smile or die

for me, the streets of DC are every bit as ribald as my experiences in Rabat and Rome. lots of cat-calls, obscene whispers, vulgar comments and often more vulgar requests… it was mind-blowing when i moved back to the states and felt more scrutinized and vulnerable to men’s gazes and remarks than ever before; from Italy mind you. and i am blonde…

in my time here, i have endured daily jeers and leers running the gamut of men: from the street junkie to the pleated-front-khaki hill staffer to the most interestingly inspired garbage collector, all feel perfectly at ease announcing aloud their latent desires. i have heard some things that embarrassed me, sickened me, angered me and in general just annoyed me. i have long resented that i cannot walk the streets undisturbed in my own world and thoughts without a reliable reminder that i am female and thus, not privy to the glorious male possession of unquestioning entitlement that apparently includes sidewalks as well as the boardroom. but i digress…

but above all the lewd and piggish things i have heard nothing irks me quite so much as the simple command to “smile”.  i have posted about this before. i am not a smiler and it seems i live in a world where not smiling is sure sign that i am a deviant in desperate need of man to please. my blood boils when through the blare of my ear-buds; over the dull rumbling of traffic i hear “smile”. immediately my fists clench, my eyes narrow and my lips press more tightly together. no chance of so much as a smirk from me. why is it so necessary to smile?

i personally have a theory that it is a way to neutralize power in a woman. i walk with purpose, my broad shoulders squared, my head held high. i look like i have somewhere to go and something serious to do when i get there. is that so threatening? remember how popular Laura Bush was? every photo or film clip i saw of her, she wore that open-eyed blank smile. soft and gentle, she gazed adoringly at her husband. she was the ultimate supporting actress and her ever present smile assured us she liked it like that. no, she didn’t convey ambition or drive, just unwavering support for her man.

maybe i am over-analyzing a pet peeve. i stand by my cultural bias element in my previous post. however, i do find it curious in country that refuses to elect women to office in equal representation, we do want them to look happy about it.

photo: isabel marant scarf courtesy of netaporter.com

here come roly and poly

my mormor had strong opinions and severe tastes. one of her strongest and most severe was her distaste for the overweight or “fatties”, as she so often referred to anyone carrying more than five pounds of voluptuous curve. She did not censure her displeasure or contempt in any way or with any effort. on the contrary, she made comments like “i don’t know who is winning the contest for the fattest, mary or beth but they doing their damnedest to win” or my favorite, when looking out the window and seeing my two PREGNANT aunts walking up to her front door, she looked at me and said with dripping disgust, “well, nail down your cookies, here come roly and poly”.

she wasn’t playing around with fat people. even when a cancerous mass ravaged her body and sealed her fate, i knew her resentment was less about the football sized tumor that was destroying her body and ending her life, she was angrier that the tumor destroyed her waistline and ended her days of cinching her 24 inch waist. vanity thy name was mormor.

contrary to your expectations, she was a healthy and voracious eater of almost all foods. the richer, the dearer…she ate desserts at every meal and sometimes as a meal in themselves. at christmas the house was a cookie factory, reeking of butter, sugar and cardamom. cakes, pies, tortes, cookies…ice cream, whipped cream, custard…she devoured with relish. she loved the rarest of red meat, developed a great fondness for american fried chicken and biscuits in her later years. she ate almost anything and everything…i remember sharing deeply rubied plums, strawberries so red they stained fingertips and tongues, shaved fennel tossed with tomatoes from her garden…she taught me that everything tasted better fresh and grown close to home.

while she denied herself nothing, she was always lean as a whip. she attributed her tall, hourglass shape to her superior swedish genes and also to eating “real” food. she said (what Michael Pollan is frankly saying as well) that she ate things that looked as much like they did in nature as good cooking would permit. that her pastries and puddings and other ‘godis’ were homemade from farm fresh ingredients. she swore up and down that americans were fat because they bought things to eat and not real food, to cook at home. i think she was on to something and it seems that most health educators agree.

you know that i talk about reinvention and adaptation quite a bit…but when it comes to what we eat, keeping it in its original state seems to be the superior choice.

social grace

so about that polite refusal to your invitation...just take "no" for an answer!

this invitation/rsvp thing is a two way street. if i decline your thoughtful and generous invite, please just accept my refusal. no more of this "beg and plead" that happens so often. it doesn't make the offer more appealing, but it does annoy me in the present and decrease the likelihood that i will accept in the future.

when i was living abroad, one aspect of my job was to give little workshop-seminars on cultural nuance. this invite/refusal was a topic we revisited on many occasions. i am afraid this is one of those annoying cultural nuances particular to some. if a french person asks you to dinner and you reply by saying: sorry, non, i can't tonight, the issue is halted. no hurt feelings; just moving on... if we had that same conversation here in the states my sorry, no, is more often than not met with: "really? why? do you have other plans? what are they?"...or even worse..."awww c'mon...just one drink... are you suuuuure?"

the beg and plead. please do not press me about my refusal, but graciously consent in the same stride you would approve my acceptance. then you will have a chance at a next time...

life lesson

if money can fix it—it isn’t really broke….

a gem of advice from my mother…if you can solve the problem with money, it isn’t a problem worth worrying about.

so very true. often we worry and stress over problems that can be simply addressed by replacing something, hiring someone or getting something new. the point is, we fixate on the material which can almost always be replaced.

true, it is sad when our grandmother’s cake plate slips off the counter and shatters in a million pieces, but at least you have a memory of your grandmother using it and the comfort of knowing she wanted you to have something nice of hers to remember her by; which is really why you loved the cake plate anyway.

better to let go and let live than throw a betty draper style fit over a glass of red wine spilling on the table cloth. what will you take with you from that scene at dinner? a wonderful evening shared with loved ones, or the hysterical ranting of an angry host? over what? something that can be washed and remedied or just replaced.

sometimes we may not have the money to fix what is broken. that is okay. take stock of the simple fact that there is an apparent solution and calm the worry.

case in point: i loved my car. loved it. it was the car i learned to drive on (a feat worth its own post) and was a gift from my mother during one of my first grad programs. i had it for ten years and never had so much as a fender bender. my ex-boyfriend borrowed it once and within thirty seconds of turning the key in the ignition managed to have a head-on crash. i watched the whole debacle in what felt like slo-mo helpless from the curb. was i sad? yes. was i frustrated? yes. but I took a deep breath and immediately dialed my mechanic and the next day it was repaired. it was never the same again (the hood always needed two to open it) but it wasn’t worth a fight with my boyfriend or even holding a grudge. i didn’t really have the money to fix it being an impoverished grad student at the time, but the reality was, my boyfriend was unharmed and it was an incident that could have escalated quickly but quelled by remembering it was just a car.

it isn’t the objects in our life that make it better. repairing relationships, emotions, boundaries…those are the things that are worth our attention. those are the issues that are trickier to solve and are deserving of hard work and worry. protecting our relationships, feelings and friends is where our attention should lie. those are the elements that make the things in our life worth having.

finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could.

some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can.

tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

ralph waldo emerson

social grace

it's an invitation...not a summons darling...

an invitation is just that: a request, a suggestion, an option. it is not a requirement (except in the case of most funerals, family weddings i mean, obviously, you should know the difference).

this is a murky area for me historically. i have never treated invitations as an automatic confirmation of my attendance. nor do i feel my rsvp's require anything further than a simple acceptance or refusal.

no wild tales of other obligations, just a simple-  sorry i can't make it, hope your (blank) is a wild success, total blast, etc. etc.

i feel it is just more polite to be clear, direct, firm and prompt in my replies. why get lost in subterfuge when simplicity serves the purpose? the same is true for an acceptance. it is polite and thoughtful to let the host/hostess/organizer get an accurate idea of who is coming and who is not.

i had an old boyfriend who marveled at my speed and willingness to refuse invitations. he cautioned that they would "dry up"...not hardly! no one wants a recalcitrant-rebecca at their gathering; don't attend unless it is willingly and with good cheer. and if you can't be in the appropriate spirit, the only polite thing to do is to graciously decline.

life is so much less complicated this way. do what you want and be a good guest-- you will always be back in demand!