How many of you feel like it's a waste to get dressed up if no one will see you? I get these nice work digs on, drive to work, sit in the tutoring center with no customers, and then drive home to change clothes. By the time my husband gets home, I'm "bald, sweatpants, food stains" mom. I will often stay in my work clothes until he gets home, no matter how uncomfortable I am. Then, of course, I end up getting taco sauce or vegetable oil on my nice clothes. But what's the point of looking nice if no one's looking?
Why can't I just be good enough for myself?
Here's my plan:
Step 1. I'm on the hunt for super cute lounging clothes that I can feel sexy in at home.
Step 2. Time to invest in more big, dangly earrings. They dress anything up!
Step 3. Sending pics of my fancy self to hubby at work? Why not?!
Step 4. Look in the mirror at work and say "Wow, you look really nice, honey." And believe it.
Step 5. Go to the grocery store in dumpy clothes whenever I can to break the habit of wondering what people, men in particular, think of how I look.
What would you do?
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Worth 1,000 words
"You're so beautiful."
"You can really pull off the bald look."
"Bald girls are sexy."
All of these lines and more have been told to me at some point since the onset of my alopecia. You'd think by now that they would have sunk in.
The problem is, a picture is worth a thousand words. And my identity and definition of beauty have been shaped by millions of images that don't reflect the truth of the words people tell me. I don't think in words; I think in pictures.
Pictures like this:
The princess with the long, golden locks shining in the sunlight. The dashing rogue kissing her in all her feminine loveliness. Well, if that had been a bald princess, the "man in black" would probably have fallen off the tower as his hand slipped off her smooth scalp...
Or this:
The mother of all hot kissing scenes. Sadly, kissing in the rain is not sexy when you're a bald woman. If you're wearing a scarf, it turns into a sopping rag plastered on your head. You can't brush that away from a lady's face. If you're wearing a wig, you turn into a wet dog--PLUS, the netting underneath shows through. If you happen to be sans headcover in the rain, then a wet mack session would turn into a manual slip 'n' slide for your partner. Maybe that would be sexy...but it's unlikely.
Ah yes, this one:
It goes without saying that this is an impossible look for a bald woman to pull off. And a scarf or wig in the wind? Too precarious.
Countless, endless images that do not represent me, yet continue to define what I want my life to look like. When I kiss my husband, I look at us from the outside and I cringe. Can you imagine a man kissing a bald woman and it looking even remotely romantic? Probably not. That's because there are no images of that to get into our psyche.
So, I'm on a search for some new pictures. Here are a few I found:
Rosanna Savone, bald bride and author of liv.luhv.rahyt (See it and love it here).
Kylie, another beautiful bald bride (read her story here).
Stefania Ferrario, model (check out her page here).
Sandra Dubose-Gibson, Mrs. Black North Carolina 2011 (See the full story here).
The only image I could find of a man kissing a bald girl...we need to work on that.
And, finally, I will add what I can to this growing bank of images:
A bald woman and a mirror. Not usually seen together.
So--if you find anymore for me, send them to redefinelabelleza@gmail.com or post them to my Facebook page!
"You can really pull off the bald look."
"Bald girls are sexy."
All of these lines and more have been told to me at some point since the onset of my alopecia. You'd think by now that they would have sunk in.
The problem is, a picture is worth a thousand words. And my identity and definition of beauty have been shaped by millions of images that don't reflect the truth of the words people tell me. I don't think in words; I think in pictures.
Pictures like this:
The princess with the long, golden locks shining in the sunlight. The dashing rogue kissing her in all her feminine loveliness. Well, if that had been a bald princess, the "man in black" would probably have fallen off the tower as his hand slipped off her smooth scalp...
Or this:
The mother of all hot kissing scenes. Sadly, kissing in the rain is not sexy when you're a bald woman. If you're wearing a scarf, it turns into a sopping rag plastered on your head. You can't brush that away from a lady's face. If you're wearing a wig, you turn into a wet dog--PLUS, the netting underneath shows through. If you happen to be sans headcover in the rain, then a wet mack session would turn into a manual slip 'n' slide for your partner. Maybe that would be sexy...but it's unlikely.
Ah yes, this one:
It goes without saying that this is an impossible look for a bald woman to pull off. And a scarf or wig in the wind? Too precarious.
Countless, endless images that do not represent me, yet continue to define what I want my life to look like. When I kiss my husband, I look at us from the outside and I cringe. Can you imagine a man kissing a bald woman and it looking even remotely romantic? Probably not. That's because there are no images of that to get into our psyche.
So, I'm on a search for some new pictures. Here are a few I found:
Rosanna Savone, bald bride and author of liv.luhv.rahyt (See it and love it here).
Kylie, another beautiful bald bride (read her story here).
Stefania Ferrario, model (check out her page here).
Sandra Dubose-Gibson, Mrs. Black North Carolina 2011 (See the full story here).
The only image I could find of a man kissing a bald girl...we need to work on that.
And, finally, I will add what I can to this growing bank of images:
A bald woman and a mirror. Not usually seen together.
So--if you find anymore for me, send them to redefinelabelleza@gmail.com or post them to my Facebook page!
Monday, September 16, 2013
Farewell?
Jennifer Lopez. I have loved her ever since Selena.
But I have to admit, she's not exactly a healthy role model. I mean, she's not someone I would want my daughter to emulate.
She seems very down-to-earth in interviews, but I have to wonder about a mom in her forties who does a photo shoot like this for publicity. I really hope I'm not coming off as judgmental here--I have just realized how important it is for me to examine what or who I follow in order to have integrity as the author and promoter of this blog. I'm using her as an example, but I could just as easily be talking about Madonna. Or Cher. Or etc., etc., etc.
Performers like Jennifer Lopez are in the entertainment business. They do whatever it takes to sell records. As a listener, I fund their message. And most often, their message is that sex sells and women are valued for their sexual potential. Sex appeal is even valued over motherhood:
(http://www.lhrtimes.com/2013/01/18/jennifer-lopez-would-like-to-have-more-children-134793/)
So I am faced with a dilemma: I love to sing and dance to her music. I mean, I really love it. But, her message gets into my head and my soul through the lyrics, the beat, the dance moves, the video--it's all affecting how I see myself and define beauty, whether I want to admit it or not.
So, do I totally ban her from my playlist? Or do I listen to my favorite songs once in awhile but don't endorse the videos? Or...do I chill out and try not to overthink this?
Some days I am convinced that it's fine to listen to popular radio now and then. I tell myself I really like the beat (which I do so much that I can't drive my car straight if I have dance music on) and that the music is not a problem for me. Other days I feel slimy listening to the radio, as if my soul were twerking off in a dark, sweaty club.
The problem with trying to stay true to the message of this blog is that cultural definitions of beauty and its enmeshment with sex are so pervasive that I would have to make some radical lifestyle changes in order to make any real stand. I couldn't listen to the radio, I would have to totally clean up my Spotify playlists and find new music to clean the house to, and I definitely couldn't go to Zumba. Which would suck.
When does "just feeling good" about music and developing some confidence as a living-room-only dancer cross over into the dark territory of complicity in the world's efforts to taint true beauty and keep women in subordinate citizenship through sexual objectification and enslavement?!
Sorry J-Lo, you might have to go.
I know our culture is hostile to any message that preaches radical lifestyle change (unless it's a diet), but I really think the benefits of a strict "no sex object" diet from my entertainment intake are worth examining, at least as this blog's creator.
What do you think? Am I being a little over-the-top, or is this just what the doctor ordered for the upcoming generation?
But I have to admit, she's not exactly a healthy role model. I mean, she's not someone I would want my daughter to emulate.
She seems very down-to-earth in interviews, but I have to wonder about a mom in her forties who does a photo shoot like this for publicity. I really hope I'm not coming off as judgmental here--I have just realized how important it is for me to examine what or who I follow in order to have integrity as the author and promoter of this blog. I'm using her as an example, but I could just as easily be talking about Madonna. Or Cher. Or etc., etc., etc.
Performers like Jennifer Lopez are in the entertainment business. They do whatever it takes to sell records. As a listener, I fund their message. And most often, their message is that sex sells and women are valued for their sexual potential. Sex appeal is even valued over motherhood:
(http://www.lhrtimes.com/2013/01/18/jennifer-lopez-would-like-to-have-more-children-134793/)
So I am faced with a dilemma: I love to sing and dance to her music. I mean, I really love it. But, her message gets into my head and my soul through the lyrics, the beat, the dance moves, the video--it's all affecting how I see myself and define beauty, whether I want to admit it or not.
So, do I totally ban her from my playlist? Or do I listen to my favorite songs once in awhile but don't endorse the videos? Or...do I chill out and try not to overthink this?
Some days I am convinced that it's fine to listen to popular radio now and then. I tell myself I really like the beat (which I do so much that I can't drive my car straight if I have dance music on) and that the music is not a problem for me. Other days I feel slimy listening to the radio, as if my soul were twerking off in a dark, sweaty club.
The problem with trying to stay true to the message of this blog is that cultural definitions of beauty and its enmeshment with sex are so pervasive that I would have to make some radical lifestyle changes in order to make any real stand. I couldn't listen to the radio, I would have to totally clean up my Spotify playlists and find new music to clean the house to, and I definitely couldn't go to Zumba. Which would suck.
When does "just feeling good" about music and developing some confidence as a living-room-only dancer cross over into the dark territory of complicity in the world's efforts to taint true beauty and keep women in subordinate citizenship through sexual objectification and enslavement?!
Sorry J-Lo, you might have to go.
I know our culture is hostile to any message that preaches radical lifestyle change (unless it's a diet), but I really think the benefits of a strict "no sex object" diet from my entertainment intake are worth examining, at least as this blog's creator.
What do you think? Am I being a little over-the-top, or is this just what the doctor ordered for the upcoming generation?
Saturday, September 14, 2013
What A Mess
I had a mommy moment tonight. I had to run out to the pharmacy this evening, and as I was strutting along in my electric blue scarf and T-shirt (my best color), I was feeling pretty good about the looks I was getting. Yes, I thought, I'm one hot momma.
Well, I didn't think that exactly. But I did feel pretty, confident, and young.
Then I happened to look down at my shirt (okay, I was trying to gauge how much I needed to suck in my chili-and-cornbread-belly so people wouldn't think it was a baby bump)--and I had to laugh.
I had big splatters of chili all over it. No wonder I was getting looks....
I have had more of those moments recently. I will be feeling good about how I look, and then I'll go into the bathroom and see that my scarf has gotten all crooked, or I accidentally rubbed the eyeliner off half of one eye, or I only have one earring...or, worst of all, I have some little tiny crust of something right at the tip of my nostril. And then I'm deflated.
But I think moments like these are incredibly important. When I saw what a mess I was tonight, I was reminded of the evening I spent watching my kids try something new for them (but an old family tradition I grew up with--cornbread in a glass of milk), and I knew where my place was. My place is not out in a singles bar or turning heads at a grocery store. It's in my home, eating chili and cornbread with my kids after a day of apple picking and wagon rides.
My place is walking along the lake shore on a blustery fall day, even if it means walking into work with a crooked scarf and crusty leftovers in my nostril.
We are real people. We are not poster images. When we walk to the pharmacy, we are telling the world a story about who we are and how we lived our lives that day. Tonight, I told people that I ate a big meal and didn't feel the need to change my messy clothes in order to please them. I told people that I spent the day outside and got a funny tan line from my scarf and sunglasses.
I bet people envied me.
What story will you tell when you walk out the door tomorrow?
Well, I didn't think that exactly. But I did feel pretty, confident, and young.
Then I happened to look down at my shirt (okay, I was trying to gauge how much I needed to suck in my chili-and-cornbread-belly so people wouldn't think it was a baby bump)--and I had to laugh.
I had big splatters of chili all over it. No wonder I was getting looks....
I have had more of those moments recently. I will be feeling good about how I look, and then I'll go into the bathroom and see that my scarf has gotten all crooked, or I accidentally rubbed the eyeliner off half of one eye, or I only have one earring...or, worst of all, I have some little tiny crust of something right at the tip of my nostril. And then I'm deflated.
But I think moments like these are incredibly important. When I saw what a mess I was tonight, I was reminded of the evening I spent watching my kids try something new for them (but an old family tradition I grew up with--cornbread in a glass of milk), and I knew where my place was. My place is not out in a singles bar or turning heads at a grocery store. It's in my home, eating chili and cornbread with my kids after a day of apple picking and wagon rides.
My place is walking along the lake shore on a blustery fall day, even if it means walking into work with a crooked scarf and crusty leftovers in my nostril.
We are real people. We are not poster images. When we walk to the pharmacy, we are telling the world a story about who we are and how we lived our lives that day. Tonight, I told people that I ate a big meal and didn't feel the need to change my messy clothes in order to please them. I told people that I spent the day outside and got a funny tan line from my scarf and sunglasses.
I bet people envied me.
What story will you tell when you walk out the door tomorrow?
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Talent Redefined--The Classy Boy Group
Boy Bands. What a brilliant marketing strategy it was to take the concept of actually playing an instrument out of the word "band" and find pretty boys to dance in sync (yeah, I just went there) on stage instead. Now, I grew up with New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, NSYNC--all of which provided a light-hearted soundtrack for my childhood and adolescence.
But...if I had to choose a "boy band" for my daughter to follow, I would choose the fine young gentlemen of Il Volo. I don't know if any of these boys play instruments or not, so I will refer to them as a "group"--a classy boy group. I heard them on NPR today and had to come home and Google them--and I was shocked by how young they are! Their voices conjured images of thirty-year-old men, when really they are not out of teen years yet. Speaking of teens, I wonder if these boys were ever teased about the type of music they sang.
At any rate, I definitely think these guys deserve to be on my "Talent Redefined" list, not only for the quality of their voices and heavenly harmonies, but because they know what "class" means on stage.
But...if I had to choose a "boy band" for my daughter to follow, I would choose the fine young gentlemen of Il Volo. I don't know if any of these boys play instruments or not, so I will refer to them as a "group"--a classy boy group. I heard them on NPR today and had to come home and Google them--and I was shocked by how young they are! Their voices conjured images of thirty-year-old men, when really they are not out of teen years yet. Speaking of teens, I wonder if these boys were ever teased about the type of music they sang.
At any rate, I definitely think these guys deserve to be on my "Talent Redefined" list, not only for the quality of their voices and heavenly harmonies, but because they know what "class" means on stage.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Talent Redefined--Oh, Billy!
Remember this kid?
I saw him live one summer, probably the same year as this video, and I was totally blown away by his stage presence. He was so cute, confident, and charismatic.
And then I never heard from him again.
Billy Gilman. A child star growing up out of the limelight because he didn't do anything shocking enough to make it onto a magazine cover. He had a beautiful voice, his had a hit song or two, and then he did what so many wholesome young stars are not able to do: he stayed true to himself. He didn't sell out. And his family/friends/agents didn't sell him out, either.
Instead of crossing over from country to pop and making videos with little half-naked teeny boppers batting their eyes and grinding on him, he got involved with the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Here he is in 2008, a few years older and even cuter than he was when he was twelve:
I love that he chose to use his talent for something like this. Now you might be wondering what he's up to today, right? Well, putting this together:
Say what you will about Billy's songs, charity compilations, or country music in general--you can't deny that Billy Gilman exemplifies the redefinition of using talent for gain. Even if you put aside the fact that he is using his talent to raise money for people who don't have the resources to provide for themselves, he still deserves more exposure and recognition because he's just plain talented. Consistent on-pitch vocals, engaging stage presence, he's got it all.
More Billy Gilman vids:
http://youtu.be/MIWU7fhxThA
http://youtu.be/Q5dqAoEsURg
http://youtu.be/wXWNLRenWv0
http://youtu.be/ggs-X_HJvtY
I saw him live one summer, probably the same year as this video, and I was totally blown away by his stage presence. He was so cute, confident, and charismatic.
And then I never heard from him again.
Billy Gilman. A child star growing up out of the limelight because he didn't do anything shocking enough to make it onto a magazine cover. He had a beautiful voice, his had a hit song or two, and then he did what so many wholesome young stars are not able to do: he stayed true to himself. He didn't sell out. And his family/friends/agents didn't sell him out, either.
Instead of crossing over from country to pop and making videos with little half-naked teeny boppers batting their eyes and grinding on him, he got involved with the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Here he is in 2008, a few years older and even cuter than he was when he was twelve:
I love that he chose to use his talent for something like this. Now you might be wondering what he's up to today, right? Well, putting this together:
Say what you will about Billy's songs, charity compilations, or country music in general--you can't deny that Billy Gilman exemplifies the redefinition of using talent for gain. Even if you put aside the fact that he is using his talent to raise money for people who don't have the resources to provide for themselves, he still deserves more exposure and recognition because he's just plain talented. Consistent on-pitch vocals, engaging stage presence, he's got it all.
More Billy Gilman vids:
http://youtu.be/MIWU7fhxThA
http://youtu.be/Q5dqAoEsURg
http://youtu.be/wXWNLRenWv0
http://youtu.be/ggs-X_HJvtY
Humble Artistry
I came across this blog via Facebook, and this post really caught my attention:
"Collaborating with a 4-year-Old"
(http://busymockingbird.com/2013/08/27/collaborating-with-a-4-year-old/)
I love unpretentious art. I recently wandered through a local museum and found myself wondering why some art is considered "masterful", while other pieces may be obviously amateurish. I mean, I have done some things in a sketchbook with watercolor that I thought were really interesting to look at. Not refined, certainly, but interesting. Like this:
I actually do think it's pretty childish when I look at it. But what's wrong with childish art? Art is a window into how the artist views the world. And I'm all for anything that promotes and produces empathy.
So, getting back to this blog post I read, I just loved the writer's confession that sharing a sketchpad with a four-year-old was not easy. I feel the same way when my daughter and I are coloring together, and she suddenly wants to color on my page. I have worked so hard to stay in the lines and have even accomplished some nice shading (hard to do with crayons), and here she comes with her wild, scribbling hand. With neon orange, no less.
But the writer of this post was able to move beyond that initial ownership into co-ownership. And the art that came out of the collaboration is really interesting. Some will love it and see it as innovative and insightful, and others will feel uncomfortable looking at it. I think it's really great. I love that an artist was able to redefine what kind of art was "good" enough to make it into her sketchbook and on her blog.
We should all open those areas of our lives where we want to control the finished product...and let the 4-year-old in. The result will most likely be something you never could have thought of, and it will most definitely be something interesting. And that's really more than we usually get.
"Collaborating with a 4-year-Old"
(http://busymockingbird.com/2013/08/27/collaborating-with-a-4-year-old/)
I love unpretentious art. I recently wandered through a local museum and found myself wondering why some art is considered "masterful", while other pieces may be obviously amateurish. I mean, I have done some things in a sketchbook with watercolor that I thought were really interesting to look at. Not refined, certainly, but interesting. Like this:
I actually do think it's pretty childish when I look at it. But what's wrong with childish art? Art is a window into how the artist views the world. And I'm all for anything that promotes and produces empathy.
So, getting back to this blog post I read, I just loved the writer's confession that sharing a sketchpad with a four-year-old was not easy. I feel the same way when my daughter and I are coloring together, and she suddenly wants to color on my page. I have worked so hard to stay in the lines and have even accomplished some nice shading (hard to do with crayons), and here she comes with her wild, scribbling hand. With neon orange, no less.
But the writer of this post was able to move beyond that initial ownership into co-ownership. And the art that came out of the collaboration is really interesting. Some will love it and see it as innovative and insightful, and others will feel uncomfortable looking at it. I think it's really great. I love that an artist was able to redefine what kind of art was "good" enough to make it into her sketchbook and on her blog.
We should all open those areas of our lives where we want to control the finished product...and let the 4-year-old in. The result will most likely be something you never could have thought of, and it will most definitely be something interesting. And that's really more than we usually get.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)