The idea that she could be anything less than beautiful has not yet occurred to my daughter. She's eight. I know how young that is, and yet in today's society, where we're constantly bombarded from a young age with images of beauty depicted as only the skinniest of skinny, where diet pill ads are everywhere, where the "before" picture depicts an already lovely woman, a woman generally not really at a bad weight, our self-image is under attack from the time we start seeing these ads.
Somehow, though, my girl hasn't yet taken these to heart. She puts on what she likes and it doesn't matter what anyone says. She admires herself in the mirror. She's satisfied with what she sees, for now. She still thinks I'm beautiful, in spite of my own unintentional sabotage. In spite of my loose lips around her vulnerable ears. In spite of my own harsh criticism of myself within her earshot.
I'm lucky. She's lucky. She hasn't been damaged beyond repair. I can still change what I say of myself, of beauty, of health.
If I tell her how beautiful she is (I do) and yet in front of her, I complain that I'm fat and disgusting, I counter the compliments I give her. She looks just like me. People call her my mini-me. And if she's my mini-me and I'm fat, does that not make her fat? Right now, she thinks I'm beautiful and is proud to look like me. And whether or not she looks like me, her self-worth as she grows is inextricably tied up in the way I talk about myself, and also in the way we talk about other people. The way we place a value on beauty standards, particularly cookie-cutter beauty standards. In the message that breasts should all be full and round and even, lips shiny and red, stomachs flat. The way a person who is "less beautiful" becomes almost invisible. Because they're less valuable.
My daughter should never view herself as an ornament. Ornaments are for the pleasure of everyone but the ornament itself; her value should never become tied up in her appearance or in others' opinions of her. Her soul is beautiful, and that is where her value lies. Society should hold no weight on the value of her body because that's not where her value lies. It's not tied to the way she dresses or how much or little of her body she covers up regardless of her size. Her body and any value she attaches to it is her own. And that will be applied by the ideas that we, that I demonstrate for her.
Value us as humans, not because we look beautiful but because we act beautifully. Value kindness and intelligence (everyone has their own kind of intelligence! Everyone.), our wisdom and humor. Value our quirks, our individuality. Let us be proud of what we're born with.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
This blog post was brought to my attention earlier and it really bugs me. Like, really really bugs me.
http://applesandbandaidsblog.com/2014/06/11/my-husband-doesnt-need-to-see-your-boobs/
The idea that we have to protect our husbands, and to put the responsibility of protecting our husbands upon other women and the way they dress is terrible. Terrible!
It reduces men to creatures incapable of self control. It assumes their attitude automatically objectifies women. It takes away from the trust and love that should be within a marriage because it says "Don't trust yout husband. He's a dirty pig who can't not think about women's bodies. He lets those bodies come in between the two of you. Don't trust him." And a lack of faith chips away at love more than anything else can.
Have faith in your husbands, ladies.
I was going to just post this without taking an actually obtained male opinion into consideration. I was going to just speak for my husband, but then I thought better. So I called him at work and asked him, much to his amusement, questions with answers I already knew.
When he sees women in bikinis on his feed, does he stop and stare?
No.
(It barely registers)
Does he think about them after, at any point? While having sex with me, maybe? While at work and desperately needing something to lust after?
No.
(he even snickered at the idea)
Does he wish I could have thinner legs, be less stretch-marked, have a flatter belly?
No.
(I'm the most beautiful woman he knows of)
Men may be visual creatures, but they, not their wiring, are who chooses what to do with the imagery in front of them. They choose whether or not it comes into their marriage. You help choose whether those images come in between you and your husband with YOUR attitude. Because when you feel a need to chase after your husband to make sure he knows that there are "stumbling blocks" all over social media as if you're his keeper, you degrade him as a person and YOU objectify the women you feel are the stumbling blocks.
Because women were ogled and lusted after when we dressed like this:
(Picture found on http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/victorian-era/images/10709164/title/victorian-era-photo)
We, the wives, women, put more attention toward other women dressed "immodestly" than do men. We give more thought to them then our husbands do.
You're the one thinking about them for days after. A guy might look once but he controls whether or not he looks twice and the way he thinks after. But wives have a hand in that in making it a big deal.
Men are capable of controlling themselves. Their minds. Their attitude toward women. The attitude that lets a man NOT objectify a woman based on what she's wearing is what we should be aiming for, not making women cover up to protect a grown man from himself. Because a man who ogles a woman in her bikini will ogle her in a modest skirt and tee shirt. Women on the beach do not equate to porn. Other women aren't stumbling blocks to your marriage because of their attire. The stumbling blocks are maybe real things, but they're in you, in your husband. In your attitudes.
http://applesandbandaidsblog.com/2014/06/11/my-husband-doesnt-need-to-see-your-boobs/
The idea that we have to protect our husbands, and to put the responsibility of protecting our husbands upon other women and the way they dress is terrible. Terrible!
It reduces men to creatures incapable of self control. It assumes their attitude automatically objectifies women. It takes away from the trust and love that should be within a marriage because it says "Don't trust yout husband. He's a dirty pig who can't not think about women's bodies. He lets those bodies come in between the two of you. Don't trust him." And a lack of faith chips away at love more than anything else can.
Have faith in your husbands, ladies.
I was going to just post this without taking an actually obtained male opinion into consideration. I was going to just speak for my husband, but then I thought better. So I called him at work and asked him, much to his amusement, questions with answers I already knew.
When he sees women in bikinis on his feed, does he stop and stare?
No.
(It barely registers)
Does he think about them after, at any point? While having sex with me, maybe? While at work and desperately needing something to lust after?
No.
(he even snickered at the idea)
Does he wish I could have thinner legs, be less stretch-marked, have a flatter belly?
No.
(I'm the most beautiful woman he knows of)
Men may be visual creatures, but they, not their wiring, are who chooses what to do with the imagery in front of them. They choose whether or not it comes into their marriage. You help choose whether those images come in between you and your husband with YOUR attitude. Because when you feel a need to chase after your husband to make sure he knows that there are "stumbling blocks" all over social media as if you're his keeper, you degrade him as a person and YOU objectify the women you feel are the stumbling blocks.
Because women were ogled and lusted after when we dressed like this:
(Picture found on http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/victorian-era/images/10709164/title/victorian-era-photo)
We, the wives, women, put more attention toward other women dressed "immodestly" than do men. We give more thought to them then our husbands do.
You're the one thinking about them for days after. A guy might look once but he controls whether or not he looks twice and the way he thinks after. But wives have a hand in that in making it a big deal.
Men are capable of controlling themselves. Their minds. Their attitude toward women. The attitude that lets a man NOT objectify a woman based on what she's wearing is what we should be aiming for, not making women cover up to protect a grown man from himself. Because a man who ogles a woman in her bikini will ogle her in a modest skirt and tee shirt. Women on the beach do not equate to porn. Other women aren't stumbling blocks to your marriage because of their attire. The stumbling blocks are maybe real things, but they're in you, in your husband. In your attitudes.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Ghost
On Sunday it'll be two years since Karl died. I still have
his favorite things; a football jersey, sunglasses, a drawing he'd
commissioned with plans to have done as a tattoo that never happened,
his box of baby memories. I keep these things not out of grief or
mourning or, I admit, even good memories. I keep these items out
of guilt for feeling none of those things.
My grief was over by the time he passed. My mourning was done in the months before he died; it was poisoned away by chemotherapy and the endless sickness that comes along with it. It was spent in countless hours in the emergency room. It was numbed by exhaustion, dulled by the disappearance of the man I'd married -- a good man, a loving man, a kind man -- as he was replaced by a stranger who didn't know me or the kids, who called all of us names, who was confused all of the time, who hallucinated and heard voices. It was absorbed in the pain etched in deep crevices on his face and by the bones cracking in his body as the cancer ate through them.
In the end, all that was left for me to feel when he died was shock. It finally, really happened. This thing we've known was coming, but seemed to never truly BE coming, finally came and with it came shock. Shock and a feeling of being lost; this thing my life had centered around for two years was gone. I was so used to orbiting something, I didn't know what to do with myself. And finally a sense of freedom I had forgotten existed.
And yet this new found liberation was tarnished by guilt and a feeling of still being alone; the rest of his family was grieving the grief I had already felt and was done with. They hadn't been there for the majority of the illness, they saw just a few pieces of the time he spent dying. For them, this thing I'd had two years to come to terms with was very new. This was not their fault. They had lives and jobs and kids of their own to carry on with. But in watching their mourning, I was an outsider. I wasn't a part of the group. My real feelings -- the liberation, the elation -- yes, elation! -- at finally having room to breath again couldn't be spoken out loud to his parents, his siblings, even my best friend, who is the youngest sister. Because love me though she may, it was still her brother and it would be unfair and insensitive of me to tell her what I really felt. I certainly couldn't tell my kids. They'd kept on their rose-colored glasses, as kids can do, and been in denial of the obvious truth I didn't realize, much to my regret, I needed to speak aloud. Their dad's death was as fresh for them as it was for the rest of the family. I held them and loved them but I couldn't grieve with them.
So I kept it to myself and let myself be alone, and really, being alone was nice. It was nice to just be left alone. I fell in love again quickly, which further alienated me from his family, who were entirely unable to have empathy for what I was feeling because it really was so alien to them in their fresh grief. I understand that and I forgive it. These people I'd known since I was ten. Some of whom still have no interest in talking to me and thus have blown off their grand kids/nephews and niece as well. Even as I moved on, I felt guilty that I couldn't take part in their grief. I felt guilt over feeling no grief over this man for whom I'd felt and gone through so much. And so his things still sit in my hall closet, gathering dust and silently keeping the ghost contained to that one area.
This weekend, these things are leaving my house. I have come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to feel guilty over; we all grieve in our own way and our own time. Sometimes that time is much shorter than we imagined and that's ok. My grief was my own and however I did it, I'm normal and ok. It's time to let this ghost go.
My grief was over by the time he passed. My mourning was done in the months before he died; it was poisoned away by chemotherapy and the endless sickness that comes along with it. It was spent in countless hours in the emergency room. It was numbed by exhaustion, dulled by the disappearance of the man I'd married -- a good man, a loving man, a kind man -- as he was replaced by a stranger who didn't know me or the kids, who called all of us names, who was confused all of the time, who hallucinated and heard voices. It was absorbed in the pain etched in deep crevices on his face and by the bones cracking in his body as the cancer ate through them.
In the end, all that was left for me to feel when he died was shock. It finally, really happened. This thing we've known was coming, but seemed to never truly BE coming, finally came and with it came shock. Shock and a feeling of being lost; this thing my life had centered around for two years was gone. I was so used to orbiting something, I didn't know what to do with myself. And finally a sense of freedom I had forgotten existed.
And yet this new found liberation was tarnished by guilt and a feeling of still being alone; the rest of his family was grieving the grief I had already felt and was done with. They hadn't been there for the majority of the illness, they saw just a few pieces of the time he spent dying. For them, this thing I'd had two years to come to terms with was very new. This was not their fault. They had lives and jobs and kids of their own to carry on with. But in watching their mourning, I was an outsider. I wasn't a part of the group. My real feelings -- the liberation, the elation -- yes, elation! -- at finally having room to breath again couldn't be spoken out loud to his parents, his siblings, even my best friend, who is the youngest sister. Because love me though she may, it was still her brother and it would be unfair and insensitive of me to tell her what I really felt. I certainly couldn't tell my kids. They'd kept on their rose-colored glasses, as kids can do, and been in denial of the obvious truth I didn't realize, much to my regret, I needed to speak aloud. Their dad's death was as fresh for them as it was for the rest of the family. I held them and loved them but I couldn't grieve with them.
So I kept it to myself and let myself be alone, and really, being alone was nice. It was nice to just be left alone. I fell in love again quickly, which further alienated me from his family, who were entirely unable to have empathy for what I was feeling because it really was so alien to them in their fresh grief. I understand that and I forgive it. These people I'd known since I was ten. Some of whom still have no interest in talking to me and thus have blown off their grand kids/nephews and niece as well. Even as I moved on, I felt guilty that I couldn't take part in their grief. I felt guilt over feeling no grief over this man for whom I'd felt and gone through so much. And so his things still sit in my hall closet, gathering dust and silently keeping the ghost contained to that one area.
This weekend, these things are leaving my house. I have come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to feel guilty over; we all grieve in our own way and our own time. Sometimes that time is much shorter than we imagined and that's ok. My grief was my own and however I did it, I'm normal and ok. It's time to let this ghost go.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
I'm fine: Authenticity in love
I think a lot of us can say we've been mad at God. Maybe it was something shallow and stupid, in the long run. Maybe it was over something huge! Even if that huge something resulted in an equally huge blessing, when we feel we're being wronged, our first reaction is to be mad. Even after you've come to realize the blessing in it, you still might hold a grudge over the pain that came before it, over losses you've had, over heartbreak.
What do you do with that anger? Do you swallow it, a bitter pill that leaves you sour, and sugar coat your prayers? Or do you let Him have it?
God knows it's there. You don't have to tell Him you're angry with him. He already knows. When you sugar coat and hide your anger you serve no good purpose; God wants an authentic relationship with you. God wants your real, raw self. You can't have an authentic relationship when you're holding back your authentic feelings. We have to let them go. We do it because He wants us to, because He knows that in pouring our real feelings onto him, we pour OURSELVES onto Him, and in doing so we draw closer to him. We draw closer and we allow Him to heal our hurts and our anger. When we hold them back, there's no healing.
I was so angry with God when Karl's fight with cancer started going downhill. I was angry at the idea that my kids were going to have to watch their dad die slowly. I was angry that he had to be in so much pain. I was angry at the work I had to do; the job, the care-giving, the child-minding, the decision-making. It made me angry. Sometimes I held it back, sometimes I literally cursed God in my prayers. How could He do this to me? To my family?
Even as the many blessings that resulted from those two years of cancer poured onto me (I can't call someone's pain and death a blessing, especially not that of a good man and a good father, but many things have happened as a result of the struggle that ARE blessings), as my anger faded, I held onto some resentment. It took awhile before I could admit that. But when I did, when I finally let God have it all, the relief that came surprised me.
It works the same way in human relationships. We've all been angry at another person from time to time in our lives, but so often, we shrug when they ask and we say it's "fine," even when it's not. Even though we hurt and seethe inside. "I'm fine," is a lie I'm all too guilty of telling my husband when I just don't want to fight, or if I know that it'll hurt his feelings. Even when I'm mad, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. But you know, Greg knows me well enough, and I suck badly enough at hiding my emotions, that he knows I'm not "fine." And that hurts his feelings even more, because he, too, wants my real, authentic self. The people closest to us in our lives deserve authenticity from us. I want to be close to my husband, and he to me, and so we have to give of ourselves, the good and the bad.
Real human relationships are the biggest gift God's given us on this earth. Relationships with our parents and siblings, our spouses, our kids. I'm guilty of occasionally souring those relationships with that big lie, that "I'm fine." Probably most of us are. What I'm going to do, though, is work on being more authentic, more transparent, and more honest for the sake of my relationships with my loved ones. They deserve it and I deserve it and God wants that for us.
What do you do with that anger? Do you swallow it, a bitter pill that leaves you sour, and sugar coat your prayers? Or do you let Him have it?
God knows it's there. You don't have to tell Him you're angry with him. He already knows. When you sugar coat and hide your anger you serve no good purpose; God wants an authentic relationship with you. God wants your real, raw self. You can't have an authentic relationship when you're holding back your authentic feelings. We have to let them go. We do it because He wants us to, because He knows that in pouring our real feelings onto him, we pour OURSELVES onto Him, and in doing so we draw closer to him. We draw closer and we allow Him to heal our hurts and our anger. When we hold them back, there's no healing.
I was so angry with God when Karl's fight with cancer started going downhill. I was angry at the idea that my kids were going to have to watch their dad die slowly. I was angry that he had to be in so much pain. I was angry at the work I had to do; the job, the care-giving, the child-minding, the decision-making. It made me angry. Sometimes I held it back, sometimes I literally cursed God in my prayers. How could He do this to me? To my family?
Even as the many blessings that resulted from those two years of cancer poured onto me (I can't call someone's pain and death a blessing, especially not that of a good man and a good father, but many things have happened as a result of the struggle that ARE blessings), as my anger faded, I held onto some resentment. It took awhile before I could admit that. But when I did, when I finally let God have it all, the relief that came surprised me.
It works the same way in human relationships. We've all been angry at another person from time to time in our lives, but so often, we shrug when they ask and we say it's "fine," even when it's not. Even though we hurt and seethe inside. "I'm fine," is a lie I'm all too guilty of telling my husband when I just don't want to fight, or if I know that it'll hurt his feelings. Even when I'm mad, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. But you know, Greg knows me well enough, and I suck badly enough at hiding my emotions, that he knows I'm not "fine." And that hurts his feelings even more, because he, too, wants my real, authentic self. The people closest to us in our lives deserve authenticity from us. I want to be close to my husband, and he to me, and so we have to give of ourselves, the good and the bad.
Real human relationships are the biggest gift God's given us on this earth. Relationships with our parents and siblings, our spouses, our kids. I'm guilty of occasionally souring those relationships with that big lie, that "I'm fine." Probably most of us are. What I'm going to do, though, is work on being more authentic, more transparent, and more honest for the sake of my relationships with my loved ones. They deserve it and I deserve it and God wants that for us.
Monday, April 7, 2014
What happened to church?
We went to church on Sunday for the first time since the kids and I moved in with Greg, a year and a half ago. Admittedly, it was a fun service! There was a band, smoke effects, light effects, a big screen with swirly patterns to keep our attention! The sermon was full of comic relief and amusing anecdotes!
But...
When did we start going to church to be performed for, rather than to hear God's word? When did the focus of the service become entertainment? When did our worship become something we had to be amused with to stick with?
The smoke effects aren't for God, they're for us. We live in this modern world where our senses are so overloaded with entertainment and the idea that everything we do should be for fun, that everything we do should have an immediate reward, that we apparently need a man behind a curtain to give us a show. That man behind the curtain isn't God, it's a cowardly wizard, and he's as fake as the one in the emerald city. We don't need him. Our church services have become so human-centered, and we don't even realize it. They will know us by our LOVE, not our smoke machine or killer drum solos or guitar skills, or our ability to jump up and down on stage while we sing or in-house coffee shops.
There's nothing wrong with entertainment. There's definitely nothing wrong with a church service that grabs our attention and draws us in. But when the thing drawing us in is the flashiness, the comic relief, not God's word, we have a problem.
The bigger a church gets, the less focus there is on God. The less focus there is on the fellowship He intends for us. And we don't even know it. We get out into the community now and then, but then we draw back and go on buying ourselves lights and smoke and fancy guitars and giant screens to keep the congregation entertained. God doesn't care about those and bringing them into your service doesn't impress God. It doesn't add to His glorification. It adds to our own glorification, the glorification of our own pride. Our church has this and this and this. It's amazing.
Is it, really? In the attempt to stay "relevant," the church is instead fueling a self-serving attitude and less desire to really hear God's word. The more money a church has, the less relevant it really is. Smoke screens are just that. We need to look through the smoke and reach out for what's real. We need to BE real.
Be real, Christians.
But...
When did we start going to church to be performed for, rather than to hear God's word? When did the focus of the service become entertainment? When did our worship become something we had to be amused with to stick with?
The smoke effects aren't for God, they're for us. We live in this modern world where our senses are so overloaded with entertainment and the idea that everything we do should be for fun, that everything we do should have an immediate reward, that we apparently need a man behind a curtain to give us a show. That man behind the curtain isn't God, it's a cowardly wizard, and he's as fake as the one in the emerald city. We don't need him. Our church services have become so human-centered, and we don't even realize it. They will know us by our LOVE, not our smoke machine or killer drum solos or guitar skills, or our ability to jump up and down on stage while we sing or in-house coffee shops.
There's nothing wrong with entertainment. There's definitely nothing wrong with a church service that grabs our attention and draws us in. But when the thing drawing us in is the flashiness, the comic relief, not God's word, we have a problem.
The bigger a church gets, the less focus there is on God. The less focus there is on the fellowship He intends for us. And we don't even know it. We get out into the community now and then, but then we draw back and go on buying ourselves lights and smoke and fancy guitars and giant screens to keep the congregation entertained. God doesn't care about those and bringing them into your service doesn't impress God. It doesn't add to His glorification. It adds to our own glorification, the glorification of our own pride. Our church has this and this and this. It's amazing.
Is it, really? In the attempt to stay "relevant," the church is instead fueling a self-serving attitude and less desire to really hear God's word. The more money a church has, the less relevant it really is. Smoke screens are just that. We need to look through the smoke and reach out for what's real. We need to BE real.
Be real, Christians.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
I'm so dizzy and slightly nauseated this morning. But my HPTs are still negative as of this morning. Buuut, a friend of mine who's done this more than once says she's had them come up negative right up until the day before her beta and that was definitely positive... Mine is tomorrow. I'm anxious. So, so anxious.
Our house was under contract the same day it went on the market, but the buyer got cold feet, and after coming back to look at it twice (both times with me dragging all three dogs and kids out of the house, a pain in the ass!) they backed out. Urgh. It's ok. We had no less than thirty requests to see it, in the one day it was up. We'll get them again. It's just sooo frustrating to have lost five days on the market. We aren't showing again until tomorrow, because I've got things to do -- Maximus and JD need shots so we can put them into doggie daycare if we have another full day of showings like we'd have had Friday if we hadn't accepted that off. It's just not fair to have THREE dogs cooped up in a car all day, and I can't handle all three at once on the leash! The Maxes are both over 80lbs and JD is only 30, but he's a solid little brick. I think I'd put Maxwell and JD in daycare and keep my stalker out to hang out. I can get out of the car with one dog... and he doesn't do so well with strange dogs, so I'd be anxious all day with him in daycare.
Our house was under contract the same day it went on the market, but the buyer got cold feet, and after coming back to look at it twice (both times with me dragging all three dogs and kids out of the house, a pain in the ass!) they backed out. Urgh. It's ok. We had no less than thirty requests to see it, in the one day it was up. We'll get them again. It's just sooo frustrating to have lost five days on the market. We aren't showing again until tomorrow, because I've got things to do -- Maximus and JD need shots so we can put them into doggie daycare if we have another full day of showings like we'd have had Friday if we hadn't accepted that off. It's just not fair to have THREE dogs cooped up in a car all day, and I can't handle all three at once on the leash! The Maxes are both over 80lbs and JD is only 30, but he's a solid little brick. I think I'd put Maxwell and JD in daycare and keep my stalker out to hang out. I can get out of the car with one dog... and he doesn't do so well with strange dogs, so I'd be anxious all day with him in daycare.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Six days! I'm twitchier by the day. I need to know! I bought a three pack of cheap-o pregnancy tests to see if the HCg is out of my system. That was Tuesday. And as of yesterday, they're still coming up positive. I was hoping it would be out of my system so I can neurotically pee on sticks this weekend and they'd be more accurate, but with all the false positives, I'll never know. Boooo. Of course, maybe it just won't ever leave my system, if the cycle worked! No gap between the trigger and real HCg produced Gah, I'm dying here.
I've found the secret to the shots; if I bend over a little, it barely stings. It still bruises, but it's much easier going in (that's what she said?).
We got our pictures of the house done yesterday and hopefully it'll be listed this afternoon! Houses are selling pretty fast out here right now, so if all goes well we won't be here much longer! The boys are SO ready to have their own rooms. And I am so ready to have them separated a bit more. The house we want is still there, so we're just hoping it stays around until we're ready! It's perfect, too. Bigger than I like (I love tiny houses, and always wanted to get by on 1000sqft or less, but no one else agrees), but perfect anyway.
I've found the secret to the shots; if I bend over a little, it barely stings. It still bruises, but it's much easier going in (that's what she said?).
We got our pictures of the house done yesterday and hopefully it'll be listed this afternoon! Houses are selling pretty fast out here right now, so if all goes well we won't be here much longer! The boys are SO ready to have their own rooms. And I am so ready to have them separated a bit more. The house we want is still there, so we're just hoping it stays around until we're ready! It's perfect, too. Bigger than I like (I love tiny houses, and always wanted to get by on 1000sqft or less, but no one else agrees), but perfect anyway.
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