work-a-day wednesday

“...people don't respect the morning. an alarm clock violently wakes them up, shatters their sleep like the blow of an ax, and they immediately surrender themselves to deadly haste. can you tell me what kind of day can follow a beginning of such violence? what happens to people whose alarm clock daily gives them a small electric shock? each day they become more used to violence and less used to pleasure.”                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                     -milan kundera, farewell waltz

                                            

it's the middle of the work week and people are rushing to their offices with tight faces and grim expressions. overheard is the predictable quizzing of each other about weekend plans for fun. i wonder why we store it all up just to rush and blow off all our steam from friday night to sunday afternoon. how sad to spend five days just existing only to exhaust ourselves with diversions at the end of the week.

why aren't we savouring the moment? when the alarm jolts us from slumber, we automatically rise and begin the routine machinations of "getting ready". ready for what exactly is what i wonder. why not pause a moment, take notice of ourselves, our bodies, our breath and our surroundings. listen to the streets below and the birds above. feel the world waking and instead of moving, rest and be still. relish in the pleasure of another day to be lived and felt and experienced.

pause from your workday intertia today and veer a little off course. take a different route home, try a new place for lunch, walk outside and sit in the park. better yet, do something you enjoy tonight...pleasure is yours for the taking, fun is in the doing...

life is a gentle teacher

on friday i posted a cheerful wish for the weekend.

there was a little more meaning behind it than just put on your dancing shoes and have a good time (although, that is a worthy message for a friday in itself). saturday i started taking ballet classes. one of my girlfriends asked me to take a course with her and impulsively, i agreed.

i took ballet when i was small. like many little girls, i was in love with ballet and ballet dancers, all fluid and sharp at once, the control and precision of their graceful bodies mesmerized me completely. i took classes from a very strict russian woman with a heavy accent and a stern face. i dressed with serious ceremony before each class, treating my leotard, tights and shoes as sacred talisman more than a sweaty uniform. i loved going to class even if i did get anxious butterflies in my stomach while sitting in the car next to whichever parent had to shuttle me to the studio. i took classes for a couple of years and loved every minute of it. i registered vaguely as only a love-blind child can, that my teacher’s brow never relaxed its furrow when gazing upon me; my parents looked at me with pity and a little sadness but thought nothing of it.

suddenly, i stopped being taken to ballet and was driven instead to ice rinks. finally after months i asked why i was no longer attending ballet. my mom looked at me with great sadness and replied that i was such a good skater, wouldn’t i prefer to keep skating? of course! i loved to skate! what wasn’t relayed to me then, was that my teacher pointed out that i didn’t have the body of a dancer. my already stubby and thick legs, made stronger and thicker by skating from the moment i could walk, would never lean and allow me to move like a ballerina must move. later when i really understood what happened i was confused and ashamed. what was wrong with my legs? they were sturdy and strong! it was the first time i noticed i had a body and maybe it was flawed.

while this was certainly a source of sadness for me, i never stopped loving ballet. but I was terrified to try ballet ever again. i continued to skate and those thick legs of mine served me well. they served me even better by allowing me to become a nationally ranked shot-putter in high school, but the feeling of dread over my muscle-y legs never abated.

standing at the barre on saturday, all those feelings of dread and shame washed over me anew. but this time i was able to shrug them off. make no mistake, i was terrible in class. clumsy and unsure, my thick legs made certain positions nearly impossible. it was dreadful to see myself in the mirror. but life is about trying. life is about experimenting. and as an adult, i understand i don’t have to be good at everything. saturday ballet is going to be about doing something that doesn’t come to me easily or naturally. it is going to be about spending time with a friend. i will never be a ballet dancer, maybe never even move past laughable, but i am determined to break the rules of shame and live in a spirit of experimentation and discovery.

live and learn. that is how we grow…

it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's what you do with your dancin' shoes

  trevlig helg!

thanks to fanpop

love your body

                                                                          gustave caillebotte, minneapolis institute of art

weight. food issues. ugh.

the two things i swore i wouldn’t write about on this blog. the hours spent- no- the hours wasted talking talking talking about weight, size, food, eating, diets blah…with my girlfriends! the last thing i wanted was to devote one more inch of space to the abyss of anxiety and loathing that this fat phobia promotes.

but it’s love your body day and i realized- i have something to say.

it is my JOB to help people. as both a therapist and as a health educator, i am trained and expert in fields of nutrition, exercise, self-esteem and body image. as such, i have tried to BE the example for my clients. endless pushups, squats, suicide sprints, kettle bell swings, rounds on the heavy bag, burpees, WEIGHTED PULLUPS…all in pursuit of some sort of madonna-esque chiseled sinew of a body. i never quite got there, but i was damn close…then i went back to grad school. twice actually. so in the past five years, i completed not just one, but two masters degree programs. and strangely, when i see people i haven’t seen in ages because of the time and attention demanded by the workload to complete my degrees, i feel a slow burn of shame. i wonder, what are they thinking? …holy shit…did she gain weight! wow she is fat!

all i can hear, see or think is FAT FAT FAT.

i put on about fifteen pounds in school. my hands tremor at even typing those words let alone saying them aloud. and the guilt and shame weigh me down so much more that it might as well be fifteen HUNDRED pounds.

but what the fuck for?

instead of being proud of myself for acquiring two additional graduate degrees, instead of cheering myself for a major life change, for following my ambitions, talents and dreams, and ACHIEVING THEM-- i berate myself for getting fat. but let’s be more honest, fat in this case is straddling a size 6 or (gasp!) sometimes an 8. seriously?

that is some fucked up and crazy shit. (my professional diagnosis no less)

i was recently talking about this with one of my girlfriends who struggles with the exact issue and we agreed: fuck this shit. what the hell is wrong with us for focusing on gaining some weight under massive strain and stress? when i was an undergrad i smoked furiously, sucking down fag after fag, chain smoking while writing papers. isn’t it better that this time around i kicked down some doritos while reading my case studies? i can breathe after all, and while my workouts may have mellowed, my vitals are all still in the healthiest of ranges.

so we made a pact. no more self-flagellating, no bemoaning or dwelling. done. when i feel bad trying to squeeze into my old size 4’s, i pull out my diplomas. yeah, shame abated.   from now on…congrats to all that we ACHIEVE…in fact, congrats to me for eating that whole damn pint of ice cream sans guilt. 

i have other more substantial shit to worry about…

This post is part of the 2011 Love Your Body Day Blog Carnival

lil sis

it's hard to be responsible, adult and

sensible all the time. 

how good it is to have

a sister whose heart is as young as your own. 

                                                    -pam brown

it's my baby sister's birthday...shout out!

wishing you all the best, with all my love.

xoxo

life lesson

if you are surrounded by assholes, it's pretty likely you're an asshole too...

what kind of friends do you have? are your friends funny? do they like to laugh? are they kind and supportive? can you rely on them to lift you up when you are feeling down?

or

do you have friends that complain a lot? that are late or unreliable? do they spend all their time mired in problems?

chances are the people you call friends are a reflection of you and the kind of friend you are. we decide what kind of person we are with our actions. choosing our friends is such an action. we have control over our environment by surrounding ourselves with people that reflect values and behaviours we admire.

if you want to be someone that laughs a lot, find friends that enjoy laughing. if you want to be the kind of person that laughs at people, you can find those kinds of friends too.

so often my clients speak of their problems as being the result of the people they call friends...when the complaints begin to mount, i usually begin to probe a little deeper and guide them through thinking about what they are giving and receiving from those relationships. once we understand what we are exchanging, we can begin to reassess the kinds of relationships we have and the kinds of relationships we would like to have.

making the leap from wanting to having is easier than you think. it is a simple matter of being the friend we want to have and expecting the same in return. when we buy a shirt that doesn't fit, we return it for another that feels more comfortable. sometimes we need to exchange our friends for ones that make us feel better and are better for us.

remember though, it's a free market out there! we are all on the trading floor...together...

be my friend

"a friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow."

-william shakespeare

heading into the weekend, my thoughts are turned to my friends. life can throw some curve-balls your way; knowing you have people to stand with you is to know you can catch them and still stay in the game. sometimes we take for granted the people that are constant in our lives. it is worth it to pause a moment and just appreciate the riches of our relationships.
i've personally had a rough few months and have managed to keep my chin up because of the support and kindness of my friends. my best friend in particular has been my biggest champion and a tireless source of encouragement and generosity. whenever i think i am down for the count, he is always there with a hand to pull me to my feet. no judgement, no criticism; just a steady grip that says he believes in me and trusts that eventually i will succeed.
a true friend indeed.

imagine

"Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

–Steve Jobs, 2005, Stanford Commencement Speech. 

yesterday we lost a great, creative mind and an astounding genius. while we all bring something to this world, just a few, like Jobs, change everything...rest in peace.  

puss plats

just a sweet thought for today.

i found this charming picture on elsa’s blog (one of my faves) and thought, wouldn’t it be nice if we had “puss plats” all over town?

since i have no such place, officially, may i suggest marking one of your own this weekend.

happy kissing…

she wanted something to happen -
     something, anything...she did not know what...

                                                                                                 kate chopin

                                                                                                                        

social grace

the 'sneak invite'. totally not cool.

why is it when you make plans with a friend they think it is okay to invite someone else along to join without checking with you first? do they not understand how this alters the social dynamic? do they not understand the demands on social reserves that engaging strangers requires? if you are not given to bursts of spontaneous friendliness …the sneak invite may demand herculean effort. sigh.

we can do it of course. we all can. we know how to tap into our stores of politesse and cocktail banter but it doesn’t mean that it is always preferable or enjoyable.

to be fair, being open to new people and perspectives is often good. indeed, twisting the dynamic leads to growth—both individual and social. but it is just plain polite to give notice. not all topics between friends are appropriate for an audience of strangers and it could get awkward.  who likes that?

please, just ask before you ask others. if it was a plan for two or a plan with a specific cast of characters, be courteous to those initially involved and allow them the option of extending the invitation…or not…  

coolest girls on the planet

i haven't been very inspired lately...until i saw this from rebecca & fiona's twitter feed

they are just the coolest girls on the planet right now. for real.

strong women playing to win in a man's game. i love it and love them for it!

they manage to be hot and fierce, smart and sexy, cool and effortless all at once. 

and they are really good at what they do.

really. seriously. good. admirably good.

 i am totally obsessed...

if you don't know them now...you need to get acquainted ...snabbt!

 they are headed for world domination.

trust.



miss me blind

even though i am enraged on a daily basis by the inequities of my female existence, i am always thankful to be a woman. i had another ‘whew…am i glad to be a woman’ moment last night.

i was vegging out in front of the tv and an ad for cialis came on. now, normally i don’t really pay attention to ads much less ones clearly not targeted to my own demographic, but i was totally mesmerized by this one.

an attractive middle-aged couple together shopping at the grocery store, gently and smilingly fondling produce…of course, inspiring an intimate moment; suddenly they embrace and now the supermarket is a wooded glen, and that orange display? poof! now it’s a picnic blanket and our couple lies down on it, gazing deeply into each other eyes. this totally happens to me at the safeway. All. The. Time. i was cracking up.

but the part that really caught me was when the voice-over ran down the side effects…ummm…BLINDNESS anyone??? apparently taking cialis may have a ‘sudden and severe’ side effect of freaking blindness! so, there’s your choice droopy…blindness or a boner. wow. am i glad to be a woman. because you know the guys taking cialis (and there are quite a few of them…insurance covered, of course, don’t even get me started on that…god forbid a man lose his potency…what evil would befall us??) i digress…you know the guys taking cialis are seriously willing to risk losing their sight just to get an erection.

that is devotion to a, ahem, member, for sure.

be the woman you want to be

so direct. so simple. so true.

DvF...she's certainly the woman she wants to be. beautiful, bright, ambitious and strong - she is living proof of her credo.

be the woman you want to be...you can decide to be who or what you want to be whenever you like. this is your life to live. you can change who you want to be without apology or concession. no more waiting for tomorrow, no more postponing, procrastinating or hiding behind arbitrary markers or excuses.  fear not... just be...right here and right now...

believe it and be it.

photo credit: vogue.com

what we call the beginning is often the end.
and to make an end is to make a beginning.
the end is where we start from.
                                                           - t. s. eliot  

photo credit: film still of the unbearable lightness of being

i was gone and now i'm back

suddenly it's september...it came out of nowhere it seems...the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. for me (and many others) it is like a mini new year with that hard to shake back-to-school feel in the air and in my heart. looking back the summer flew by but it was a good one. it was full of people i love, friends i haven't seen in ages, dancing, long lazy days with family here and back home and even the soothe of the ocean. it was a happy and fortunate season...i am reluctant to let go and jump into fall but there is really no choice. life moves forward, marching on despite our longings and laggings.

a short re-cap of what-i-wore and some things i did this summer.

nu tar jag en semester

much needed break from the daily grind starts now...










                                        i am going hOme...  can't come soon enough...  so homesick...  for family, for friends, for food, for sleep, for the lake... oh i am so homesick.... so i am going hOme...

la reine

happy birthday to madonna -  our lady of reinvention

nothing is perfect. life is messy. relationships are complex. outcomes are uncertain. people are irrational.

                                                                                         hugh mackay

photo courtesy of f*** yeah edie

life lesson

yes and no

two of the shortest and simplest words in english are often not our most obvious choices.

sometimes we say one when we mean the other…sometimes we feel like we have to say one when we want to say the other.

practice using yes or no when we mean yes or no.

saying yes is agreeing to what we believe in or things we want to do, accepting invitations when we mean it, feeling good about helping someone or just yes, because our feelings tell us it is right for us, here and now.

saying no is refusing to lie, declining invitations we don’t want, passing on things we don’t feel good about or just no because our feelings tell us it is wrong for us, here and now.

learning to trust your own feelings of yes and no; what feels right and what feels wrong is the beginning of credibility. people will trust that you say what you mean and mean what you say.

two simple words open the doors to freedom. it is the start of owning your life and controlling where it goes.  

dating games

ten men waiting for me at the door?
send one of them home. i'm tired.

             -mae west

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.