Justifiable Homicide

Sometimes there are no adequate words to describe the ignorance of others and the comments they make.  “You have such a pretty face.”  “She has a great personality.”  I could go on, but I’ve heard them all about as many times as I can take without gagging.  Who do you think you are, and what are you saying exactly? 

It’s even more appalling when the person making these ignorant comments has no place to talk.  Like the pot calling the kettle black – when ebony is clearly just another word for what exactly?  My mother falls into that category.  She is not a small woman – yet she talks about other people who “need to lose weight” like she shops at Petite Sophisticate.   The worst part about it is that she says these things unapologetically – and frequently.  I have never understood how she can justify making these types of hurtful and degrading comments; I’m not sure I ever will.

I have been working on myself and the way I see myself when I look in the mirror.  I thought that I was making some decent progress – and yet one phone call or visit with my mother can set me back about a hundred paces.  How can one person have such a powerful impact?  I suppose I could spend the rest of my life in weekly talk therapy sessions and still never come to a conclusion that will bring me complete peace and serenity.   I want her approval and that seems to be an impossible task.  If I was a size 20, then I should be a size 14.  If I reach that goal, then I should be a size 10.  If I reach one benchmark, she raises the bar; it’s a no-win proposition for me.

So I have learned at least in part how to handle my mother, or at least I thought so.  That is until my six year-old came home from a week-long visit with Grandma.  He sat next to me last night and said,

“Mommy, did you eat too much sugar as a kid?  Is that why you’re so big?” 

“Sweetie, who told you that?”

“Grandma said that you ate too much sugar as a kid and that’s why you’re so big.”   

I didn’t know there were so many shades of red that could flash through my brain in a nanosecond, and two words kept resounding in my brain: justifiable homicide.  If I had a flying broomstick, you would have seen me on it – and then on the 11:00 news in handcuffs.  (This is my alibi for later – kidding!)  So I guess now I will have to be deprogramming my son after every visit to Grandma’s house.  Fantastic!

There is something valuable that I learned from this scenario: I will begin educating my son on the truth that people come in all different shapes and sizes and that is perfectly acceptable – despite anything Grandma may say to the contrary.  This is most definitely a lesson that is worth learning at any age (I’m still working on that myself) and then teaching to others as appropriate. 

So while I would really like to strangle my mother, I’m not sure it’s worth sitting in a jail cell.  Here’s a little song about some ladies who were braver than I:

Theme Song #4:  The Cell Block Tango  http://youtu.be/xqV7HOVOPLE

Flabulous regards,

Selina

Just Friends

And now a word about friendship…

In the movie When Harry Met Sally, they attempt to answer the question, “Can men and women just be friends?”   Basically the answer is no.  Time and time again, one teeny little three letter word gets in between the two parties in question: sex (you knew I was going to go there).  Even if nothing ever happens, between two heterosexual individuals, that tension is always there.  I spent a long time believing that this movie, and the very idea that men and women couldn’t be friends was a load of baloney: let me explain.

I had two wonderful male friends in high school: we did everything together and it was never awkward in the least.  Our bond was strong and we enjoyed each other’s company.  I always felt at ease around them and never thought about whether or not there was anything sexual about our relationship.  (They have since come out of the closet.)  Based on this, I came to the conclusion that of course men and women could be friends.  How silly people were to think otherwise!

After graduating from high school, I started working at a department store in the local mall.  My boyfriend at the time worked on the top floor, and I worked downstairs.  His best friend also ended up working in the same department with me.  We joked around and had fun together.  The three of us often ate in the food court on our lunch breaks.  This friend and I used to carpool to work, and then also to community college.  We spent a considerable amount of time a-l-o-n-e together, and nothing ever happened.  So I continued to believe this fairy tale in my head that of course men and women could be friends.

Now when you are young, it is typical for boyfriends/lovers to come and go, and this one went off to the Navy (at least that is the story he told me).  This left his best friend and me to fend for ourselves – and we had no trouble keeping things platonic, at least at first.  Then one evening, while over at his house, we watched a movie, and then went up to his room to listen to the stereo.  (You know where this is going, right?  Well I didn’t.)  We were laying there on his bed talking, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had feelings for him.  I decided to take a chance, and I made my move.  Let’s just say that he didn’t turn down my offer… 

From that fateful moment on, our friendship has never been the same.  We can be friends for a little while, but then that three letter word starts creeping in on us again.  It gets too difficult not to fall into that trap of flirtation and seduction.  This has created a giant rift in our ability to stay friends; we have gone years at times without speaking.  I miss the friends we used to be, but I cannot get that back 100% no matter how much I try.  I don’t want to lose my friend, because I think that is the best part of who we were together.  There are things I want to share with him – but the hurt I feel when he withdraws into his protective shell is, at times (like right now), greater than I can bear.

I did not share that part of myself with him lightly; I never have.  I love him unequivocally and there is a place in my heart that is his alone.  I wanted to believe that we could beat the odds; I’m not sure it’s possible any longer.  Even knowing what I know now, I would not trade one moment we’ve shared – good, bad, or ugly.  Then I would have missed the dance.       

 

Theme Song #3:  The Dance by Garth Brooks (sorry -- no link available to anything official)

 

Missing you,

Selina

"G" is for Gorgeous

This one is for my friend Massimo -- he's been surprising me lately with his revelations about his "type" and things he finds attractive.  Which led me to consider some things I had not even paid attention to in a very long time --- I feel like I've been in hibernation, or on auto-pilot for about a decade now.  Not sure when I stopped paying attention to the veritable visual feast around me, but I guess I finally got hungry again.


And suddenly I am enjoying the cornicopia of visual treats to be had as I venture around the city.  It's pretty fun, especially in the summer when there is more skin to be seen -- and more tattoos peeking out from under t-shirts and ankles and bare calf muscles (I do love ink!) .   It's even more entertaining when you're wearing dark sunglasses and people can't really see where you're looking.  Mirrored ones work even better -- you know who I'm talking to boys, who are ogling my chest instead of looking at my face (-- as if I didn't wear my best push-up bra and a v-neck t-shirt for a reason).


Now the "G" in Gorgeous means different things to different people -- and thank goodness!  Cause if we were all interested in Tom Cruise, then Ryan Gossling and Tatum Chaning would still be waiting tables somewhere.  I have been fortunate enough to have several relationships where I felt attractive and sexy despite any negative feelings I had in the back of my head about my size.  And that has allowed me to be confident in the bedroom even when I haven't felt that way walking down the street.  And my partners have reaped the benefits of that confidence too.


So now that I have found "my groove" (thank you Delilah for pointing that out) on the outside as well as in, there is no telling where this confidence will take me!  I am excited about all of the possibilities on my horizon.  I am going to work it and lord help anyone who thinks they are going to stand in my way!  Here's a little song to go with my strut:

Theme Song #2:  I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred:  http://youtu.be/39YUXIKrOFk

Flabulous regards,
Selina

Settlin' is for Sissies

I have spent most of my life settling: I thought that I should just take whatever was offered to me and be grateful for the fact that I even got acknowledged at all.  I've since changed my mind about that; I am not settling any longer.  I am going to go after what I want, and I am not going to apologize for that either (so stop holding your breath). 


I have been discovering lots of things about myself recently, and one of the things I have learned (although it has been there all along) is that I have a dogged level of determination.  Now sometimes that comes across as stubbornness, but they are cousins after all.  So when I make up my mind about something, it is almost certain, barring any unforeseen disaster, to happen.  I refuse to give up; it's not an option really. 


Once I decided that I wanted to finish school and get my degree, I pursued that relentlessly.  When my son was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum, I made sure that we exhausted every resource and support in order to make his world better.  Now I want a tattoo and pink hair (doesn't every girl want to be Jem or Gwen Stefani?) and I will work on it until both of those things happen, too.  Then I'm going to work on my "Leap List" and begin crossing off those dreams as I make them a reality.


So if you're waiting for someone to offer your dream to you, stop waiting and go out and get it!  Say it loud and say it proud!  Don't settle!  Here's a theme song to help you along!


Theme song #1: Settlin' by Sugarland        http://youtu.be/BEJh-aMMpJ0

Flabulous regards ---  Selina

New Direction

I started this blog initially to chronicle my (failed) attempt at life without Facebook for 40 days.  I only made it a total of eight days.   Then I found a new direction...


Shortly after my "angry fat chick" rant, I found inspiration in a flabulous book called "Fat! So?" by Marilyn Wann (buy a copy!).  It is a great life affirmation for anyone who is not ashamed to be more than average size.  I have struggled my entire life with the fact that I don't fit the images I see on TV, movies and magazines.  But the truth of the matter is that if you look around, most of us don't even come anywhere close to that standard of measurement. 


So I have decided to embrace my flabulous self and ditch anyone who cannot accept me "as-is" -- well except for maybe my mother (which is another story for another therapist).  Life is too short to be concerned about what the ignorant guy on the bus or the rude teenagers at the malls are chuckling about.  And I've got a few witty and "over-your-head" comments for them as I encounter them now, too!  (Who died and made you Richard Simmons?)


This may make it seem like I am a loose cannon, but I have begun to find my confidence, and I am going to hang onto it for dear life -- cause it's a better life than I've allowed myself to have up to this point.  I have started walking, making sure to eat a few more vegetables, and a few less M-n-Ms.  I LIKE the way I feel, and I am healthier now than I have been in the past 10 years.  I have a long way to go, but I'm going to get there. 


This is my journey...but I am inviting you to come along if you like! 

Flabulous regards -- Selina

And Now a Word from the Angry Fat Chick

Author's note: This was written in response to an assignment in one of my grad school classes (the name of the school will not be revealed in an effort to protect them from any potential backlash).

Week 5 Discussion:  Obesity is a growing problem in our country. Experts disagree on how to address it.

There are plenty of epidemics in our country: homelessness, the current economic crisis, even the recent shootings in Colorado, just to name a few.  However, our focus today is how to eradicate the obesity epidemic on our country.  We have chosen to embrace gays, lesbians, transgendered and any number of lifestyles in the past decade or so.  Yet it continues to be acceptable to discriminate and blatantly ridicule obese people.  It remains an acceptable form of bigotry and hatred that has yet to receive the same level of tolerance as any other “group” in our society. 

Most people have no idea what it is like to be an obese person.  Tyra Banks, Courtney Cox and Eddie Murphy can all take off their fat suits at the end of the day; I cannot.  My mother enrolled me in Weight Watchers for the first time when I was 12 years old – and they let her.  I was constantly monitored by her, and every morsel that passed my lips was carefully weighed or measured.  She made me get on a scale at home every morning, in addition to weighing in each week at meetings, where I was the only child in the whole room.   It was extremely humiliating to be twelve years old and sitting in a room with a bunch of women who were all counting calories!

My battle with my weight and my self-image has continued throughout my life, and I won’t bore you with the details that you don’t care about except to say that most of the time it is a losing battle.  I wish I could be as confident as Melissa McCarthy or Cameron Manheim, but frankly any slim shred of self-esteem I had was beaten out of me a long time ago.  I have endured being ignored at stores, passed over for promotions and jobs that I was more than qualified for, and even singled out for blatant humiliation by a principal at a school where I worked.  Not to mention the years of torment I endured by the popular people at school during middle school and high school; I have been depressed more times than I care to count.

I only want what every person wants: to be acknowledged and accepted for who I am.  I have yet to feel that way.  I fight every day to accept myself for who I am; I very rarely win.  So when I am considered part of an epidemic – as opposed to an actual person with feelings – I get very angry.  I’m supposed to acknowledge and tolerate everyone else -- when the fuck is it going to be my turn?  When do I get to be accepted instead of mocked and ridiculed?  I guess what this assignment proves is that I shouldn’t hold my breath; I’m going to be waiting a while longer. 

                                                                                                       Selina K. Boyles


Post-script: This "outburst" earned me a zero for "not following directions" and not proposing a solution.  I think my professor missed the point entirely: treat me like a human being.  That seems like the easiest "solution" or course of action for all involved parties.