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.

The Contentment Challenge--Day 5. The "selfie".

Last night I was in a local high school taking my daughter to swimming lessons at the pool there. I saw a poster on a wall for a "self-confidence" group for girls. They had posted a challenge called #ilovemyselfie. The challenge, which I will adopt as my challenge for today, is to tweet/post/Instagram a selfie with no edits or filters. A natural self-portrait.

This is actually a great challenge. And a really difficult one for me. Every selfie I've posted has been creatively styled so I can pass it off as art.  So I decided to take this challenge.

I took several selfies trying to find one that I was okay with posting. And I wondered what it meant to post a "natural" selfie. Should I take off the eyeliner and eyebrows? Should I wear a scarf like I usually do, or should I go bald? I want to look natural, but I also don't want to post an unnecessarily downplayed picture of a woman who has put no effort into how she looks. I'm not sure that's "natural".

So here's the pick:

No makeup, the cap I wear under my scarves (call me crazy, but I don't go bald when it's 7 degrees outside), no photo finishing apps that color my lips or thin out my cheeks.

I'm trying really hard not to write more about this picture and just say "I love my selfie".

If you're interested in more perspective about the "selfie" phenomenon, read here.

Mommy, you need hair...

Is bald pretty? Can a mommy be bald?

My 7-year-old daughter was playing with her doll collection the other day--a few Disney Princesses, a Skipper and her horse, and a couple Polly Pockets. 

 The dolls were having a party. Naturally, I hinted that I would like to be invited. The response was: "It's just for people who are pretty."  Ouch. "I'm not pretty?", I asked her. "Well, I mean you're not pretty like they are, because they have pink and purple...(voice trailing off)". 

I actually did have pink and purple on. I was in my pajamas, granted, but I had the required colors. 

A few weeks later, my daughter decided to draw a picture of our family sliding down a rainbow. 

I was at the stove, and all of a sudden she asks me, "Do you want me to draw you with or without hair?" Wow. I had never been asked that before! I told her to draw me without hair, since that's really what I look like. She ended up drawing me with hair (I'm up in the top left corner--can you see the curls on either side that look like short arms?) because "otherwise you wouldn't look like a mommy". 

I know my daughter loves me just the way I am and thinks I'm beautiful. She tells me that all the time. I know she meant no offense. But it hurts to hear those things, nonetheless. 

Still, I'm grateful (I think) for opportunities to challenge the "types" and the values we have absorbed from our culture. I'm glad my daughter will have to struggle with this concept of defining feminine beauty. I just hope Barbie doesn't win. 

Someone Else's Shoes

So, hopefully you've noticed that it's been awhile since my last post. Final exams and the grading that goes with it, holidays, school closures...writing hasn't exactly been a priority. Truthfully, I haven't known what to write about. How much can I really write about my life with alopecia and my journey toward a greater appreciation of my own unique beauty?

But, as happens every so often, I have entered a new phase of self-exploration. This new step was actually precipitated by the approach of another winter with bone-deep cold settling in to my body. More than anything, I truly dislike having a cold head and neck. Alopecia is a blessing in the summer, but a bane in the winter.

This year, I invested in some pashminas. Never heard of them? Apparently, they can be worn in twenty different ways:

I discovered that these thick, extra-long wraps keep my head warm, my neck covered...and people guessing about my background even more than usual!

Here is my new winter look:

I've gotten a few more "As-Salaam-Alaikum"s than usual. I feel like an intruder when I tell my greeters that I'm not Muslim. I have been questioning whether it's alright to wear the traditional garb of a culture and religion that I don't belong to. I don't mean to co-opt a symbol of the values of this culture, but it interesting what has happened since I started covering my head this way. First of all, I think this covered look is truly beautiful. There's something about a wrapping that signifies a special gift underneath that deserves to be hidden until it's intended recipient gets to discover it. Second, I feel that I might have a role to play in bridging a gap between my culture of origin and the culture I now look to be a part of. There is nothing to fear in the way people dress. As obvious as that sounds, I now know that the things which divide people are often simple ways of everyday living that look unfamiliar. I hope in this post to reflect my appreciation of a look that many people judge to be oppressive, or forced upon the women who wear it.

At any rate, this is my winter look this year, but when it warms up I will go back to baring my neck. Somehow I know I will feel much more exposed than I ever did before. Funny how stepping into someone else's shoes for a bit doesn't just change your opinion of them. It changes you, too.

It's a love thing

Well. Now that I've caught up (mostly) on midterm grading, I can get back on here and let some thoughts out of my head.

So, the seasons have changed, the temperatures have dropped, and the summer clothes have been packed away. I always love getting my fall and winter sweaters out of their boxes. They are so familiar. And yet, this year felt different somehow. I took my sweaters out and had one thought: "Borrrring." I really felt discouraged because I was looking forward to wearing nice, new outfits to work, but all I found in the boxes were...my clothes from last year.

Duh.

For whatever reason, I put a lot more clothes in the donation bag this year than I usually do. And then, of course, I bought a lot more new clothes for this season than I usually do. (But hey--I shop and thrift stores and, when I feel like treating myself to "new" clothes, Target. I'm not exactly breaking the bank.)

I've been thinking a lot about why I felt so bored and discouraged by my wardrobe this year. Even a week after buying some sweaters at the thrift store, I feel like I need to infuse my closet with more color. I want form-fitting pants. I need black boots.

Never before have I been so concerned about what I'm wearing. This has almost reached the point of obsession. The theme of all this is: How can I look more feminine? How can I feel good about myself as a woman?

I thought it was because of my hair loss, that I'm compensating for being bald. But now I think it's much, much deeper. I think I really struggle with feeling worthy. I feel unworthy of attention unless I'm "pretty", undeserving of care unless I'm sick or struggling with some burden, and unworthy of love based on who I am and not how I behave.

I'm not quite sure where this comes from. I grew up in a home with two parents who loved me. We had a lot of issues, true, but I was loved. And I was told that I was loved.

Still, the more I feel unloved inside, the more I try to make the outside look as appealing as possible. By purging my closet and then refilling it over and over, I am actually running away from the real issue: I need to learn to love myself. The outer confidence will come from that inner love. I found this blog that has some tips for ways you can practice thinking of yourself in terms of a person who can be loved:

"How to Love Yourself" from glamdolleaston

The only thing I would add is this:  Inner love will come when I see myself as God sees me--and when I accept that God loves me no matter what.

Secret Selfie

I wore hair the other night. And then I posted a picture of it on Instagram, which also ended up on Facebook:



A friend told me that I was obviously insecure and looking for affirmation.

The funny thing is that I did get a lot more "likes" on this picture than I usually get. Maybe I was just looking for an ego boost because I'm insecure. Or...perhaps I was just playing by the rules.

Facebook is such an interesting world--at least the way I use and experience it. A post about a new hairstyle blows up with 50 likes in a minute, a new baby gets over 100 in the same amount of time, and a homemade flower arrangement gets 17-20. A post about an organization rescuing young girls from the sex trade gets...a few likes. Maybe one share.

I used to get upset about that, but I think now I just accept the fact that Facebook has its uses. For me, it's not a place to get a message across. I've tried--it doesn't work in my circle of "Friends". No--I mostly use it for keeping my mom and sister up-to-date on my latest style (given that I had no style in all my years living at home) and getting sympathy and attention when I need a quick fix. I can get those things either by posting a vague yet clearly distressed status ("Days like this make me want to hop on a bus to Texas, change my name and become a bartender") or, as in the case above, by posting a carefully-crafted picture of myself that I know looks really good. I just pretend I don't know it looks good.

Is that bad? I think about friends and family who have posted "selfies". I recognize that they are putting themselves (or one version of themselves) out there, on display, in a show of vulnerability. They/we are looking for acceptance and confirmation of the beauty we think we see in ourselves. When I post a selfie, I know I will get lots of comments. People are always anxious to tell me how good I look because, well, I'm a bald woman and need a lot of encouragement. So I post a nice-looking picture to get a few oohs and aahs. Sue me.

When we make a change that we feel good about or accomplish something we're proud of, we want to share it. People have always done this--now the audience is just bigger. Rather than asking your man if you look fat in your newest mall purchase, you can ask 400 people at the same time. And they will answer you, because they are looking for meaning in the world of appearances as well.

So yes, it is shallow. But it also speaks to something that runs pretty deep, actually. Something that I write about over and over again. If there were no audience, would we still be posting selfies? Why not? Why do we need to know that someone else will be looking at our picture before we decide to take one? Why not take a selfie just for myself?

That's my challenge for you tonight/today/this week. Take some selfies and don't show anyone. In fact, take your best selfie ever and don't show anyone. At least not for awhile. Appreciate your own beauty without the need to measure it against any standards. Fill yourself with contentment that does not come from outer praise, but from inner recognition of your place in creation (Hint: you are the crowning jewel).

If you come to this place of self-love, then you can post your picture if you want. We will all love it. No one will judge you for posting a picture of yourself just to get attention. We all do it. We all want the world to know what we look like whenever we do something that looks good. Nothing wrong with that...as long as it's not identity-forming.

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!

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?

Impressions

If you are not a fan of impressionism as an art form, I suggest you go back and take another look. The effect of color, lines, boundaries, shape, light, etc. on our senses is fascinating. It's especially fascinating to discover how different people respond to the same painting or photograph. We often come away with these different impressions because of past experiences, desires, moods, or even distractions. When I look at the works of impressionist painters, I always wonder if the impression I'm getting is the one the artist was hoping to produce.

What impression do you get from the picture above?

It's an edited photograph. It's one of my favorite pictures that I have ever produced. I took it with my iPhone and edited the colors a bit, but the impressionist feel was produced by the mere fact of looking out a rainy window.

I want to tell you the effect I hope this picture has on people, but I won't. Because in the end, it doesn't matter. I enjoy this picture in a particular way, but who am I to impose that on someone else? Neither would I want someone to tell me how a particular song is supposed to make me feel.

You know, I have been thinking of myself as an impressionist lately. I often ask myself, "What impression are you hoping to make on people today?" I might choose a more severe and dramatic set of eyebrows for the day, or a certain pair of shoes. There are countless ways I construct my "look" to produce some kind of overall impression of who I am...or who I want to be. At work, I like to give the impression that I am composed and mature. I find that the clothes best suited for this are buttoned blouses, turtlenecks, shoes with low heels and pointed toes, bracelets, and my scarf in a bun. When I am walking in my neighborhood and want to give off the impression that I belong in the 'hood, I like anklets, a scarf with a long tail down the back, big earrings, maybe a cap over my scarf, and a fairly tight T-shirt.

The gist is, I try to arrange colors and textures in such a way as to give an onlooker a certain impression of reality. I don't have one "look"; I have as many styles as I have moods, fears, hopes, or purposes.

The thing is, I can't totally control what impression people have of me at any given moment. I may try to give off a certain vibe, but it often backfires. I might go into work thinking I look professional, when coworkers end up making comments about how "fashionable" I look, as if I valued that. I might try to look like the consummate sports fan at a Cubs game, but the die-hards around me probably sense my boredom and ignorance as the game goes on.

The lesson in all of this, if there has to be one, is that impressionism is about the artist as much as it is about the onlookers. It is about reflecting some sense of reality that is true for the artist and may find resonance with some viewers. If not, then a new sense of reality can be constructed between and among differing impressions. Not to philosophize fashion, but perhaps we should consider that the act of choosing how we will dress and arrange ourselves every morning is an act of impressionism. And impressionism is simply (or brilliantly) a way to boil details down into the most important sensory experiences.

If you want to make an impression on someone, give them something to experience. Let them see colors that reflect how you see yourself that day. Let your impressionist art be about communicating the core aspects of your "person" rather than the stereotype you are actually trying to stuff yourself into. Allow yourself to be released into a community of onlookers (who are also artists themselves, don't forget) whose impressions of you, no matter how varied or deviant from your intentions, will enrich your human reality and produce empathic responses all around.

So, what impression are you trying to make today? I challenge you to ask that question every day this week.

Life's (not) a Beach

I've spent a lot of time at the beach since moving to Chicago. I feel I absolutely must write something about "beach culture", because much of my time at the beach is spent gawking, giggling, and wondering at the absurdity of what I see around me.

For example: When I got to the beach today with my son, I pulled off my shirt and shorts, revealing my bathing suit underneath. Now, I have a tankini:



Not this one, obviously (or this body), but this is the idea. Tummy covered.

And it struck me that I was stripping down for all the world to see. I began walking around in underwear, basically. Why is it that I can strut around in bikini bottoms as long as they are made of Spandex and not cotton? I could even answer my front door this way, as long as it was obvious that I was wearing a bathing suit.

As I looked around, I had to laugh at the ridiculous amount of skin I saw. Butt cheeks hanging out, cleavage front and center, bellies bare and hairy in all their glory. Don't try to tell me it's all okay because we are going in the water. These people were also going in the water:



They look like they're having fun regardless of how much fabric they're wearing!

I'm not a Puritan. I just think it's interesting how location and purpose can totally flip social norms on their heads. Although, like "dry" society, beach culture is a culture of "haves" and "have nots"--those who have bikini-worthy bodies, and those who do not (or, for guys, beach volleyball-worthy bodies...or not).

(For a fun history lesson on the bikini, check out Time's novel photo gallery!)

I wonder how many people at the beach are actually paying attention to others' bodies. With all that skin showing, are men still turning their heads every time they see a hot bikini bod? Or are women snickering and laughing at another, larger woman's attempts to fit into a cute swimsuit? The answer is...yes. The "haves", I think, look at the "have nots" and pass a quick judgment (or "haves" look at other "haves" with either desire or jealousy), while the "have nots" are at the beach to have all kinds of fun.

I find this to be true in Chicago, but I didn't feel the same way on a recent trip to California. There, life on the beach is much more an integral part of daily life in general.

Just observations. I love going to the beach, and I have actually become much more free with my swimwear. The biggest change is that I am able to go completely bald without feeling self-conscious! Which is, of course, much more cool. Interestingly, I have become much more concerned with getting a tan...but that's a topic for another post.

How do you feel when you go to the beach? Do normal rules of modesty and appropriate bodily displays go out the window? Are beachgoers somehow exempt from scrutiny? Or have we simply designated a place where it's socially acceptable to be naked?

Lastly--I found this great speech about swimwear, which some of you may have already seen, and I think it's really important to think about in terms of how we define beauty...at the beach.

The Many Faces of Me

My dear uncle-in-law recently gave me the gift of sight.

At a recent family gathering, I saw people huddling over something and pointing, so naturally I was curious. As I got closer, I saw a picture of my face. And then another one. And another.

I took a minute to scan the page, and realized that every one of the hundred or so pictures I was looking at were of me. A dabbler in photography projects, my "uncle" had put together a collage of sorts out of head shots he took from my Facebook page. It was overwhelming at first. Also overwhelming was the fact that everyone had been looking at the page and picking out their favorites before I had even had a chance to see it.

But the more I looked, the more special it became to me. I have often cringed at the sight of many of these photos, but seeing them altogether was different. I was looking at a portrait of a young woman who has a good life. Each picture is a separate memory, but as a whole the pictures come together in this beautiful harmony of features. Rather than pick out my flaws, I'm forced to appreciate the many ways my face can look. I feel as if I can see myself the way others see me. This is a huge breakthrough. I don't know if this makes any sense, so I highly recommend doing a similar project to any of you who have a hard time looking at self portraits. I think you'll find beauty in "you in the context of you".

Here, I share it with you now.

Emergence of a Mean Girl?

I am terrified of my daughter becoming a “mean girl”. Her dad and I have blatantly tried to impose our values upon her, ceaselessly providing opportunities and challenges to appreciate beauty from non-traditional sources. This used to work just fine.

Now, at age seven, our voices are not the only ones she takes in. The voices on the playground are, sadly, louder at the moment. I have been watching this transformation in her, from a believer in the Veggie Tales gospel that “God made you special” to an impressionable social seeker rapidly moving toward the lemming-like tween years. I see her trying to reconcile messages she gets from the trusted adults in her life with messages from friends whose approval means everything right now.
I thought I would have a few more years to prepare for this.

But, here we are. Her behavior is very unpredictable at the moment. One day I catch her speaking with openness and affirmation to girls in a park about her mom, who “has alopecia and that’s why she has no hair”, and the next day I find out that she has made hurtful comments to a dear friend about her appearance. One day she is genuinely befriending a girl with severe facial deformities at her school, and the next day she is playing the “that girl’s scary so let’s run up to her, scream, and then run away" game at the same girl’s expense.

It’s hard to know how her sorting out process is going. Which messages will stick with her? Which will define how she acts and views people around her? She has a kind heart, but she is also desperate to be a normal kid with friends who accept her. What is my role right now as a parent? Do I keep trying to impose a set of values on her as a foundation for the choices she will make later in life? Or do I take a deep breath and a few steps back, allowing her to glean her own wisdom as she witnesses the consequences of her own actions?

This little incident with our friend happened just the other night. Apparently, Esther said something hurtful, and then my friend addressed it by explaining that the comment hurt her feelings. Fine. This is to be expected at my daughter’s age, and I’m glad my friend was able to talk about how the comment made her feel and why it’s not appropriate to repeat.

What is absolutely not fine is that my daughter did, in fact, repeat the comment again, immediately after hearing how it had affected this friend. Maybe she was trying to see how far she could push; maybe she was more interested in watching and learning about our friend’s reaction than in the actual content of the messages; or, maybe she really couldn’t really identify with the fact that her comment had hurt this friend, whom she loves.

After hearing about this, I got my “I can’t believe you did this, because I know you are not this kind of girl” face on, and I let her know, without a doubt, that what she said was not okay. If the conversation had ended after the first comment, I would take a different approach—something like sitting down, asking questions, explaining why the comment was not something we would want to say again, etc. The fact that she said it again after our friend talked to her about it is what concerns me. So, after the lecture, the “mommy’s mad” eyes and the finger wagging, I decided I had better engage her in a different way. I want her to know the seriousness of verbal insults, but I also want to make sure she is developing a worldview in line with the ideals of compassion and justice.

So, I made her draw a picture of our friend. I told her to draw this friend exactly how she (my daughter) sees her. Then I asked her to write “(Name) is beautiful”. Drawing on notes I have taken in therapy sessions, I figured a picture would help to make concrete the abstract notion of using words to build people up rather than tear them down. I wanted her to create an image that she labeled as “beautiful”, not only to associate it with our friend, but also to own the feeling of being able to be a definer of beauty instead of just a judge of it.

This journey is just beginning, I know. The years to come will be filled with similar instances of reconciling two different sets of standards. I have hope in the solid foundation we as parents, along with family and community reinforcement, have given our daughter—and our three-year-old son. I must also look on my daughter with as much compassion as I am asking her to show others. And there’s the rub—because having compassion on my daughter’s emergent “mean girl” tendencies, real or imagined, requires me to have more compassion on the corners of my own self/heart wherein lie similar tendencies.

I haven’t decided whether or not to give the picture my daughter drew to my friend. That forced apology thing (“Now, say you’re sorry, and tell her she’s beautiful”) has never sat well with me. I do want my friend to know what I’m working on with my daughter, but I would like to wait until my daughter draws a picture of our beautiful friend without prompting before giving anything to her.

Raising daughters. Raising little women. Lord, help us.

Princess Overload

The obsession with Disney Princesses in our society is becoming more and more evident to me as I look for topics to write about on my blog. They are ubiquitous, both on the web and on store shelves. I get it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to wear extravagant, colorful gowns and have adventures with talking animals and roguish men all the time?!

What is really fascinating about the Princesses is how many people have tried to reimagine them. By that, I suppose I really mean “re-image” them. As in, give them a new image. I have seen the Princesses bald. Fat. Old. Bespectacled. Depicted as suburban moms. Dressed in historically accurate costumes. Placed in dark settings of human suffering.

Why are so many people spending so much time trying to insert the Princesses into so many different contexts?


(lookmatic.com)


(deviantart.com)


(weheartit.com)


(fanpop.com)


(Dina Goldstein)

No wonder it's so hard to get my daughter to think about something else--anything else--besides Princesses. They are no longer one-dimensional, fairy tale characters. Now, they have walked in our shoes. Or at least we like to think so. We like to imagine the Princesses in less-than-perfect situations--maybe because we so desperately want to believe that the perfection they exude in their original context is really unattainable. If we could see from all other angles, maybe we would realize that we don't have to keep hoping to escape into the world of a Disney Princess.

We want them to step into our lives for awhile, if we can't step into theirs.

Are these re-imaginings helpful? I don't think so. I think they only serve to keep us fixated on these "characters". I appreciate the idea behind all these efforts to humanize the Princesses. Just as I appreciate how the latest Princesses have starred in stories which are about more than just love and marriage. Still, these stories and these new images are all pointing to a particular definition of "beauty"--whether by modeling it or depicting its antithesis.

Lately, I have heard some words coming out of my seven-year-old daughter's mouth that disgust me. I'll just be honest. And I have threatened to take Princesses completely out of the picture for her if I feel they are distorting her perception of others around her. I have allowed Princesses to be part of her life to a certain extent, but I'm discovering how quickly they can become an obsession. An obsession promoted and capitalized on by our culture.

Instead of reimagining the Princesses, I would like to refocus the lens on women (men too, but women in particular) who need to feel a little more brave, beautiful, deserving, talented, adventurous, and all the wonderful qualities celebrated in the Princess archetype. Let's get over the Princesses and the efforts to give them more and more "original" or "realistic" looks, and let's focus on actual reality.

I want my daughter to spend her time appreciating what she sees in real people, not surfing the web to see how many different kinds of Princesses she can see.

I want my daughter to see different body shapes, sizes, colors and ages as equally beautiful parts of a spectrum, not as novelty affectations on a Princesses body that make her giggle and/or sneer.

Most of all, I want my daughter to believe that life is valuable because it is given by God, not because the Princesses have endorsed certain aspects of it.

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 8

We all have features we would rather keep hidden. Freckles we cover up, noses we fix, bellies we suck in. Most of us have one or two body features in particular that we just hate.

I hate my little toes. My pinky toes. The nails don't grow normally. They grow in a pile, on top of themselves. Gross, I know. I have always been very sensitive about my toenails, even waiting until age 28 to get my first pedicure! I have finally gotten to the point where I can wear flip flops without embarrassment, because I have realized that no one looks at or cares about my little toes.

I need to fall in love with my toes. If I can grow to love one of my "worst" features, it should hopefully be that much easier to love the rest of what I see in the mirror.

The challenge for today is to write a love poem to your worst feature. It can be an ode to your crooked nose, a sonnet to the mole on your cheek, a haiku in honor of the knobby knees you try to cover no matter how hot it is outside...whatever.

Here's mine:

My toes,
my toes,
the nails grow
like a rose
in folds
over folds.

My toes,
my toes,
cramped and hidden
in shoes unbidden
you get stuffed into
fittin'.

Come out, little toes,
you're cute like my nose.
Point and wiggle,
and I will giggle
at my toeses,
my roses,
my "I-help-you-goeses".

You're vital,
never idle,
shoes wide'll
be your home.

My toes,
my toes,
no need to change
or nails to rearrange,
for the range
of strangeness
is beauty
to me.

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 7

I think I take myself too seriously. Seriously.

I try to be very put together and composed in social settings. I am self-conscious about my smile and laugh, so I minimize all expression when I'm with anyone other than my mom and sister. I also check and double check to make sure my appearance is impeccable; because heaven forbid I let anyone see me with a bit of food in my teeth or a drip at the end of my nose (the wonderful by-product of a sinus procedure I had done a few years ago).

But I miss the freedom of being myself, without all the rehearsal and performance. I really do feel like I am putting on an act much of the time. I try to keep myself looking classy, when I'm really kind of a mess. I stumble, I cough at odd times, I fall off piano benches at church, I pass gas every now and then, my voice cracks when I sing--in other words, I'm like all of you! And I'd like to do more than just know that in my head. I'd like to laugh at myself in a way that brings joy rather than self-deprecation. I'd like to be silly without being self-conscious.

Now, I understand there are times when being silly will get you nowhere--or may even get you fired. But most of the time, I think we could all do with a little less performance and a little more natural expression.

My challenge today is to get over ourselves. Being goofy, messy, clumsy, annoying, ditsy, or one of countless other less-than-perfect qualities is actually beautiful. These qualities speak to our common humanity and vitality. The occasional gaffe does not define us, nor does it change how people see us--at least not in the long term.

The best way I can think of to pull off this challenge is to make silly faces at myself in the mirror before I walk out the door. So I challenge you to do the same! Smile, laugh, frown, stretch, open, scrunch, skew--and see the beauty inherent in expression of all kinds. Set yourself free from the need to be perfectly composed. The less seriously you take yourself, the more you will begin to redefine your beauty in terms of your inner beauty rather than your outer "perfection".

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 5

Someone asked me yesterday why I had changed my Facebook profile picture. I had been using a picture of a drawing my daughter made of me, but I was a little bored and decided to change it to the picture I posted on this blog yesterday. As I talked with this person a little more, we discussed motives for posting certain profile pictures over other ones. We tend to choose really flattering photos to post as the representational images of ourselves. There's nothing wrong with that--we all do it, we all want to put our best face forward, we all want to make a good impression.

As I looked at my photo, I began to see all the ways in which it's actually not very flattering. The bags under my eyes, those protruding lines of my neck, the general paleness...I'm laughing about it now, but catch me on the wrong day and that picture could actually make me cry. It's not my most flattering picture. If I wanted to impress people, I might post this picture:



I have a beautiful dress on, great hair, and shadows on my face to hide the bags under my eyes! Well, sort of...

But that's not always how I look, obviously. I'm afraid to post a profile picture that really shows people how I look "at home", which is not always so flattering. Here's one my daughter snapped of me while I was playing with my son:



Yeah, not so great. I would never post that as my profile picture.

But, it is a picture of me; therefore, it is beautiful. Every picture of every person must be beautiful. We are beautiful in design, beautiful in how we move, beautiful when we are living. I just can't always see that.

My challenge for us today is to find unflattering pictures of ourselves and look at them until we find them beautiful. I don't care if it takes ten seconds or ten minutes--get to know yourself from all sides and angles, see the beauty of any shape and pose, and redefine what a "flattering" photo looks like. You don't have to go so far as to post one of these as your profile picture, but it might be freeing to do so eventually. Find a picture of yourself that makes you chuckle when you remember what was going on when it was snapped, and post it as a representation of a life-giving memory rather than as the face you want people to see.

But that might take some leading up to. For now, just have courage to look at those pictures which you usually pass over or hide behind others in the album. Stay with them until they are beautiful to you. When you get to this point, chances are good that you will finally be seeing them the way others do: without judgment.

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 3

Before I issue today's challenge, I need to admit something. I totally failed yesterday's. Looking in mirrors and windows is such a habit for me! I need to work on that. I don't mean that my goal is to never look in a mirror again; I just mean that I need to stop taking every opportunity to glance at myself. I mean, how much can my appearance really change in half an hour?

So one of the times I looked my reflection in a window today was at work. I was wearing high heels, and for some reason today they kept slipping off the backs of my heels. I had to develop a strange sort of waddle in order to keep them on without rubbing my skin raw on the outside of my big toes. I glanced in a window at work to make sure I didn't look like I was walking with a twisted ankle. I ended up taking my shoes off as soon as I got outside and walking barefoot through campus to the parking garage (outside of which I slipped them back on--I want to be comfortable, but I also want to be tetanus-free as long as I can).

Yep, there I was in a white ruffle blouse and khaki slacks...and bare feet. It felt amazing. This may be a new routine for me--waling to and from class with no shoes! I made a choice based on comfort rather than the reactions of society at large (or at least the students and construction workers whom I passed on my shoeless journey). It reminded me of a day last week when I had to apologize to my students for being unprofessional as I donned my jacket in class. It was just so frickin' cold in the classroom!

Today's challenge is to be comfortable. Take those heels off and walk flat-footed for awhile, no matter who's looking. Wear something frumpy to work (nothing that will get you fired, of course). Don't wear eye makeup if it makes your eyes itch. Wear comfy pants, shoes that fit, shorts that don't ride up, and bras that let you breathe. And relish the feeling of freedom that comes with making a choice for YOU!


(Image taken from www.shape.com)

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge-Day 2

Today's challenge is going to be a tough one for me.

I cannot pass a mirror without looking at myself. I am so afraid I will have something in my teeth, hanging from my nose, or somehow embarrassing me in any number of ways that I am constantly checking and double-checking. I also like to see my pretty face, because I lived for a long time thinking that I didn't quite have what it would take to be the kind of pretty that people recognized. I live in the tension between being exceedingly vain and painfully insecure.

When I look in a mirror, I either waste time scrutinizing every detail to see what needs to be fixed, or I walk out waiting for heads to turn because I think I look so good. Either way, I am preoccupied with how I think others will see me. Really, I am preoccupied with trying to accept the way I look and reconcile that image with who I know myself to be.

I challenge all of us to go the entire day without looking at our reflection in a mirror, window, toaster, iPhone, spoon, or friend's sunglasses. After we get ourselves ready in the morning, let's go out and live our day with no clue as to how we look! Mirrors are distorted most of the time, anyway. I think this may free our minds to dwell on others a little more than ourselves. It will also free us to focus on our choices and relationships, rather than holding our head a certain way so that our hair, or scarf, stays the way we painstakingly arranged it that morning.

Good luck! And don't be hard on yourself if you find yourself sneaking a peek--it's a hard habit to break. Just glance at yourself, get your bearings back, and move on.


(Image taken from: www.fengshuicrazy.net)

The 10-Day Redefining Challenge--Day 1

Today begins a 10-day challenge of redefining how we project our identity and recognize our unique beauty. Every day I will offer an experiment for you to try as you head out into a world where we live in a dichotomy made up of airbrushed magazine images on one side and the face we see in the mirror on the other. Hopefully this will be the beginning of determining our own standards of beauty and refusing to be victims of the war being waged on our hearts and minds by the media.

Today's challenge: Improvise!

You don't have to look like the Target models. You don't have to wear only what is "in style", according to whatever magazine you read or reality show you watch. One positive thing about being bald is that I literally can't worry about how to fix my hair to look like celebrities. But I do struggle with wanting to look fashionable. So, I improvise--not to be confused with compromise. I don't want to give up the style I'm comfortable in just to gain acceptance from some imagined panel of viewers whose opinion will define me. Instead, I put together a "look" using what I have, and I go flaunt it!



I am wearing a lace cap, a scarf, a ribbon, and a scrunchie all at the same time! I don't know what "look" this is, but it works for me. I dug around in my scarf basket and put together what I had. It's a mix between Bohemian, urban, and homemaker. And I think it fits me perfectly.

I challenge you to improvise a "look". Put clothes and accessories together that you have never seen on TV. Do what feels good and fun in the moment--be creative! It will work for you, I promise.

(For inspiration, check out the "Hel Looks" link on my sidebar.)

My Kind of Character

Today I heard a fun program on my local talk radio. The hosts were talking about colorful characters who lived in and around Chicago. You know, those free spirited, eccentric oddballs whom everyone knew and had nicknames for. In the Windy City, apparently, we have had Racetrack Rosie, Kilt Man, Chicken Man, the Black Lone Ranger, among others.



I loved one of the host's insights that these "characters" are usually assumed to have mental illnesses, when in actuality they are often healthy, fully functioning individuals who are doing what they want do and indulging in what brings them joy. I've seen some characters in this fair city. This post will be the first time I've given them nicknames. I hope I do them justice:

--"Smiley Walker": The man walks everywhere. I only ever see him walking, and I see him absolutely everywhere within the 5-mile radius around my home. He always carries a medium-sized white plastic shopping bag at his side and he is always wearing the same clothes, but he is clean and groomed. This wouldn't necessarily qualify him as a "character", except for the fact that he smiles to himself. I always wonder what he's thinking.

--"Troll King": This guy rides his bike north around 8:30 in the morning, wearing a black kilt, black combat boots, a black T-shirt, and a white helmet. Why the nickname? Well...he's got long neon orange hair coming out the back of his helmet, and even longer neon pink hair sticking out of the top of his helmet, à la Troll Doll. I can't tell if it's his hair or some synthetic extension.

He would always ride alongside the car as I was taking my daughter to preschool. She called him the "crazy guy". I thought he had moved on, but a few weeks ago I saw him at an intersection, sans bike.

--"Singing Guy": This young African guy would walk around the neighborhood singing at the top of his lungs, wearing sandals. In the summer, in the winter, sandals all year round. In the winter he topped them off with an overcoat and a pork pie hat:


I haven't seen him in so long, I'm sure his family moved out of the area. I miss his exuberance.

Actually, we have several other "singing guys" in this neighborhood. You can hear them coming for blocks.

--"Crim": As in, criminal. But not really. This guy just wandered around muttering and grinning, always in a black leather jacket and Bulls cap, looking for locks to pick. I saw him picking our front gate lock outside my window when I first moved into my building. The cops said he's harmless, he does it to everyone. I guess it was our initiation into the neighborhood. I see him around, and truthfully I have a soft spot for him.

Does your city/town/neighborhood have any "characters"? Are you one of them??!!

I'd like to be one. Maybe I could be "Bald Lady". Get a cool tattoo on my head, a great wardrobe complete with huge earrings and long skirts, and some amazing shades. I should probably sing, too.

If not that, I can get a long hot pink wig that I've had my eye on and be "Wig Lady". I could walk around with a book in my hand and stand on corners reading. Everyone would wonder. So I guess I'd be "Pink Book Lady".

Who would you be?