Dana: Our neighbors are assholes.
Phil: Is this about the lemon people again?
Dana: No, I'm over that, mostly.
Phil: Did someone do something you hate, like spanking their children in public?
Dana: No, but you're warmer. Here's what happened. I was driving home, past the blue house on the corner. I looked out the window and I saw this door sitting against the tree out front. The door said "Gateway to Narnia" on it. So, I pulled over to check it out, and -"
Phil (giving me a blank look): Wait. You pulled over to check it out? Were you - did you actually get out of your car, looking for Narnia, because of a door you saw?
Dana: NO! I mean, yes, I got out of my car. But I knew it wasn't Narnia. Obviously . I just wanted to check it out....just to see.
Phil (repressing laughter): To see if the door led to Narnia?
Dana: Honey, you need to focus. I got out to inspect the door, just to see what it was, and there was nothing behind it. It was literally just a door propped up against a tree.
Phil: Well, so?
Dana: Well so?! So, our neighbors are assholes! Why would they do such a thing? Why would they put a door that says "Gateway to Narnia" against a tree, with nothing behind it, so when you try the door, it just falls down on you and hurts you?! LIttle kids are going to get hurt! It's a total safety hazard! They probably enjoy it! They're probably sick bastards who like to see others in pain. They probably have a camera and they're videotaping it whenever someone comes and tries the door!
Phil (now laughing and mocking his wife openly): Wait! Did you pull the door down on top of you trying to get to Narnia? OH! Oh that is perfect! I hope they did have a camera. I would pay any amount of money to watch that.
Dana: I repeat. I KNEW that it wasn't actually going to take me to Narnia. I'm not stupid. I just...you know...wanted to see. It might have been something really, really cool. You know you would have stopped to check it out too, so don't make fun of me!
Phil (seriously): Honey, I can honestly tell you that I would not have stopped. And I would not have pulled a door on top of me. No one does these kinds of things but you.
Dana: So, what? You would just let a safety hazard sit there, uninspected? I'm a modern day Dudley Do-Right, is what I am. I'm doing the Lord's work, helping to solve problems and protect children.
Phil: Bullshit. You thought you were going to go to Narnia through a magical tree, but instead you just pulled a door down on your head and now you're pissed, because of the disappointment.
Dana (taking a deep breath): Again, I think you're losing focus. There is a larger issue at hand here. So here's my plan - I think we need to destroy the door. It's a danger and a menace. What do you think?
Phil: You want to destroy the door? And how do you plan to do this?
Dana: I don't know. With axes, I guess. We'll bash it to pieces so it can't ever trick anyone - any children - ever again.
Phil (sighing): Honey, we're not going to do that. I think you're overreacting.
Dana: I think you're under-reacting! OK, how about this? We just go and talk to them and tell them that their door is a dangerous distraction, and also a lie. And then they'll destroy it for us. Is that better?
Phil: Look - I'm very tired. I think we both need some sleep. I bet you won't be bothered by this after you get some rest.
Dana: Ok. But you'll go talk to them in the morning, after you've got some rest.
Phil: Yeah. Sure honey. I'll do that.
The door is still there.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Cookies and Complaints - Scenes From My Day
Today was my appointment with the genius Dr. Lynch. To reward him for his genius I decided to bake him some delicious cookies. I got all the stuff together and then said to myself "Are you really going to make Dr. Lynch gluten free cookies? I mean, they're ok and all - but does Dr. Lynch deserve 'ok'? After saving my life? NO! Dr. Lynch deserves moist, chewy gluten!"
So I purchased some regular flour and began baking. But as I was mixing together the ingredients, I suddenly began to panic. What was I thinking with all this butter?! Sure, butter is delicious, but so much fat! Obviously, I want Dr. Lynch to outlive me, so it's important to keep him healthy, not load him up with sugar and fat.
And so I reduced the amount of sugar I used and replaced some of the butter with olive oil.
But when the cookies were done, I panicked yet again. What would these healthier cookies taste like? Would they be disgusting? I couldn't serve The Beautiful Healer Dr. Lynch substandard tasting cookies! It would be like spitting in his face! For all I knew, he would refuse to treat me anymore, saying "The poor quality of these cookies shows me that you do not appreciate my gifts, nor do you take your health seriously. Get out of my sight. I hope your lungs explode. In fact, I'm writing you a prescription for GNCs."
Well, what could I do? There was no one home except me and Molly. So I did what I had to do.
I ate a gluten cookie.
Well, they tasted ok, but I didn't feel fantastic, afterward, obviously. I told myself that it was worth it - that there was no other way, and that I did what I had to do. Sure, my body hates me, but it is what it is.
It was in this frame of mind that I received a telephone call from the manager of a gym where I sub.
I have subbed a yoga class for the past two weeks, and have one more week to go. A little background. The first day I came in, every person asked me where the regular teacher was, and they all expressed their concern for her well being and wanted me to give them all the details as to why she wasn't there. I tried to explain that I don't know the woman personally and I don't know why she needs a sub. I know she's not dead. That is all. Their questions became more and more frantic and pressing - they are all clearly in love with their regular instructor, which is sweet, but I knew right away that they were not going to give me a chance.
But whatever, I tell myself. I don't have to make them love me - I'm just a temporary sub. I have to provide them with a good, high-quality yoga class and that's it - I don't need or want them to get attached to me.
So I taught my classes as usual and thought they went ok. No major issues, nothing crazy.
Today, however, I got a call from the manager. Apparently, a student complained that my classes are not hard enough, and that I need to make my classes harder like the regular teacher does. In addition, she complained that I didn't demonstrate enough, and that I "checked my ipad during class".
I was shocked and upset. Let me address these complaints here, just so we're clear.
1) My classes need to be harder, like the regular teacher's.
I'm not the regular teacher. My style is going to be different from hers. Also, I'm not a "hard" teacher. My goal is not to kick your ass - if you want your ass kicked go to a boot camp or weight training class. Yoga, for me, is not about that - it's not the way I practice and it's not the way I like to teach.
That being said, I'm happy to make my classes a bit harder to accommodate you - you just have to let me know beforehand. Every single time I sub a class, (this class included) the first thing I do is ask for requests. If the complainer wanted a difficult class, she should have spoken up when I asked, rather than go behind my back and complain to the manager later. Boooooo!
2) I don't demonstrate enough.
Yoga instructors aren't supposed to demonstrate everything. This isn't zumba or Turbo Kickboxing where the instructor does the whole class. I ALWAYS demonstrate poses that are difficult to understand verbally, and of course I demonstrate sun salutes and anything that has a lot of parts to it. But I don't demonstrate every single move - I'm not an instructor who just does her own yoga practice on her mat and expects the students to copy her. I watch the students to make sure they're doing things correctly, so I can give adjustments if needed. It's how I was trained to teach, and I haven't had any complaints about it until now.
3) I looked at my ipad while teaching.
False!
OK - I MAY have taken a peek during savasana, but only for brief moment. I do this sometimes. I check the time, I look at my playlists for inspiration in case I want to change my savasana song - or MAYBE I check my email. I NEVER do this while I'm doing actual teaching - ONLY when everyone is lying down with their eyes closed. Apparently one of my students caught me checking my ipad and thought that was completely unacceptable.
OK. That would have been unacceptable if I was doing it in the middle of teaching, but during savasana I'm not teaching - the students are just laying there with their eyes closed. In this type of setting, where I don't know the students, I don't do adjustments, so I'm just sitting there too, as they lay there - staring at them.
The ipad also would have been unacceptable in a restorative type setting where the room is dark and the electric light would have been distracting. But this was a gym - bright and noisy and full of lights. My ipad would have been completely unnoticeable.
Also, I never have sound on my ipad, so it's not like the sound was distracting anyone.
And it was so, so brief!
So, I won't ever check my ipad again during savasana - I learned my lesson. I had no idea it would piss anyone off -it certainly doesn't bother me when I take yoga classes and the instructor checks her iphone. But then again, I'm not a crazy person who complains for no reason.
But I don't know what I can do about the rest. I teach my classes the way I like to be taught - I'm willing to take into account the desires of my students of course, but if they don't verbalize those desires to me beforehand, I don't know what I can do. If they don't tell me "I want a hard class" or something similar, I don't see how I can know that.
I guess I just have to detach from this situation. I'll do my best to please them next week, but I won't lie - I'm not expecting that I'll be able to do so. I think they just want their old instructor back, and that's all there is to it.
So I purchased some regular flour and began baking. But as I was mixing together the ingredients, I suddenly began to panic. What was I thinking with all this butter?! Sure, butter is delicious, but so much fat! Obviously, I want Dr. Lynch to outlive me, so it's important to keep him healthy, not load him up with sugar and fat.
And so I reduced the amount of sugar I used and replaced some of the butter with olive oil.
But when the cookies were done, I panicked yet again. What would these healthier cookies taste like? Would they be disgusting? I couldn't serve The Beautiful Healer Dr. Lynch substandard tasting cookies! It would be like spitting in his face! For all I knew, he would refuse to treat me anymore, saying "The poor quality of these cookies shows me that you do not appreciate my gifts, nor do you take your health seriously. Get out of my sight. I hope your lungs explode. In fact, I'm writing you a prescription for GNCs."
Well, what could I do? There was no one home except me and Molly. So I did what I had to do.
I ate a gluten cookie.
Well, they tasted ok, but I didn't feel fantastic, afterward, obviously. I told myself that it was worth it - that there was no other way, and that I did what I had to do. Sure, my body hates me, but it is what it is.
It was in this frame of mind that I received a telephone call from the manager of a gym where I sub.
I have subbed a yoga class for the past two weeks, and have one more week to go. A little background. The first day I came in, every person asked me where the regular teacher was, and they all expressed their concern for her well being and wanted me to give them all the details as to why she wasn't there. I tried to explain that I don't know the woman personally and I don't know why she needs a sub. I know she's not dead. That is all. Their questions became more and more frantic and pressing - they are all clearly in love with their regular instructor, which is sweet, but I knew right away that they were not going to give me a chance.
But whatever, I tell myself. I don't have to make them love me - I'm just a temporary sub. I have to provide them with a good, high-quality yoga class and that's it - I don't need or want them to get attached to me.
So I taught my classes as usual and thought they went ok. No major issues, nothing crazy.
Today, however, I got a call from the manager. Apparently, a student complained that my classes are not hard enough, and that I need to make my classes harder like the regular teacher does. In addition, she complained that I didn't demonstrate enough, and that I "checked my ipad during class".
I was shocked and upset. Let me address these complaints here, just so we're clear.
1) My classes need to be harder, like the regular teacher's.
I'm not the regular teacher. My style is going to be different from hers. Also, I'm not a "hard" teacher. My goal is not to kick your ass - if you want your ass kicked go to a boot camp or weight training class. Yoga, for me, is not about that - it's not the way I practice and it's not the way I like to teach.
That being said, I'm happy to make my classes a bit harder to accommodate you - you just have to let me know beforehand. Every single time I sub a class, (this class included) the first thing I do is ask for requests. If the complainer wanted a difficult class, she should have spoken up when I asked, rather than go behind my back and complain to the manager later. Boooooo!
2) I don't demonstrate enough.
Yoga instructors aren't supposed to demonstrate everything. This isn't zumba or Turbo Kickboxing where the instructor does the whole class. I ALWAYS demonstrate poses that are difficult to understand verbally, and of course I demonstrate sun salutes and anything that has a lot of parts to it. But I don't demonstrate every single move - I'm not an instructor who just does her own yoga practice on her mat and expects the students to copy her. I watch the students to make sure they're doing things correctly, so I can give adjustments if needed. It's how I was trained to teach, and I haven't had any complaints about it until now.
3) I looked at my ipad while teaching.
False!
OK - I MAY have taken a peek during savasana, but only for brief moment. I do this sometimes. I check the time, I look at my playlists for inspiration in case I want to change my savasana song - or MAYBE I check my email. I NEVER do this while I'm doing actual teaching - ONLY when everyone is lying down with their eyes closed. Apparently one of my students caught me checking my ipad and thought that was completely unacceptable.
OK. That would have been unacceptable if I was doing it in the middle of teaching, but during savasana I'm not teaching - the students are just laying there with their eyes closed. In this type of setting, where I don't know the students, I don't do adjustments, so I'm just sitting there too, as they lay there - staring at them.
The ipad also would have been unacceptable in a restorative type setting where the room is dark and the electric light would have been distracting. But this was a gym - bright and noisy and full of lights. My ipad would have been completely unnoticeable.
Also, I never have sound on my ipad, so it's not like the sound was distracting anyone.
And it was so, so brief!
So, I won't ever check my ipad again during savasana - I learned my lesson. I had no idea it would piss anyone off -it certainly doesn't bother me when I take yoga classes and the instructor checks her iphone. But then again, I'm not a crazy person who complains for no reason.
But I don't know what I can do about the rest. I teach my classes the way I like to be taught - I'm willing to take into account the desires of my students of course, but if they don't verbalize those desires to me beforehand, I don't know what I can do. If they don't tell me "I want a hard class" or something similar, I don't see how I can know that.
I guess I just have to detach from this situation. I'll do my best to please them next week, but I won't lie - I'm not expecting that I'll be able to do so. I think they just want their old instructor back, and that's all there is to it.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Money
I have always hated relying on others for money. Even as a small child, I wanted to earn my own funds, attempting to do so with several ill-fated entrepreneurial schemes.
For instance there was my berry selling business, started at the age of six. I would pick wild berries from the woods - usually blackberries, but sometimes salmon berries and thimbleberries - and attempt to sell them by the side of the road. This plan was a failure for three reasons:
1) I lived on a country road where maybe two cars went by per day.
2) People were perfectly happy to pick their own berries, and didn't need my assistance.
3) I had a tendency to eat all the berries myself.
Then there was the time I tried to make my own newspaper, when I was 8. I went door to door asking people if they had any news to report. I would jot down the "news"and go home and painstakingly write all my scoops down, making copies using crappy carbon paper that I found in a box somewhere. I eventually became discouraged with this business because:
1) No one was giving me any actual news, probably because they believed a newspaper created by an 8 year old child was not the appropriate medium to discuss the pressing issues of the day. I didn't like writing about the fact that the neighbor kid got a new toy, or that the old couple across the street just came back from the Grand Canyon. BOOOOOORING.
2) It was a lot of freaking work to make those newspapers, and I could only sell them for a quarter a piece. The amount of work I put into it was not reflected in the pay I received.
Then there was my dog walking business, which never even got off the ground, because the neighbor kids - the Leutts I think was their name - stole my idea. I suppose a true capitalist would have taken their idea-stealing as a challenge, and would have upped her marketing and expanded her reach and attempted to undersell them. But nine year old Dana was not a true capitalist - she simply stamped her feet in anger and spent huge amounts of time hating the neighbor kids.
Their business failed anyway.
:)
I mean :(
My point is this - by nature, I prefer to be self reliant, and I'm not afraid of working hard to be so.
Which leads me to my current dilemma.
Until a year ago, I worked in finance. I hated almost everything about that job - I hated the dull nature of the work, the fact that I had to repress the very best parts of my personality at all times, and the general inefficiency that always accompanies teamwork.
But, the good thing about it was that it paid well. The pay was what kept me there for so long, even though I was miserable and angry all the time. Of course, pay will only keep you complacent for so long, and eventually I was forced to quit and strike out on my own as a yoga instructor - it was necessary for my well being.
I'm very, very glad I made this decision.
However.
When I look at how much I made last year, I am shocked by how drastically my income has been reduced. There are probably children in sweatshops in Indonesia who out earn me. It's beyond frustrating, because I work hard, and I believe that there is far more value in what I do now than there was in my stupid office job. I actually help people and make them happy - and in an ideal world, my pay would reflect that.
But it doesn't.
And so now I'm in a bizarre predicament - I am mostly reliant on my husband for money.
Our arrangement is such that the money I earn is supposed to go to food and gas, and any little extras I want to buy myself. Phil's money is supposed to pay the main bills.
I freaking hate this.
For instance. I really want to get hair extensions. I have always wanted to have masses of luxurious, long hair, but I've never been able to have it, because when my hair grows out it turns into a thin, straggly mess - not pretty at all. Hair extensions would solve this problem. But, hair extensions are expensive - at least $300. I don't have $300 just sitting around, because all of my money goes to gas and food. So if I want extensions, I have to ask Phil for the money. Phil says hair extensions are too expensive, and why can't I just grow my hair out like normal people? I try to explain about the straggly and the thin and the ugly, but I wind up sounding unbelievably spoiled and vain, and I can tell that Phil thinks I'm being insane.
Aside from this, there is the the constant pressure to please Phillip and to keep him healthy. Because if Phillip were to die, or to become tired of me, I would be deeply fucked. I cannot live on my meager salary in Southern California - I would have to take in roommates to pay the bills, and even then I would have to live like a poor person. I've been poor before, and I can honestly say I can't go back to that. I just can't. So a large amount of my energy goes toward making sure Phil is happy with me and that he's eating nutritious foods and driving like a sane person. Fortunately, I am very interesting, so I do a good job of keeping him entertained, and I take sole responsibility for the housework, the cooking, the grocery shopping and walking Molly - which he appreciates. But every pound I gain, every TV show I watch that annoys him, and every lupus induced medical crisis weighs on me - I can't help but panic, thinking that any moment he'll throw me out on the street and I'll have to live in my car, or on people's couches, or join a commune.
Realistically, I know that Phil loves me and wouldn't do that. Our relationship is strong and healthy, and I don't have any logical reason for my panic. But I can't help it - the fact that I'm so reliant on him bothers me - a lot.
So the obvious solution is for me to make some more money. But how? I can't go back to working in an office - it's really not for me. I can only teach so many yoga classes per week. I would be a terrible prostitute. I could sell my organs or my eggs, but with the lupus it might not be a good idea.
It hit me a few months ago that I should try writing professionally. I have written 7 books - four of which are publishable - and it doesn't make sense to just keep them on my computer, taking up space. I should try to publish them! I know that I'm not a "great" writer. I'm no John Irving or Toni Morrison - I'm not even Stephen King. However, I am an entertaining writer. People seem to enjoy the things I write, and I bet some people would be willing to pay to read them. It makes sense to have a job that plays to my strengths.
Plus the life of a writer is ideal for my personality because:
1) It can be done anywhere
2) I can do the actual writing alone, by myself, without having to do teamwork.
3) I can do it on my own schedule.
4) I enjoy writing.
5) I have an overactive imagination that needs funneling into something constructive. I find that I have fewer nightmares and paranoid delusions when I write regularly.
I don't intend to quit teaching yoga - I enjoy teaching yoga, very much. But I want to supplement my income with writing. Eventually, I would love to write full time, and only teach a few classes per week, but that's a long term goal. I know that I have a long road ahead of me to travel before I teach that goal.
So I have sent out some queries and manuscripts. I'm aware that the rejection rate is extremely high and that it could take years before I'm actually published, but I'm still going to give it a try. I suppose the worst that can happen is I never publish anything - I'll be no worse off than I am now.
Wish me luck!
For instance there was my berry selling business, started at the age of six. I would pick wild berries from the woods - usually blackberries, but sometimes salmon berries and thimbleberries - and attempt to sell them by the side of the road. This plan was a failure for three reasons:
1) I lived on a country road where maybe two cars went by per day.
2) People were perfectly happy to pick their own berries, and didn't need my assistance.
3) I had a tendency to eat all the berries myself.
Then there was the time I tried to make my own newspaper, when I was 8. I went door to door asking people if they had any news to report. I would jot down the "news"and go home and painstakingly write all my scoops down, making copies using crappy carbon paper that I found in a box somewhere. I eventually became discouraged with this business because:
1) No one was giving me any actual news, probably because they believed a newspaper created by an 8 year old child was not the appropriate medium to discuss the pressing issues of the day. I didn't like writing about the fact that the neighbor kid got a new toy, or that the old couple across the street just came back from the Grand Canyon. BOOOOOORING.
2) It was a lot of freaking work to make those newspapers, and I could only sell them for a quarter a piece. The amount of work I put into it was not reflected in the pay I received.
Then there was my dog walking business, which never even got off the ground, because the neighbor kids - the Leutts I think was their name - stole my idea. I suppose a true capitalist would have taken their idea-stealing as a challenge, and would have upped her marketing and expanded her reach and attempted to undersell them. But nine year old Dana was not a true capitalist - she simply stamped her feet in anger and spent huge amounts of time hating the neighbor kids.
Their business failed anyway.
:)
I mean :(
My point is this - by nature, I prefer to be self reliant, and I'm not afraid of working hard to be so.
Which leads me to my current dilemma.
Until a year ago, I worked in finance. I hated almost everything about that job - I hated the dull nature of the work, the fact that I had to repress the very best parts of my personality at all times, and the general inefficiency that always accompanies teamwork.
But, the good thing about it was that it paid well. The pay was what kept me there for so long, even though I was miserable and angry all the time. Of course, pay will only keep you complacent for so long, and eventually I was forced to quit and strike out on my own as a yoga instructor - it was necessary for my well being.
I'm very, very glad I made this decision.
However.
When I look at how much I made last year, I am shocked by how drastically my income has been reduced. There are probably children in sweatshops in Indonesia who out earn me. It's beyond frustrating, because I work hard, and I believe that there is far more value in what I do now than there was in my stupid office job. I actually help people and make them happy - and in an ideal world, my pay would reflect that.
But it doesn't.
And so now I'm in a bizarre predicament - I am mostly reliant on my husband for money.
Our arrangement is such that the money I earn is supposed to go to food and gas, and any little extras I want to buy myself. Phil's money is supposed to pay the main bills.
I freaking hate this.
For instance. I really want to get hair extensions. I have always wanted to have masses of luxurious, long hair, but I've never been able to have it, because when my hair grows out it turns into a thin, straggly mess - not pretty at all. Hair extensions would solve this problem. But, hair extensions are expensive - at least $300. I don't have $300 just sitting around, because all of my money goes to gas and food. So if I want extensions, I have to ask Phil for the money. Phil says hair extensions are too expensive, and why can't I just grow my hair out like normal people? I try to explain about the straggly and the thin and the ugly, but I wind up sounding unbelievably spoiled and vain, and I can tell that Phil thinks I'm being insane.
Aside from this, there is the the constant pressure to please Phillip and to keep him healthy. Because if Phillip were to die, or to become tired of me, I would be deeply fucked. I cannot live on my meager salary in Southern California - I would have to take in roommates to pay the bills, and even then I would have to live like a poor person. I've been poor before, and I can honestly say I can't go back to that. I just can't. So a large amount of my energy goes toward making sure Phil is happy with me and that he's eating nutritious foods and driving like a sane person. Fortunately, I am very interesting, so I do a good job of keeping him entertained, and I take sole responsibility for the housework, the cooking, the grocery shopping and walking Molly - which he appreciates. But every pound I gain, every TV show I watch that annoys him, and every lupus induced medical crisis weighs on me - I can't help but panic, thinking that any moment he'll throw me out on the street and I'll have to live in my car, or on people's couches, or join a commune.
Realistically, I know that Phil loves me and wouldn't do that. Our relationship is strong and healthy, and I don't have any logical reason for my panic. But I can't help it - the fact that I'm so reliant on him bothers me - a lot.
So the obvious solution is for me to make some more money. But how? I can't go back to working in an office - it's really not for me. I can only teach so many yoga classes per week. I would be a terrible prostitute. I could sell my organs or my eggs, but with the lupus it might not be a good idea.
It hit me a few months ago that I should try writing professionally. I have written 7 books - four of which are publishable - and it doesn't make sense to just keep them on my computer, taking up space. I should try to publish them! I know that I'm not a "great" writer. I'm no John Irving or Toni Morrison - I'm not even Stephen King. However, I am an entertaining writer. People seem to enjoy the things I write, and I bet some people would be willing to pay to read them. It makes sense to have a job that plays to my strengths.
Plus the life of a writer is ideal for my personality because:
1) It can be done anywhere
2) I can do the actual writing alone, by myself, without having to do teamwork.
3) I can do it on my own schedule.
4) I enjoy writing.
5) I have an overactive imagination that needs funneling into something constructive. I find that I have fewer nightmares and paranoid delusions when I write regularly.
I don't intend to quit teaching yoga - I enjoy teaching yoga, very much. But I want to supplement my income with writing. Eventually, I would love to write full time, and only teach a few classes per week, but that's a long term goal. I know that I have a long road ahead of me to travel before I teach that goal.
So I have sent out some queries and manuscripts. I'm aware that the rejection rate is extremely high and that it could take years before I'm actually published, but I'm still going to give it a try. I suppose the worst that can happen is I never publish anything - I'll be no worse off than I am now.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Dana's Guidelines for Beggars
I'm a sucker. I fully admit it. I give money to pretty much anyone who asks me - with disturbing results. I've given money to so many different charities that my mailbox is now a treacherous land mine of emotionally scarring, manipulative mail pieces, the likes of which actually, literally, give me nightmares. I would say 60% of the mail I receive is pictures of African babies with their ribs jutting ominously from their chests, puppies who have had their heads bashed in with hammers, and various kinds of cripples with big, sad, entreating eyes. As a result of all of this "marketing", I am no longer psychologically equipped to handle the mail - Phi has to presort it for me.
So suffice it so say, when beggars come up to me and ask me for some spare change, I generally comply, as long as I am able to do so.
However, recently, I have had some bad begging experiences. Namely, I've met some really unlikable beggars who are, frankly, doing it wrong. Like, so wrong that even I denied them money - and that's saying something. And so, here are some general guidelines I would like to put out there for people who - for whatever reason - are begging for handouts.
1) Don't make your children do your dirty work for you.
The other day at the gas station, a girl - about 12 years old - came up to me and pointed to her mother and gave a long, rambling story about how her mother needs money for gas. The story was delivered with the dead eyes and blank stare of the "former crack heads" who come to your house selling magazine subscriptions (By the way, can we talk about how fucked up that is? Are these guys seriously implying that their staying off drugs is somehow our responsibility?) Her recitation had an overly-rehearsed quality that was really off-putting.
So here are my issues with this. The mother was sitting right there. Why can't the mother do her own begging? Does she think her kid is so cute that no one will be able to resist her charms? Because she wasn't that cute, and she was the worst actress in the world. Or is the mother just that lazy - so lazy she can't even beg?
I don't judge her for being a begging mother. I understand that sometimes shit happens in life, and you may find yourself in a situation where you need to rely on the kindness of strangers. But does she really think that this is setting a good example for her child? Does she think that this is an acceptable activity for her daughter to do? If you have to beg, fine, beg. But don't make your kid do your dirty work for you.
2) Don't assume that I share in your worldview, particularly if your worldview is kind of messed up.
Just today, a man came up to me - again at a gas station - and began telling me a long story about how "black guys" stole his backpack and he needed money to get home. Aside from the fact that his story was overly long and somewhat unbelievable, I couldn't get past the fact that he kept referring to the guys to stole his backpack as "black guys"
Why did he need to keep referring to the race of the guys who supposedly stole his backpack? There was no reason to keep continually bringing it up to me, since I'm not a cop and wasn't asking for a description of the guys. The only reasons he could possibly keep bringing it up were these:
A) He assumed that, as a white woman, I'm obviously afraid of black men stealing my shit, and he hoped to get me on "his side" - united in our fear of victimization at the hands of black guys.
B) He assumed that I don't like black people and that his being victimized by two black people would make me feel sorrier for him than if people of another race had victimized him.
C) He's just one of those douchebags who always refers to peoples' races, regardless of whether it has any relation to the story. While this has no bearing on me - it bodes poorly for him.
My point is, don't make assumptions about me before you talk to me and ask me for money. Especially if those assumptions are insulting.
3) Don't start out by saying "I"m not a bum".
Lots of times people begging you for money will start out their speeches by saying "I'm not one of those bums" or "I'm not a bum".
First of all, yes you are. But ok, whatever, let's say you're not. Let's examine why it's wrong for you to start out that way.
When you say "I'm not a bum, but...give me money" the implication is that there is something wrong with being a bum, and you and I both know it. You're trying to lump yourself in with me - an obvious "non-bum", while simultaneously trying to bum money off of me. You're implying that I have a problem with bums, and yet you're asking me to give you a handout. Do you see why that's weird? Yeah. It's weird.
Once I had a guy ask me for $4. He told me I could call his mother and she would pay me back the $4, because he "wasn't a bum". If you don't have $4 to your name, and your mom has to pay your $4 debts to strangers, guess what? You're a bum.
4) Don't say you're a veteran.
I don't freaking care whether you're a veteran or not. Why would that possibly matter? Are you somehow more deserving of my dollar because you were in 'Nam or whatever? You deserve it more than, say, a former doctor who spent his summers deworming orphans in the Congo and got his legs crippled in a car accident?
Are there people out there who say "I see a dude in a wheelchair begging for money. I would like to give him a dollar, but what if that lazy bastard never served his country? I need to know how he lost them legs before I give him my hard earned cash. I mean, what if the pussy lost his legs in a skiing accident or some shit? I'll slap that skiing pantywaste and spit in his coffee cup!"
My point is, veteran status has nothing to do with whether or not a person needs help. If a person needs help, whether or not he served in the military is not a salient issue.
5) Do try to be funny, if you can.
I ALWAYS give money to a bum if she can make me laugh. I'll, like, find an ATM if I have to. That's how effective this is.
Once I saw a guy with a sign that said "Family killed by ninjas. Need kung fu lessons". I totally have him money. That's awesome.
Once, in Bellingham, I was stopped at a stoplight and saw two guys with a sign that said "Running in Place for Money". They had a baton. They ran back and forth, passing the baton to each other. They would occasionally do flying chest bumps or leap up in the air and give each other enthusiastic high fives. They were so joyful and excited and merry that I couldn't help but find them charming. EVERYONE gave them money- their exuberance was contagious.
6) If you can't be funny, be brief.
Nothing is more awkward than listening to a stranger's sob story as she begs you for money. I don't want to hear it. The fact that you're begging for change on the side of the road already tells me that life didn't work out the way you planned. I've already inferred that mistakes have been made. I KNOW that there is a very, very sad story there. I don't want the details. I really don't. I'll give you the money - I will. Please don't haunt my nightmares.
7) Do use good manners.
"Please" and "thank you" never go amiss, especially when asking for money. If you go above and beyond and compliment my beauty, I'll probably even give you extra money. I also appreciate a "God Bless You". Thank you! I would like God to bless me for helping you!
Once I gave money to an unemployed woman I know. She was not homeless or anything - but she was going through a rough time and she asked for some financial help. I gave her some money. She NEVER said thank you. Not even in a text or Facebook message. Seriously? Not even a thank you? I don't demand that she pay me back or do me a favor in return or anything like that - but a thank you would have been freaking nice.
She will not be getting any more money from me.
So those are my basic guidelines for appropriate begging. I feel bad for beggars, for the most part. I totally hate those guys who see beggars and snarl mean things at them like "Get a job!" (It's not always that easy, if you're mentally ill or otherwise disabled) or who accuse them of using the money to buy drugs and alcohol (Why do you care? Either give her the money or move on.) I hope that my guidelines will help beggars everywhere to be more successful and likable so they can avoid the terrible people who treat them badly.
So suffice it so say, when beggars come up to me and ask me for some spare change, I generally comply, as long as I am able to do so.
However, recently, I have had some bad begging experiences. Namely, I've met some really unlikable beggars who are, frankly, doing it wrong. Like, so wrong that even I denied them money - and that's saying something. And so, here are some general guidelines I would like to put out there for people who - for whatever reason - are begging for handouts.
1) Don't make your children do your dirty work for you.
The other day at the gas station, a girl - about 12 years old - came up to me and pointed to her mother and gave a long, rambling story about how her mother needs money for gas. The story was delivered with the dead eyes and blank stare of the "former crack heads" who come to your house selling magazine subscriptions (By the way, can we talk about how fucked up that is? Are these guys seriously implying that their staying off drugs is somehow our responsibility?) Her recitation had an overly-rehearsed quality that was really off-putting.
So here are my issues with this. The mother was sitting right there. Why can't the mother do her own begging? Does she think her kid is so cute that no one will be able to resist her charms? Because she wasn't that cute, and she was the worst actress in the world. Or is the mother just that lazy - so lazy she can't even beg?
I don't judge her for being a begging mother. I understand that sometimes shit happens in life, and you may find yourself in a situation where you need to rely on the kindness of strangers. But does she really think that this is setting a good example for her child? Does she think that this is an acceptable activity for her daughter to do? If you have to beg, fine, beg. But don't make your kid do your dirty work for you.
2) Don't assume that I share in your worldview, particularly if your worldview is kind of messed up.
Just today, a man came up to me - again at a gas station - and began telling me a long story about how "black guys" stole his backpack and he needed money to get home. Aside from the fact that his story was overly long and somewhat unbelievable, I couldn't get past the fact that he kept referring to the guys to stole his backpack as "black guys"
Why did he need to keep referring to the race of the guys who supposedly stole his backpack? There was no reason to keep continually bringing it up to me, since I'm not a cop and wasn't asking for a description of the guys. The only reasons he could possibly keep bringing it up were these:
A) He assumed that, as a white woman, I'm obviously afraid of black men stealing my shit, and he hoped to get me on "his side" - united in our fear of victimization at the hands of black guys.
B) He assumed that I don't like black people and that his being victimized by two black people would make me feel sorrier for him than if people of another race had victimized him.
C) He's just one of those douchebags who always refers to peoples' races, regardless of whether it has any relation to the story. While this has no bearing on me - it bodes poorly for him.
My point is, don't make assumptions about me before you talk to me and ask me for money. Especially if those assumptions are insulting.
3) Don't start out by saying "I"m not a bum".
Lots of times people begging you for money will start out their speeches by saying "I'm not one of those bums" or "I'm not a bum".
First of all, yes you are. But ok, whatever, let's say you're not. Let's examine why it's wrong for you to start out that way.
When you say "I'm not a bum, but...give me money" the implication is that there is something wrong with being a bum, and you and I both know it. You're trying to lump yourself in with me - an obvious "non-bum", while simultaneously trying to bum money off of me. You're implying that I have a problem with bums, and yet you're asking me to give you a handout. Do you see why that's weird? Yeah. It's weird.
Once I had a guy ask me for $4. He told me I could call his mother and she would pay me back the $4, because he "wasn't a bum". If you don't have $4 to your name, and your mom has to pay your $4 debts to strangers, guess what? You're a bum.
4) Don't say you're a veteran.
I don't freaking care whether you're a veteran or not. Why would that possibly matter? Are you somehow more deserving of my dollar because you were in 'Nam or whatever? You deserve it more than, say, a former doctor who spent his summers deworming orphans in the Congo and got his legs crippled in a car accident?
Are there people out there who say "I see a dude in a wheelchair begging for money. I would like to give him a dollar, but what if that lazy bastard never served his country? I need to know how he lost them legs before I give him my hard earned cash. I mean, what if the pussy lost his legs in a skiing accident or some shit? I'll slap that skiing pantywaste and spit in his coffee cup!"
My point is, veteran status has nothing to do with whether or not a person needs help. If a person needs help, whether or not he served in the military is not a salient issue.
5) Do try to be funny, if you can.
I ALWAYS give money to a bum if she can make me laugh. I'll, like, find an ATM if I have to. That's how effective this is.
Once I saw a guy with a sign that said "Family killed by ninjas. Need kung fu lessons". I totally have him money. That's awesome.
Once, in Bellingham, I was stopped at a stoplight and saw two guys with a sign that said "Running in Place for Money". They had a baton. They ran back and forth, passing the baton to each other. They would occasionally do flying chest bumps or leap up in the air and give each other enthusiastic high fives. They were so joyful and excited and merry that I couldn't help but find them charming. EVERYONE gave them money- their exuberance was contagious.
6) If you can't be funny, be brief.
Nothing is more awkward than listening to a stranger's sob story as she begs you for money. I don't want to hear it. The fact that you're begging for change on the side of the road already tells me that life didn't work out the way you planned. I've already inferred that mistakes have been made. I KNOW that there is a very, very sad story there. I don't want the details. I really don't. I'll give you the money - I will. Please don't haunt my nightmares.
7) Do use good manners.
"Please" and "thank you" never go amiss, especially when asking for money. If you go above and beyond and compliment my beauty, I'll probably even give you extra money. I also appreciate a "God Bless You". Thank you! I would like God to bless me for helping you!
Once I gave money to an unemployed woman I know. She was not homeless or anything - but she was going through a rough time and she asked for some financial help. I gave her some money. She NEVER said thank you. Not even in a text or Facebook message. Seriously? Not even a thank you? I don't demand that she pay me back or do me a favor in return or anything like that - but a thank you would have been freaking nice.
She will not be getting any more money from me.
So those are my basic guidelines for appropriate begging. I feel bad for beggars, for the most part. I totally hate those guys who see beggars and snarl mean things at them like "Get a job!" (It's not always that easy, if you're mentally ill or otherwise disabled) or who accuse them of using the money to buy drugs and alcohol (Why do you care? Either give her the money or move on.) I hope that my guidelines will help beggars everywhere to be more successful and likable so they can avoid the terrible people who treat them badly.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
On Profanity
I love profanity. If you know me well, you know that I have a decently foul mouth -I swear often, and with relish. Many people say that using swear words is a sign of a limited vocabulary, or a limited intellect, but I find that nothing could be further from the truth. Those people have obviously never listened to the podcasts of Greg Proops or spoken to my ex-boyfriend, who could paint a verbal masterpiece of profanity and 64 dollar words, the likes of which should have been typed and framed and placed in the Louvre.
The only anti-profanity rule with which I agree is the one against taking the Lord's name in vain. I never take the Lord's name in vain and here's why - if you are a religious person, then calling upon the name of God is a powerful, meaningful activity, and it isn't one that should be taken lightly. So by refraining from using the Lord's name in vain, we are practicing our religion, and showing respect for our God.
But as far as I'm concerned, all other swear words are on the table. As long as it's used well, there is nothing inherently rude about profanity. If the waiter brings the wrong drink to my table and I shout at him "Fuck you you stupid motherfucker!" then yes, I'm being rude. But if I'm telling a story to my friends about being attacked by a mountain lion, and I say "The fucker came out of nowhere!", I am not being rude - except perhaps to the mountain lion. But do you see the distinction? Of course you do, because you're a reasonable person. If you're using profanity - or any language for that matter - to be MEAN to someone or to make her feel bad, then you are being rude. If you use profanity to pepper up your speech or to make a point, you are not being rude, you are simply utilizing strong language.
Here's the thing. I have always associated severe aversion to swear words with mental illness. For instance, when someone complains about profanity, I always think of Annie Wilkes making Paul Sheldon burn his manuscript for "Fast Cars", or shouting "COCKADOODIE! CACA CACA POOPY DOOPY!" Alternately, I think of Rod and Todd Flanders with their wussy, overly sheltered cowering. Either way, all I can think of is mental instability, and a generally unhealthy outlook on the world.
Because, when you think about it, there is no good, rational reason to be opposed to using words like "fuck" or "ass". They're just words, like any other word. Strong words, yes. But sometimes, strong words are appropriate. Sometimes "Darn you, you bad man!" just isn't what you mean to say. In fact, "darn you, you bad man!" is so soft, that it could even be a lie, depending on the circumstances.
And if you ask people why they think it's wrong to say "shit" or "damn" or whatever, their reasons are vague and irrational. They'll say things like "I was raised not to swear" or "It's rude" or "It's the sign of a limited vocabulary". They have no solid, rational reason for opposing swear words; they just think it's wrong to swear... because it's wrong to swear. Their mothers told them so, so it must be true.
Now, all of that being said, I do consider myself to be a polite person, and I DO care about the feelings of others. I don't ever WANT to offend anyone, even the mentally unstable. So if I'm around someone who I know is bothered by profanity (or who I suspect may be bothered by profanity) then I refrain from using it. It's not because I think it's immoral to swear, it's because I don't want these people to hate me and think badly of me. It's an easy sacrifice to make on my part, and so I do it.
I just wish I didn't have to make it. I wish there were not words that are taboo to use "just because". Profanity, when used well, enhances your speech and makes it more colorful. Profanity, when used rudely, is just rude. And it makes me sad that many people don't have the moral maturity to know the difference.
The only anti-profanity rule with which I agree is the one against taking the Lord's name in vain. I never take the Lord's name in vain and here's why - if you are a religious person, then calling upon the name of God is a powerful, meaningful activity, and it isn't one that should be taken lightly. So by refraining from using the Lord's name in vain, we are practicing our religion, and showing respect for our God.
But as far as I'm concerned, all other swear words are on the table. As long as it's used well, there is nothing inherently rude about profanity. If the waiter brings the wrong drink to my table and I shout at him "Fuck you you stupid motherfucker!" then yes, I'm being rude. But if I'm telling a story to my friends about being attacked by a mountain lion, and I say "The fucker came out of nowhere!", I am not being rude - except perhaps to the mountain lion. But do you see the distinction? Of course you do, because you're a reasonable person. If you're using profanity - or any language for that matter - to be MEAN to someone or to make her feel bad, then you are being rude. If you use profanity to pepper up your speech or to make a point, you are not being rude, you are simply utilizing strong language.
Here's the thing. I have always associated severe aversion to swear words with mental illness. For instance, when someone complains about profanity, I always think of Annie Wilkes making Paul Sheldon burn his manuscript for "Fast Cars", or shouting "COCKADOODIE! CACA CACA POOPY DOOPY!" Alternately, I think of Rod and Todd Flanders with their wussy, overly sheltered cowering. Either way, all I can think of is mental instability, and a generally unhealthy outlook on the world.
Because, when you think about it, there is no good, rational reason to be opposed to using words like "fuck" or "ass". They're just words, like any other word. Strong words, yes. But sometimes, strong words are appropriate. Sometimes "Darn you, you bad man!" just isn't what you mean to say. In fact, "darn you, you bad man!" is so soft, that it could even be a lie, depending on the circumstances.
And if you ask people why they think it's wrong to say "shit" or "damn" or whatever, their reasons are vague and irrational. They'll say things like "I was raised not to swear" or "It's rude" or "It's the sign of a limited vocabulary". They have no solid, rational reason for opposing swear words; they just think it's wrong to swear... because it's wrong to swear. Their mothers told them so, so it must be true.
Now, all of that being said, I do consider myself to be a polite person, and I DO care about the feelings of others. I don't ever WANT to offend anyone, even the mentally unstable. So if I'm around someone who I know is bothered by profanity (or who I suspect may be bothered by profanity) then I refrain from using it. It's not because I think it's immoral to swear, it's because I don't want these people to hate me and think badly of me. It's an easy sacrifice to make on my part, and so I do it.
I just wish I didn't have to make it. I wish there were not words that are taboo to use "just because". Profanity, when used well, enhances your speech and makes it more colorful. Profanity, when used rudely, is just rude. And it makes me sad that many people don't have the moral maturity to know the difference.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Plastic Surgery and The Latter Day Puritans
After I have a baby, I'm getting liposuction. Phillip has agreed that this can be my reward for going through the trauma of pregnancy. I can already hear the judgement of certain people, as they tilt their heads and narrow their eyes and say "But isn't the BABY the reward for the trauma of pregnancy?" No. Liposuction is the reward.
Anyway, I've been surprised by the reactions I've received when I tell people this. Mostly, people have negative reactions. They all say things like "Well, you should really just do it with diet and exercise" or the much more vague "I would NEVER have liposuction". And this is in Southern California, where you would think people would be more open minded about going under the knife! After all, we are a very image-conscious society here.
Well, I've spent some time thinking about it, trying to understand their points of view. Here are my conclusions -
1) Some women are naturally pretty and just don't get it.
Some of the women who have criticized my decision are gorgeous. They have the kind of effortless, unthinking beauty that makes the rest of us hate ourselves and want to crawl in a hole an die, because we know we can never, ever compete with them. These are the women who could steal our men with a curl of their fingers, if they chose to do so.
And they say things like "Beauty is on the inside" and "I think you look fine". Emphasis on the "I". They mean to be kind. But the fact of the matter is, because of their beauty, they have no idea what it's like to be anything other than beautiful. They don't see that the less beautiful are often treated badly, simply because of how they look. It's just not in the realm of their experience.
Dear pretty girls - please don't tell other, less pretty girls not to get liposuction. No one will take your advice seriously, because you just don't get it.
2) Some people have bizarre puritan beliefs about punishment and sacrifice.
It seems like a lot of people oppose plastic surgery simply because it's "the easy way out" or because it's "cheating". They say things like "Nothing good comes without a lot of hard work" and "You have to fight for it!". These are the people who encourage me to do "exercise and diet" rather than liposuction.
Here is my response: Why? If there is an easy solution to the problem, then why shouldn't I employ that solution? Diet and exercise is great, especially for those who can't afford liposuction, but it's terribly inefficient. Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to lose weight that way? It consumes your every waking moment, and every thought in your head. You don't have time to devote to your hobbies, your friends, or anything other than exercising and not eating. You can't go to a restaurant with your husband and just enjoy yourself. You can't watch a movie, because that's two hours that should be spent exercising. It utterly consumes you, and strikes me as a pretty unhealthy way to live.
The Latter Day Puritans seem to think that wanting to be pretty, and being willing to have surgery in order to be pretty, is a sin. They don't call it a "sin", they call it "being lazy" or "being shallow". But it's the same thing. They think that you need to SUFFER for your sins. They think you need to PUNISH yourself with exercise and starvation so you DESERVE your beauty.
I call shenanigans. Everyone wants to look her best, and there is NOTHING wrong with that. And I don't feel that I should be punished for the fact that the 'roids have made me fat. I didn't gain my weight by being lazy, or through any moral failing on my part - so why should I have to work hard to lose the weight? Why should I be punished?
Everyone deserves to like how she looks. Even if she doesn't like to exercise or starve herself.
3) Some people have unrealistic ideas about plastic surgery.
This category includes my husband, who thinks having liposuction will lead to me booking multiple surgeries that will surely bankrupt us and make me look like a bag of hardened chemicals, or like a taxidermy project gone terribly wrong.
I think a lot of people look at images of Donatella Versace, Jennifer Garner, and that crazy cat lady and think that's what happens when you get plastic surgery. No. You have to have some pretty deep psychological problems to get so much surgery that you start to look creepy.
The fact of the matter is, most surgeries are done safely and well, with no problems. Can you go overboard with it? Sure. But most people don't. It's like saying you shouldn't have a glass of wine, because some people are alcoholics. It's like saying you shouldn't go to Las Vegas because of that one guy you know who has a gambling problem. I flatter myself that I have enough self control to stop after I get the lipo, just like I have enough self control to have a glass of wine and then stop.
Basically, I think people need to be less judgmental of those who choose to have liposuction or other cosmetic procedures. Like me. It might not be the right choice for you, and that's fine. But try to keep an open mind when someone tells you that she's considering it for herself. It's not necessarily because she's "lazy" or because she's "shallow". She's just a regular woman who wants to change her appearance, and doesn't feel that she should have to suffer because of it.
Anyway, I've been surprised by the reactions I've received when I tell people this. Mostly, people have negative reactions. They all say things like "Well, you should really just do it with diet and exercise" or the much more vague "I would NEVER have liposuction". And this is in Southern California, where you would think people would be more open minded about going under the knife! After all, we are a very image-conscious society here.
Well, I've spent some time thinking about it, trying to understand their points of view. Here are my conclusions -
1) Some women are naturally pretty and just don't get it.
Some of the women who have criticized my decision are gorgeous. They have the kind of effortless, unthinking beauty that makes the rest of us hate ourselves and want to crawl in a hole an die, because we know we can never, ever compete with them. These are the women who could steal our men with a curl of their fingers, if they chose to do so.
And they say things like "Beauty is on the inside" and "I think you look fine". Emphasis on the "I". They mean to be kind. But the fact of the matter is, because of their beauty, they have no idea what it's like to be anything other than beautiful. They don't see that the less beautiful are often treated badly, simply because of how they look. It's just not in the realm of their experience.
Dear pretty girls - please don't tell other, less pretty girls not to get liposuction. No one will take your advice seriously, because you just don't get it.
2) Some people have bizarre puritan beliefs about punishment and sacrifice.
It seems like a lot of people oppose plastic surgery simply because it's "the easy way out" or because it's "cheating". They say things like "Nothing good comes without a lot of hard work" and "You have to fight for it!". These are the people who encourage me to do "exercise and diet" rather than liposuction.
Here is my response: Why? If there is an easy solution to the problem, then why shouldn't I employ that solution? Diet and exercise is great, especially for those who can't afford liposuction, but it's terribly inefficient. Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to lose weight that way? It consumes your every waking moment, and every thought in your head. You don't have time to devote to your hobbies, your friends, or anything other than exercising and not eating. You can't go to a restaurant with your husband and just enjoy yourself. You can't watch a movie, because that's two hours that should be spent exercising. It utterly consumes you, and strikes me as a pretty unhealthy way to live.
The Latter Day Puritans seem to think that wanting to be pretty, and being willing to have surgery in order to be pretty, is a sin. They don't call it a "sin", they call it "being lazy" or "being shallow". But it's the same thing. They think that you need to SUFFER for your sins. They think you need to PUNISH yourself with exercise and starvation so you DESERVE your beauty.
I call shenanigans. Everyone wants to look her best, and there is NOTHING wrong with that. And I don't feel that I should be punished for the fact that the 'roids have made me fat. I didn't gain my weight by being lazy, or through any moral failing on my part - so why should I have to work hard to lose the weight? Why should I be punished?
Everyone deserves to like how she looks. Even if she doesn't like to exercise or starve herself.
3) Some people have unrealistic ideas about plastic surgery.
This category includes my husband, who thinks having liposuction will lead to me booking multiple surgeries that will surely bankrupt us and make me look like a bag of hardened chemicals, or like a taxidermy project gone terribly wrong.
I think a lot of people look at images of Donatella Versace, Jennifer Garner, and that crazy cat lady and think that's what happens when you get plastic surgery. No. You have to have some pretty deep psychological problems to get so much surgery that you start to look creepy.
The fact of the matter is, most surgeries are done safely and well, with no problems. Can you go overboard with it? Sure. But most people don't. It's like saying you shouldn't have a glass of wine, because some people are alcoholics. It's like saying you shouldn't go to Las Vegas because of that one guy you know who has a gambling problem. I flatter myself that I have enough self control to stop after I get the lipo, just like I have enough self control to have a glass of wine and then stop.
Basically, I think people need to be less judgmental of those who choose to have liposuction or other cosmetic procedures. Like me. It might not be the right choice for you, and that's fine. But try to keep an open mind when someone tells you that she's considering it for herself. It's not necessarily because she's "lazy" or because she's "shallow". She's just a regular woman who wants to change her appearance, and doesn't feel that she should have to suffer because of it.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Merry Christmas! I'm Making a New Phillip! You're Welcome, World.
I'm knocked up. I found out a few days ago. I'm due August 29th.
I know what you're thinking. "Whoa. August 29th. That's kinda far away.....aren't you gonna wait until you're out of the 'danger zone' before you tell people?"
Well, first of all, because I have the lupus, there isn't going to be an "out of the danger zone". This baby could go at any time. I have accepted that, and so should you. But please put on your Positive Pete hats and stop focusing on my baby's death. I want only positive energy focused me and Fred/Elle during this special time in our lives. (Yes, Fred Felix or Elle Luna. I was going to go with Hank, but my father in law pointed out that there is a famous baseball player named "Hammer Hank" and I don't want people to think I named little Hank Hammer after a baseball player for some reason.)
Besides, I don't really get why pregnant women think that telling people they've had a miscarriage would be so terrible. Are they afraid that that they'll be put in the stocks, called bad mothers, or blamed? Do they feel that people knowing about the miscarriage would in some way be worse than actually having the miscarriage? That's ridiculous. The whole point in having friends and family is so they can help you through sad times like miscarriages.
Everyone knows that miscarriages are God's abortions - all it means is your baby couldn't hang. No one is going to blame you, unless you were doing something really idiotic that caused the miscarriage, like drunkenly jumping on a trampoline with a coat hanger hanging out of your vagina. Promise #1: I won't do that. And let's face it, if my baby can't withstand the warm, loving, nutritious environment provided by my cushy womb, then there's no way it will ever be able to withstand my personality.
So, since I found out that I'm pregnant, all I think about is being pregnant. It's kind of a big deal to me. And so I've decided that now is the time for me to get my ducks in a row and make plans for my future, as a mother and as a person. Here are a list of promises I intend to keep.
Promises to my baby:
1) I promise that I will never, ever post a picture of your sonogram on the internet, or show a picture of your sonogram to a person who does not specifically ask to see it. Let's be honest. Those things are not cute. No one wants to see a picture of my insides, and you will look like a monster. I won't let people think you are a monster, Fred. I'll make sure no ones sees you until you're born and human looking.
2) I promise that you will have all of the opportunities. Dear little Elle, as your Tiger Mother, I promise you that your life will be full of language lessons, cello/violin/piano lessons, archery and krava maga lessons and reading and art. I haven't decided which specific lessons you will be focusing on, because I want to take into account your personal preferences and abilities. I'm not going to be irrational about it and try to force you to be a concert violinist if you're totally tone deaf. But I'm going to push you to try all kinds of things and have all kinds of experiences until you find your special talent. And then I'm going to be a nightmare of pushiness, making sure that you are the absolute best at what you do. No amount of Phillip's money will be spared in our quest for your greatness.
3) I promise not to dress you in outfits that have precious sayings on them like "If mom says no, ask daddy" or "spoiled rotten". You are not a poster board for my, or anyone else's, lame sense of humor. You are also not a poster board for my taste in music or my political views, so you won't be wearing any of those shirts either.
4) I promise to teach you work. Probably the most important thing my parents taught me is to work long and hard. I will teach you the same by forcing you to do manual labor and also volunteer work. You will already be inheriting an "overwork" gene from your father. From me, you will be inheriting throwback lazy French girl genes - genes that will always be telling you that you should just picket these unfair labor practices, go home, drink some good wine and write some meandering existential play or something. My parents, who are both extremely hard workers, rooted out this tendency in me. Left to my own devices, I would do basically nothing but write and eat and read and sleep. Because of my upbringing, I do other things as well. I will make sure you are brought up to not be a lazy asshole either.
I don't know which gene will express itself in you. Either way, I will make sure that you know how to work. In an age when Americans are becoming progressively more lazy and entitled, you will be King Fred, the Hardest Worker of Them All. You will become valedictorian, graduate top of your class in college, and then get all of the promotions.
5) I promise to acknowledge it if you aren't very smart. I promise that if you turn out to be stupid I will still love you and support you. I won't try to force you to be something you're not, making you go to college and insisting that you could do better if you just applied yourself more. If you're not smart, you're not smart. We can live with that, as long as you're a good person.
But let's get serious. You're going to be smart.
6) I promise to be the very best mother I can be.
7) I promise not to tell embarrassing stories about you. If I wouldn't want it said about me in public, I won't say it about you in public. Manners.
8) I promise that I will not tell young shop clerks to "never have kids" while you're standing right there. I will try not to be one of those mothers who constantly bitches and moans about motherhood.
Promises to Phillip:
1) I promise that I will not sacrifice being your wife for being a "mommy". I will never forget that without you, I wouldn't be a mother. I will not stop having conversations with you. I will not become one of those women who totally gives up on her appearance because she's a mother and now thinks herself above such things. I promise to be there for you as a person, not just as the mother of your child. You will not be put at the bottom of my list of priorities, ever.
2) I promise that if you ever EVER call me "Mom" or "Mommy" we will never have sex again.
Promises to Myself:
1) I promise myself that I will give myself lipo next December as a Christmas present.
2) I promise that I will not beat myself up for eating. I have to eat. I have to eat. I have to eat. It's really hard to reprogram myself, since for the better part of my life I have been secretly convinced that eating is not necessary, but rather something I do because I'm weak and can't control myself.
3) I promise to not let any pictures of my swollen belly make their way onto Facebook. I don't need any permanent reminders of that look.
4) I promise to maintain an identity separate from that of "mommy". If you ask me what kinds of movies I like and I reply "Well, we've been watching a lot of Dora the Explorer" you have permission to shoot me in the face, since I'm no longer a "person", evidently, rather I am just a shadowy extension of my child. Unhealthy.
Promises to You:
1) I promise to never change my Facebook profile picture to that of my baby. It's freaking confusing.
2) I promise to do my very best to raise a child who will be an asset to the world, and better than everyone else. I want you to like my child because she's so wonderful and helpful and kind. I want her to be a force for good in the world. I want your lives to be better for having known her.
I promise to try to make that happen.
3) If I have a child who is a psychopath, I promise to not stay in denial about that fact. I promise to do whatever is necessary to prevent her from skinning your cats alive or whatever. Phillip will stay in denial, and he will say I'm being needlessly harsh and suspicious, because Phillip only sees the good in people, and I'm sure our child will be no exception to this. If our kid is a true psychopath, I won't listen to Phillip. I'll handle the situation as best I can. I promise.
4) If my child ever destroys your property, either on purpose or on accident, I will pay for all damages. You don't need to sue me or get all angry - I'll pay for it. I'm sorry. I promise.
5) I promise that if my child has a speech impediment, I'll get that shit fixed.
In sum, my goal is to make my baby better than everyone else. I don't know that it's a realistic goal, but I have to try. I'm totally frightened that I'll be a bad mother. But I'm also totally hopeful that I'll be able conquer my less attractive personality traits and summon my more attractive ones in the service of my new goal - making a good and interesting person.
I know what you're thinking. "Whoa. August 29th. That's kinda far away.....aren't you gonna wait until you're out of the 'danger zone' before you tell people?"
Well, first of all, because I have the lupus, there isn't going to be an "out of the danger zone". This baby could go at any time. I have accepted that, and so should you. But please put on your Positive Pete hats and stop focusing on my baby's death. I want only positive energy focused me and Fred/Elle during this special time in our lives. (Yes, Fred Felix or Elle Luna. I was going to go with Hank, but my father in law pointed out that there is a famous baseball player named "Hammer Hank" and I don't want people to think I named little Hank Hammer after a baseball player for some reason.)
Besides, I don't really get why pregnant women think that telling people they've had a miscarriage would be so terrible. Are they afraid that that they'll be put in the stocks, called bad mothers, or blamed? Do they feel that people knowing about the miscarriage would in some way be worse than actually having the miscarriage? That's ridiculous. The whole point in having friends and family is so they can help you through sad times like miscarriages.
Everyone knows that miscarriages are God's abortions - all it means is your baby couldn't hang. No one is going to blame you, unless you were doing something really idiotic that caused the miscarriage, like drunkenly jumping on a trampoline with a coat hanger hanging out of your vagina. Promise #1: I won't do that. And let's face it, if my baby can't withstand the warm, loving, nutritious environment provided by my cushy womb, then there's no way it will ever be able to withstand my personality.
So, since I found out that I'm pregnant, all I think about is being pregnant. It's kind of a big deal to me. And so I've decided that now is the time for me to get my ducks in a row and make plans for my future, as a mother and as a person. Here are a list of promises I intend to keep.
Promises to my baby:
1) I promise that I will never, ever post a picture of your sonogram on the internet, or show a picture of your sonogram to a person who does not specifically ask to see it. Let's be honest. Those things are not cute. No one wants to see a picture of my insides, and you will look like a monster. I won't let people think you are a monster, Fred. I'll make sure no ones sees you until you're born and human looking.
2) I promise that you will have all of the opportunities. Dear little Elle, as your Tiger Mother, I promise you that your life will be full of language lessons, cello/violin/piano lessons, archery and krava maga lessons and reading and art. I haven't decided which specific lessons you will be focusing on, because I want to take into account your personal preferences and abilities. I'm not going to be irrational about it and try to force you to be a concert violinist if you're totally tone deaf. But I'm going to push you to try all kinds of things and have all kinds of experiences until you find your special talent. And then I'm going to be a nightmare of pushiness, making sure that you are the absolute best at what you do. No amount of Phillip's money will be spared in our quest for your greatness.
3) I promise not to dress you in outfits that have precious sayings on them like "If mom says no, ask daddy" or "spoiled rotten". You are not a poster board for my, or anyone else's, lame sense of humor. You are also not a poster board for my taste in music or my political views, so you won't be wearing any of those shirts either.
4) I promise to teach you work. Probably the most important thing my parents taught me is to work long and hard. I will teach you the same by forcing you to do manual labor and also volunteer work. You will already be inheriting an "overwork" gene from your father. From me, you will be inheriting throwback lazy French girl genes - genes that will always be telling you that you should just picket these unfair labor practices, go home, drink some good wine and write some meandering existential play or something. My parents, who are both extremely hard workers, rooted out this tendency in me. Left to my own devices, I would do basically nothing but write and eat and read and sleep. Because of my upbringing, I do other things as well. I will make sure you are brought up to not be a lazy asshole either.
I don't know which gene will express itself in you. Either way, I will make sure that you know how to work. In an age when Americans are becoming progressively more lazy and entitled, you will be King Fred, the Hardest Worker of Them All. You will become valedictorian, graduate top of your class in college, and then get all of the promotions.
5) I promise to acknowledge it if you aren't very smart. I promise that if you turn out to be stupid I will still love you and support you. I won't try to force you to be something you're not, making you go to college and insisting that you could do better if you just applied yourself more. If you're not smart, you're not smart. We can live with that, as long as you're a good person.
But let's get serious. You're going to be smart.
6) I promise to be the very best mother I can be.
7) I promise not to tell embarrassing stories about you. If I wouldn't want it said about me in public, I won't say it about you in public. Manners.
8) I promise that I will not tell young shop clerks to "never have kids" while you're standing right there. I will try not to be one of those mothers who constantly bitches and moans about motherhood.
Promises to Phillip:
1) I promise that I will not sacrifice being your wife for being a "mommy". I will never forget that without you, I wouldn't be a mother. I will not stop having conversations with you. I will not become one of those women who totally gives up on her appearance because she's a mother and now thinks herself above such things. I promise to be there for you as a person, not just as the mother of your child. You will not be put at the bottom of my list of priorities, ever.
2) I promise that if you ever EVER call me "Mom" or "Mommy" we will never have sex again.
Promises to Myself:
1) I promise myself that I will give myself lipo next December as a Christmas present.
2) I promise that I will not beat myself up for eating. I have to eat. I have to eat. I have to eat. It's really hard to reprogram myself, since for the better part of my life I have been secretly convinced that eating is not necessary, but rather something I do because I'm weak and can't control myself.
3) I promise to not let any pictures of my swollen belly make their way onto Facebook. I don't need any permanent reminders of that look.
4) I promise to maintain an identity separate from that of "mommy". If you ask me what kinds of movies I like and I reply "Well, we've been watching a lot of Dora the Explorer" you have permission to shoot me in the face, since I'm no longer a "person", evidently, rather I am just a shadowy extension of my child. Unhealthy.
Promises to You:
1) I promise to never change my Facebook profile picture to that of my baby. It's freaking confusing.
2) I promise to do my very best to raise a child who will be an asset to the world, and better than everyone else. I want you to like my child because she's so wonderful and helpful and kind. I want her to be a force for good in the world. I want your lives to be better for having known her.
I promise to try to make that happen.
3) If I have a child who is a psychopath, I promise to not stay in denial about that fact. I promise to do whatever is necessary to prevent her from skinning your cats alive or whatever. Phillip will stay in denial, and he will say I'm being needlessly harsh and suspicious, because Phillip only sees the good in people, and I'm sure our child will be no exception to this. If our kid is a true psychopath, I won't listen to Phillip. I'll handle the situation as best I can. I promise.
4) If my child ever destroys your property, either on purpose or on accident, I will pay for all damages. You don't need to sue me or get all angry - I'll pay for it. I'm sorry. I promise.
5) I promise that if my child has a speech impediment, I'll get that shit fixed.
In sum, my goal is to make my baby better than everyone else. I don't know that it's a realistic goal, but I have to try. I'm totally frightened that I'll be a bad mother. But I'm also totally hopeful that I'll be able conquer my less attractive personality traits and summon my more attractive ones in the service of my new goal - making a good and interesting person.
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