The Double Standard

For this blog entry, I am going to attempt to answer the question a friend posed the other day on Facebook.  I’m not sure this is the answer he is looking for, but that’s what happens when you” open your mouth” via social media. 

Ok, so everyone knows I’m in construction.  I’m locating lines in town and I bent over to get my equipment and a girl yells outta her car, “woohoo nice butt!”  Ummm, I liked hearing that.  Shows my exercise is working.  Sooo, why do women get offended when a guy does it?  Granted some guys are total asses when they do it, but if I yelled that to any woman I’d be a pig.  I like my ass ladies, look and yell all you want my helmet adjusts for my bigger head!  LOL!  Thank you mystery woman for making me smile at work!!**

First of all, I’d just like to express relief at the fact that he has an adjustable helmet for his ego.  Now that I don’t have to worry about him getting a cranial hemorrhage from a tight helmet, I will get to the question at hand.

Why do women get offended when men catcall?  Not all women do – in fact some of them get a real thrill out of random guys on the street noticing them and showing appreciation for their assets.  It validates their attractiveness and it can be a real boost to the self-esteem/ego if done in the right context.  It also seems harmless enough.    

But is it harmless?  I think that’s the real question.  There are two important components to consider: the person sending the message, and the person receiving it.  What is the intention of the person sending the message?  Is it to compliment or is it to assert power over the receiver?  Most of the time, the intention is to objectify the woman in question.  With that premeditation in mind, it is completely understandable and justifiable if the woman who is being addressed in such a crude and crass (notice the “ass” in that?) manner reacts in a way that suggests that she is upset or offended. 

According to Holly Kearl, founder of the nonprofit group Stop Street Harassment, and author of the book "Stop Street Harassment: Making Public Places Safe and Welcoming For Women", catcalling should not be considered acceptable social behavior.  “I think that our culture is very much focused on telling women and girls, from a young age, that our value is in how we look, and to have that reinforced on the street by men commenting on how we look, whether it's positive or negative, I think is really damaging and is not the kind of message that I think young girls and women should experience.”   [This quote comes from an interesting NPR piece called Catcalling: Ignore It or Enjoy It, which can be found at http://www.npr.org/2013/06/12/190993438/catcalling-ignore-it-or-enjoy-it].  

Just because a woman is out in public does not mean it is okay to act like a barbaric Neanderthal who just stopped dragging his knuckles on the ground.  It is not okay to harass a woman who has already politely told you on the subway that she is not interested in giving you her number.  She should not have to get off at the next stop just to avoid continuing a conversation with you.  As Sara Melas says in Hitch, “This is no reflection on you.  I’m just not interested…seriously, that was not code for ‘I wish you’d try harder’.”  Get a clue and politely walk away.

It is also not open season on fat chicks.  I am fat and have been for most of my life.  Every time I leave the house, I have to wonder if I am going to experience my own special brand of catcalling/harassment.  The announcements that an earthquake is coming, the unsolicited advice that Jenny Craig could help me, or the oh-so-original “fat ass” comments.  For the record, I do own a mirror and I know how big I am.  Your rude comments are not going to magically change my size (or I would have been transformed into a supermodel a long time ago), but a lobotomy might change your ignorant attitude.

Much like the woman who is catcalled, I can identify with the idea of unwanted attention and harassment.  Yet like them, I am repeatedly told to ignore it.  That hasn’t made it go away so far.  I think it is time to take a different approach altogether.  Upon reading Marilyn Wann’s amazing book Fat? SO! I decided that I was going to start standing up for myself whenever someone says something degrading to me. It seems like direct verbal confrontation is the only thing that shuts these fools up for the moment.  And that one moment of stunned silence is all the admission of guilt that I need.

In summation, I’m glad that my friend realizes that the social implications of catcalling are not without potential backlash.  And shame on that mystery woman for doing something that she probably would have been upset about if the shoe was on the other foot.  She needs her own lesson in common courtesy.  Apparently we still have some work to do regarding how to behave towards strangers in public.

I could not find a song that I felt fit this particular subject perfectly, but I did find one that encourages men to strive for more than the minimum effort when attempting to impress a lady.  Thank you Shania for raising the bar!

Theme Song #33: That Don’t Impress Me Much by Shania Twain http://youtu.be/mqFLXayD6e8

Save your whistle for calling your dog,

Selina
**Facebook post used by permission

If the Shoe Fits

Most women love shoe shopping – so many pretty pairs it’s hard to decide!  I am not one of those women, although not by choice.  I would relish the opportunity to try on multiple pairs of shoes and have to agonize over which one(s) to take home.  While I would like to have feet that fit that glass slipper perfectly, I ended up with feet that are more closely related to Daisy Duck.  They’re sort of round, they have lots of scars from multiple surgeries, and they fit more comfortably into Crocs or bunny slippers than platform heels.

For the record, I am not complaining; my feet get me where I need to go, and I am grateful for that.  But lately I have been feeling like the stepsister trying to squeeze her foot into that glass slipper – and upon closer inspection, finding that it’s really an old, smelly tennis shoe.  Definitely not my first choice and most certainly not appropriate footwear for my sequined gown for dancing with the princes at the ball.

Let’s talk about these so-called princes I have encountered online recently: they certainly aren’t wearing any crowns in my book.

1)      Budget Bishop:  This guy, who owned his own thriving (his word, not mine) online business, had a budget of $40 for a date.  He came right out and told me that while we were at dinner.  I was a little more than shocked and I probably didn’t hide it too well.  Really?  Dinner for two at McDonalds is practically $20.  Let’s just say that I felt really badly for the waiter at the restaurant we went to since our dinner was probably already his whole budget for the evening.  (And no, we did not go anywhere else – that might have required him opening up his wallet again.)

Now please don’t get me wrong; I am not a gold digger and I certainly don’t expect a guy to spend $100 on a date.  What I do have a problem with is someone bragging about the $ale$ they are making in their business in one breath and then stiffing a server who provided excellent service in the next.  But I will say that being a tight-fisted cheapskate isn’t going to get you many second dates either. Next please!   

2)     Embalmed Earl:  This guy could not stop talking about death the whole evening.  To be fair, he worked as a funeral director, and that cannot help but affect the way you view the world to a certain degree.   I tried to make allowances for that fact.  Even though I know other people in the funeral business that have no problem carrying on a conversation that does not involve cremation or the messiness of preparing a body after organ donation (not a suitable dinner topic in my humble estimation). 

Now I will say that our evening was memorable for at least one reason: about halfway through dinner, the lights went out in the entire complex and the restaurant did not have adequate emergency lighting.  So we ate by cell phone light for about 5 minutes before the power came back on.  But throughout the evening, he kept saying that I would leave him like everyone else had and that ended up being a self-fulfilling prophecy as I had no desire to go out on a second date.

3)     Paroled Pharaoh: Yes, I went out with a convicted felon.  Of course I didn’t know this until we were out on our second date.  He explained that he had made some mistakes in his past, and he was not going to go down that road again, come hell or high water.  I respected the fact that he was working to turn his life around.  We went out a few times, but ultimately our ideals didn’t mesh as well as I might have hoped.  I do wish him well as he works his way towards his new goals in life. 

4)     Deceptive/Disappearing Duke: I saved the best (eh-hem) for last.   This guy looked really good on paper and we had a lot of common interests according to the “smart match” on the dating website.  When we went out, I had fun and enjoyed his company.  He listened attentively, played the part of the gentleman, opened doors, and said some very complimentary things to me.

But he wasn’t the most reliable person I’ve gone out with – by a long shot.  I had at least three occasions where I was all dressed up and at a specified location when he texted me to cancel – and not with terribly great excuses either.  He also became verbally degrading when texting me and I found myself apologizing for things that I would never have apologized for under normal circumstances. 

I’m honestly not sure why I put up with his shenanigans and blatant disregard for my time or my feelings.  He ended things with me because I wouldn’t give him a definitive answer about an upcoming date that he had proposed.  This from the person whose typical response was “can I get back to you on that?”  Guess he didn’t like the tables to be turned on him.  Can’t say I’m sorry to see him go.  (I hope this example was specific enough for you Sir Duke)

So as I try on a myriad of ill-fitting footwear in hopes that I will find one that will not pinch my toes or cause my heel to blister, I have learned a few lessons along the way about the kind of prince I don’t want to offer me a sparkly stiletto:

a)     No more tightwads

b)     No excessive talk about death

c)      No more smokers -- no matter what your chosen plant to puff

d)     If you cancel on me after I got dressed or left the house (and paid a babysitter), we are definitely not going out again.  I don’t care what kind of cockamamie excuse you concoct.

My list will probably get longer as I continue to swim in the dating pool.  If and when I find the shoe that fits, I may just find out that a comfortable pair of Crocs or some overgrown bunny slippers will suit me just fine.  Only time will tell…  
  
And in honor of all of us out there still searching for the perfect fit, here is a realist’s view of that proverbial fairy tale. 
Theme Song #32: Hey Cinderella by Suzy Boggus
http://youtu.be/H78hVZ7Jcjo

I’m going barefoot for now,

Selina

All Things Being Equal

I recently finished reading a great book, Mercy by Jodi Picoult.  In it, one of the main focuses is on the intricate interactions between partners in romantic relationships.  One of the main characters maintains that there are very few 50/50 relationships when it comes to romance and love.  The balance is always off; one person gives more.  The hitch is that this balance can shift at any time, and it has the potential to throw off the dynamics of the established trend in the relationship.   And throughout the course of the book, this theory is tested for a number of the characters under varying circumstances.  (It’s a great read; I highly recommend it!)

In examining my own relationships, I find merit in this assessment.  And I have discovered, over and over, that I am usually the person giving the 60, 70, or 80 percent in the relationship.  I never do this intentionally, but it happens every single time.  I have a need to nurture others and make sure their needs are met.  Therefore, I often lose sight of what is important to me, or what my needs are for a healthy relationship.

I recently had someone say to me, “Tell me what you want.”  And I didn’t know how to respond to that because for the most part, no one ever asks me.  So I thought about it for a little while, and this is what I came up with:

1)      I want a genuine connection with someone.  I want to be able to share things with you and build a relationship with a strong emotional and physical connection between us.

2)     I want to feel appreciated.  That what I do for you matters.  That it doesn’t go unnoticed.  And that you return the favor on occasion.

3)     I want someone who commits to me as their sole/soul focus.  I am not looking for Prince Charming here; I am looking for someone who follows thru with their yes meaning yes, and not just yes – until something/someone better comes along.

4)     I want security – a knowledge that you are in this for the long haul.  That you are not going to raise the white flag and walk away at every little argument.

5)     I want you to love my kids.  Period.

 
Now maybe that is a tall order, but it’s what I want.  All I can tell you is that whoever can rise to this challenge will end up being a very happy man indeed.  I am holding out hope that he is out there somewhere.  And that our relationship will be as close to 50/50 as we can get (cause I give as good as I get).

And while this may be sort of cheesy (I am a child of the 80s), I could not leave you without a song from one of my favorite movies that reflects the idea that he just may ride in on his steel horse any second.  And for the record, a tractor would suit me just fine.

Theme Song #31: Holding Out for a Hero by Bonnie Tyler
http://youtu.be/Fn7d_a0pmio

Don’t let me down now Ren,

Selina

The Ripple Effect

One of my favorite movies of all time is Back to the Future.  Following Marty McFly as he attempts to get from 1955 back to 1985 is nothing short of comedic fun from start to finish.  What sticks out in my mind right now, however, is the part where Doc tells Marty that he can't alter anything in the past that already happened, or he risks changing significant elements of the future as a consequence.  Marty does his level best to stay out of trouble, but once he accidentally tangles with Biff, it becomes uncertain as to whether Marty will accomplish his mission.  When Marty finally makes it back to 1985, it is clear that his brief presence in 1955 made a lasting impression on quite a few people.

Sometimes, without realizing it, the choices that we make affect others in very permanent ways: a.k.a the ripple effect.  And I am not talking about what flavor of ice cream you order, although there may be some merit to that idea if you take the last scoop of Rocky Road.  I am talking about life-altering decisions: whether or not to go back to school, whether or not to get on that plane, whether or not to start or end a relationship.  Those kind of decisions; the ones that end up being a big deal whether the intention was there or not.

I have recently been reaping the ripple effect in several different areas of my life, and mostly in a disconcerting way.  I have been both the cause of the ripples, as well as getting hit by the ensuing waves from the stones others have been tossing into the proverbial pond.  Some of the chaos has been expected, while other elements had not entered the realm of possibility for me.  All I know is that it's getting pretty choppy out here and frankly I'm getting a little sea sick.

I now know from personal experience that divorce in particular has a far-reaching ripple effect.  Add the number of years you have been married, multiply that by the number of children you have,  then by the number of  people who have befriended you, both as an individual and as a couple, and you’re starting to get a sense of the ripples here.  No matter what the circumstances, it is still difficult to believe that two people, who seemed to love each other and would be that way indefinitely, are now parting ways. 

And yet I find myself dealing with this ripple effect as someone going through this process, and also processing my parents divorcing at the same time.  I don’t think there is ever a good age to experience the dissolution of your parents’ marriage, whether you are four, like my son, or closer to forty, as I am.  It just doesn’t seem right.  Even though I am cognitively able to process the mechanics of this sadness and confusion in a more sophisticated manner than my son, I often feel that I don’t have any better handle on it than he does.  He asked me today if mommy and daddy could be married again, and although I would do almost anything for my kids, I cannot bring myself to do that because it wouldn’t even begin to put a Band-Aid on the gaping wound.  Only time can do that.

Sometimes the hardest part though is not facing your immediate family, but dealing with your friends.  Especially the ones you made after you were already married.  They have always seen you as a couple, and they are left scratching their heads, wondering what went wrong.  Not that it is their job to figure that out. Cause that is nowhere in the friendship handbook last time I checked.  And it is not my job to ask people to take sides.  Because that, in my mind, is more juvenile than anything I could think of. 

I guess the only way that I can explain it is to use my grandfather as an example.  He was outgoing and gregarious – always the life of the party.  Quick with a smile and a joke.  Everyone loved him.  Except that he was only like that in public when everyone was watching, and he always put on one hell of a show.  The person I knew at home was – let’s just say – not the same person you saw at the party – not by a long shot.  But I would never even think of telling anyone any differently because they wouldn’t believe me.  Their perception was already formed.  And there is little I can do to change that. 

Besides, I have to put my efforts into picking up the pieces and figuring out where to go from here.  So as I throw my rings overboard (metaphorically speaking) on this heartbreaking cruise on an unfortunately choppy sea, I will leave you with a song that in many ways fits the moment at hand.   Cause I’ve thought about it over and over again, but even Meatloaf himself can’t make me change my mind.

Theme song #30: I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That) by Meatloaf

http://youtu.be/0tuYKUgBZEc


I’m saving myself this time,
Selina

Had Enough? Yep. I'm Already There

I’ve come to the end of my rope; I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!  What, you may wonder, has caused me to get my panties in such a twist?  I’m glad you asked (although you may not be by the time I am finished).  I have had enough of inconsiderate and just plain rude people.  And not just any people, the ones masquerading as friends.  You know who they are: the ones who never commit to a get-together, the ones who don’t understand that responding to a text shouldn’t take 48 hours, or the ones who cancel at the last minute without fail.  I could go on here, but I think you get the gist.  Let’s tackle these offenders individually. 

The Non-committals

What is so difficult about making plans and keeping them?  You do it all the time, especially if you happen to have a JOB.  Or a family.  Or a pulse.  It’s pretty much a given that you are going to have upcoming events on your calendar at all times.  Now there are some events that certainly require your advance commitment: weddings, graduations, your Prom, and the Academy Awards ceremonies come to mind.  Even seemingly mundane activities like the annual family picnic (someone needs to bring the potato salad) may necessitate an affirmative response to reserve your spot at the kid’s table. 

Given these logical points, it still astounds me the quandary saying “yes” can create for some individuals.  You would think you were asking them to donate a kidney.  I can only imagine the consternation that would ensue in that situation.  And if you’re waiting for an engraved invitation to party with some celebrity you don’t know in the first place, you need a reality check.  Never mind – moving on to our next suspect.

The Text-phobics

Let’s get this straight once and for all: text messaging was invented so that people could use their cell phones to communicate quickly and efficiently without having to let other people know their business.  Or use up their minutes.  When I was in junior high back in the late 80’s, I distinctly remember pulling the phone cord as far as it would go and sitting in the closet in a futile attempt to have some privacy while I was gossiping with my friends.  I would have relished having the ability to text message back then (or even a cordless phone for that matter).

So my question here is this:  Why did you buy a cell phone package without the ability to hit the reply button?  Or, if you dislike text messaging so much, you can do what my father did and have it disabled from your phone.  Then you would save me the aggravation of waiting in texting purgatory to get a response.  I realize that sometimes people are busy (work, school, having sex, taking a nap) and can’t respond immediately.  However, if you don’t respond within a reasonable amount of time – I usually allot 24/48 hours give or take – don’t be surprised at my retort when you finally crawl out from under your rock and rejoin civilization.  I also have a penchant for imagining the worst-case scenarios: car crash, death, or dismemberment of your thumbs.  So after I wait so long, my brain goes to the dark side and camps out there indefinitely.  

On a side note, it is important to point out that well known fact that men are only allowed to utter about half of the word volume that women do on a daily basis.  But here’s a little secret for all the guys out there: texting is actually a freebie!!  It isn’t said out loud, so it doesn’t count against your spoken word quota for the day.  It’s really a secret weapon for you if you think about it in the right super hero context.  So for the love of god, use it!

The Bailers

Finally, we have the people who cancel at the last minute.  They are cousins to the non-commitals I’ve already discussed in detail.  Now these offenders always seem enthusiastic about your plans.  They may even initiate reminding you about your upcoming plans a day or two before they are scheduled to occur.  And yet, when the day and hour for those plans arrives, they have suddenly become sick, had to cover for someone who didn’t show up at work, or their car won’t start (all of which are code for I found something/someone better to do). 

My problem with this is that these people are usually single and have no clue what I have had to do in order to orchestrate any time away from my children.  When you cancel on me, I have to then untie all of the knots I tied together to make this happen.  This usually entails, at minimum, calling or texting the babysitter to cancel on her, and informing my disappointed kids that they are stuck with me for the evening.  I think that is the worst part of all.

In summation, I am not playing games with these individuals anymore – and you know who you are.  If you can’t commit, just say no.  If you don’t like to respond to text messages, then don’t give me your number.  And if you plan on bailing at the last minute, you really should have the stones to call me instead of hiding behind an impersonal text message.  I do my best to keep my calendar from being double booked, respond to people who address me in a text, and follow thru with my promises.  In my opinion, my only valid “get out of jail free” card is a sick kid who is vomiting.  And that’s the worst way to rain on my parade.

Since I am not listening anymore, I will turn the show over to a gal who also has a “take no prisoners” attitude about life.  I would certainly hate to be on her shit list. 

Theme Song #29: Blow Me (One Last Kiss) by P!nk

http://youtu.be/3jNlIGDRkvQ

Don’t even bother to explain,

Selina

There Isn't a Shortcut

I love flying.  Not the actual mechanics of navigating airport security, worrying about losing my luggage, or sitting in close quarters with strangers and very minimal personal space.  What I love about flying is that it feels like a shortcut.  For example, if I drove from Pittsburgh to Chicago, it would take me seven hours, give or take.  If I fly, it takes about an hour from lift-off to touch down.  With that kind of time differential, who wouldn’t want to fly given the option (and minus any personal trepidation of flying)?
 

What would be even better is if we could “fly” through the rough parts of life.  Whatever difficult “road trip” you may be on: sickness, grief, divorce, or heartbreak (just to name a few), you could opt to fly over them instead of slogging through the muck and mire.  If only there was some way to altogether skip over the headaches of traffic jams, flat tires, getting lost, or making too many pit stops – metaphorically speaking.  Life would be so much easier that way!  Skip to the good parts and leave the rest behind in a cloud of jet fuel.  I predict that this would be a very lucrative service and plenty of folks would be willing to pay for that type of convenience.  I know I would!

Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that the road trip is the only option when it comes to finding our way through the trials and tribulations of our lives. There isn’t a plane to jettison you from one end to the other.  You’ve got to walk the line and put in the miles.  Period. 


But even with a solid game plan and the GPS locked and loaded, the journey can still be rocky.  Hopefully you encounter seasoned travelers along the way that can offer tips about the road ahead.  Conversely, being able to share what you have learned from your journey may assist others in navigating their own map.  Yet you should not assume that others will listen to your words of wisdom; the voice of experience is quite often drowned out by the enemies of chronic stupidity and proverbial pigheadedness (yes, that is an actual word – don’t bother looking it up).    


Case in point: There is one particularly evil stretch of highway near my house.  If I can avoid this highway in my journeys around town, I would be more than foolish to drive straight for it.  On occasion, I have imagined that the gods will be in my favor and I roll the dice and hop on that highway.  I usually end up kicking myself when I find myself staring ahead at miles of brake lights on the horizon.  Again.  Because I know better.  And I should have listened to myself before making that turn. 


Keep in mind that it is of key importance to have a support system in place.  When your own mojo seems to have disappeared in a puff of smoke, knowing that other people care about you and want to see you succeed can fuel your fire on even the darkest of days.  It is also extremely useful to have a take-no-prisoners playlist on your iPod to keep up your motivation.  I’ve had friends tell me that they’ve seen me rocking out in my car at a stop light once or twice (okay, probably more often that that).  Finding a way to give yourself a pep talk can help keep your sanity in the eye of the storm.  Believe me.


Despite the twists and turns, the best part of any journey, in my humble estimation, is reaching your destination.  Whether it is a victorious crossing of the finish line, or an active act of “good riddance to bad rubbish,” there is beauty in the finality of it all.  You made it!  You might have thought you would never get to take the victory lap.  But somehow, you did it.  And you might have to do it all over again at some point, but the journey is never exactly the same, even if you’ve been down that road before.


Out of all of the songs on my own motivational playlist, there is one in particular that struck me as the perfect blend of positivity and determination.  While on the life journey of being an uber-famous singer, Celine Dion made the decision to walk away from the spotlight.  Her farewell song to her fans left them (and myself) the one thing that we all need in order to keep going: hope.  And that is the most powerful motivation in the world! 

 

Theme Song #28: That’s the Way It Is by Celine Dion 

(I’m sorry but I don’t know what happened to her hairbrush in this video)
http://youtu.be/T6wbugWrfLU

 

I don’t know how to take the easy way,

Selina

Leaving a Visual Legacy

For the past hundred years, photos have been our primary method of visual communication.  We use them to convey ideas, send messages, permanently freeze moments in time, and even sell products.  Think about it: every cell phone has a camera in it now.  Our need for visual validation is cemented into our culture as surely as the raw images of 9-11 are imprinted on our psyche.  We need photos; they are our legacy and our greatest tool for sharing experiences.

Today I came across a brilliant blog from Allison Tate.  She talks about how many, too many moms opt out of photos with their families on a regular basis.  Now the reasons for this reluctance vary, but most of them stem from the fact that a lot of women feel like they must be perfectly dressed, made up and coiffed in order to participate in a photo opportunity.  The problem with this extremely flawed methodology is that photos are the main way we capture evidence of our existence.  So moms who opt out of photos are essentially opting out of more than just a photo.  (Her entire post can be read here:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html#slide=1601558.) 

If you scoff at this idea, consider this: what if you died tomorrow?  What photographic evidence would you leave for your children and family to remind them of your existence?  I know that I do not have very many photos of my mother for this reason, either with me or with my children.  In addition, as the resident photographer in our household, it is easy for me to slip into the background and continue this legacy of invisibility.  But I refuse to be invisible any longer.  There are several reasons for changing my behavior when it comes to being photographed:

1)  I want my children to remember what I looked like.  Am I a supermodel? Goodness no, and never will be.  But my children don't care about that.  They care about the fact that I love them and play with them and help them find the missing green bunny before bedtime.  And I am not afraid to stick my tongue out at the camera and let them see my blue tongue from the snow cone either!   

2)  Photos become of paramount importance when someone leaves us too soon.  My uncle was one who seemed to escape the camera most of the time, and when he died, my grandma clung to the handful of photos that she had as if they were more precious than gold -- and to her they were. 

3)  Memories fade over time.  Photos help us remember.  I lost a dear friend over a decade ago.  She was probably the hardest person I knew to get to take her photo, and she never did that willingly.  I only have 2 photos of her: one with her family, and the other with her two beautiful daughters at a wedding reception.  Those are two of the only photos that her children have of their mother.  She was such a beautiful human being with a personality that filled any room she walked into -- and yet now that so much time has passed, it seems as if she barely existed at all. 

4)  Don't judge yourself too harshly.  As women, we are trained from a very young age to critique ourselves -- and not in a good way.  If someone points a camera in your direction, just smile and go with the moment.  You may see what you perceive as imperfections when you look at your own digital image, but others will not.  My kids will see my kind eyes and genuine smile; they will not see my roots or unplucked eyebrows.  At least I hope not...

With this inspiration in mind, I have been making a genuine effort to get in the picture.  I handed the camera to strangers when we were on vacation recently just so I would have evidence that I was there.  And my kids are old enough now that they ASK to take the camera off of my hands.  So I let them -- and I laugh at the goofy angles and chopped off heads, but we'll get there.  And if all else fails, grab that coupon for the $9.99 picture package at Wal-Mart and get everyone together for a silly shot.  I will never forget the photo that my friend has on the wall of her entire family -- they are all wearing crazy hats and grinning like lunatics at the camera.  Now that is a legacy worth leaving!

So the last time I took one of my children for their annual birthday portrait, I got in the picture too.  I now have some fantastic prints of me and my fabulous sweethearts.  Here's just one of them: it's my favorite and I purchased a large one to hang on the wall in our living room.  I am proud of my kids, and I want them to know that I am proud to be seen with them!

 

 

As usual, I will leave you with a song.  It's a mash-up, but one that works on so many levels.  Peel away the doubts one photo at a time...and leave a legacy that your family and friends will cherish.

 

Theme Song #27: I Feel Pretty/Unpretty by Glee Cast. 

http://youtu.be/to1s2EgFr_8 

 

 

Smile and say "cheese!"

 

Selina

 



Embracing the Skin I'm in Right Now

News flash: Just in case you’ve been camped out under a rock, in a few short weeks it will be summer.  That means a number of things, but basically the time has come to shed the long pants and turtlenecks and break out the sandals and tank tops.  I used to look forward to this time of year about as much as a visit to the dentist, but this year I have a very different philosophy indeed.

Over the course of the last year, I have begun to open my eyes to just how brainwashed and in turn, desensitized, our society is --- largely because of our media --- regarding who/what is beautiful.  It is a very, very narrow and unrealistic vision indeed. Most of us will never look like we belong in the cast of the latest “Housewives” show, and there is nothing wrong with that.  But that is exactly what the media and the $60 billion a year diet industry wants us to think.  Shame on them! 

In direct response, or maybe rebellion is the more appropriate term, I have begun embracing my body and loving it exactly the way it is right now.  And why shouldn’t I?  I have a wonderfully strong and beautiful body that can do all kinds of amazing things – like running the bases in the yard with my kids, hauling hampers full of clean laundry up two flights of stairs, and mowing the heck out of my lawn just for starters.  So why should I hide that under the baggiest clothes I can find?  

Guess what?  I’m not going to.  I have recently started to give everyone the proverbial middle finger about that.  I am not hiding my body anymore because frankly, I am not ashamed of my body or its size.  A few weeks ago, I went shopping for some new summer clothes.  I purposely bought 3 tank tops and two super-hot sleeveless dresses for the summer -- and did NOT buy cardigans to cover up my arm flab (even though the sales associate made sure to point them out to me while I was shopping).  Why make tank tops in my size if I have to cover them with a cardigan?  Seems highly suspicious to me!

Now I will be the first to admit that it takes a while to deprogram from all of the garbage that the media shoves down our throats about how much we are/are not worth based on how we conform to a stereotype.  I remind myself daily that I am beautiful, and I am fairly certain that even the most confident, self-assured people have days where they doubt the worthiness of the image they see in the mirror.  However, the more I tell myself that I am beautiful, the more I believe it.  And the easier it gets to exude the confidence and – dare I say it – sexiness that I want to portray.  It also gets easier to believe people when they pay you compliments about your appearance. Smile and say “thank you” and don’t second guess their motivation J

Last week, I dared to sunbath topless in my backyard.  A year ago that thought would never have even crossed my mind.  Lord help the neighbors!  But they can always close their blinds if they are offended.  While I’m at it, next time I mow the lawn I may just go out in my sports bra and not cover up with a t-shirt on top of it.  Most of us have seen “The Biggest Loser” so it shouldn’t be shocking to see my exposed flab if they are showing it in prime time television every week.  Not to mention the fact that I see men with humongous beer bellies mowing their lawns topless all the time.  So why the hell not?  

The time has come to liberate ourselves from the oppressive chains of the media!  I know I am enjoying wearing shorts and tank tops!  I invite you to join me J  If you need some more inspiration or affirmation, here is a blog by the Militant Baker called “Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls So I Will.”  Read it! Get inspired! Believe the truth!  http://www.themilitantbaker.com/2013/03/things-no-one-will-tell-fat-girls-so-i.html

In conclusion, and in celebration of the cornucopia of beautiful people all around us, here is some food for thought from a woman who wouldn’t bow to the conservative ideas of country music.  She bared her navel, hiked up her skirt, and belted out tunes of positivity and empowerment for women.  Persistence paid off despite any negative feedback from the media—and there was a lot of it.  She sold millions of records, toured the world, and built a huge fan base that still exists today.   She definitely inspires me to do what I dare and feel great about myself.  Thank you Shania Twain! 

Theme Song #26: Man! I Feel Like a Woman/Up! By Shania Twain
http://youtu.be/OzHkkc3SQFg

Working on my tan lines,

Selina

I Don't Need a Reason

About a year ago, I started blogging.  At first I used it as an outlet to chronicle my feelings as I worked through some personal struggles.  I shared my entries with a few friends on occasion.  And then I had someone trip my trigger about one of my hot button topics – the societal implications of being overweight.  I responded with what would become my first official public blog entry.  I posted it on my blog and on my Facebook page.  Afterward, I reaped the benefits – and consequences – of using social media as a voice for my position on the subject at hand.

From that moment, I have publically dialogued about various topics and my feelings on them.  Recently, I had an acquaintance insinuate that my blog is pointless because (1) everyone lives their lives at the speed of their thumbs and the latest meaningless text and (2) I actually expected people to have morals and standards and (3) that was not likely to happen if I had a grip on reality.  (Please, don’t hold back; tell me how you really feel!)  I took exception to their assessment, but it also forced me to examine just why I insisted upon baring my soul if no one was actually paying attention.

And like so many other times, the answer was out there in cyberspace just waiting for me to discover it.  I happened upon a quote that speaks volumes about my intentions and provides a rationale for my random ramblings and incensed diatribes:

I know that people are reading my blogs, even if they are not commenting directly.  I am not bragging on myself, but it does take a certain amount of self-confidence or at least ballsy nerve to put my innermost thoughts down on “paper” and then share them with others.  It reminds me of a part of a song that I love that says:

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

                                    --2AM by Anna Nalick

That’s why not everyone writes.  It’s extremely personal and exposes you in a way that even strippers and prostitutes don’t share (or bare).  What if people actually knew what you were thinking and could read the thought balloons above your head like a comic strip – God forbid?!?!  If you ask any writer who has had conversations with their readers, people take whatever meaning from their words that they want to.  I distinctly remember reading an interview with Sting where he comments on the song “Every Breath You Take” and how his intended meaning and what people infer from it are vastly different indeed.  Even though we all hear the same words and distinct haunting melody, the meaning changes depending on our individual experiences.

When I am writing, my aim is to share what I am thinking and feeling, and hope that it might be able to help someone else who might be experiencing the same thing.  Secondarily, if it causes someone to pause and think about their actions, inactions or interactions with others, then so be it.  But my goal is not to get up on my proverbial soapbox and expect people to follow me like the Pied Piper; I will leave that to the televangelists and politicians. 

In conclusion, I will respond to my friend by saying the following: I am going to follow my own path and express myself in the ways that I feel are necessary for my existence and mental sanity.  People should have ethics and moral standards in regards to the ways in which we interact with one another.  Common courtesy and basic human decency are not crimes; they are hallmarks of a civilized society. 

You do not have to agree with me; you are free to make your own decisions.  So am I.  I shared things with you because at the time it mattered to me what you thought.  However, based on your recent choices, you voluntarily gave up your ability to influence me and whisper in my ear.  I challenge you to put your fingers to the keyboard and take your best shot at doing the same.  I am curious as to what you would say if you let down your guard for even a moment and gave others the opportunity to see you for who you really are.  I won’t hold my breath…     

So while I wait for hell to freeze over, here is a little glimpse into the thoughts of a songwriter taking her own stand:

Theme Song #25: Love Song by Sara Bareilles

http://youtu.be/qi7Yh16dA0w

My head is not underwater anymore,

Selina

Stuck in a Moment

It’s late, but I wanted to get these thoughts out on electronic paper before they leave my head completely.  A lot has changed in my life over the past year (that’s putting it mildly) and I have had quite a bit of time to reflect on all that has transpired.  One of the biggest changes has been in the status of my relationships, both with family and friends.  The rhyme and reason behind each is different in its own way, but there are commonalities that can be drawn upon as well.

At this very moment, I am stuck in a quandary.  How much do you let the past shape who you are today and into the future?  How much do you let your accumulated life experiences up to this point dictate what you will consider as possibilities in the future?  And what do you do when what you feel doesn’t coincide with the circumstances at hand? 

I found myself with a tune stuck in my head that reflects this thought balloon.  In the opera/musical Aida, Radames and Aida must decide if their love is more important than carrying out their respective duties as royalty.  Aida attempts to convince Radames that duty should be upheld and she tries to tell him goodbye.  Radames is not convinced by Aida’s plea, and their love story ends tragically because of their foolishness.

Theme Song #23: Written in the Stars from the musical Aida

http://youtu.be/giQtOu0mlZc

And the Hits Keep Coming

Normally when I come to the end of my rambling thoughts for the day, I end with a theme song that ties in with my musings.  This time, however, I felt that starting with a song is in order.  I need some inspiration right now, and hope to keep going despite the circumstances that have been piling up around me like horse manure.  The song stuck in my head at the moment is one I have loved since I was in first grade.  It’s from the first musical I ever saw, and my mom took me into Pittsburgh to see it as a birthday gift (after I begged every time I saw the commercials on TV).  The concept of the song seems pretty simplistic, but it always has the power to turn my frown upside down and remind myself that there are some things you can count on no matter what. (I have included the lyrics for further edification.)

Theme Song #21: Tomorrow from the Broadway musical Annie

http://youtu.be/Yop62wQH498

Tomorrow

The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be sun!

Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
'Til there's none!

When I'm stuck with a day
That's gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!

The sun'll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day away!

Confidence is Sexy

You heard me right. CONFIDENCE is sexy.  Holding your head up and looking people in the eye speaks volumes about how you feel about yourself.  Two women that I think of immediately when I hear this word are Melissa McCarthy and Beyoncé.  They are at completely different ends of the spectrum as far as the media is concerned, but I maintain that both of these women focus on positivity and exude sex appeal.  And it has nothing to do with size.  Not a thing.

Someone posted a link on Facebook today that ties in with what I’m talking about here.  We are constantly bombarded with images of what we should look like.  But the TRUTH is gradually leaking out and it made me glad to see something that affirmed that we are all fabulous.  “Here’s something the media doesn’t want you to know: you’re beautiful.  It’s true.  And here are the top 10 ways to make sure everybody knows it.”  It’s three minutes and definitely worth the watch. (Surprise -- #5 talks about confidence)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=qOz0DHoMsq8

My goal right now is to project confidence and the belief that we are all fabulous.  Christina Aguilera’s song Beautiful is spot on: we get knocked down over and over by outside influences and other people’s ideals.  It’s high time we listened to the positive voice inside ourselves – along with actually believing it. 

And that’s the hardest part – actually believing it.  But as my friend and size-acceptance goddess Marilyn Wann said recently on her own Facebook page, “If you’re not going to be at home in your own body, where are you going to go?”  Now that’s a powerful question…

I recently attended a web-based seminar called “How to Stop Hating Your Body in 30 Days.”  I highly recommend it!!!  Whatever your current view on your physical appearance, there is much to be gleaned from this movement of self-acceptance.  They specifically talk about how we have come to hate our bodies and that this is a learned behavior.  Therefore we have to take time to unlearn what we have ingrained in our craniums.  They host this seminar once a month and you can sign up on their website at: www.thebodyisnotanapology.com.

I think it is high time that we stop buying into the lies that the media projects onto us.  Why should we spend our lives trying to reach some ridiculous “ideal” that only about 2 - 5% of the population can maintain.  And most of them have to work hard at it to stay that way – just ask their personal trainers and chefs.  Counteract the negative messages from the media: find things you like about yourself and focus on those qualities.  If you need help getting started ask friends and family.  Don’t listen to self-deprecating talk from others; make them say something good about themselves when you hear that.  Reverse the trend – go against the flow.

And if you need some encouragement in this area, here is a toe-tapping groove from my fierce gal Beyoncé and the gals.  Crank it up and dance around in your underwear!!!  And celebrate being alive in your body!!!

Theme Song #20: Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child

http://youtu.be/IyYnnUcgeMc

Shaking the junk in my trunk,

Selina