My Ultimate Authority... Lessons Learned from Sue Monk Kidd

To write what I learned from Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter would be another book in itself. Period. But here are the highlights, the select few that are not necessarily the most important wisdom I came away with, but ones I think are the easiest to express here and now.

(Book Review) Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein

I took my time with this book, reading a chapter at a time and really soaking it in. With a 4-year-old daughter I felt I owed her -- and myself -- the time. Time to turn the info over and over in my head.

A Nice Change-Up

I made a trip to our local public pool this past week. Shannon had friends going and I thought it’d be a nice change-up from my mom & dad’s pools. Off we went the few blocks with our little bag, change-purse loaded for the required 10-minute breaks each hour.

My Brother Was Right. Who Would've Thought?

I spent last weekend (June 9-12) at Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival in Manchester, Tennessee. Those who follow me on Facebook, you already know this. I've posted of nothing else for the past several weeks. Actually, since we bought our tickets on Black Friday (yes, in November) I've been mentioning it for the past six months. You're sick of hearing about it, and I'm okay with that. But the next few posts will be about my experience, and I hope my odd twist on things will hold your interest.

My younger brother Brack is the reason this all started. He went to Bonnaroo last year. And Lollapalooza, Voodoo Fest, Nocturnal Fest, and a host of other festivals I can't remember. Bonnaroo was his favorite, though, and he talked about it nonstop. Sound familiar? It took three months for my husband and me to decide to go (you'll read about that later this week) but once we were "in," Brack became the expert. Annoyingly so. I'll be the first to admit that some of his advice was a little out there, but once we made it to the farm, I realized he was right. About (almost) everything. Which was even more annoying.

"I Look Terrible in that Picture"

Over the past few days, I've listened to women complain about (among other things): fat thighs, bathing suits, big bellies, saggy breasts, double chins, triple chins, quadruple chins...

And the phrase heard 'round the world: "I look terrible in that picture."

Why do women do this?  You'll never hear a man (or not a straight one, anyway) say, "Look how jiggly my arms look in that shirt." For the love, ladies, we aren't perfect creatures, and we certainly don't look like airbrushed supermodels when posing for snapshots. News flash: we're not supposed to!

Last week I had the chance to visit three of my very best friends. We're spread out across three states, but somehow managed to meet and make a day of it. We took pictures like crazy: at lunch at El Girasol, in front of a gym downtown, and leaning over a fence after feeding horses. We didn't set up a glamour shot session -- we captured the moment, lots of moments, of the wonderful day when we all played hooky and managed a last-minute "play date."

We all snap pictures to capture a moment -- a memory. A grandmother with her great-grandchild; a sister's birthday; a mother with her 3-year-old daughter.

Yes, I'm guilty of it, too. But lately I'm more and more aware of the impression I'm making on my daughter. Right now she loves being in front of the camera -- with a follow-up, "Let me see! Let me see!" squeal after each shot. But every time she hears me or another woman complain about cankles or a belly pooch, she marches one day closer to the moment she, too, says:

"Yuck, I look terrible."

So last week I kept her in mind while we snapped those pictures, all 200 of them. And instead of focusing on whether or not I'd sucked in my gut, I looked to see if my level of happiness (which was off the charts) was reflected back at the camera. It was.

And guess what? I'm satisfied with every single one.

We are constantly bombarded about body image and the effects of the media on our self-esteem, so much so that it's become white noise. But it's never too late to start appreciating ourselves, especially in the meaningful moments we are lucky to capture.

So the next time there's a picture in front of you, for the love of all things pixelated, please think before you look at yourself and mutter the words, "Ugh."

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Surrounded | An Original Poem

Uncomfortably warm in my grandmother’s 

home, sitting down to an old lady’s 

dinner of green beans, corn bread and chicken 

casserole. Nothing salted. 

I am surrounded by the women 

who’ve created me, all talking 

at once about who was saved at this Sunday’s 

service, last night’s Lifetime movie 

and weight.

Always weight. 

They compliment my cousin for her loss and 

Grandmother says her neck looked fat 

in a recent picture. 

The dishes are loaded, pots are 

washed, put away. The cards come out and 

they play, slapping at a ten of 

hearts, yelling I want that! 

while silently, actually 

wanting what the other has. 

Her smaller nose or delicate 

hands or her red hair or curly hair or 

her olive skin and always ― always ― her 

thinner waist.  I am bound 

by the women who’ve created me

because I, too, covet 

what the other has. Her courage ― to command 

a life with Paige that 

makes her happy. Her intellect ― to express 

herself in both Spanish and English. Her 

resilience ― to rear 

seven children in 

nine years. Her happiness ― to revel in life despite 

a lifetime of arthritis. 

And her strength ― to hold tight to 

a little girl’s hand as the

cancer won.

Chocolate oatmeal cookies, pink

salad, diet coke, divinity. The games

continue.

I am entangled in the women who’ve 

created me. I am 

surrounded.

Affirmation | An Original Poem

i want for you to know Yourself

be Yourself

love Yourself

who cares about your size

your thighs

the lies we tend to tell ourselves

ways we judge ourselves

ways we shame ourselves

and instead

proclaim Yourself incessant

exclaim Yourself insuppressible

don’t hide from the side of Yourself

that you think others don’t want

and instead

decide what matters ―

the You that needs a voice 

the You that has a choice

should arise

aim for the skies

reside among the stars

because You, my friend, are

luminous

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Oh, What Pretty Eyes You Have

Ginnifer Goodwin recently changed her hair, but only after permission from the Big Love producers.  To avoid any future scenarios like this, she put a wig clause in her current and all future contracts, allowing her to style her hair any way she wants. "I find it hard to express myself," she says, "when I'm growing out a very bad character haircut."  Geez, who wouldn't? (Click here for the full article)

So this has me wondering, "What attribute expresses me the most?"  Now obviously, I can't see myself signing any contracts to not change my hair.  Let's face it, a girl who's shaved her head isn't too particular.  Fashion doesn't matter, either -- although I might consider finding a way to wear TOMS for the rest of my life.  The truth is, I can't find myself putting anything in writing that deals with my physical appearance.  I'm just a little too adventurous (or maybe I don't care enough).

Returning to attributes, though, my eyes are definitely my most expressive.  From an old boyfriend who called them "aqua eyes" to every other person I meet that says, "oh, what pretty eyes you have," trust me, that's what people notice.  Have always noticed.  Which might be why I haven't always appreciated them -- in fact, one of the things that first attracted me to my husband is that he didn't comment on them.  Maybe it's true for everyone -- the thing you're complimented on the most, often annoys you the most.

But I'll never forget the day I finally embraced my eyes.  I was sitting with my cousin Megan while we waited to have our heads shaved, and she was nervous (heck, I was, too).  She looked at me and said, "Everyone keeps telling me how pretty my eyes will look, and I guess they're right."

She paused, and then caught me completely off guard.

"Because mine look just like yours."

Pretty powerful, coming from a girl who'd turned eleven the day before.  It took her eyes to make me realize how beautiful mine were.  And remembering that moment and that beautiful girl is a lovely reminder to love myself more.

Now with all the eye-color-coordinating shadows and complete aisles filled only with mascaras, fixin' up my eyes is quite fun. And nowadays the, "oh what pretty eyes you have," remark is often followed by, "are those fake eyelashes?"  Which they're not, but thank you CoverGirl Lashblast Volume Blasting Mascara.

Gennifer Goodwin says, "As long as I can wear a wig, I can be any character and in real life I can be myself."

Well, it seems I am forever working to be myself -- but doesn't the saying go, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."

So I guess this step is labeled 'lovin' my eyes.'

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