A little bleeding now and then

What a mess I was today. Let me give you a picture of what I looked like at about 2:00 in the afternoon:
--a new pair of shoes had given me a bloody heel, which stained the hem of my pants;
--my earlobe was bleeding from a cheap metal earring;
--days and days of nervous finger-picking had left most of my fingers scraped and raw;
--and, I over-squeezed the teeniest little blemish on my face, leaving an oozing red blood blister.

And I didn't care.

If I had run into anyone outside, I would have stayed and chatted head-on as the occasion called for instead of pretending to get a phone call or strategically turning my face to expose my unblemished side.

I guess I've just been too tired to care lately. Either that, or I feel older. Two years ago, or even last year, all I cared about was looking good. Now, I still try to look good, but I just don't put the same amount of time and energy into it. And I feel much more free. Why try to hide my humanity?

I have a challenge for you. Give yourself a blemish. Not literally. I mean, dare to let some raw, real part of yourself see daylight. If you're bleeding, let it show instead of smearing it over with cover-up. Then take a step back and get some perspective. There are so many facets to daily human existence--do you really have the energy to fret over the assumed perception that you have both invented and yet also fear to face?

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.

Not this again!

Toothpaste, cosmetics...and a razor?! What?! Since when do I need a razor? Hello, alopecia universalis.

Apparently, my body is a little wishy washy when it comes to my hair, as is the case with all alopecia alumni. After being totally and completely without hair for years, minus a little peach fuzz on my face, I am suddenly finding sprouts in highly undesirable places. My body can't grow hair on my head or give me eyelashes. Oh no. Instead, my body is functioning properly on my chinny-chin-chin and (worse yet)under my arms.

Why, of all the irritating....

"But", some people excitedly tell me, "this means your hair is starting to grow back! You should be grateful!"

First of all, this does not mean my hair is growing back. Sufferers of alopecia universalis learn to hold hair lightly. It may come, but it will almost definitely go again.

Second, I don't know any woman who is excited about hair under her arms. Having no hair anywhere else does not induce me to jump for joy when I see hair in the only places it was worth losing it in!

When I first saw the little black hairs while I was getting ready for a day at the beach, I grabbed the nearest pair of tweezers and just went nuts. Finally though, I had to break down and buy a razor. I know I'm just succumbing to socially-assigned rules of feminine hygiene, but I just can't go around with hair under my arms when I don't have it on my head. That's crossing the line for me.

So, shaving has once again become part of my daily routine. (Well, weekly maybe.) I lost THE best perk that came with losing all my hair. The only good news is that, if I wait a couple years, it will probably all fall out again.

To Tatt or Not To Tatt...or Too Tatt?

Well, another birthday has come and gone without me getting a tattoo. I've wanted one for years. I had decided to get one for my thirtieth birthday, but two years later my skin has yet to be touched by a needle. I still want one, but there are so many factors to consider:

~~What if I turn out to be allergic to the ink? I would so not be surprised.

~~I work with international students. What if having a tattoo offends them and compromises the trusting relationship I try to hard to build with them?

~~The designs I am considering will not fit anywhere where I would be able to see them. Do I rethink the design, or the location?

~~My husband is not crazy about this idea. Do I respect his preferences, or go ahead and do something to my body that he will have to confront every day?

~~How will I explain to my kids why I can get a tattoo but they can't draw on their hands with magic marker? More to the point, how will I explain the healing process without scaring them and revealing that I will actually go through pain in order to look a certain way?

~~Is this really something I want to spend money on? Does it really reflect my spending values?

~~Not knowing any tattoo artists personally, and not having a design on paper to go in with, how can I be sure I'll be happy with what I get?

~~The big one--why do I want a tattoo so badly? Am I trying for a personality upgrade? Do I want people to think I'm edgy? Do I want to mark a significant revelation and/or period in my life?


I have to be at peace before I get this done. And yet, there is no way to know how I will feel about it until I do it. Irrevocably.

Although I know this is ultimately my decision, I would love reader response on this one.

(Check out my new Pinterest board: Tattoo Ideas!)

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 6

Straighten up!

Today's challenge is to walk, sit, stand and move as straight as possible.


(Image from http://coreconnexxions.wordpress.com/2012/01/30/straighten-up/)

For me, good posture is a confidence issue. I never wanted to stand straight it felt like I was trying to stick my chest out. I saw those girls at school, walking around with sway backs because they wanted everyone to notice their female endowments. I didn't want to be like that. Well, actually I did...I just didn't have the proper equipment. So I slouched. I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that my figure was anything but girlish.

I also slouch when I'm with people who are shorter than me. I do this, I think, to make sure they don't feel bad about not having the height I do. It's also awkward for me to talk down to people.

The problem with slouching is two-fold. First, it creates actual physical problems. Any chiropractor will tell you that. Second, and this is where the challenge comes in, it affects how you see yourself. When I see a picture of myself slouching, I feel old and bent. I look frumpy, tired, and sloppy. When I walk with a slouch, I actually have less energy to move around with.

When I catch myself slouching and straighten up my back, I suddenly feel empowered and confident. At least, I'm aware that I look that way to other people. I still have to deal with the issue of looking like those girls in my high school, but all in all I think I've realized that my posture really affects the image I have of myself. It feels good to walk tall.

Try to notice your posture a little more today than usual. Walk with your head high, your shoulders back, and chest unabashedly out. See how the world looks from a few inches higher.

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.

Shapes

LOVE YOURS!! There's no changing it. Not really. The world is full of interesting and beautiful shapes. An apple may wonder what it's like to be a tree once in awhile. A pear may look at a Coke bottle with envy. But the shapes do not, cannot, will not change. Thank goodness. Shapes are wondrous. Your shape is your boundary, the space you carve out so uniquely. The images here are merely types. You are more than a "type". You are a shape with its own name, original lines and curves that defy "types". Love your shape.

Time to Go on a Diyet?

A friend of mine forwarded a link to me today, and when I clicked on it I saw this:



At first, it reminded me of another image I saw on another friend's Pinterest board:


So at first I though it was a hoax--a writer using child-like penmanship in order to illustrate a point and garner some attention about an issue.

But as I read on, I became convinced it was true. A seven-year-old wrote that list. And her mom is naturally very angry at society for upholding the values we do concerning appearance and beauty, which eventually led to this little girl making such a list.

Apparently the girl heard about this "diyet" from a friend at school. Who knows how the friend heard about it. Maybe she has a big sister who reads teen magazines.

I understand the mother's frustration. I, too, am worried that I will be forced to talk about issues with my young daughter that she really shouldn't have to deal with until she's much older.

I might try to look at it another way, though. Maybe these girls are writing about "diyets" because they have read about them and they seem like important, grown-up things to emulate. Like when a kid writes a "menu" and takes your order, or "writes a check" to pay for toys in their room.

But let's say these girls are taking this seriously. This mom did exactly the right thing and talked to her daughter about the beauty of her body just the way it is. I also suggest having the friend over and doing some activities that will get counter-cultural messages across.

But the real issue here is that little girls are taking their bodies very seriously. They are learning how to put on makeup, accessorize, dance and walk in ways that make them feel grown up. Because our culture tells them that their value lies in how much attention they can get for their looks.

This mom was questioning her choice to let her daughter play with a Barbie doll. I've been there, making the choice between giving in to my daughter's wishes for pretty playthings and trying to substitute her desired object with something less damaging for her self image.

I let her have a Barbie.

Because ultimately, I think balance is key. I let her have a Barbie, but instead of a Barbie video for Christmas I got her a Veggie Tales movie about true beauty. I think it's okay for little girls to learn from an early age how to take their of their bodies. I think it's okay for them to be affirmed in their desire for "prettiness". The problem comes when we limit the idea of "prettiness" to a Barbie doll or Disney princess. Another problem comes when we indulge them in their desire to grow up too fast. We womanize and sexualize our little girls because we think it's so cute that they look like little ladies.

Look at this swimsuit from Target:


It starts at size 4. Some moms probably think their 4-year-olds look darling in this little mini bikini. Let's face it, a woman's body is very pleasing to look at. Fine. But is the idea of a woman's body so alluring that we must project it onto little girls?

I haven't even addressed the issue of sports, dance, gymnastics and pageants for little girls. Again, balance is key. We as a society tend to keep pushing the envelope--maybe part of our "westward expansion" mentality. We could stand to sit back and let things be.

I'd love your reactions and thoughts.

Get Your Groove On...or something like that

Yes, I'm the girl taking pictures of herself in the mirror at the gym. I just get tired of stealing other people's photos off the Internet.

I just joined this little fitness center, and today was my second day using it. I went yesterday afternoon, thinking it would be empty.

Wrong.

Full of men lifting weights and talking trash to each other. And here comes little ol' me. I actually thought I was doing pretty well, holding my own and looking like I belonged there...until I slipped a bit on the treadmill. It was a little tiny slip, but I think I uttered some kind of surprised noise. Not sure. But I just kept on running. I don't even think my face stayed red for that long. An improvement for me, for sure.

So today I went in the morning (I just love my part-time work schedule). And I was the only one there! So I took advantage--taking photos of my bad self, putting the radio on and practicing my Zumba toning moves with free weights, that kind of thing. I know, none of you would ever do anything like that, alone or not.

As I was watching my bad self in the wall-sized mirror, I was struck by how funny it was that I had given so much thought to what I wore to the gym. I really, really want to look feminine at the gym. I don't want to go in there with a bandana and no earrings, just on the off chance that someone mistakes me for an adolescent boy. So I get my zebra print scarves out and do my makeup, all for an hour of getting stinky and falling off the treadmill.

Why? If I go to the gym and men look at me, I get really creeped out. The answer is that if I go to the gym and no one is there, I actually really enjoy watching myself in the mirror--if I look the part, that is. (By the way, I get my ideas of what a workout outfit should look like from MTV's The Grind workout videos from the 90s.) If I look like I could be on a workout video, I'm happy. I guess I imagine that if I practice enough, someday I can feel as good when there are people to watch me. I know, I'm so vain. I probably think this blog is about me...

At one point during my little workout, I laughed out loud. Here I was, watching my biceps flex (if I squinted and got really close to the mirror) and keeping an eye on the door--and I was convinced I really looked good. But I'm realistic enough to know that I actually looked a bit foolish. Cool at times, but mostly foolish.

But I think that's okay. As soon as someone comes in the door, I feel like a little girl who's out of her league. But by myself, I'm really something! The point, I think, of this whole post is that we need those moments where we can stand all alone in front of a mirrored wall and bust out some moves that boost our confidence--even if the moment only lasts until another person walks in.

No matter your body shape or size, you can feel good when you look in the mirror at a gym. You can. First of all, anyone looks good with a barbell in their hand or sitting on an exercise ball.



Secondly, you are at a gym! You should feel great about making that choice. And finally, I think we all have to have some degree of love for our bodies. We get what we get, and we don't throw a fit, as they say in preschool. It can be scary to look at yourself full on like that, but if you find yourself all alone with the freedom to take it in, just enjoy who you are when no one is watching. Laugh a little but keep on dancing. Or swiveling. Or whatever it is you're doing in front of that mirror. If a bald girl can feel good in front of a mirror, so can you.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 30

Well, we made it! Thanks for taking this journey with me. For the past month I have tried to find beauty in places I would not normally think to look for it. I have tried to comment on beauty that often goes unnoticed or is not classified as such.

I think what I've learned from this experiment is that, notwithstanding a few deep-seated, cultural stereotypes about beauty, I actually find it pretty easy to recognize the beauty around me.

It's much, much harder to recognize the beauty in me and in the circumstances I find myself in. I keep looking all around me and seeing beauty...and wishing that I could possess it, somehow. I still don't think I've truly internalized the truth that others see beauty in me that they wish they could possess. We all want what we think we don't have, right? Most of us, anyway. We are discontent. Well, okay--at the risk of pushing some of you away, I will keep this personal. I am discontent.

I am aiming for that day when I can see something or someone beautiful, appreciate it, and then turn around and be thankful for exactly who I am and what I have in that same moment. That sounds like freedom to me.

So here goes. This morning I saw a mom at my daughter's school with beautiful hair: shiny black with copper highlights, falling past the small of her back, slightly wavy. I appreciate that I can look at her hair and appreciate the aesthetics without having to deal with that much hair to wash every day myself.

Okay, now I have to turn around:



Hmmm...well, I see a beautifully smooth shape, a curve that is aesthetically pleasing. I see easy maintenance (and most of the time I am extremely thankful for that). I see connection to sun, sky and cold that many people don't feel. I see soft skin that loves to be touched with gentle admiration. I see a blank canvas. I see a woman who is totally unique and will probably always be noticed.

Deep breath...wow, that was hard! Okay, now you try. Celebrate the beauty of YOU!

I will take a couple days off from writing but this month-long experience has created momentum for me to write more frequently, so I will see you back here soon.

30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 3

Today's beautiful moment came as a revelation. I went to Zumba today, and I was feeling a bit uncoordinated. There were a lot of new moves and the instructor is an impossibly good dancer. We all pale in comparison. One woman in particular was making me chuckle. Her arms were flailing so spasmodically; I admit that I looked at her whenever I needed to feel better about my own attempt to recreate my instructor's moves (who, by the way, looks like Jennifer Lopez).

Speaking of J-Lo, when I got home I wanted to find a song by her that we danced to in class. I found the video on YouTube and was soon sinking lower in my chair as I watched her looking absolutely perfect, wishing I could just be her for one day. I can't believe I'm admitting this: after all this time writing about how to redefine beauty, I still want to look like Jennifer Lopez.

But as I watched the video, the absurdity of the life it portrays hit me. I could just see the hours she must have spent in hair, makeup and wardrobe. I laughed at the depiction of rich young rappers sitting by a pool with half-naked women lounging around all over the place.

And here's where the revelation occurred: I realized I would rather be in a room full of housewives and moms, flailing their arms and laughing at how they couldn't keep up with the mambo steps, then having to do twenty takes of the same hip roll until it looked sexy enough. I would rather be comfortable in my lounge pants than have to parade around in skinny jeans because I was expected to. Sexiness all of a sudden feels like a lot of work, and I have decided I really like the freedom to look how I look!

It was a beautiful revelation.

Have you had any revelations today?