to impress, showed up on time, paid for the ticket and snacks, and (dare I say it) had a fantastic time.  BY MYSELF.

The truly shocking thing is that this is not even close to the first time I've stepped out on my own.  (GASP!)  I'm a single mom, and I figure I have two choices: I can sit around and wait for one of my busy friends to become available for an activity, OR I can go out by myself.  Most of the time I choose the later.  Now I realize that in our patriarchal society, we are programmed that we must go out in public in pairs, or perish in fiery flames.  And yet I have emerged unscathed from malls, restaurants, movie theaters, and concerts despite the fact that I didn't have a buddy with me. 

In fact, just a few weeks ago, I went to see Garth Brooks in concert.  BY MYSELF.  Previously, if I wanted to go to a concert, I would purchase two tickets and then attempt to find a friend to go with me.  When I ordered my ticket several months ago, I decided to forgo that method altogether and only ordered one ticket.  It actually took the pressure off of trying to find someone to purchase my second "buddy" ticket and coordinate schedules with someone else.  I think it also garnered me a better seat -- can't prove that by the computer but I'm just going to go with that theory. 

Then I had a friend post on Facebook about their own frustration with this concept and the idea of feeling self-conscious doing something like going to the movies by himself.  Most of the comments were supportive and told him to just go for it.  There was only one judgmental twit who admitted that she would laugh at him for being by himself.  Is she serious?  If you've managed to make it past high school, this is juvenile behavior, plain and simple.  Who cares if someone is by themself?  If you find it necessary to point that out and make fun of that person, what you're really doing is revealing your own insecurities to everyone who read your ridiculous comment. 

Aside from wanting to dump a bucket of popcorn on this girl's head, the comment that really bothered me the most was not even an original comment.  It was an image of a word with a definition; it was the first time I had seen this picture or heard this term.  I am not fond of the word mash-ups that have become so popular of late, and this was no different:

Did anyone else notice that this term is one letter off from masturbating?  I'm sure as hell not using that term EVER to describe my evening out without a sidekick.  WTF!  This proves that no matter how far we think we have progressed as a society, there is still a deep, deep sense of patriarchy and privilege associated with pairing up just for the sake of following the herd.  I for one am done with that nonsensical bullshit.

I have had friends tell me that I'm brave for doing things on my own, and while I understand where they are coming from, it seems like such a lame reason to pat myself on the back.  The bottom line is that we should pay more attention to our own affairs.  Then it wouldn't seem so gutsy to sit in a dark room and stare at a screen for two hours without someone else to hold our hand (thank you Shaners McFarlane).

While I will concede that there is an element of nerve in flying solo, here is an ode to those that really deserve to wear this badge of honor:

Theme Song #41: Brave by Sara Bareilles
https://youtu.be/QUQsqBqxoR4

I'm busting out of my cage,
Selina

Combatting the Negative

Over the years, I have related to my body in different ways.  A lot of the time, I have simply existed, and tried not to have a relationship with my body because of the shame I felt for being a “big girl.”  I felt inadequate and inferior on a lot of levels.  Much of this stemmed from my mother and her own tortured relationship with her body and food.  She projected her dissatisfaction onto me and I, in turn, have struggled with my size in my own ways, and tried desperately to step out from that oppressive shadow. 

As a kid, I didn’t think much about my size.  I played with the kids in the neighborhood, rode my bike a lot, went swimming, and played softball.  It didn’t occur to me until about 5^th grade that I did not shop in the same stores as my friends at school.  My mom couldn’t keep her belittling comments to herself as we walked thru the aisles of Hills.  “I can’t shop for you in the girls department like the rest of the moms.”  She would hiss at me and my sister in disgust.  I don’t recall ever running into someone we knew while clothes shopping, so I’m not sure why this was such an embarrassment to her.  In her barbed statements I recognized that I should not be proud of my body or its size, but I didn’t know how to make her happy.  (I still don’t but that’s for another therapy session.)

These feelings of inadequacy continued as I hit puberty.  My mother continued to demean me, and as a result, I became sneakier about hiding food/eating the food I wanted.  In eighth grade, I gained a considerable amount of weight, and as a result grew out of a lot of clothes that I had been able to wear at the beginning of the year.  When softball season began for the summer, I could not fit into the pants for my softball uniform that I had worn the previous year.  I wore gray sweatpants to our first game, feeling mortified that I was not wearing the same pants as my thin teammates.  My mother took two pairs of pants home and sewed them together in order to make one pair of pants that would fit me.   She expounded loud and long about this arduous task, which only served to make me feel even more shame and degradation.

Much of my body hatred continued throughout my teenage years.  Mostly I tried to be invisible and ignore the bullies like a good girl should/as I was told to do.   It took all of the courage in my being to go to school.  There were times when I contemplated ending my life because I felt that I was so horrible and disgusting.  Food made me feel better – if only for moments at a time – and I often watched movies after my parents had gone to bed while eating a pint of ice cream.  Looking back on it, my own self-sabotage did not help me.  It only added to the self-loathing when I woke up the next morning and felt guilty for the things I had eaten the night before. 

In my twenties and thirties, I continued to struggle with my size and wish for a fairy godmother to grant me a smaller, normal size body.  Even when I went to pick out my wedding dress, I picked something conservative and concealing because I knew that finding something that made me feel like a beautiful princess really was the fairytale.  That was only for skinny girls after all; I should be glad that I found someone to marry me at all.

Now, I don’t want you to think this is sad or pathetic because in a lot of ways it sounds like that is what my entire life has been like in relation to clothes and food and trying to come to terms with my size.  I have experienced many moments of sheer joy and happiness about being alive, and those are the times that have kept me pressing forward when the darkness came around again.   

These moments are difficult for me to relive and talk about because I am not in that place anymore.  My goal is to move forward and not dwell on the past.  Recently, I came to grips with a lot of the things I had settled for because I didn’t think that I deserved/could do any better.  I’ve taken stock of what works for me and what doesn’t.  And I’ve begun to weed out the “doesn’t” column systematically.  It’s a very liberating process, but it doesn’t happen overnight.  Nothing that’s worth it comes easily.  And here are the truths I’ve learned:

1)    We are not all supposed to be the same size.  Even babies weigh different amounts when they are born – hello!

2)    Hating your body does not change anything.  It never has and it never will.  So I allowed myself to stop doing that.  It really saddens me when I hear my friends doing this to themselves and I try to encourage them not to speak that way.  But we are not all in the same place in regards to our relationship with our bodies.

3)    No one will die from seeing my arm flab or my chunky thighs.  I’ve been seen at the local pool on multiple occasions in my tankini this summer, and no one keeled over dead. 

4)    Fat girls find love too.  (Thank you Jes Baker for reinforcing that concept! Read her thoughts here)  I have found men who appreciate my body just the way it is and don’t expect me to diet or dress in a certain way. (Sorry Dad if you’re reading this).  It’s probably the most affirming truth I’ve learned thus far.

5)    We ALL struggle with our body image.  Be kind to each other.

Despite all of the wars I have waged with my body over the years, I feel that I have finally hit my stride.  I am in a place where I am making peace with my body and allowing myself the grace to exist without apology.  I know I’ve said it before, but I can’t express enough thanks to the women who have already walked this mile and encourage those around them: Virgie Tovar, Marilyn Wann and Jes Baker are my heroes.  I hope that my own voice helps at least one person somewhere along the way.  You won’t know what it’s like until you venture out on that limb yourself.  If what you’re doing right now isn’t working, maybe it’s time to try something new.  I’m definitely having more success these days – and that’s all I need to keep me going J

In conclusion, here is a great song/video from a great movie that has inspired me.  In Legally Blonde, Elle Woods decides to dig deep and challenge the outward image people have of her; she ends up finding herself along the way. 

Theme Song #40: Watch Me Shine -- Joanna Pacitti

 

You may need sunglasses,

Selina

Taking It All Back

About 3 years ago, as I was looking for something in the library, a title jumped out at me: “Fat! So?” by Marilyn Wann.  I couldn’t help myself – I pulled it off the shelf and opened the cover.  I took it home and devoured it in two evenings (despite the fact that I was supposed to be working on my homework for my grad class).  I could say that this book was my salvation, but that would be an oversimplification of what happened as I read.  I was overwhelmed: I couldn’t believe that someone would not only challenge the status quo when it came to our diet culture, but really stick her middle finger in the air and say “you’re full of shit.”  It liberated me in ways I didn’t even really understand at the time and started me on a strange and wonderful journey.    

Joy

Despite this revelation and change of attitude, I know that diet culture has stolen a lot from me over the years.  In hating my body and what it looked like, I lost my joy at being alive in my own skin.  This is HUGE.  Being ashamed of my size affected every aspect of my being.  For years, whenever I was in a new situation in public, I did my best to stay in the background and not draw attention to myself.  I dressed fairly conservatively and tried to hide as much of myself as possible, although I refused to limit my wardrobe to black and black like my friend Sandy had done. 

Since I was limited in my fashion choices to pretty much two stores that carried plus size old lady attire, I used accessories to try and make my outfits more fashionable.  I didn’t wear what I liked; I wore what I could find to fit me.  And that in itself took much of the joy out of fashion and dressing to feel good about myself.  Things are definitely better now than they were when I was in high school but they’re still not perfect.

Self-esteem

Due to the constant barrage of media messages telling every woman that thin is the most important thing, I have developed issues with self-esteem.  It didn’t help that I was told from a very early age by some of my own family members that I was not the “right” size.  My mother never put cookies or treats in my lunch in an effort to control my food consumption.  This only led to sneaking foods that I wanted to eat and then feeling guilty for wanting these things.  I felt like I was letting my family down but as a child I had no way of fighting back.   

I know that many people judge by outward appearance.  I know I do it too because it’s what we’re taught.  That means I am fighting an uphill battle from the moment I meet someone.  It doesn’t matter how intelligent I am, how funny I am, or how loyal and generous I am.  All they see is the rolls of fat and assume that I am lazy and unkempt. 

I saw a quote on Facebook this week:

“If only our eyes saw souls instead of bodies how very different our ideals of beauty would be.” 

I’m hoping that one day soon this quote is more truth than wishful thinking.  I applaud the recent efforts of Jennifer Garner to demystify and ridicule the Hollywood ideals that have plagued our culture.  And I love Melissa McCarthy for being unapologetic and candid.  John Candy and Chris Farley never apologized for their size, so why should she?

Missed Opportunities

Because I subscribed to our societal norms, I didn’t hold any illusions about guys finding me attractive. I knew that it would be a slim possibility.  I went all thru high school without being asked to a dance or even on a date.  I had one long-term boyfriend after high school, and only briefly dated one other person before I met and married my husband.  I knew he liked me, but I could never take a compliment without wondering what the motivation was behind the seemingly nice words.  I settled for someone who didn’t mind that I was fat because I didn’t think I would be able to do any better.  In my mind at the time, that was the best I could hope for in the grand scheme of things.  I didn’t do either of us any favors in this regard and my discontent is one of the reasons our marriage didn’t last.

Medical Issues

I have almost always been mistreated in terms of medical issues.  If I appear in front of a doctor, they always feel the need to treat my “fat” issue, whether or not that is the reason I have come in for an exam.  I’m fairly certain that my fiery strep throat doesn’t have a thing to do with the number on that scale in your hallway but thanks for wasting my time with the lecture.   

This incessant focus held true when I was pregnant as well.  I was treated horribly – as if being pregnant and fat was worse than stage 4 cancer.  I was under the false impression that the “first do no harm” credo extended to mental anguish, but that is nixed if you’re larger than a size 14.  Pregnancy is supposed to be this joyous, magical time as you wait for this little person to arrive --- and yet I did not have much joy at all because of the way I was treated.

Taking It Back

So how do I reclaim the things I have lost to diet culture?  Some of it is impossible to get back; I will not be pregnant again, that much I know for sure.  But in other ways, I have learned to speak out and speak up for myself.  When that physician started to lecture me about my weight when I came in for a sore throat, I got right in her face and confronted her ignorant, opportunistic attitude.  I also spoke to the office manager at the practice because I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.  If someone goes in to see a doctor and brings up diet and exercise on their own, that’s fine.  It is not fine for a physician to assume that it is their duty to lecture those who do not come in for that purpose.

I am also reclaiming my space in the universe, one outfit at a time.  I now have tank tops and shorts in my closet.  I have sleeveless dresses that I do not intend to wear with a cardigan to cover up my arm flab.  If our society has spent at least ten seasons watching The Biggest Loser then seeing cellulite in public should not be shocking.  I bought a tankini and wore it to the local pool this summer.  I did have one teenager call me a “fat bitch.”  I responded by calling her ignorant because that’s exactly how I saw it at the time.  I will not back down or pretend to ignore these rude comments anymore.  Ignoring the bully does not make him/her go away. 

Am I brave and fearless all the time?  Goodness no!  But I refuse to let my joy at living be overshadowed by the misery of counting calories and being hungry all the time.  Life is too short for that!  I am going to wear what I want and eat what I want, and if anyone attempts to give me “helpful advice” I will not hesitate to inform them where they can stick that advice.  I will continue to find inspiration in the women who are unapologetic and speak up loud and long.  It’s long overdue, and I want my voice to be heard along with theirs.  Join us – we need all the help we can get.

And to set the tone for my determination, here's a catchy little number from someone who knows all about negative energy being directed at you:

 

Theme Song #39: 
Shake It Off by Taylor Swift  

I'm taking it ALL back,
Selina

Going the Distance

Over the past few days, I have been inundated with memos from friends on Facebook, listing the things that they are thankful for during the month of November.  Not so very long ago, the priority of paying it forward and versions of “What Would Jesus Do?” wallpapered our society and our collective consciousness.  Yet it seems that this mindset has slowly dissipated, and it made me sad to think that, like so many other important ideals, we grow forgetful and neglect the things that are the most important.

If you follow my blogging at all, 2014 has not been a great year.  At all.  Many times, I found myself relying on people in ways that I never imagined would be possible.  Despite all of the difficulties I have faced, I still look for ways to bless others and pay it forward, whether that means passing on toys and clothes that my boys have outgrown, giving a friend a ride that doesn’t have a car, or watching a friend’s child while they attend a meeting.  I try to find opportunities to teach my own children what my parents taught me at a young age.

I grew up in a household where sharing with others was part of our everyday existence.  My parents always actively supported their chosen church and its missions, both locally and internationally.  Every holiday we had extra guests at the table: friends who didn’t have family nearby, elderly neighbors who did not have any children that lived close, and a whole host of other miscellaneous guests who did not have any other place to go.  At times, this charitable mentality bothered me; I just wanted to spend one Thanksgiving or New Year’s Day without hosting a handful or more of people that weren’t relatives.  Looking back on it now, I can see that it was my parents’ way to share what they had and bless others.

As an adult, I have sought out these opportunities in my own way.  However, some of my recent efforts in this vein have left me feeling disillusioned and disheartened with being charitable to my fellow man.  Let me explain…

On several occasions, I hosted impromptu playdates in order to help out a friend who needed some time to get tasks accomplished without her daughter.  One of these playdates ended up being an overnight event as this friend ended up in the ER.  It upended my plans, but at the time, I tried to focus on the fact that it was a way that I could help her out and I didn’t expect anything in return.  A few weeks later, I needed someone to watch my children.  She demanded that I pay her for her services, pack lunches for my children, and made the whole situation uncomfortable.  At the time I didn’t really have any other options available, but her attitude made me extremely hesitant to assist her with her child care needs.  As a result, I have declined to help her the last two times she has approached me.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I went out of my way to help a friend who needed a ride.  I had previously made plans, but I dropped (almost) everything to be of assistance.  Then, about a week later, the same friend needed help again.  So I made myself available.  Two days later, I got a pretty desperate text message.  This time, I literally cancelled my plans (and activities for my kids) and spent practically all day driving around so that my friend (who cannot drive) could take care of some important business.  All told, over the course of these three outings, I drove over 800 miles.  Again, I wanted to do the right thing.  However, after a silly argument about something unrelated, this friend won’t even respond to my text messages.  It makes me wonder…and I don’t like that feeling.  At all. 

 

As I sit on the brink of this season of giving and being thankful, my heart aches.  Should I continue to give of my time and assist those that need it?  I’m not sure I have a concrete answer.  I want to believe that when I put myself out there that I will not get taken advantage of, or used for someone else’s selfish purpose.  I know that I can live with the choices I have made when it comes to stepping up and volunteering to help others.  It is up to the person on the receiving end to check their own heart and motivations. 

I want to teach my children that we cannot get along in this world alone.  We need to rely on each other for support and assistance.  I have certainly learned quite a bit about that recently, and I will forge ahead with finding those opportunities as they present themselves.

So in honor of the seemingly endless journey we all take – with all of the bumps along the way – here is a tune that is sure to help the miles go by quickly – if only for three and a half minutes. 

 

Theme Song #38: I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by the Proclaimers

 

Looking for a rest stop,

Selina

Four Little Words: Sending the Wrong Message

A few days ago, I posted a query on Facebook asking friends for recommendations on local dance studios.  I got a couple of responses, and went to the page of one of the dance studios on FB to check out their posts.  The cover photo showed a bunch of smiling girls in sequins and stage makeup, smiling for the camera.  What surprised and shocked me was the fact that among these girls, one was holding up a sign that clearly read, “No One Ugly Allowed.”

Right from the word “go” I was appalled.  No, I was not reading that wrong.  That’s what the sign said.  I could hardly believe that this was the image that they wanted to project to current and potential customers.  But there it was, staring back at me, and anyone else who happened to pull up their public page. 

I couldn’t help myself.  I couldn’t sit by and let this go.  I had to say something.  So I posted a comment right on their public page, expressing my shock and disgust that they would consider this image an appropriate business decision, let alone an image that they wanted to use to promote their classes.  I went on to indicate that they would certainly not be getting my business.  (Note: I wish I would have been able to post my actual quote.  However, I was unable to retrieve it because they had been smart enough to remove it as quickly as they were notified that it existed.)

So I went back to my post and informed my “friend” about my thoughts regarding their site.  She then went on the defensive, stating that:

1)    The sign had to do with a joke at the studio and a song that they dance to. 

I’m pretty sure that I do not want my kids dancing to a song that in any way, shape or form makes that kind of statement.  I am most certainly not giving my hard-earned dollars to a business that thinks that this is an appropriate message to send to young, impressionable children.

2)    She indicated that their studio was extremely welcoming of all children. 

I couldn’t tell that from the ignorant sign, so thanks for clearing that up for me.

3)    She called my post slander and said that I made a snap judgment and was no better than the sign in the photo. 

Well, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.  Oh wait.  This is my blog, so I’m going to tell you how I feel.    

First of all, in our current society, and more importantly -- school culture, where “anti-bullying” is the policy across the board, I was dumbfounded that a business that caters to children would allow their students to participate in such blatantly bully-like behavior.  I won’t even begin to try to understand or explain the mentality of the parents here.  I’ve seen Dance Moms (shudder), and I hold no naïve illusions that some of these studios are more elitist than others.  Yet it shocked me to the core that a business would post such a brazenly ignorant statement that reeked of snobbery and exclusivity. 

Secondly, if you have to explain or defend something in a photo, then perhaps it is offensive to others.  I should not have to hire an interpreter to decipher the “correct” message being sent in a digital image that advertises for a business; the message should be clear.  I cannot possibly be the only potential customer who looked up this studio on FB before deciding whether or not to pursue a business relationship with them.  However, it is extremely likely that I was the only person brave enough to express my disgust at the image that they were projecting in my eyes.

In the end, what amused me about this encounter was the response from the studio in question mere hours later.  They did not respond to me directly.  They did not, as my “friend” had done, try to explain away their sign or provide me with a backstory to defend their decision to post that photo.  What they did do was to change their cover photo.  It now shows their studios initials written in the sand.  And the fact that they did this is all the validation that my argument requires.      

In conclusion, I am still looking for a dance studio – one where my children will be accepted and where I don’t have to defend the actions of a place where I choose to do business.  What you post on FB is a valuable part of your business and the message you are sending to customers, whether you choose to believe that or not.  Sending the wrong message on social media can be a costly error in judgment and impact your business negatively.  I know of at least one business that believes it now. 

So here’s a little song that fits this encounter – if only in words – rather well and you can even – wait for it – dance to it if you feel the urge.

Theme Song #37:  I Send a Message by INXS
http://youtu.be/rLVFk6zQx1E

Working on my choreography,

Selina