A Special Visit with Ally

Dinner at The Vortex

This past weekend, we had the great honor of welcoming our friend Ally (Shybiker in the blogosphere) to Atlanta for a visit with us! Ally and I have known each other for six years and have some mutual friends in common. We’ve been exchanging mail, gifts, emails, and phone calls for a long time now. 

In case you aren’t familiar with her blog yet, Ally is transgender. She is a woman through and through, although she might be dressed in male clothing sometimes, and I have truly never thought of her as anything but. 

She knew she was a girl as early as three years old, but despite a loving relationship otherwise with her parents, she was never allowed to live as a girl. As my mother-in-law put it, it would be like telling a child with brown eyes to have blue eyes instead. But a lot of people in Ally’s world don’t see it that way, which is unfair, but it’s what she learned to live with growing up and even sometimes as an adult. 

Lookin' lovely. What fun to do her makeup.

In the last few years, she’s started finally giving HERSELF permission to be who she really is (because that’s the only permission any of us really needs, right?), and her blog has chronicled that journey beautifully. She’s learning all about clothes and makeup and all the other things she always wanted to do but didn’t feel she could, and she’s going a great job. 

She is also very, very shy. She doesn’t like attention drawn to her in big groups, although she can rock a courtroom like nobody’s business. I was hoping I could convince her to present as female in public here…trust me when I say you can do that in Atlanta without people batting an eye. There’s a very strong trans community here. She just was not ready, though, and I respect that too. People have to do things on their own time. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep nudging her about it, though. ;) Presenting as female would not mean she became more female, however. She is who she is regardless of how she might be dressed at the time. I just want her to someday have the joy (and, yes, excitement and butterflies too!) of knowing what that feels like. I think one day she will, and we will have a party to celebrate. 

Thrift sto' checkout!

The shoes!! Wish we'd tried the white boots.

We were able to go thrift store shopping one afternoon, a fave pastime for both of us. I loved seeing how she was totally comfortable looking through all the women’s clothing and buying it. That wasn’t something she would even entertain when we first met because she was scared, and it was beautiful to see her nonchalance about it in person. We also did a photoshoot of her in the backyard after I did her makeup, and that was tons of fun! (I’m really looking forward to seeing the outfit posts she comes up with around her thrifted finds - she got some good ones!)

My best friend came over one night so we could just enjoy girl talk, and she LOVED Ally and is still talking about what a great energy she has. She said she felt like Ally was another aunt for us, which I think fits perfectly. Ally was exactly like I thought she would be in person.

One thing I have to point out publicly so Ally knows I am serious - and it’s not to embarrass her. But she, for some reason, feels like our friendship scale is tipped. She feels like I’ve always been a better friend to her than she’s been able to be for me. This baffles me completely. Throughout the last six years, she’s listened to countless emotional outpourings, donated money for sick dogs when we didn’t know how we were going to afford their treatment, and generally allowed me to be myself with no judgment. That is priceless. Even wonderful people in your life don’t always “get you” 100%, but there is never that feeling with her. Being allowed to be MYself and her being allowed to be HERself…well, that sounds pretty even to me! She even cared to hear about my old high school insecurities and seeing my letter jacket…and just having someone who delights in all the things that make you YOU is very special. 

Here are some of the other highlights!

Things I “regret” (event though I don’t really regret anything from this visit!):

Vintage BMW bike at The Vortex since she's a biker! 

The waiter took a selfie on my phone.
Which I'd think was a flirting attempt, but...lol.

• Forgetting to offer fresh towels and a basket of fluffy towels and fancy soaps. At least I remembered to put some yummy bubble bath in the bathroom and even washed the towels…for a mom of a toddler, that’s pretty good.
• I wish we had had more dress-up time! But I’m thankful for what we got. I’d have been so sad if she’d gone home and we didn't have that. 
• I wish we had taken a walk somewhere. Especially after all the incredible meals we had (none of which I can take credit for, unfortunately.) But it was pretty cold and/or rainy.
• I wish we had watched a movie at some point. I really wanted to introduce Ally to The Babysitter’s Club, heehee. But we had plenty of talk time, which was way more important.
• We forgot to buy so many things from the grocery store! We practically had nothing, including toilet paper, even though we had just shopped. How does that happen?!
• We never introduced her to okra or grits - two true southern staples! But she was introduced to fried zucchini at an Atlanta restaurant called The Vortex. I’d say that’s a win because we both decided there was crack in the batter. Atlanta might not represent what traditional “southern” means, but we still love our southern food. 
• I didn’t much like the saying goodbye part either.

BFFs with my dawg.

Highlights of the visit (obvs, just a handful because there was so many!):

• Seeing Ally’s face when she looked in the mirror for the first time after I’d just done her makeup. That was such a priceless moment. You don’t even know. She just looked at herself in amazement. (Although she doesn’t give herself enough credit for her own makeup skills.)
• Just seeing her presenting as female at our house in person was priceless, even more than all the pictures I’ve seen over the years. Watching her entire face and posture and the way she carried herself change as soon as she was donning a dress was so amazing and made me want that for her 24-7 even more. It was a visceral, dramatic transformation, even though all I ever see when I look at her is a woman, regardless of how she is dressed, whether she has a wig on, and what name she chooses to introduce herself with to various people. Again, it wasn’t that she “became” more female by putting on the dress. It’s that seeing her relax into herself was nothing short of beautiful, as was (is) she, inside and out.
• Hearing that the room she stayed in was indeed the girliest bedroom of her childhood dreams. I didn’t care what any other room in the house was like as long as that one was just right for her.
• When she said how clean our house was, that it was beyond just cleaning for her and that we must just live that way. Boy, we sure have her fooled.
• How well Ally and my husband hit it off. That was not surprising in the least, since they can both talk to anyone and pretty much get along. But they really had a great time talking and had a lot of things in common. I especially enjoyed when Ally would ask him something really deep…he’s not one to volunteer a lot of emotional-type things on his own, but he will when prodded. It was really interesting to hear the answers he gave to some of the questions and made me love him even more. 
• Seeing my three-year-old daughter give Ally a kiss when she was saying goodbye. She is still talking about her.
• Seeing how much my pets adored her. Not a surprise since I already how much she loves animals. But one of my dogs in particular is pretty resistant to strangers and very barky, and it took her almost no time to warm up to Ally’s gentle, patient, and loving nature. Most people are put off by my loud and exuberant dog, even dog-lovers. But Ally wasn’t taking no for an answer when it came to friendship. They really formed a special bond.
• All of Ally’s questions are so poignant and really make you think. It’s always been that way, in all our various types of correspondence, but even more so in person. Although sometimes when she asks something like, “What kind of furniture do you want for your new house?” you wonder if she’s just curious or really plotting to buy you an entire houseful of furniture. (Ally, we don’t need anything!!!)
• I loved proving to her that people in Atlanta truly don’t care what your gender is and how you present it. We ran into other trans folks just about everywhere we went. Even though we didn’t talk to them, I think just seeing them was a comfort and inspiration to her. 
• It was initially going to be a Friday through Sunday deal. Getting to the airport for her flight home on Sunday, only to find out it had been canceled and she could stay with us one more day, was awesome!

All in all, it was a wonderful visit, still felt too short, and will hopefully be repeated sooner than later. Thank you, Ally, for gracing us with your presence and for being such a wonderful friend!

Saying bye at the airport. Our smiles belie our real feelings. :(

If you'd like to read about our visit from Ally's perspective (she has a beautiful and touching writeup), check it out here.

Where I'm at Right Now in My Self-Love Journey

No makeup, no filter, no self-loathing.

I love the present-day self-love movement. I like to think I was a part of it way back when, when I first started this blog with my best friend. Social media has made it so easy for amazing organizations like So Worth Loving, Operation Beautiful, and Raw Beauty Talks to spread the message. I love all the self-love-themed songs that keep coming out - I even wrote my own (which I’ll happily post once I copyright it), and my current favorite is Colbie’s “Try.”

My own self-love journey has been one of winning lots of battles here and there but maybe never truly winning the war. Maybe that’s just a part of being human and experiencing ups and downs in life? I go through phases where I absolutely adore myself inside and out…and then something might trigger a downslide into a mini depression about it. It might be a picture of myself that I didn’t think was flattering. It might be comparing myself to another girl. It might be the way my stomach looks that day. In fact, it’s probably my stomach. I seem to feel good about myself as long as I like the way my stomach looks. When it is bigger from a meal or at the end of the day, I can get very self-conscious about it. Sometimes I sneak looks at it a billion times a day to see how it’s “holding up.” It doesn’t change the way I eat very much; I love to eat, and I still think if I want a donut, I’m gonna eat a donut. But how much of my day am I spending thinking about my stomach when I could be thinking about so much more worthwhile things? I mean, really. It sounds so unimportant when I spell it out in words. It feels so important at the time when we’re caught up in it, though, doesn’t it? Why do I easily and truthfully believe that all body sizes and shapes are beautiful...for everyone but myself?

I’ve gone through times when I embraced myself (stomach included), only to sink back again into worrying about it. I’ve gained and lost a little weight a few times. But I’m always me. My me-ness is still there, and my happiness with myself shouldn’t rely on my weight or appearance. Why does it sometimes? It’s not right that I love myself so easily when I’m at the weight I want to be and not as much when I’m not. Now, I do have a weight range that just feels best inside my body. I have more energy there and feel less sluggish, and my clothes that I love so much fit better. But it still shouldn’t be the end all, be all. That number is actually higher than most people’s my height, and it took me a while to realize that a number on the scale really is unique to the individual. It helped when nurses weighing me at the doctor’s office would do double-takes at the scale and say they thought I would be ten pounds less than that - as shallow as it sounds, it helped me see that my number looks fine on me. I don’t know if I just have heavy bones or what, but I’m good with it now. When I was in high school, I thought I was supposed to be 115 pounds. I didn’t realize then how vastly different that number looks on different bodies. If I were to actually go down to 115, people would start worrying about my health (they started worrying when I was only two pounds below the low end of my ideal weight). I know people making comments about weight either way can sometimes be destructive, but I’m glad they did in this case, because my own image of myself in the mirror had become skewed from reality.

So what do I believe in my core, even when I do things that go against my beliefs like Stomach Watch 1991-2015? I think healthy (or at least semi-healthy) eating is kind to your body - and I also believe indulging sometimes is kind to your spirit. I believe in exercising or dancing or doing some kind of movement to keep your body healthy, strong, and fluid even as you age - whichever one resonates with you the most or a combo. I also believe in not taking it to the extreme for the sake of being thin or pushing your body too hard. I love makeup and clothes and actually am sort of addicted. I’m not going to say none of that is for the sake of impressing people by looking good. But most of it is just because I really enjoy it. I also finally got to the point a few years ago where I didn’t have to have makeup on everywhere I went. Most of the time, I can now feel just as good about myself in pajamas and no makeup as I do in a great outfit and my face done. I like that I can experience both of those things without going to one extreme or the other. I don’t begrudge anyone who’s at either end of the spectrum, though; a balance of both is just what feels right for me. I believe you should change your appearance if you want to and leave it be if you don’t. If you do, make sure your motivations are in check. Outside validation feels good; it just does. But it can’t be the main source of how we view ourselves. Most likely, you’re already great exactly the way you are.

I have a three-year-old daughter. I don’t want her to catch me sneaking stomach peeks. And do you know that even when kids don’t see us doing those things and don’t hear negative self-talk from us, they know when we love and embrace ourselves and when we don’t. They pick up on it. I know because I picked up on it from my mom. No matter how beautiful and perfect she thought I was (and told me), I knew she didn’t think she was. And that sends a powerful message. She passed away before she could ever experience true self-love, and it breaks my heart every day. I don’t want that for myself or my child. It’s crucial to me to guide my daughter into keeping the same self-love she has now at three for the rest of her life - because I think most kids start out with it, only to have it slowly evaporate over time. I hope I’m giving her a good foundation to build on so that she can see herself the way I see her. And I want to see myself the way my mom saw me.

Think of whatever girl or woman tends to trigger your negative feelings about your appearance the most. And then realize that even she has those feelings about herself sometimes. Victoria’s Secret models get nervous and self-conscious - and don’t roll your eyes and say, “Boo-hoo for them,” because we’re all human, with insecurities, doubts, and fears. Everyone on this earth can always find in someone else some quality they wish they were more like. And someone’s looking at you the same way, trust me. Sometimes I have poise and confidence as I walk through town; sometimes I trip on a crack in the sidewalk or over a table at the coffee shop (true stories). It’s a beautiful gift to be able to laugh at yourself and realize that everyone else in the world feels what you feel at one time or another. It’s not until we start talking about it with each other instead of hoping no one notices - and thereby knowing others actually relate to us - that we can start freeing ourselves of our self-set traps. Simply talking about it or writing it down to share with someone automatically releases some of the power your insecurities have over you.

Something that also helps me, which I learned through coaching, is to visualize going inside your body into the area that causes you grief. Describe what it looks like - what color it is, how it feels (warm, cold, texture), how it makes you feel being in there. You can talk to it and tell it you love it - or tell it why you don't love it but that you really want to learn how to. This isn't a once-and-done exercise, at least for me, but whenever I make time to do it, it helps me. Visualizations where you walk up to your childhood self (or whatever age you were when something happened that changed the way you saw yourself) and tell her you love her and want to heal her are also really powerful.

I’m actually miles ahead of where I used to be, and I’m proud of that and thankful. I don’t want to beat myself up for my off days either, because that’s still questioning my own worth. I’m no longer trying to achieve perfection in my self-love journey or in myself. I think if I can truly love and embrace myself inside and out the majority of the time, that is something to celebrate.


Conversation with my daughter today...

Her: (singing "Try" while building Legos)

Me: That song is about loving yourself and being happy with yourself.

Her: (gleefully shouting) I LOVE MYSELF!!!!

Me: I am so glad to hear that. I love myself too. 

Her: Does everybody love theirself?

Me: Sadly, not everyone does, even though they should. I hope you always love yourself as much as you do now.

How to be a Confident Entrepreneur

As an entrepreneur and mom (a "mompreneur"), I am well aware of the daily hits confidence can take. Motherhood and entrepreneurship bring you face-to-face with every insecurity you never knew you had. Each make you wonder if you're good enough even though you love it. Each will bring out aliveness, fears, passions, emotions, stresses, wonderment, highs, and lows. Try doing both at the same time like I am (with a toddler, no less!), and you're probably gonna struggle with low confidence sometimes and question if you're cut out for either one and why the hell you ever thought you could do a good job. A business is like another child, and both require a great deal of nurturing and responsibility. Sometimes it all gets a little overwhelming.

I worked in the corporate world for a long time and was severely unhappy. But I kept sticking with it because it was good experience and because I was afraid that I couldn't make it on my own. Entrepreneurship runs in my blood from both sides of my family, and I knew "someday" I would be one. I struggled along in misery waiting for the day that would magically feel like "someday." Then I got laid off. I got hired again but decided to amp up my freelance business I'd had going forever and see if maybe I could take it further. But I got burned out after a while. I decided I couldn't have a regular job, be a mom, and have my own business, so my own business had to go. Two days after I made that decision, I got laid off for the second time. WTF?! I took that as the ultimate sign that someone was not gonna allow me to get out of it so easily! My husband - who had kept telling me all along not to give up on my business - and I decided I would not look for another job, that I would instead devote that time and energy to my business. After a couple days of quaking in my boots and being afraid I couldn't do my part to take care of our family, I jumped in with both feet even more seriously than I had ever been before. I'm no longer doing it on the side or "hoping it will work out." I am making it work out. Shiz got real. I have myself a full-fledged marketing strategy, design, and writing business that lights my fire like no job I've ever had - and guess who I am helping? Other entrepreneurs. Clients are falling in my lap without all the traditional "trying hard" - clients that light my fire too, awesome people that I care about helping. Not to mention one stressful day working for myself makes me a million times happier than one good day working for someone else. 

But even with all of this, I have down days. I have nights where I lie awake with my hamster wheel spinning in my brain, telling me that maybe it wasn't really a sign from the universe when I got laid off…maybe all this is just a fluke…seriously, who am I to think I'm capable of doing this?! 

So here is what is working for me. This is not really new information, but maybe the way I'm packaging it will resonate with you. If you are thinking of launching your own business or already have one and wonder if you can do it, I promise if you follow these three guidelines, it will catapult you in the right direction!

1) Hire a coach already!

I love to tell the story about how I met my coach, Francoise Everett with Guilt-Free Mothering. We attended the same networking event for women, and I "happened" to sit next to her. It's customary at these events for everyone to say their name and what their business is, and when she stood and said the words "Guilt-Free Mothering," I had absolutely no idea what she meant or what she does, but I turned to her and said, "I need to talk to you." So, afterward, we did. I found out that she coaches entrepreneurial moms to help them not only launch or enhance their business but also release guilt from their role as a mom and find real ways to manage all the responsibilities without losing sanity or sacrificing yourself or your family. I was an easy sell on the one hand because I instantly realized the value in something like that. I'd been freelancing on the side for several years, but actually trying to make your own business your livelihood is a whole other ballgame, and getting some professional guidance made total sense! I also struggle a lot with guilt as a mom, and knowing she could teach me to overcome that would be a gift to my daughter and to me. Business coaching + mom coaching = a two-fer! Plus, I instantly liked her. I knew we'd hit it off and that she would be able to get through to me. And if you're going to pay someone to coach you and spend oodles of time with them, you'd better like 'em as a person.

The part that held me back was cost. I was afraid I couldn't afford it. But do you know that when I decided it would work and that the investment would go right back into my business, that was when the universe recognized I was taking my business seriously…that was when things began to open up. Quickly. It's kind of like how hiring someone to do your marketing for you (such as myself) is an investment back into your business. Sometimes we need an expert in their field to hold our hand and guide us to where we need to be. It might be a lifestyle coach who helps you figure out what you want to do with yourself. It might be a parenting coach. It might be a business coach. It might be a confidence or happiness coach. Whoever it is, when you take that step and realize you don't have to handle it all yourself, it opens up great things in your life. Even my coach has a coach. No one on this earth is done growing. We can all use strategy from someone who's been there. Someone to get straight with us and drill down to the root of whatever holds us back (that we didn't even know was holding us back). Here are some coaches you can look into, and this is only a sampling of what's out there. 

Guilt-Free Mothering with Francoise - for entrepreneurial moms and women
Stratejoy with Molly Mahar - for women in transition (relationships, motherhood, business, etc.)
Mara Glatzel - for self-love and growth
Hey Shenee - business and branding coaching
Moxie with Elizabeth Malone - to get your sexy back
Passion Fruit with Wendy Watkins - getting you in touch with your purpose and passion

2) Comparison is an evil joy-sucker!

This is Self-Confidence 101 for any area in your life. I'm always preaching that we need to stop comparing our looks and lives to other women and stick together because everyone struggles. I've gotten better about that, but running a business is quite a responsibility, and looking at what others in your field are doing, while often valuable, can make you wonder if you're as good as someone else. The main thing to remember here is: you have a story only you can tell. No one else in the whole wide world can bring your experiences and your particular gifts to the table. You don't have to cater to everyone - and, in fact, you shouldn't. You only have to cater to the kind of people you specifically want to help and who are a good fit. Something about you and the way you view the world will be the best fit for the right type of client. They like your approach, and you don't even have to sell them too hard. The clients who aren't the right fit go elsewhere, but that's good, because they leave space for the right ones to fill. It's a little like the day you meet your BFF...you get this feeling inside that a partnership with that client is going to enrich both your lives. 

Most days, I feel confident in my talents and abilities to do what I do. It feels not only like a passion but a compulsion, like I simply must do it. But it's so easy to let doubt creep in when my defenses are down. I recently ran across a website for a super talented designer - and I admit that when I was first looking at her site, I felt intimidated until I realized her target client is completely different from mine. And until I found this blog post she wrote (You are gooder than that. Just keep going. And going. And going.) where she discusses her own insecurities that pop up. I thought, "If someone that talented struggles with self-doubt, EVERY entrepreneur probably does." And you know what? They do! Even the best of the best at the top of the entrepreneurial totem pole of success and fame STILL goes to bed occasionally wondering why they ever thought they were cut out for this and what they could possibly have to offer that isn't already being done. It's okay to be scared and feel doubt. Acknowledge the feelings; don't run from them. But remember what we feel in one moment in time does not have to define how we feel overall. 

3) Come from a place of authenticity and love. 

I did a target client exercise that my coach sent me that really drilled down into the specifics of the "ideal client" I can best help. It really got me thinking about one particular client of mine who is often stressed and burning the candle at both ends. We hadn't done any work on her business in a little while because she felt she couldn't take on anything else. I asked myself how I could try to make her feel a little better. So I texted her and told her that I hoped she would have some time to relax over the weekend and that she deserved a break. I wasn't trying to get back on her radar. I was coming from a place of genuine compassion for her. Another example is that I sent someone I met an email telling her tactfully that her website was not reaching its full potential. I wasn't trying to win her over as a client; I simply wanted to help her in some way, whether she hired me or someone else to handle it. She's in her business partly to make a living - as we all are - and was incredibly appreciative of my being willing to be honest with her.

What I do for people is more than a marketing plan to make them more money; it's getting to know them and trying to make their lives easier in some way, to make them feel supported. In just about any line of work, you're offering people some kind of service beyond just what your business is about. If you're an IT professional, you're maintaining networks and workstations so they run smoothly - and your clients' lives and jobs run more smoothly as a result. That's a service within a service. Even if you feel there is no possible service within the service for your line of work, simply being nice and smiling at people makes people's days better. When you can connect with that feeling of higher purpose, when you focus not only on what you can do but the WHY behind what you do (the passion, the drive, and making a difference in some way), that's when the magic happens. Always come from a place of truth and authenticity. That is what will attract clients to you. That's who people like to be around. And besides that, I am in love with my business, and I LOVE my clients. I love seeing their faces light up; I live for hearing their sighs of relief when they realize I'm going to help them through.

I questioned for a while if I wanted to write this post and have it associated with my business in any way. It's easy to feel like you have to present a perfect image to your clients 100% of the time or run the risk of them thinking you're not professional enough or qualified to be advising them. But what I am finding more and more is that people just want the freedom to be real and to work with people who are real too. Being vulnerable enough to admit my insecurities and struggles doesn't make me less qualified for anything at all. It makes me a real, accessible, relatable human being. The designer that wrote that blog post about her own insecurities? If I were the type of client who needed what she does, I'd hire her any day over someone who tried to look like they have it all together because she was authentic.

So here's my challenge to you. 

Try out these three guidelines for at least six weeks. Then see if you aren't in a very different place from where you started. 

What are your own strategies for kicking entrepreneurial self-doubt out on its ass with its ratty suitcase?

The Quest for Precious - AKA First World Problems

Riding sidesaddle with envy is a dangerous practice: I would be happy if I had what he or she possesses. By contrast, giving thanks constantly and in all circumstances liberates us from envy.

Edward Hays - The Great Escape Manual

Is this you? You see something you like, and then you want it. Like...really want it. To the point where you feel like it is not a want but a need. Whatever "it" is, it becomes an obsession. You deliberate for a little bit on whether or not you can justify the purchase. Things have been a little tight lately. You could make it work, but should you? So then you spend hours - yes, hours - perusing the interwebs and shops to see if you can find the same thing somewhere else for a cheaper price. You might even run across a pretty good facsimile of the thing and almost convince yourself that the more affordable item will do the trick...but, deep down, you know it won't. You realize that spending less money on something sub-par that's not quite what you really want is more wasteful than spending more on something you know you will use, which only serves to help you justify the purchase that much more. Even though you are perfectly aware of how ridiculous it is scrolling endlessly through a Google Image search, Craigslist, or eBay or favoriting things on etsy, you can't stop thinking about it until you've bought it. It's like an itch you have to scratch. Your own version of a "Precious."

I do it. I get something in my head, and it's over with. There is no resting until that thing is mine. It's silly and kind of embarrassing to admit, really, even though they're almost never expensive things. But I convince myself so easily that I will just feel good once I get this thing. But then what happens? I get the thing, and I totally love it, and I use it. It's not like it just gets shoved in the back of the closet to collect dust bunnies, never to be heard from again. But in no time at all, I'm onto the next quest that has caught my attention. Call me spoiled, but I think it's actually so much deeper than that for most of us. So, once again, I'm laying my flaws out there as an effort to give you something real you can relate to.

The instance my husband teases me about the most is THE BLUE DRESS. A few years ago, I was out somewhere and saw a girl walk by in a royal blue jersey dress. Nowadays, I'd just walk right up and ask her where she bought it and hopefully save myself a lot of time and restless energy, but I didn't do that. She looked so casual-pretty. Breezy. And in that instant, I decided I had to have a royal blue jersey dress. I scoured stores and the web. I finally found one, months later (the obsession didn't die down in all that time), and bought it. And it was cheap. But...it wasn't royal blue. It was more electric blue. I hardly ever wear that dress. I actually did see almost the exact same dress last year at Target, but I already had one in teal, and I couldn't justify buying the blue one. But do you know part of me kind of wishes I had? It’s just a freaking T-shirt dress, for God’s sake! Seriously, y'all, ridiculous. I feel so embarrassed right now that I'm beyond tempted to delete this whole example from the post, for fear of a loathsome comment telling me this is why terrorists hate the Western world and to stop moaning and groaning over non-existent problems. Lest you think I grew up on Easy St., I didn't. I'm not used to always getting what I want. I never got the Barbie Dreamhouse I coveted; instead, I got plastic bookshelves that I turned into condos, complete with my own hand-sewn textiles and hand-drawn wall art. (To this day, I credit not getting what I wanted with a huge chunk of my creativity.) 

So then...where does this come from, and why do we let these things consume us? Here are some reasons you might relate to.

We are attracted to beautiful things. 

That might sound elementary, but not everyone is. My husband isn't. (Except for me! ha) He is a functional kind of guy. He could care less if the ambience of a room is set by the paint color; he just wants the rooms and house to function well for what he needs. I, on the other hand, need it to be pretty as well. My current quest: redoing my home office. Now, I honestly don't think this is unjustified. You'd agree if you knew what it looks like in its current state. I am now running my own business, and I need a creative, inspiring, clean space in which to work more productively. We didn't have a real desk, so that was the first thing on my list. Luckily, Kam felt her "thrifty senses tingling" and found exactly the kind of desk I wanted on Craigslist for a steal. (Incidentally, she shares this syndrome; she just has far more patience to wait than I do.) But prior to that, I'd done several searches on the web and at antique stores for this type of desk. No other type of desk would do. And the only reason I so-called "have time" to do this type of thing? Smart phones make it way too damn easy.

We are looking to get a certain type of feeling out of it. 

Did you notice the way I described Royal Blue Dress Girl? I was after the feeling she projected. I wanted to feel breezy and pretty too. I thought if I had a dress like that, I would feel that way, i.e., good about myself. If you are a girl - and, chances are, you are if you are reading this blog - there's a pretty high chance that you often compare yourself to other girls. Whether it's the way they look, their weight, their hair, their skin, their family, their job, their home, their car, their income, their clothes...you are constantly scanning other girls everywhere you go to subconsciously decide if you measure up to them. How much of the things you want or buy come from latching onto the notion that if you can only get a certain thing or look a certain way, that is when you will like yourself or think you're pretty?

It makes for an easy distraction. 

I'd much rather soothe the pain of something sad in my life by buying something than actually thinking about what's making me sad. It’s easy to justify because it seems much healthier than booze or drugs. A few days ago marked 8 years since my mom died. It haunts me every day. When I'm obsessing over some purchase, there's less room for my brain to focus on the sad. As a mom to a toddler, my brain doesn't actually have that much time to focus on anything but her to begin with (much less anything sad because she's pure sunshine!)...until the house is quiet and still at night, and I'm left with my swirling thoughts. 

We like the feeling of getting “a deal.” 

Makes you feel so clever, doesn’t it?! Like you really pulled one over on someone or were so smart that you didn’t have to pay more.

We envision ourselves blogging about it! 

You other bloggers out there will have to chuckle at this one. You get the thing in your head and are already plotting out your photoshoot while you visualize yourself wearing it.

Pinterest is the devil. 

Okay, not really. Pinterest is actually a very useful tool for being able to remember things and ideas. It’s also an awesome way to create a vision board. However, if you let it, it can also make you feel really, really bad about yourself and all the things you are not doing/making/buying that these moms with six kids and jobs and blogs somehow find the time and money for, while you just feel accomplished if you find the extra energy to shower. You’ll decide you’re completely inept as a mom, wife, housekeeper, decorator, beauty queen, [insert role here]. Appreciate it for what it is and nothing more. Don’t use it to breed obsessions and keep up with the Joneses and their latest purchases.

Getting packages in the mail feels awesome. 

It's like Christmas or your birthday. On a random Thursday.

I'm not saying that the way I am is "bad." And I'm better about it than I used to be and am much smarter about the decisions I make about things I buy. Waste has become kind of disgusting to me, not to mention that storage in our small home is an issue as well. I am also very grateful for the things I have and do not take them for granted. My two pairs of vintage boots I got a few months ago (at great prices) are alternated staples in my wardrobe pretty much every day. They do help me feel more confident and put-together – and, dare I say, happy.

Your deepest sense of self-worth, confidence, and happiness should never come from anywhere outside your heart and soul, but let's be realistic and admit it is perfectly fine and healthy if a particular kind of shoe or shade of lipstick just makes you carry yourself differently! I would never say that is wrong! That is all part of the fun of fashion. I do believe in trying to look better if it's within reason, healthy, and realistic. It doesn't have to be shallow unless you take it to an extreme and make it your highest pursuit.

I also don't think it's wrong to chase after a particular feeling if you can recognize that this "thing" is not going to make you feel whole. It's not going to be a permanent fix to make you happy. There is no one thing that is finally going to make you feel beautiful 24-7, 365 days a year, and never have an off day. I'm not saying don't buy things that will make you feel good. I'm not saying don't buy expensive things if you have the money for them. All I'm saying is next time you get this burning desire, just try to pause and get in touch with your motives. Go ahead and buy it (I probably will!); just be realistic about what it's going to do for you. 

Do you go on insatiable quests like these? What do you think you get out of it?

Disordered Eating: A Real-Life Story

A good friend of mine - we'll call her Amy for privacy - jumped to it when I asked if she'd be willing to share her story about disordered eating on this blog in the hopes that it might help someone. This was not an easy thing for her to write, as it is something she usually only shares privately with friends, and the memories are also difficult to revisit. I want to say thank you to her for being so open, honest, and real.

Source

The first time I remember feeling self-conscious about my body, I was 6 or 7.  I was hanging out with my teenage cousin, helping her pick out a swimsuit to wear to the neighborhood pool.  With my help, she settled on a neon orange bikini.  She was athletic, tan, gorgeous.  And she knew it, despite the gripes she'd make about being "fat."  A boyfriend of hers came over, and I nervously slunk to the corner.  Suddenly, she said, "Amy, why are you sucking in?" and they both started laughing at me.  I hadn't even realized I was doing it.  I looked down at my squishy kid stomach, wearing my very conservative one-piece swimsuit, and realized, "I'm sucking in."  I was uncomfortable being around an older boy, around my beautiful cousin, and I unconsciously started sucking in, even as a first grader.

That might have been the beginning.  

I was always a normal size.  Never too big or too small.  Never too short or too tall.  Average.  My mother always told me how beautiful I was, and I always believed her.  Even when kids made fun of my thick eyebrows, thick glasses, dark hair on my arms...I never worried about my size.  Then puberty hit.  And I got breasts.  Big breasts.  A 34C by 14 years old.  Boys noticed in a grand way.  I learned that certain body types got attention — though it made me a little uncomfortable (the cat calls, lewd remarks), I did start to realize that I was made fun of less for my "quirks."  I got contacts.  Starting waxing my eyebrows.  Found a sense of warped self-confidence, thanks to all that "pretty" attention.  

When I got to my teens, I learned to appreciate my curves.  I never worried about being a certain size.  I was at peace with having a "big butt and big boobs."  As senior year approached, I was discovering that a separation was happening between myself and my usual group of friends.  They were gravitating toward drinking and smoking...and I was not.  Just the thought of my parents finding out I'd sipped a beer made me weak in the knees.  My parents weren't overly strict, but I had a short leash when it came to teenage parties and the like.  And because I was the "sober one," people didn't want to hang out with me as much.  This hurt my feelings, but if I couldn't be accepted, I had to become a loner.  I was quiet at lunch.  I didn't hang out with friends on the weekends.  I stayed home and did school work.  For one reason or another, I was losing weight.  Perhaps it was just natural, losing some of my "baby fat," as they say.  My bra size was shrinking.  I was getting less attention from boys in general.  All I could figure was that because I no longer had these "assets," I was no longer worth talking to.  My friends had left me for partying, and my ex-boyfriend had found a curvy (and easy) girlfriend.  (Despite my past popularity with boys in school, I wasn't one to "mess around," much to the disappointment of high school admirers.)

I was suddenly in-between.  Not skinny, not curvy, just sort of chubby in places.  And that bothered me.  So I started eating less.  If I couldn't be filled out and curvy, I was going to have to be thin.  I remember telling my mom I was a vegetarian to get out of eating certain things at dinner.  She forced me to eat a can of cashews a week just keep up my iron.  She figured it was a phase.

Around this time, my mom, 44 years old, was diagnosed with breast cancer.  The second cancer she'd had in her life, the first being Stage 3 Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma twelve years prior.  She nearly died the first time.  But with her positive willpower and chemo, she survived.  So to find out she was "sick" again was a major blow to us all.  "How unlucky," the oncologist said.  The tumor was small, found during a regular mammogram. When I came home from school and they told me, I was numb.  I remember lying on my bed, silently crying, and my mom coming in, sitting down.  "Hon, it's not a big deal!  They'll take it out; I'll be fine.  It's not like I'm going to DIE..." she laughed.   She rolled her eyes, in hopes of comforting me.  It was removed, and she was clinically cancer-free.  But because of this "unlucky circumstance," her doctor said she needed chemo anyway.  This news was very hard to accept.  I was five when she went through the agony of chemotherapy the first time.  I watched her, sick and bald, and it scared the heck out of me.  When the doctor said those words the second time around, my eyes welled, and it took every inch of control to keep them from spilling over.  I could barely see to walk out of the doctor's office with her.  But my mom was brave and assured us that it would all be okay.
  
Throughout those last couple months of my senior year, I was a zombie, trying to balance college applications and exams and helping care for my younger brother and sister, all while worrying sick about my mother.  At that point, my lack of appetite was less about losing weight and more about not having the energy to remember to eat.  I started having dizzy spells at school — to the point that I felt I'd pass out.  My pediatrician said it was stress and prescribed me Valium.  Little did they know...it was because I was surviving on less than 500 calories a day.  My mother said to the doctor, "She's lost an awful lot of weight lately.  Is that healthy?"  The doctor thought I looked fine, despite having lost 7 pounds since my checkup a couple weeks before.  I was barely 100 pounds.  At my "chubby weight" as a 15-year-old, I was at least 130.  But, no, the doctor said I was fine, I told my mother I was fine, not to worry.

She died, suddenly, a month later.  Not from cancer but from the chemotherapy putting her into congestive heart failure.  It was my first week of college.  By that point, I could go a day or so without so much as a cracker and water.  My digestive system wasn't "moving along" like it should, so I started taking laxatives to feel better.  And that became a crutch.  My anorexia turned into bulimia when I realized I could eat a little to stop the dizziness and headaches...then take a handful of pills...and by 6 am, it would be out of my system and I'd feel "hollow."  I've heard other disordered eaters use that word.  Feeling "empty" gave me such a high.  I could control how I felt for a few hours a day...until I ate again.  People would comment on how great I looked, my dad especially.  He's always had a constant body-image struggle — I fear I inherited some of his neuroses.  I think he also felt that by controlling what he ate and his weight, he could control part of his life, while the other parts were consumed by mourning.  Around this time, I started dating a new guy, and I had less opportunity to avoid food.  I was eating more, gaining weight, relying on laxatives.  I eventually was put on anti-depressants for stress, which also made me eat more.  I got to the point where I couldn't use the restroom without having taken at least 3x the usual dose of laxatives.  I was destroying my body.  I knew it was unhealthy, but I couldn't stop.

After a couple years, I found myself working full-time, in school full-time, feeling a little better about my life.  I had stopped taking anti-depressants not long after starting them.  (A side effect being "suicidal thoughts."  A friend noticed some marks on my wrist and convinced me to put an end to the anxiety medications.)  Now that I was busy with other things, laxatives started to have less of a functional place in my life.  I couldn't dedicate hours on end to the bowel-writhing agony they caused.  Not while working and sitting in class.  So, slowly, I had to stop.  My body had to learn how to work by itself again.  It took years to reverse the physical damage my disorders caused.

By the time I met my husband, I was no longer anorexic or bulimic, but I was still sub-clinically disordered and couldn't have a bowel movement without an enema.  I still made unhealthy pacts with myself to either not eat, or eat less, or exercise a ridiculous amount more, etc.  Meeting my husband changed my entire world, though.  He loved me for me.  He didn't care about the size of my jeans.  He cared about me being healthy.  And with my honesty and his support, I started to heal.   I still worried more than I should about my appearance and belly and thighs, but I didn't act on the threats I made to my body.  That was a start.

When I became pregnant, my perception changed again.  When you realize you have a life growing within you — that their entire well-being depends on what you're putting in your body — all of that selfishness floats away.  Or, at least it did for me.  I thought, "How could I damage this body, the one that is creating my child?"  After having my son, I would moan and groan a bit about the pounds I "needed" to lose, but it wasn't outrageous, not like before.  I cared less about being thin and more about being a present mother.  By the time I had my daughter four years later, I was in a better place, body-image-wise.  I had the greatest reason in the world to have a little extra "stretch" to my skin: I grew two amazing little beings.  I learned to appreciate my body more.

Not that I'm cured.  I can't look at an old photo without first scoping out whether it was during a "thinner" or "bigger" phase.  My weight fluctuates 5-10 pounds on a yearly basis.  But I can't obsess.  I can't be a good mother and obsess.  I can't teach my children to love their bodies if I don't love mine.  So I try very hard to keep negative thoughts to myself.  I try to talk about how we should be so thankful for our bodies because they get us around in the world.  We're all beautiful, all shapes, all sizes.  To think of my son or daughter feeling all that I did, that self-loathing and self-harm — it makes me want to cry.  I'm making it my job to remind them that they're incredible, just the way they were made.  I know that outside influences can't be completely curbed.  I just want them to have that arsenal of self-love when the onslaught of doubt hits.

I'm turning 30 in less than a month.  I always thought that by now, I would have come to terms with my self-esteem issues.  I haven't, not completely.  I know I'm beautiful.  I know my husband loves me, my kids love me, my family loves me.  But sometimes I just hear my cousin's voice in the back of my head, "Amy, why are you sucking in?"  It's a work-in-progress.  Sometimes I fear I'll be worrying about my stomach or thighs until my last breath.  And then I remind myself — every moment I stop to worry about how I look or what someone will think when they notice I've gained 5 pounds...is a moment wasted.  Rather, I should be celebrating that I have a healthy body and two legs to run with my kids, two arms to hug them, to hug my husband.  I have to hear my mother's voice in my memory, reminding me, just as I remind my children, that I am beautiful and special and brilliant.  And each time I hear it, I'm finding that belief matters more to me than a number on a clothing tag.