My undoing?

"I really appreciate your honesty and transparency. It's so refreshing!"

"Thank you for being so honest. I really appreciate it."

I used to hear comments like these a lot. I am the person who waits to be asked "How are you?" just so I can answer. I love to talk about myself, I love to be "real", I open myself up to people right off the bat if I get that trustworthy vibe from them (which I need to be more careful about). And many people have thanked me for it.

Not so here in the Philippines.

Here, I offend. I am the foreigner. I scare potential household helpers away at interviews because I'm "too honest" about the stress I'm under to keep the house clean and the family intact. I alienate neighbors because I don't act like a typical ma'am. I try to strike up conversations with people who clearly feel uncomfortable about me breaking from the conversational script in any given social interaction. I thought that by being vulnerable and humble and open I would make fast connections to people here, but the complex cultural histories at play and the infuriating fact that I wasn't able to pick up the entire language upon arrival (infuriating because I am supposed to be a linguistic genius) have built up a higher, stronger wall than I was expecting to be faced with.

So, I'm lonely.

And I'm losing my identity. I'm not part of a loving, supportive community where I get affirmation and kudos and gentle challenges. I'm not part of any community at all. I have always considered myself to be fairly independent, not needing to be with other people but choosing to. But I'm lost here without the safety net of having true supportive friendships to fall into when I doubt myself. And here, I live in self-doubt.

I have been told by a Filipina that I shouldn't be so honest and straightforward. I have been told not to open myself up to people here because they will either run away or take advantage. How do I make friends here then? I can vent with other expats, I can find guides to point me to resources I need in the city, and I can be prayed for at any church I visit. But these people will not be friends.

Never mind friends--how do I feel comfortable in my own skin? Or do I? Is that something I forfeited when I agreed to live cross-culturally?

Oh, the Horror!

Have you ever cleaned out a grease trap? I mean, a grease trap that hasn't been cleaned for a year? As of today, I have. Luckily it was dark under the sink, but from what I felt on my hands I imagine it looked like this:

Add some roaches and maggots (those I did see, crawling out into the light), and you have the nightmare that was under my sink. Now, we're living in a rental house. The owners never informed us about this thing. I have never lived in a house with a grease trap, so it wasn't on my radar at all. But the smell under my sink had gotten so bad, I had to get to the bottom of it.

Two hours later, I had black gunk up to my elbows, bacteria coating my lungs (I'm sure), and another notch on my "cockroaches killed" belt.

I will have nightmares about this day for years to come.

Then, the fumigators came to the house with their rat trap cages and placed them in my ceilings. If I hear cages rattling I'm supposed to call them to come remove the trapped rats. And we have glue traps set for mice too, which apparently I'm supposed to "just fold over and toss in the garbage" when a mouse gets caught. Grrreeaaaat.

Tomorrow, I do toilets! Yippee!!

Everyone is telling me to get a "helper" (i.e. housekeeper), and now I see the necessity for it. In a house this size and a country this hot and humid I could literally spend all of my free time cleaning. Literally. But finding household help is not easy. You have to get someone who is trustworthy and comes recommended by someone you know and trust. Well, I don't know anyone here yet.

I did interview one woman, but apparently I "scared her off". Really. I was feeling her out, describing some of the dynamics with me and my kids and explaining why I need help in the mornings, and apparently the picture I painted left her imagining a crazy kid throwing knives at her. Also, I asked her how long she thought it would take to clean our house each time she came. "3 or 4 hours", she said. So when I asked her to come work for us I named the hours she had described. But when I asked for four hours a day, that was considered an unrealistic expectation.

So, I won't get her, or anyone she knows, as a helper.

I've asked all around, but no referrals are coming in yet. In the meantime, my time really will be consumed cleaning this house. I don't even have the option of "letting it go" and putting it off. The bugs and rodents are too quick for that.

I feel disgusted...but as I reflect on other places I've lived, I realize that cleanliness and convenience are not as --

--sorry, I lost my train of thought. I hear a cage rattling above me. Ewww.....--

What I'm trying to say is that the things I'm dealing with here (rodents, clogged toilets, mildew, roaches, toxic grease traps, maggots in the trash) are not unique to this new land I live in. People have always had to share living space with critters and clean up after their physical needs. I guess the difference for me, personally, is that in my former life I could call someone or buy a product to take care of the problem such that I didn't have to see it, feel it, smell it or think of it. Here, I will be more hands-on and nose-in.

I hope my stomach is strong enough.

One thing--the smells and bugs and cleaning issues are so much a part of daily life here that I don't have to make any apologies for the state of my home or the smell of the trash. People here don't even register those things. Actually, today I as I was dumping my black water out in the front of the house, I was glad that the construction workers at the house next door were watching me get so dirty and sweaty. I almost wanted to go bum a cigarette off one of them and join them on their break. (Not really. I don't smoke. Just to be clear.) I wanted to say "See? I'm not a spoiled American 'ma'am'. I'm not here to hire help and look down on the country. I'm one of you! I clean my own grease trap!"

Okay, I have to go to bed. This rattling cage is really giving me the creeps. I have to get that fumigator back here first thing in the morning.

I'll clean a grease trap (once, but never again), but I won't dispose of my own rats.

Hot and gross. Too hot to think of a catchy title.

It's hot in the Philippines. All the time. And humid. All the time. This picture is pretty much my look now. All the time. Lovely isn't it?!

All the things I feared would happen here, do: my eyebrows melt off halfway through the day, my eyeliner smears and streaks, my clothes stink, my head sweats...not a pretty picture.

I got used to being pretty for awhile. I felt like I was getting the hang of making up my face to look like I had natural brows and lashes. I fit into my clothes well. Here, I've lost so much weight from the lack of gluten-free diet options that my clothes hang on me. I know, you're thinking "What's wrong with that?! I wish I had that problem?"...but it means I'm hungry a lot, and when you're bald you don't also want to look super thin. Besides--I've still got my baby tummy. :)

Anyway, the funny thing here is that I have totally stopped caring. When guys come over to do repairs on the house we're renting, I don't go check my makeup. When I go shopping, I don't put perfume on earrings on. Because, by the way, scents mixed with sweat and bug spray are just not okay, and for whatever reason I can't wear any of my earrings now without my ears getting infected.

So I'm finding myself without all of the beauty aids I was relying on. I feel ugly, frail, smelly, greasy (yes, I've had to go back to using Clearasil again here because my face sweats so much), washed out and just totally unfeminine. But I really don't care.

Life is so much harder here than in the US that suddenly appearances don't really mean much to me. Survival means more. I have this feeling that I'm here temporarily and have to "rough it" for awhile until I come home. Who knows how long "temporarily" will be, but the attitude is working for me so far. Luckily I have no occasions where I need to step it up and look nice in any way. At least, I haven't yet. For now, "hot and gross" is the new me!
Maybe this is the freedom I've needed.

Halloween Redefined (slightly)

Yes, I am finally writing again, post-move. How do I begin to catch you up on everything I've seen and felt in the last month and a half?!

I don't. I just start sharing stories.

So tonight I have to write about Halloween in the Philippines. I took my kids to a neighborhood where another expat family lives. They got us tickets. Yes, you have to buy tickets. My kids and I were as excited as we could be given that we were all melting in our costumes. But when we got there we didn't see much happening, and my daughter started to get anxious and disappointed. She expected that we would go, meet up with this family, and go together to ring doorbells. But here, the neighborhood puts on a "program". Everyone met up at the "clubhouse" and had pictures taken. Then we all started off as a big group for the "parade". Everyone went along a route together to the certain houses who had opted in for trick-or-treating.

My daughter wasn't having it. She just kept yelling "This isn't trick-or-treating! We shouldn't be going with all these people! I want to go alone!" I know, honey. So we hung to the back so we would feel like we were doing our own thing, but then several houses had run out of candy when we got there. Plus, the heat was forcing off costume accessories as we walked...Nothing I could do or say could make my daughter happy, which made me hurt so bad--especially because Halloween has always been a favorite of mine and we try to do a lot to make it special.

After trick-or-treating we went back to the clubhouse for the program, which involved a magician and a screening of Michael Jackson's Thriller", dubbed "The World's Greatest Music Video", followed by a "Thriller" dance contest. The star of the show here though was the food. My daughter walked in and saw ice cream, marshmallows, red popcorn, hot dogs on sticks with marshmallows (scroll down a bit on this blog post to see) and a chocolate fountain. Suddenly this was "the best Halloween ever"! Forget the distress of the first 80% of the night.

Afterwards I brought the kids home to our own neighborhood, where I put my son to bed and let my daughter go out again with kids here. I had to. The neighborhood was blaring the theme from "Ghostbusters" all night long and one house had purple strobe lights. A kid gets curious. The system here was the same, but this time she was ready for it: everyone gathered down at the communal basketball court (really just a concrete pad which doubles as a parking lot) and then went out all together to each house. She loved it.

I just think it's so interesting how circumstances can feel so bad, and then something very small can change our outlook completely and we end up with a memory of pure joy. I didn't like our first trick-or-treating experience here either, but I did feel good about our neighborhood tonight. As I was waiting for the kids to get up to me, I was outside watching and listening for them and I ended up talking with a guy who is doing work at the house next door (the workers apparently sleep out on this concrete pad at night while they're here because they are sort of migrant workers). It was a great conversation, especially given the language barrier, and I felt like Esther was making major inroads with kids in the neighborhood. It turned out to be a nice night after all.

Oh yeah--so I won't tell you all that I had to go through to get my daughter's costume put together. The wig was this big issue in and of itself. And my daughter spent the entire night without it because of the heat. This is definitely not a wig-friendly country (more on that later). So at the start of the evening I really wanted to throw some fits like my eight-year-old was. But suddenly everything changed. For me the turning point was standing outside my house and seeing a couple stars overhead, listening to this classic song from my past, and knowing that my daughter was having a great time. In our Filipino neighborhood.

Get on up there...

Challenged by my daughter and cousin to get on the trampoline, what could I do? I had not been on a tramp since I was about fifteen, but my daughter was learning to do flips. Surely I could manage a seat bounce.

I had to take my scarf off though. I knew it would go flying, and that is infinitely more embarrassing than taking it off of my own volition.

My cousin's daughter didn't bat an eye! She was more concerned about my jumping technique (which was pretty rusty).

Now, a few years ago I would not have gotten on that tramp. I would have been afraid of falling off, afraid of making a fool of myself. Now, I just want to have a little fun, do my best, and say I did something.

It's the same with my bald head. A few years ago, I would never have done something that required me to take my scarf off in front of people. Now, I just don't care. Feeling the sun and wind on my head is way better than sweating under a scarf cap.

Life is good when you lose inhibitions. Get on up there.

Getting there?

I feel a certain kind of freedom these days. I'm not working, I'm worn out from preparing for this overseas move, and I'm suffering from allergies. But I feel free from the need to look pretty and put-together when I leave the house! I seldom wear earrings, I throw on whatever clothes are not packed away, and I haven't replaced my black eyeliner pencil in a couple months. I've gone on errands bald and I never have shoes that match my outfit. This is the freedom I've aspired to for a long time.

But I've realized that not caring is not the same as being free. Just because I don't care about how I look doesn't mean I've accepted and come to love how I look. But I don't feel bad about myself, just the same. Maybe this situation, by which I mean being 75% packed for a move and having pressing issues to resolve before we go, is giving me the practice I need. It's actually not difficult to live my life without looking my best all the time. Fancy that.

Maybe I am growing into a certain kind of acceptance. Maybe, in this transition time, I'm realizing that I can live with, and enjoy, a lot less than I thought.

This could be just the stepping stone I need to move to a stage of love and preference for a more natural expression of who I am and how I have grown out of my culture's standards of beauty.

Are They Real?

(https://disneyland.disney.go.com/entertainment/disneyland/fantasy-faire/)

A few weeks ago, my eight-year-old daughter was at a drama camp where the kids acted out the movie Frozen. At the end of the week, the "real" Elsa came! My daughter kept asking me if she was really real. What could I say? I kept asking her what she thought. When "Elsa" showed up, I could tell that my daughter was really looking closely and trying to reconcile the differences she saw between the movie character and this real life princess. She concluded that this was, indeed, the real Elsa who lives in Disneyland, with all the other real princesses. They don't look like their cartoon-selves, for some reason she can't quite articulate, but they are really real.

I'm not sure what to say to all this. I know kids need a little magic now and then, but where do I draw the line? So far, I've tried to hedge: "Yes, there are people in Disneyland who get to be princesses while they're there...for a little while...at least, they get to look like princesses..."

My daughter insists they're real. They live there. And now she is determined for us to move to Florida to be close to the princesses.

I admit I'm very inconsistent about on the princess issue. One day I'm belting out "Let It Go" in the car, one day I'm refusing to buy Princess band-aids because "they're not dressed appropriately". And my daughter has, unfortunately, gotten more and more obsessed with them.

The Princess Question continues to confound me. I wonder how popular the Disney Princesses are in the Philippines? As we prepare to move there, I find myself wanting to stock up on Princess movies to ease the transition for my daughter. But my husband, like many fathers (I'm guessing), has had it.

My comfort is that my daughter has not asked to wear makeup, is not boy crazy, still won't let me wash or brush her hair without a fight, and wants to grow up to be not a princess, but "an ice-cream maker and seller". Which is its own issue...

Here I Go

I'm back. I hate getting this behind on the blog, but in my defense I've had a few things going on that needed to take priority. The first was a trip to California, where my husband and I paused from life to honor our marriage of ten years. It was a beautiful few days in Santa Barbara. I will share one "alopecia moment" from that: On our last day, which happened to be my 33rd birthday(!), we went hiking in the Santa Ynez mountains.

 

The hike was amazing...and hot. I had my little hat/scarf thingy but took it off shortly after starting. The mountain breeze, when there was one, felt so good on my head. But twice we heard people approaching from the other direction, and I freaked out a little. I hurried to put my hat/scarf thingy back on before we crossed paths with any other hikers and then took it off again after they passed. What a silly thing to do! I just didn't want to face people bald. I have no idea why.

Then, on the way down, I tripped over a tree root and took a pretty nasty fall. I came the rest of the way down with bloody knees, a red, sweaty face, and black dirt all over me. We didn't see any other people the whole way down...until the trailhead, where a group of very cool mountain bikers were beginning the climb. I was so embarrassed. I tried to walk directly behind my husband so no one would see. And then, all of a sudden I got gutsy. Maybe I was empowered by these bikers who were taking on an impossibly steep and rocky trail, but I suddenly thought that maybe, just maybe, I might look like an intense hiker who really hit the trail hard core. Maybe I sported a shaved head by choice. And wow, I'm definitely not afraid to get dirty. I must have gone "off-road". That image of myself got me out from behind my hubby's back!

It wasn't so cool though when I had to go into a pharmacy down in the town and ask for bandages and a washroom. I was quite a sight.

ANYway...the other thing occupying my time lately has been preparation for a huge move. I'm moving overseas in September (AAAHHHHH!!!!) and I had to hit the ground running after getting back from California. Passports, banks, realtors, all that. Speaking of passports, here's another "alopecia" moment. I had two sets of passport photos taken: one bald, and one with a scarf. I read that your picture should reflect how you normally look, but that hats and such were not allowed. When I was submitting the application, I tried to get them to use my scarf photo. The guy asked "Is it religious?" Honestly, I was tempted there...but I said no, it's medical.

So my passport will be illustrated with my beautiful bald head. At least I got to keep my scarf on when I renewed my driver's license....

Caring More for Shade

Do you know the story of Jonah? From the Bible? Jonah warned a city full of bad people that if they didn't get it together and change their ways they would be destroyed. They did change, and God showed mercy. Jonah didn't think they deserved it though. He sat and waited to watch the city burn, and he got hot. He complained with depth of feeling about how hot he was and how the shade tree God had made to cool him off had withered, thus failing to serve its purpose. God pointed out to Jonah that he was way more bothered at the prospect of losing his shade than that of an entire city of fellow human beings being put to death.

Today is World Day Against Child Labor. While researching it enough to ease my conscience and post some websites to Facebook as a concerned world citizen, I realized that one of my earrings was missing. One half of my favorite pair:

 

I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself to think of the children in forced labor around the world. But it remained in the back of my mind.

 

Favorite earrings vs. empathy for suffering. I think earrings won.

 

 I found the earring later on the floor. But not until I had been out running around with no earrings on, which is a big deal for someone with no hair trying to look feminine. This sounds incredibly stupid now that I'm writing it, but it just goes to show how easy it is to care about the wrong things. The trivial things. The self-centered things.

 

I need to allow the needs of others to matter more and stir my thoughts and guts more than a lost accessory. Sounds trite, but it's so simple that it signifies a great truth.

 

I know I sound pretty hard on myself, but this matters. I'm not going to sit in guilt, but I am going to do what I can: I will try, as I've tried before and failed to maintain, to check the origin of products I buy to make sure I'm not contributing to abusive labor practices. And I will practice feeling. I will practice empathy. I will notice my reactions.

 



Learning

So, I'm pretty discouraged by the permanent makeup thing. I can't find an aesthetician whose portfolio I really like. I am coming back to the reason I never did permanent makeup before: I feel like I would be stuck with one shape that wouldn't always look good to me. And I don't like the solid color brows, nor do I like the attempt at making them look like individual hairs. I can't get over my snobbish feeling that they look fake. I have seen nice ones online, but not the ones I'm looking at in my area. Is that possible? Am I being too picky?

No! This is a big deal! I'm doing this, after all, to be more confident. If I can't find a design I like, then I'm not going to do it.

There is one guy whose work looks good, but he was a jerk on the phone and he's way expensive. So right now I'm feeling like I don't want to take this step. I actually really enjoy choosing different shapes and colors. And I have learned a lot through years of drawing them on. Here's what I typically did four years ago:

(Look at my beautiful sister!)

 

Those aren't terrible, but they're not shaped very well. Now, even after having a tattoo artist draw her practice eyebrows on me, I have learned to follow my brow bones. And I have learned that perfect symmetry is not possible, nor is it necessary.

 

Here's what I drew today:

 

A little more of a shapely arch so I don't look I'm worried all the time (that's how I look in the top photo, I think). Subtle differences make all the difference. I'm also learning that I don't need to get my eyeliner right on the edge of the eyelid. That just irritates my eyes. I can draw the line a little lower. The line doesn't have to be so close that you can't see my skin. It should look like this:

 

I can practice a thinner line. (Wow, the brow in this picture looks pretty good. Too bad this place is not close to where I live. My worry is that the "hair" lines would look more like stitches than hair though.) The key to reproducing this myself is a think pencil/pen. I need to work on this...

 

Maybe I'm fooling myself, still. Maybe I think I'm doing a good job drawing brows on, but other people are thinking "Hmm, she needs help with those." Drawing your own eyebrows on is a vulnerable act. People will see you and know you hand-crafted your "look", attempting to replace what nature meant but disease stole. And people will have opinions and judgments. Not all people, but some. I'm not an artist or aesthetician, but I have to pretend to be every morning.

 

Which is why I usually do my semi-permanent tattoos from Beauty-Full Brows. But still, I have to figure out how and where to place them. Look world, here is my attempt at art.

 

I will get better. For now, I worry more about whether heat and moisture or a careless touch of the hand will erase my carefully crafted brows than the shape. Although I did just learn that I need to hold the temporary tattoos on for 3 minutes, not 1 like I have been doing. Maybe now they'll stay on longer...

 

But I do know that as of right now I feel more peace about keeping this up than getting a cosmetic tattoo. 

Fools Rush In

For the past month or so, I have been looking into permanent makeup. I have had so many people get excited for me and encourage me to go for it. So, I made an appointment and went in today.

Before I tell you how it turned out, I want to dig into the reasons for doing it. The main impetus was that I'm just tired of being ugly. There, I said it. I don't feel ugly during the day. I only feel ugly at night when I have to take off all the makeup, and then in the morning before I put my face back on. I'm so disgusted with how I look at those times that I can't look my husband in the eye. I can't post before and after photos of makeup because I can't bear the thought of people seeing the "before" and thinking, "Wow, she looks weird/sick/bad/etc.".

Another reason for taking this step is because I hate worrying about my eyebrows rubbing off if I wear a hat, go swimming, sweat, forget about them and scratch an itch, get stressed and rub my temples, etc. I thought permanent makeup would solve a lot of those problems.

So, I went in today with a friend and spent an hour getting the brows drawn on. Here's what my lady came up with:

But...

When it came time to fire up the machine, she noted that her power cord was broken. I was told I would have to reschedule.

Weirdness...she knew the cord was about to go and had ordered a new one that was due to come in next week, but didn't reschedule my appointment, nor did she check the machine before we got started. I will not be going back there.

Needless to say, I was horribly disappointed. I had finally gotten myself mentally prepared to do this, and it didn't happen.

But if I'm honest, I have to admit that I have had misgivings throughout this whole process. I am afraid of getting stuck with a shape that I end up disliking after a week. I'm afraid they will be crooked. I'm afraid they will look really...fake. And truthfully, when I went in to this place today I saw a photo book of this woman's work (which was not shown to me last week at my consultation) and I didn't like what I saw. It didn't look like what I had seen on the webpage. I had decided today to just do eyeliner, but I had her draw the eyebrows on anyway. She reassured me about the realistic look she could create (which I did see after all in one photo).

But all along I have not really believed that this would actually happen. It's just not me. I may look at other places; I already called one guy whose website I loved, but he was a conceited jerk over the phone. But in the end I will probably decide to just get eyeliner done and wait on the brows. I was going to "go for it" before I lost my nerve, but now I'm glad I am forced to take a step back and think about what I really want. I like changing the shape and color of my brows. I need to do more research on artists in the area.

Until I take the next steps, I have to accept who I am, what I look like, and what my husband says about how he sees me. This self-image stuff goes so deep, y'all.

Permission to Dress Your Self

I used to think it was shallow to think about clothes too much. In recent years I have wavered between wanting to focus on inner beauty while rebelling against a cultural emphasis on outward appearance and the contrasting desire to take care of my appearance as a way to gain confidence and assert my place in a world that often doesn't recognize my particular brand of beauty (ie, baldness).

But...I think I am at the place now where I see my outward appearance as one expression of my creative tastes. I find pleasure in coordinating colors and accessorizing, and I feel like it's okay now. In my mind, I mean. I give myself permission to either buy new clothes (usually new for me, but worn before) and put thought into nice-looking outfits, or...not. Or be somewhere in between.

In the picture above, I happened to really like what I had put together that day, so I thought I'd share. Maybe it will give you a new idea for your own artistic creation!

Khaki colored skinny pants (not jeans, but not leggings--what are these called?), loose-fitting white tank, navy cardigan, navy and white bandana (which, incidentally, has the design of a turtle because I got it at a charity race), and a brown beaded necklace with a copper leaf pendant that I made at a beading boutique. I loved this outfit because a) I wore an autumn necklace in the spring just because I love the color, b) I mixed dressy with sporty with hipster, and c) because one of my favorite color combinations is blue and brown.

Anyway, this outfit was not difficult to throw together, nor did it attract any attention, nor did it cost much. But it made me feel good to be aware of the details I had intentionally put together in ways that maybe other people wouldn't have.

Cryyyyyin'

This is how I wish I looked when I'm crying. Beautiful, tragic, damsel-in-distress, dark but still lovely. (I got this image from a Google search and it credited www.goodreads.com, but I couldn't find the original.)

Instead, both because I'm bald and because I'm older and stressed out all the time, this is what I look like when I cry:

Not the look I'm going for when I'm trying to get pity from someone. I guess the wrinkles and the lack of hair to hide them are what bother me here. And this is not the worst of it. This is my impression of myself crying.

Just another way that dressed up images I see influence my own reality and make me wish that I were someone else. What a tragedy that I deny my own lived experience based on my skewed version of what a beautiful person looks like.

Well, this is what I look like when I cry. I have to live with it. I'm sure no one is repulsed. When I cry, my heart is spilling out. I hope that becomes more important to me than wondering how I look to the person I'm crying to.

Guest Spot: Redefining the Home Workout

I want to post something a little different today. Many of us want to be in shape and healthy but are intimidated by going to a gym (or find other excuses not to). This article gives tips on how to create a home workout program that really fits your needs and feels good! I know I sound like an infomercial--I'm not trying to. I mostly want to expand the topics addressed on this blog, get you to share it, and give a plug for Healthline, because they have really helpful articles on everything from depression to GI issues to camel-borne diseases.

So please enjoy!

(Disclaimer: I was sent this article in November 2013. Embarrassingly, I didn't get my butt in gear to post it until now.)

Healthline: https://www.facebook.com/healthlinenetworks

Replace that Gym Membership with an At-Home Program

 

It’s a breeze to design a home gym or program, and save a ton of money in the process. Working out doesn’t have to be expensive, nor does it require sophisticated equipment.  You might even be surprised that everything that will help you get in shape can be found right in your home.

 

Working out at home is certainly more convenient. Getting up and being able to work out right away without getting ready and driving to the gym is an enormous time saver.  Sometimes the routine of getting dressed in your workout gear and traveling to the gym can take an hour out of the day… and that doesn’t even include the workout itself.  Working out at home gets it done without even thinking about it. All you need is 30-minutes a day to fit in that everyday fitness session.

Aerobic Exercises

Before you do anything, you need a good pair of athletic shoes.  Jogging around the neighborhood in the morning is outstanding for your cardiovascular health, and is plenty for your daily exercise regimen.  If jogging isn’t your thing, a good jump rope is equally as challenging, and provides the same benefits as sprinting intervals. Swimming, walking and even using your stairs will also work.  Using the steps in your home, also called step training, will tone your leg muscles and give you some low impact aerobic exercise as well. If you don't have any stairs, just walk around the house several times. 5000 steps is 2.5 miles of walking.  And 10,000 steps….you guessed it...5 miles.

 

Equipment-Free Muscle Strengthening and Toning

 

In addition to cardiovascular exercises, strength training is key for optimal fitness, and once again, you can achieve this right in the comfort of your home without equipment. Squats are great for the buttocks and legs. You can do squats simply by sitting and standing up in reputation from a regular chair. As long as you’re able to do a few repetitions, you will be providing some benefit to your lower body and your core. Jumping Jacks really give you a good leg burn as well as providing some great cardio training.  Finally, leg lifts are outstanding for strengthening your quads and hamstrings. 

 

Crunches are the best exercise for building up and strengthening abdominal muscles. Do these so you begin to feel the stretching of the muscles. And if you want to add a little additional weight to your reps, locate some household items like milk gallons or soup cans.  These will provide you enough weight to tax those muscle fibers.

 

For the upper body, a staple exercise is the pushup. This exercise literally works every upper-body muscle from your torso to your arms, chest, back and shoulders. And even though this exercise might not be for everyone, varying methods of this exercise are easier and provide fantastic strength training.  For example, do pushups against a wall or on your knees, instead of keeping your legs straight. 

 

When to Use Equipment

 

If you really want to use equipment, you can buy a workout machine and station it in your living room or in the garage. You can get a lot of exercises from all-purpose machines like the Total Body Workout brand and the Nautilus brand.  These type of machines will do it all. A small set of dumbbells or a kettlebell are also nice to have for isolating those arm muscles and working your core, and an exercise ball can be helpful when you want to stretch, do ab workouts or even yoga.

Fitting in some daily exercise is crucial for your lasting wellness, and being able to do it at home is a huge time saver. You don’t need to go out and join a fitness club or buy expensive equipment. Use what you have in your house, and work out at home. 

 

If you want to invest in an all-purpose strength machines, there are plenty of people selling their used machines.  You can find a ton of these on eBay or Craigslist. Having a home gym is easy and convenient.  You’ll be more likely to keep up with fitness if you don’t have to spend a lot of time getting ready for it or traveling to it. Additionally, working out while being comfortable in your own home will provide you motivation to maintain a steady routine without quickly losing interest, or being intimidated by the gym.

 

 

 

David Novak is a syndicated newspaper columnist, appearing in newspapers, magazines, radio and TV around the world. His byline has appeared in several national publications including USA Today, Reader’s Digest and Newsweek. David is a specialist in the areas of  health, exercise, diet and wellness, and he is a regular contributing editor for Healthline. For more information, visit http://www.healthline.com/.

 

 

 

Let your bald down...

"Mommy, why does Elsa let her hair down?"

Yes, why does she? A woman who wants to be "free" always lets her hair down. It's coiled up tight, restricted, and then with one swift move it cascades out and is flung about by a carefree wind. 8

I wish I knew what that feels like. For me, breaking free from expectations and being who I was meant to be looks more like unwrapping a scarf and throwing it into the wind, revealing a bald head.

Not quite the same effect.

The problem is that I need more visuals that reflect my experience. I need more "movie moments" in my head where a woman is standing bald and proud, letting the world see her skin instead of a wild rush of hair.

Maybe it's time for another photo shoot....

Baby, It's Me

 

Don't label people.

 

I don't know how else to begin except by jumping into this. Although the problem of "beauty in baldness" is my reason for this blog, I want to write about the problem that is really closest to my heart:

 

Mental illness.

 

If you suffer from a mental illness, you will be labeled. People will look at you and see nothing but your illness.

Everything will go through that filter. If you get angry, which you often will because any emotion you feel is attributed to your ill brain rather than your heart-felt experience, any action you take based on that anger will be seen as exaggerated, and if you really lose your temper as many people do, those actions will be seen as dangerous, threatening, possibly psychotic. Never mind that many people lose their temper; yours is to be feared.

If you cry, you are over-emotional. If you lose your temper with your child, who by the way is physically attacking you in a temper tantrum out of his or her control due to another illness, you are not to be trusted to care for your child.

No doubt, a mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder) really does change how you view the world and your power within it. But people struggling bravely with mental illness have as much right to express emotion as people struggling with mere "normal life". In fact, I would argue that we "crazy" people are more in tune with ourselves than those who have no idea what mental illness feels like.

But labelling us and predicting that we will lose control? That gets into our psyche and tells us that we will, in fact, lose control. That we can't, in fact, be trusted.

I really have a hard time believing caring people who tell me that the struggles in my life and family are not all my fault. Instead, I keep trying to find new therapies, workbooks, projects and prayers that will finally "work" to get me well so that peace can be restored to my chaotic home and love to my dysfunctional relationships. But I've tried it all--individual counseling of all kinds, group therapy, prayer groups, girl's nights out, pills and more pills...and I still lose my temper and cry when I feel sad. Go figure.

So what else can I do? I don't know how else to make people see me and not my illness. Or my baldness. Or my teaching. Or any other one part of me. I am a whole. And my experience of life is real.

I feel like the tree in the picture up there. I am standing alone, looking at a world filled with life, activity, excitement, and potential for love. But I can't move from my spot, stuck by my roots. I will bloom and be beautiful, but then I will droop again when the season calls for it. And people will walk by, assuming I am bound by my nature.

This is how I'm feeling today, reeling after recent days of difficult circumstances and hurtful words carelessly thrown around by me and others. I have other days when I'm feeling like my spot near the city is sacred ground, where I have my shape and my purpose and my beautiful view, and that I provide a place where people can see beauty and gather and feel inspiration.

Both of those experiences are valid and part of me. Not to be feared, not to be labeled, not to be walled off. I, like everyone, want to be loved. I am learning to understand how I am loved by God. Understanding how to love myself so I can love others? Well, that's much harder.

But I will get there. We all can. That's the beauty of life--we are constantly blooming and maturing and changing. Even when the leaves fall to the ground, the process of creation is playing out how it should.





I'm prettier than...

We have got to stop with the comparative statements of beauty.

"She's prettier than me."
"I wish I had her hair."
"If I had her legs, I would get a lot more attention."
"Man, look at that guy's biceps. Maybe I should start working out."
"I wish I could afford to look like that."
"How many people in this room look better than me?"
"How many people in this room do I look better than?"

It never ends. We seem to have constructed a continuum of beauty that we place ourselves and others on. But who decided the parameters?

I'm not as pretty as her:

(Meteorite ring model)

But am I prettier than her?


I'll get to the website where I got the second picture in a minute. First, I want to say that this is crap. Yes, I buy it and make these comparisons in my head all the time. But they are crap! The first woman is beautiful, no question. She has been worked on and made to look exceptional. The second woman has not had any enhancements. But does that mean she's not pretty?

This picture comes from a really great blog in which the author asks this and other questions of great importance. Please go read it.

The next time you find yourself comparing your attractiveness to someone else's, try describing particular features of theirs. Look at their hair and describe it to yourself: "She/he has thick, curly hair of such-and-such color." Then, describe your own: "I have thick, straight hair of such-and-such color." Then ask questions: "My hair gets frizzy in humid weather. I wonder if hers does? It must, because humidity naturally changes certain physical elements, like hair. It's science. I wonder how many times she had to brush her hair? I brushed mine 25 times."

Then look at their eyes. "His eyes are clear blue. The sun changes them in such-and-such way. My eyes are dark brown. The sun changes them in such-and-such way. I wonder if that person is wearing contacts? I am not, but I often feel like squinting. I wonder if he ever has to squint? I bet he does."

What I'm getting at is that since we naturally compare ourselves to others, we should use less subjective language and look more objectively at the differences between people. They are just differences. Noses come in all different shapes. Sometimes, these shapes give information about where we come from. Sometimes, these shapes give information about what we spend our money on. We all have different shoulders. Again, these can give information about our work, our heritage, or our health issues. They are just differences.

Actually, it can be kind of fun to look at people this way. You might start seeing beauty in the variations of the human form. You might start seeing faces equalize on the "continuum". You might start appreciating your own features individually and as the whole they make up.

So, the first woman is beautiful, the second woman is beautiful, I am beautiful, and you are beautiful. Why? Because we came from God's imagination, and when we stop to think about our intricacies and the threads we represent in the human tapestry, we have no choice but to be moved and awed by the gift we are to the world. Without our unique features, the tapestry would have a little flaw.

We don't have flaws that make us unattractive. The flaw would be if we didn't take our place in the spectrum of human beauty. The difference between a continuum and a spectrum is that a continuum starts at one point and moves forward to a final point (i.e. ugliness to beauty), while a spectrum allows different shades to be displayed in relation to the ones nearest. We can notice similarities in our features to others in our ethnic group or fashion club and differences between ourselves and people who really do look and dress vastly different, but that kind of comparison does not necessitate one being superior or more advanced than another.

Food for thought.

What They're Missing

Alopecia has a ripple effect. First and obviously, it affected me. I lost my hair, I suffered trauma from that which has yet to be fully dealt with, I have to grit my teeth and face the world bald every day.

From there, my immediate family has been affected. Two examples: first, on the night we discovered the Photo Booth app on our iPad, my husband and I were sitting on the couch with his sister and brother-in-law, and we were trying out all the funny distortions. My bald head standing out so brightly as we pointed the camera at ourselves was just too much for me to take. I couldn't look at the pictures. Then, of course we had to do the funny kaleidoscope effect, so the image of my white skull was multiplied and magnified. And I was...horrified.

The other example is not an event but a realization. Scrolling through Facebook today, I saw that many friends of mine took Easter family photos and posted them over the last few days. My husband asked why we didn't take one. Now, I'm not the kind of person whose mind immediately goes to "Let's take a picture" whenever there is an occasion to dress up or a special event happening. But since I lost my hair, the idea of a family photo instills a little fear. How will I look? Will I ruin the picture, either because my head is so white and unnatural-looking or because my scarf doesn't fit the occasion? On Easter Sunday I wore a cute new (from a secondhand store) yellow lace dress with a navy cardigan and navy flats. I was so excited to have put a new Easter outfit together, for the first time in years, that I forgot to plan what I would wear on my head. On Easter morning, it hit me that I had no scarves to match my outfit. I really didn't want to wear a wig though, because I had to be up front at church and I didn't want people to be distracted by the fact that I suddenly had a great head of hair. I settled for a beige scarf that didn't match at all but didn't clash so bad that it hurt the eyes to look at.

But now our family has no Easter photo to post. There are a lot of family photos we haven't posted because I don't want to be in them.

Moving outward, my alopecia has affected extended family and friends, largely for the reasons mentioned above. But also, as the ripples spread out concentrically, every person I come in contact with is affected by my alopecia because it is confrontational. It forces people to hesitate when they regard me, trying to decide whether or not to ask about my scarf or bald head. It gives people pause when they begin to talk about their bad hair days or the celebrity whose hair they envy. It makes people uncomfortable, even if to a very small degree and even if only for a brief moment.

I have, for a long time, wanted to keep the pain of this disorder for myself. My alopecia has been mine alone to suffer from. I have denied those around me the opportunity to voice what they have lost or felt because of this thing that happened to me. But I think it might(?) help me to allow others to come inside my grief bubble and sit with me. It may be easier to get out of it with the strength of a crowd.

Still grief

So. Apparently losing my hair is taking longer to "get over" than I thought. A psychiatrist (not one I'm seeing for treatment) recently told me that losing my hair was a traumatic experience that I have probably not dealt with enough in order to get full emotional healing. I thought "Come on, it's been years now. I don't love it, but I've accepted it."

Except that it occupies my thoughts a good 90% of the day. Even when I'm thinking of or doing other things, I'm keenly aware that I am bald.

Also, I have noticed an increase in nasty thoughts when I see women with long hair. Thoughts like "Do they have to flaunt it?" or "Come on, you're not being original." I hate the long hair trend these days. Long and straight. Boring. Unfair. "How dare you think you're so beautiful just because you can grow this long mop of hair?" "I hope all that hair falls out."

See? Nasty thoughts. So clearly I'm not "over" my hair loss. When I sit back and take stock, I believe it to be responsible for a major discontent that has pervaded and touched so many aspects of my life. Sure, I have always struggled with discontent and depression. But alopecia has added an extra dose of bitterness. I think this has affected my goals for my future, my relationship with my kids, and my marriage. No--I know it has.

So, what to do? Pray on it? Return to weekly counseling? I'm not sure. This blog helps, but it hasn't been the journey I had expected when I started.

For now, I think all I am ready to do is recognize my hair loss as a major, life-changing event that has had a profound effect on my development and identity. I need to honor that somehow. I wish photos of myself with hair had been digital. Alas, they are all on film. But I've tried to get some of those pictures in the best light I could with my phone.

This is a step in my grief process I guess. Going back, looking at myself with hair, and realizing that I really miss it. Grieve with me.


My hair used to bounce and sway to music. I could feel it on my back and I felt like a dancing princess.

My hair was adventurous, doing its own thing while being faithful to who I was. 

My hair was part of my allure, something he could touch and get lost in. A softness to complement his tough exterior.

 

 



 My hair was sophisticated. Changes in my hairstyle brought me into new stages of womanhood.

 

My hair went places and made great pictures.

 



 

 

My hair was my crowning glory on my wedding day. I had never felt so beautiful, so angelic.

 

 

 

To go from that to this

 

 

was jarring, to say the least. And it continues to be jarring every time I look in the mirror. After six years I still can't believe this happened to me. I had cut my hair short just before I lost it all, and I had been going through two years of bad hair days...but it was better than this.

 

I grieve. 



 

 



Guest author: Redefining worthiness

Have you seen the new Noah movie? I can't recommend it...and yet I can't stop thinking about it. My husband has been talking about it non-stop for days since we saw it. He loves the theme of redemption. I want to share this bit of writing he did about the issue of worth--who is worth saving? Who is worth redeeming? Who is beautiful, and who is ugly? Read on and enjoy. And please comment.

"The Creator takes him home"--John T.

I don’t watch a lot of movies.  Maybe once every two months.  I go to the theater even less, probably about once a year.  So naturally, my wife and I went to see Noah the weekend it came out.

A lot can be said about the movie, but I’m not a movie critic, so I’ll say only a little.  Having arrived late and finding ourselves 20 feet away from a giant screen, through much of the movie I was mostly preoccupied with not getting a stiff neck.  Or more to the point, I was preoccupied with my wife not getting a stiff neck:   “Turn your neck, don’t get stiff” (out of compassion, of course, and not concerned about future physical therapy bills…). 

After the movie, for once Wendy and I agreed on something: this was not a good movie.  I’m not big on labels, but in the 30 second walk to the car, we lobbed “corny,” “obvious,” “violent,” and other negative adjectives to describe the film.  But then I started thinking about it more, and found reasons to like it (Wendy sighs).    

For me, the dominant theme in Noah is the tension between lawlessness, justice, and redemption.  There is Noah, our mixed protagonist/antagonist, certain that humanity is hopelessly evil and beyond redemption.  And the wanton violence in the movie leaves you certain that he’s right.  The Creator is sending engulfing waters to wipe out humanity, save the animals (the “innocent”), and move on.  This is not a restart; it’s a shutdown. 

And then there are the fallen angels, encrusted in rock for disobeying God and coming to earth to help the wayward humans (you don’t remember the fallen angels from the Noah story?  Read Genesis 51…).  One scene in particular kept me thinking.  It had (surprisingly) started to rain very hard.  As they defend the Ark’s entrance from fallen humanity’s attempt to save itself, one fallen angel is “shot up” into the sky—his light breaking out of the rugged crust, leaving it to crumble.  A fallen angel next to him, also encrusted, is taken aback by the sight and, more importantly, by what it means:  “The Creator takes him home.” 

In his rough voice I couldn’t help but hear newfound hope.  There is hope even for us, the fallen encrusted angels, he thinks.  And with renewed vigor, he defends the Ark’s entrance. 

Noah reminds me that God sees hope where we don’t.  To the Creator, no one is beyond redemption - - no story, no person, no group.  To the Creator, no one is illegal, no one is ugly, no one is hopelessly evil, or forever fallen.  Do we like that about God?  Or do we see our own ugliness, and that of the world, and are certain that the Creator has nothing but justice and destruction on his mind?  Don’t get me wrong, we’re all fallen, and the Creator has true justice on his mind. But even the undocumented, the unlawful, the underachievers are never beyond the Creator’s reach.  The good news for the fallen angels, for criminals, for strangers, for us is that the Creator takes us to himself – that is home, that is redemption.

Can Depression Be Beautiful?

The flowers are beautiful, but they have lost their vitality. They are dried up and, by all accounts, dead. The candle looks lovely and ready to be lit for a romantic evening, but a closer look would reveal that the wick has burned through all the usable wax and no flame can be lit. Rain is falling softly on these representative elements.

This is my artistic representation of depression (since I can't paint). A still life. A life with remnants of past potential and energy. A life with no life in it.

Can this picture be redeemed? It can be infused with a new light source, but it can never capture a living bouquet or a soft flame. That would require an entirely new subject in front of the lens.

I have clinical depression. My grade has been assessed at the high end of "moderate". While I'm far from hopeless, I see my life as this photograph. I think there is something beautiful in my depression, because it has made me extremely sensitive to my emotions, my body, and beauty in the world.

But it has stripped me of the beauty I used to see in my potential for relationship and love. Depression has defined my self-image. Not only have I had to steadily convince myself that my alopecia is a gift and that I am a beautiful bald woman, I also battle thoughts on an hourly basis that tell me I am unlovable. I am an expert detective when it comes to gathering evidence that I have destroyed the relationships that are most central to my life--namely, with my husband and my kids.

I have glimpses of myself as a fun, generous, gracious, lovely person. But I take those images and tear at them with my nails in fits of guilt and shame.

 

Even the most beautiful moments, while recognized, are distorted as reminders of what I can't attain or enjoy. I hurt with the beauty I see around me as I abide within my melancholy. And the hardest part is figuring out how much of that is my disease and how much is a choice to remain in an identity that is known to me. Even looking at these pictures, I sense their sadness while also being awed at their loveliness.

Depression has kept me still. I try to move forward, but these dry wells and spent resources have preserved me under glass. Lovely, marred, unchanging.

The only hope I can see is to keep these photographs for their part on my story but open myself to new water, new filters, new light, and new resources. I know that comes from God. That is my unapologetic belief. But God's artistry is a mystery to me.

Brave(r)

I don't leave the house without eyeliner. When you don't have eyelashes you feel the need to fake it with makeup. I mean, why confront people with something that might make them uncomfortable? The only time I went without eyeliner was when I had pink eye. And I did my best to hide behind sunglasses for those two agonizing days.

Well, today I woke up with my eyes itching and decided to forego the eyeliner. Scarf, yes. Earrings, yes. Eyebrows, of course. But nothing around the eyes.

This takes guts for me. It seems silly, but it really takes guts. When I first lost all my hair and went back to my parents' house for a visit, I was self-conscious about walking around the house with nothing on my head or face. My mom said "You still look like you. It just looks like you have the flu." I really appreciated that comment in that moment, because I remembered that a pale face and lack of makeup doesn't change what we basically look like and how we are identified.

A few months ago, I was talking to someone (My boss maybe? I don't remember) and I was griping about having to put eyeliner on every day. She said "Well, you don't have to, but you feel more comfortable that way." I realized then that I'm not obligated to wear makeup so that other people don't have to face the awkwardness of looking at someone who has no hair. It's completely my choice.

So with those two comments in mind, I haven't put anything on today in order to give my itchy eyes a chance to breathe, irritant-free.

I did see a guy today who looked at me funny and said "Sorry, but I'm looking at--did you do something different with your eyebrows?" I immediately thought ("oh no, they're askew!"). But I think he was noticing the lack of eyeliner.

Until that little moment, and not his fault at all, I felt pretty comfortable about how I looked. I thought this morning that I don't look so bad without eyeliner.

I know that people who love me and support others with alopecia will comment and say I look beautiful no matter what. Regardless of what others say, it's very hard for me to see myself this way. But I get braver and more resilient every day.

By the way--I do think my eyebrows are askew! Haha...well, if it's not one thing it's another. Some people's eyebrows grow that way right? Stop focusing on it. ....

Further Proof

More examples of the selfishness of alopecia:

1. Work: A job interview is nerve-wracking enough without the added stress over what to do with this bald head. Between a bald head and a scarf, which will give off the least "harmful" impression? Alopecia practically forces me to go into an interview in a wig, which is, for me, the most uncomfortable way to cover my head. I shouldn't have to be thinking about that.

2. Vacation: To a certain degree, alopecia determines where (and if) I travel and which activities I do when (and if) I get there. Camping and hiking are okay but I don't want to take many pictures of my naked face. Makeup is not exactly a priority when you're in the woods. A cruise would be fun until the party at night, when I would again be faced with the question of which head covering (or uncovering) would look appropriate with the dress. I know it shouldn't matter, but it does. Really, I would only feel comfortable touring around a hip city where I could be comfortable in my scarves or baldness and look cool in pictures.

3. Cross-cultural family events: Pictures are important at family events, and in some cultures pictures are meant to show you at your best. Is a scarf good enough to wear to a wedding? Can I attend a graduation bald? Am I causing distress, distraction and disgrace by refusing to wear a wig?

Alopecia demands that I add these dilemmas to my already fretful mind. Selfish thing, alopecia.

Baldly selfish

Alopecia is selfish. It has a way of making life events and activities all about how it will look. Alopecia wants to flaunt itself but fears circumstances where it could be snubbed or rejected. Alopecia washes over joyous events with gray translucent paint, while highlighting in neon the times when we feel most disappointed or jealous.

My sister in law is pregnant. Seeing her pictures takes me back to my own swollen belly days. With my first, I was fascinated by every new movement. I was talking to the growing girl in my womb, my companion. I couldn't wait to get my pregnant belly full-grown.

Then, my body was hijacked by alopecia. With my second child, I was worried more about how my head looked on a pregnant body. I knew the sensations, I knew what to expect. But I didn't know how I would look as a bald expectant mother. What a contradiction--a woman who looks sick creating a healthy new life. I remember even worrying about how my son would look at me when he first opened his eyes. Without hair or eyebrows, I worried that he would fail to recognize signs of his mother's face, a face that should bear basic human characteristics.

With both pregnancies, I wanted to look like this:

(http://www.hartshornportraiture.com/portrait-gallery/pregnancy-photography/)

Although I had hair during my first pregnancy, it was of the short, frizzy, frumpy variety. (Sadly, those pictures were taken before we went digital. I'm sure I could dig them out of a box, but...)Despite my concerns, I think I looked way better as a bald pregger, actually. Not that I ever allowed pictures of myself bald...

 

 

 

 

 

Not the goddess on the beach, but my own pregnancy. And cute, I think--looking back on these five years later!

 

This is just one example of how I can feel fine about my baldness until I see a woman who seems to exude feminine beauty--and this is often due to her hair. That, and body shape. Oh, and I guess a great backdrop helps, too.

 

Once I see a photo of a woman that makes me feel diminished in my womanly features, I really have to work hard to get out of the funk and accept the features I was born with, having no choice in the matter. I have to acknowledge her beauty and wish for good health to continue for her, and then show some TLC to my own body and story.

 

I'm proud to say that, while the frequency of these jealous moments is no less than it ever was (let's face it, even before my alopecia), the duration of those negative feelings ("I hope her hair falls out") is not nearly as long as it used to be.

 

This reminds me of a future post. Winter has its banes for baldies: having to pile on thick layers of fabric on our heads to keep from freezing, no matter how heavy, etc. Now summer is coming soon, hopefully bringing heat with it. I don't know about other alopecians, but summer makes me anxious. How will I deal with swimming? Will my drawn-on eyebrows smear in the heat? Should I go bald to church picnics and Zumba class? More to come on this....

 

It's all about the baldness. Alopecia is so selfish.