I'm not really here.

I know it's been a long time since we've talked.

And I hate to say it, but . . . it's going to be a bit longer.

I just went through my calendar to make sure I'm not double booking myself anywhere in the near future. Here are three important things I've learned:

1. I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO MIND TO SPEAK OF. If you want to schedule something with me, please tattoo it on my forehead. Even then, please call to remind me. I will have forgotten it as soon as I'm no longer looking in a mirror.
2. ALL OF YOU BIATCHES GETTING MARRIED THIS YEAR . . . Congrats. Good on you. (One wedding a month, for four months solid. Yeeeeeehaw!)
3. MY SMART PHONE AND MY PERSONAL ASSISTANT (Hi Husband!) ARE THE ONLY THINGS KEEPING ME FROM INSANITY. These pretty much speak for themselves. With Truth.

Until Next Time,

Mrs.

Why I'm Smashing The Scale This Year: A New Year's Revolution

On Tuesday, I excitedly noticed my name mentioned in the Huffington Post's article about The Militant Baker's #SMASHTHESCALE body love revolution photo series, and of course immediately shared it on my Facebook. A couple of my friends reshared the link, and I had been thrilled to see all of the positive responses to this photo series which I think is so incredibly powerful.

And then I saw this comment from a friend of a friend:

"I hate destruction of things that can easily be donated to someone else. Goes along with the "musicians" who smash guitars....what's the purpose? Use the energy to dig a hole and plant a tree, or rake leaves for an elderly person. Maybe THEN you'd lose a pound or two."

Of course, I couldn't keep my big mouth shut (even though, I know, Haters Be Hatin'), and I just had to repost my response here. Conveniently, it also ties in the The Militant Baker's call for #smashthescale blog posts, tweets, and photos all this week, and you can view the entire blogroll here.

As to my response:

Hi Concerned Person! I'm the woman who came up with the idea for Smash the Scale, and I'm hoping that I can help alleviate some of your concerns. I, and a number of my fellow The Body Love Conference volunteers, also hate seeing waste. That's why we purchased the scales secondhand, and upcycled a number of scales from women providing their own. We did try to recycle them through a community art effort afterwards, but unfortunately that fell apart. The best we could do is dispose of them responsibly, which we did.

As to the second part of your comment, if you take the time to read about #smashthescale, you'll find that this isn't merely a group of overweight women frustrated in their efforts to lose weight. As you can see in the pictures, there are women of all shapes and sizes, from model thin on up. The goal isn't to say that being healthy doesn't matter, but rather to call out the wrongful conflation of a number on a scale with the idea of health. Scales can give us data about our bodies, but that's all it is -- just data. Not self-worth. Not beauty. Not desirability. And in my opinion, our culture's obsession with losing "a pound or two" being the equivalent of self-improvement is a dangerous and damnable idea.  

I have felt fat since I was twelve years out. I was 5'7" and weighed 150 lbs at the time. That's a normal, healthy BMI, and I was a normal, healthy kid. But combine the fact that I had hips and thighs and an ass when my friends didn't with the notion that losing weight is the same as being healthy, and what started as a pre-pubescent with low self-esteem evolved into a seventeen-year-old who routinely made herself vomit in the alleyway behind her house because her parents monitored how long she spent in the bathroom. Oh, and vomited in the bathroom at school. And at the gas station. And at work. And anywhere else I could -- all because I was so afraid of "being fat," of having that number on the scale increase. Of having that number on the scale not decrease. And because of all that self-harm, I lost a whole twenty pounds! You tell me -- was that destruction of my body a worthy way to use my energy? I did lose weight, after all. 

It's taken a lot of hard work, self-love, the support of family and friends, and actively fighting against my body dismorphia to get me to a place where I don't automatically look in the mirror and hate myself. But when I'm having a bad day, those old feelings still creep in. I have moments where I want to binge-eat my way through two burgers, three donuts, and a giant-size portion of chocolate and/or chips because I feel out of control of my life and my body and eating food is a way to forget and find comfort, and then vomit it all up again because HOW COULD I DO SOMETHING SO AWFUL, I'M GOING TO GET FAT. Thankfully, because I've spent years learning to resist that cycle, and because I'm finally learning to love myself, I don't. And nowadays I can even go running, and lift weights, and dance around like a crazy fool with an aerobics video (and I do), without having it all come down to how "fat" I think I am, or whether or not that activity will help me lose weight. Do I want to be healthier than I am right now?? Hell yes -- I want to be stronger, I want to be faster, I want to avoid the heart attacks that spot my family health history like some deadly genetic acne. And am I taking steps to get there? Absolutely. But in the meantime, I need to be able to love myself as I am, and not spend all my waking hours obsessing over whether or not that square lump in my bathroom and society's bullshit beauty trends say I'm worth it. 

And that's why, destructive or not, I smashed my scale. Was it wasteful? In a way, yes - and that's why I don't expect nor think it necessary that every person physically destroy their scale just to engage in this movement. Was it a waste? Not for me. It was terrifying, soul-baring, cathartic, and ultimately empowering to physically destroy something that has been too much a part of my life for way too long -- but a waste? Absolutely not.

If you want to get in on this ish -- and believe me, you do -- there are a number of ways you can join the movement:

1. Blog about it, and share your link on The Body Love Conference Facebook.
2. Share your story on The Body Love Conference Facebook or in the comments here, and I'll pass it on to the Militant Baker! We want to read and share both on The Body Love Conference FB and The Militant Baker FB. Let's drown out the annual New Year's Weight Loss Resolution Chorus with a rousing battlecry of our own!
3. Create your own image like I did with this simple PNG overlay. Instructions on how to do so here. Post it to the Body Love Conference's and/or The Militant Baker's FB wall so your pic can be shared as well!
4. Tweet and tag @BodyLoveConf. Hashtag the shit outta your posts with #SmashTheScale and #Smash The Scale on Tumblr. Instagram your pics to The Body Love Conference here.

Ultimately, why do I believe we need to smash the scale? Jes put it best:

"For every girl bent over a toilet, worshiping at the altar of thin. For every teen who cries herself to sleep at night because she’s not good enough and doesn’t know why. For every child who didn't know they were fat until someone told them. For every woman who hopes that happiness is on the other side of that pill bottle. For every person who's stopped eating when they're still hungry. For every woman who hopes that happiness is on the other side of that pill bottle this time. Or maybe this time. For every woman that thinks she’ll be worthy of love if her thighs were smaller.  For every woman that holds back tears while she tries on jeans. For every child with a Weight Watchers chart on their bedroom door. For every man who's been told to put his shirt back on. For every teen who starves for a gap. For every skinny girl accused of anorexia and every fat girl that’s called lazy.

For every person who looks down at a number for so long that they forget to look up at the world.
For you. 

Choose your weapon.
Smash the Scale.
And with it, all obligation, expectation and guilt."

Let's make 2014 the year we love ourselves.

Hallelujah, amen.

Sorry Boys, I'm Not Your Dress-Up Doll

I should probably be writing about the new Lily Allen video (My initial reaction: I like it; followed by my more thought-out reaction: Does that make me a #solidarityisforwhitewomen -style racist? Yikes . . . more contemplation later!), or explaining where I've been since The Militant Baker freaking rocked my world by linking to my post about Maria Kang, fitsperation and privilege (moving to the new house, making art, and not sleeping very much is the short answer). However, last night I had this brilliant idea for a post series, and I just can't wait to get it started. Therefore, without further ado, I give you:

Feminist Undercover: Keeping My Big Mouth Shut, One Shift at a Time

Tuesday nights, I work as a bartender. Generally, I like it: I get to join in for karaoke when I'm not too busy, the pay is good, and the owner is chill. The customers are also pretty chill, for the most part. But here's the thing:

Every week, I wear a pair of cowgirl boots. And not just any boots -- these are my very favorite, super-comfortable red cowgirl boots that the Mr. gave me for Christmas seven years ago. Since then, I've rarely appeared without them -- with the exception of my wedding ring, they are my most-worn accessory. And I love these boots. I love the way I stomp around in them. I love the way they make even the most mundane outfit look cool and artsy. And I love the way they support my feet -- especially over a long shift at work.

The highly controversial boots.

Apparently, not everyone at the bar feels quite the same way. And last night, when I got on shift, my boss pulled me to the side, explained that I was doing a great job and no one has any complaints, except . . . "People are tired of the boots." I didn't have to ask to know exactly which people we were talking about. 

See, I catch the tail end of the day shift's crowd. And overall, they're nice people -- hardworking, mostly blue-collar, mostly middle-aged dudes looking for some cheap beer and a pretty girl to talk to before they go home alone. And I know that not everyone can be an über-progressive feminist baddass like myself, so I don't hold it against them that sometimes their conversation topics leave me wanting to either give someone a vicious intellectual tongue-lashing, or run for the door. And I understand that part of my job is to look cute, and act cute, and put up with their unsolicited comments on my appearance, because at the end of the day, they are the customer, the beer is the product, and I am a major part of the packaging that makes a 66¢ bottle of Bud worth the $2.50 they pay for it. And lord help my closeted feminist butt, but I keep doing it week after week because the money's good and I need that money right now.

Even so, I have my limits. Back when I was in high school, some random girl once handed me a "Fashion Police" citation for wearing a pink t-shirt with red sneakers. Back then, I simply laughed and threw the slip of paper away. Now imagine me ten years older, with a whole lot less fucks to give.

Me: "I'm sorry, I really like my boots. I dress up for the customers, I do my makeup for them -"

Boss: "No, you do that for yourself. You do it to get better tips, pick up some more hours . . ."

Now, I may be misquoting here; because a slow miasma of rage had begun to creep across my vision. But the basic implication was, if I vary my footwear, I stand to improve my nightly haul and potentially pick up more hours on the schedule. Let's ignore the questionable logic of that statement and focus on the important stuff: 

"So you want me to wear . . . more?"

Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe we have just discovered my bar's "Flair" policy.

On Maria Kang, Fitsperation, and The Problem With Fitness Privilege

(This is a cross post from my personal health and body positivity Tumblr. Enjoy!)

Warning: LOTS and LOTS of swear words coming up. You've been warned.

Now let's get down to business.

There's already been a ton written about super-fit mom-of-three Maria Kang. If you haven't been living on the internet recently, you can read a decent summary over here. I understand her intentions weren't to shame people, and I think her accomplishment is amazing. I even think it's a great thing to set as a goal and pursue, if that's what you're into.

HOWEVER. (Let's pause before the following paragraphs to put a big ol' "IMO" in front of everything I'm about to say.)

In Which I Discuss All The Things, Part I

Not pictured: Anxiety, Stress, Bad Decision Making,
Reverting to Your College Eating Habits Because
That's All You Can Afford Right Now

HOLY CRAP, let's talk real life for a hot minute.

First, the Epic Roadtrip Of Awesome was freak-out-no-holds-barred-let's-force-all-our-friends-to-view-a-slideshow level of EPIC.

Lucky for you, I have too much stuff going on right now to edit those pictures (and yes, since learning to use Photoshop, I basically can't post pictures without pulling them through an editing process. I just cant. I have a problem).

Instead of that . . .

When we got back from said alluded-to Epic-Roadtrip-Of-Awesomesauce, I had this really bright (not really) idea about getting back to house shopping. We'd looked around a bit before our trip and there hadn't been anything that great, so I figured more casual browsing wouldn't hurt.

Except then casual browsing turned into casual viewing turned into casual finding a great house turned into casual putting in an offer -- except oh wait, there's nothing casual about that, and then wouldn't you know but all my brilliant plans of not becoming overly involved went straight to hell.

There's probably an old saying about, "when you drive by the house you just put an offer in on and notice that the fridge is sitting in the front yard for some mysterious reason, you might want to reconsider your decision," but I'd personally never had such an experience until, um, the fridge was sitting out in the front yard for some mysterious reason.

Turns out, some motha effers were in the process of clearing the place out, and had been interrupted by our drive by. Don't worry, they got right back to work after we left, and the fridge was gone by the next day (I know that's what you were worried about). I have never felt so personally responsible to people I've never met - I'm still replaying how we should have handled things differently. Adding insult to injury (for them), upon further inspection, we decided we didn't want that house after all -- which then meant, for those of you who are house-shopping uninitiated, that we had to wait for our thousand dollars of "I swear I'm super serious about this" earnest money to be mailed back to us in check form, and apologize profusely to our realtor for wasting his time on paperwork, yadda yadda.

But wait, there's more! Within a day or so of cancelling on the one house, we decided we wanted to buy another one of the houses we'd seen. And guess what that offer required?

If your answer is "One Thousand Dollars Earnest Money" -- good job, you've been paying attention. On the bright side, apparently it's possible to squeeze extra money from your monthly income, so long as you give up luxuries like fresh produce and making sure you're not going to run out of gas. With our penny-pinching budget in hand, we managed to wring not one, but TWO earnest money checks from our rather anemic-looking bank accounts (not the first nor the last time I'm going to wonder why exactly I thought freelancing was such a good idea . . .), and hop on board for the second time.

Which brings me to the loan approval process . . .

Will Chad and Kate get a house? Will Kate finally let go of her overly optimistic expectations that anything will ever be easy? The adventures continue next time!

Baby Fever, and How It Grew

I'd say I've had the normal cycle of procreative urges: meet a nice boy, fall in love, decide he'd be the perfect father to my one-day kids. Get married, have that moment six months in where I want to have a baby, since that's what you do when you're married and all (riiiiiight?). Grab ahold of my hormones with both hands, remind myself that I'm waaaayy too young to think about such things, and put it off. Push it back hard -- in fact, push it back so hard that I actually reach a point where I can't imagine myself with kids, where I'm terrified at the thought of kids.

The Horror.

Actually, that turned out to be a really, really, REALLY good thing, because it gave me time to actually work on me, and my marriage, and blah-de-blah-de-blah. Three years later, my life is sorta sorting itself out - or at least beginning to reach a point where it could sort itself out. And some major scary health things happened in my family, and it brought my priorities into perspective. And I realized that seeing my family meet my child is more important to me than pursuing grad school right away, or a whirlwind trip around the world, or being able to go out to fancy restaurants whenever (or almost whenever) I feel like it.

Hi-five, younger self.

So the Mr. and I had The Talk - and we figured out that 2014 would be our lucky year for having a kid. Coincidentally, this lines up perfectly with my 12-year-old self's life plan: marry at 22, have kids at 27. Of course, I never thought about the logistics that go into having that kid at 27 (hiya, nine-month gestational period) - so here I am at 26, working to get all my ducks in a row so that we can start FFB later this year (it's like TTC, only more fun and more accurately-phrased). And I'm still terrified, in a way - but I'm also excited. Like, really excited. And I can't wait until we have that little mini-us on the way - but I still have to get those ducklings fully in line.

Until that happens, I'm just going to have to stay where I'm at, counting down until we're ready to launch into the next phase of our life. Here's to learning to love the process.

Why I Prefer the F Word: A Letter

Confused? Click here to catch up.

Dear Person-Who-Supports-Equality-But-Isn't-A-Feminist,

I want to talk about the F-Word. (No, not that F-word.) Specifically, Feminists. And I'm going to get a little serious -- but this is important, and I really want you to hear me and understand that this is coming from a place of love.

If you live on the internet and frequent (gulp) feminist blogs like I do, Taylor Swift's declaration that she isn't a feminist is ancient history. OLD NEWS. So why am I bringing it up now? Two reasons: 1) I had a fantastic discussion with some beautiful and passionate people about what feminism is, at the end of which we all went away satisfied and fired up and ready to group hug the world, and 2) I'm really getting tired of having that discussion, because it focuses my energy on the wrong part of problem.

Feminism, like any other movement or school of thought, has multiple facets and ideologies -- denominations, if I may bring my Presbyterian upbringing into play :). The broadest school of thought within Feminism is one concerned with equality for all. Within the current incarnation of feminism, known as 3rd Wave Feminism (Wikipedia is good for a quick catch-up on the waves and general history of the movement), the concerns have have broadened from the too-limited, overwhelmingly white, discussion of women's rights in the 60s and 70s to a fight for the rights of all racial backgrounds and nationalities, all sexualities and genders, all belief systems, and people from all socio-economic backgrounds, etc. etc. -- essentially, the 3rd Wave takes the 2nd Wave's idea of "personal integrity" and seeks to actually apply it for all people.

Some people who identify as feminist choose to continue to focus their energy causes that are female-specific, and this decision can lead onlookers to characterize feminists as only being interested in advancing women's rights. I disagree. Someone's decision to focus on certain issues doesn't mean they're disinterested or apathetic to the other struggles out there - it could be that their chosen issues are where they feel their voice will matter most. Other people choose a more broad-based approach, following their passions across a variety of fields. I fall into this second group - though I focus primarily on abortion rights, body and information integrity, systematized inequality (race, gender, fiscal, social, etc), and obstruction of civil rights, I'm also passionate about preserving the environment, supporting the arts, pursuing world peace, and increasing global education rates. I flit from issue to issue, depending on what speaks to me at the time. Many of these causes take me outside of female-specific concerns, but I still consider myself a Feminist first and foremost - and I believe that all of my causes, and indeed all battles for equality and respect for the individual, can be grouped under the umbrella cause of Feminism. Why? At its core, Feminism is about redefining the way we distribute power in society, and therefore is applicable to many, many systems outside of those thought of as relating to women.

This leads to the question of whether to all people who are passionate about equality should band together under one banner or remain as separate groups. Let me be clear -- a huge aspect of feminism is allowing people to form their own narratives and identify how they want -- and I will never be the person saying someone has to identify as Feminist. I do believe that we are stronger when we come together to support each other and fight on many fronts together, and I'd like us as a culture to get to the point where we're not in the business of tearing down one identity in order to define another. Take Ms. Swift's original comment to The Daily Beast back in October, in response to being asked if she considered herself a feminist: "I don’t really think about things as guys versus girls. I never have. I was raised by parents who brought me up to think if you work as hard as guys, you can go far in life." I'm not going to get into the history of feminism being maligned or miscast, or how Taylor Swift is likely to continue being a problematic role model. To put it in one sentence, I think Taylor Swift fell victim to a incredibly common misconception, the same misconception that's making me tired of having this discussion: Feminism doesn't mean what many people think it means. Opponents of the F-word have defined it as the opposite of equality, as opposed to a synonym. Even when dealing with the female-specific issues raised by feminism, I think this us-versus-them mentality is a huge mistake. Highlighting one group's suffering doesn't automatically minimize another's, or set one group up as "more worthy" -- it's simply the necessary identification of one specific issue to tackle in order to break down the system piece by piece.

In fact, feminism is arguably the main engine behind men gaining greater freedom, as they are allowed to embrace their whole selves and adopt the non-traditional gender role of nurturer, just as women have become more empowered to adopt roles outside of homemaker and caretaker. My favorite pop culture manifestation of this has been the shift in advertisements I've noticed over the past few years -- Huggies, in particular, has been rocking my world with their depiction of Daddy as a caretaker, without any "Mr. Mom" jokes worked in. More dads are demanding schedule flexibility to take care of their children while more moms are able to hold jobs actually capable of supporting a family on one salary, and more companies are responding to this shift by offering parental leave regardless of gender. Our society's concept of parenting is just one zone to observe feminism's effects, of course, but it's one where I've seen some huge developments firsthand.

As the great Gloria Steinem said,

“We've begun to raise daughters more like sons... but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters.”

We're just at the beginning of that arc, of raising sons no longer limited by their own gender constraints, who are capable to not only perceiving their own privilege but actively working to reach out beyond it to share that power with others (beautifully exemplified by the father mentioned in this TED talk), but I really do believe we're going to get there. While I know that the F-word "feminism" sounds awfully a lot like it's only working for the benefit of women, especially with all the connotations that have been forced on it, I believe that true Feminism is working for the greater good and equality of all.

Love,

(Feminist-and-Proud-of-It) Mrs.