Clicking into Place

Don't sweat the little things. There are more important things in life to enjoy. Cleaning your car? Open trunk, put stuff in trunk. I think that is what they are really for. Relationships? You're the girl. The guy should be sweating keeping you happy. If he isn't then he needs to meet your Uncle.
-My Dad's Brother


I did it again! While two weeks ago it was pictures from eight years ago, today I was looking at five year old pictures thinking to myself, "Oh my God, I was beautiful then, too!" My immediate follow-up response is, "I would do anything to be that weight again." Okay. Obviously not. I have an inhaler, and all I would need to do is take two puffs, throw on some running shoes, and get to getting. But here I am, having a meltdown over a messy room.

The only thing I'm not stressing over right now is my job. Work is easy. I wake up early Monday through Friday, I do my job, and then I come home. Nothing else makes sense. From my messy room, to my wreck of a love-life, nothing is the way it should be.

I had a painful falling out with the "special someone" I mentioned in my last blog. The situation only took me a few days to get over, but I wasn't prepared for the way it ended. We were having communication issues, and since we were only two months in I found that to be a good enough reason to move on. I tried pulling the plug in a civil manner last Saturday, but he managed to talk me out of it. Well, I really wish I had just walked away, because it would have saved me from a barrage of spiteful texts consisting of, "I used you, I cheated on you, and you're fat." He knew exactly what to say to hurt me; these were all fears I had expressed multiple times. Which is why it was so easy to move on. GFK calls this "The Flail." My ex took everything he knows I'm insecure about and ran rampant with it. He said these things to assure that I would hurt more than him.

I know he cared about me. I know he didn't think I was fat. But the cheating part is really up in the air; I'd always suspected he might be. I mean, come on. If you leave at 5pm, it doesn't take three hours to get home from downtown Chicago taking the I-55. In addition to his late nights, he had insight into my life that I never gave him.... For instance, I opened his fridge one night and there was a Twix bar on the shelf. I said, "Oh, I love Twix! How did you know?" He laughed and said, "You told me they're your favorite."

Funny story: No I didn't! We had never talked about candy, and Twix is not my favorite. I laughed and said, "Maybe you're confusing me with someone else." This was probably two weeks into our relationship, and it was at that moment that I thought to myself, "Maybe he IS confusing me with someone else. Maybe he has a girl in the city." So the fact that he told me I was "too stupid to see the signs" was completely inaccurate. Remember how I mentioned he and I had communication issues? They were of the "dude doesn't listen" variety.

Because I can't think of an appropriate segue, I'll just give you a heads up:

I'm changing the topic now!

I had a phenomenal birthday. I walked in last Thursday morning and my desk looked like this:

I was touched beyond words. Especially when my entire team came to my desk at 2pm with a cupcake and a candle, a birthday card, and a gift. It was the best birthday I've ever had, and I'm so grateful for the people at Wells Fargo.

Porch Talk with Mama Bear

Newsflash! [Alexis] already has body image issues! It’s an intrinsic part of being a woman. Every woman in the world has some part of herself that she absolutely hates. Her hands are too small, feet are too big, hair is too straight or too curly, her ears stick out, her butt’s too flat, her nose is too big. Nothing you can say will change how we feel! What men don’t understand is that the right clothes, the right shoes, the right makeup can hide the flaws we think we have. They make us look beautiful to ourselves. That’s what makes us look beautiful to others.

-Meredith Castle, season one, final episode

Considering tomorrow marks day two of my on-site training at Wells Fargo, with my first “welcome call” to come later this week, now is a really bad time to feel the urge to get my thoughts together. 

Earlier tonight I was feeling the need for some girl chat, so I called the neighbor who happens to be Bear’s mom/owner, so I think it’s only fitting that I call her Mama Bear. On my parents’ front porch there is a swing that oftentimes collects our neighbors when one of us is sitting outside alone, and I wouldn’t put it past them to converge even without our presence. It’s kind of nice to hear people chatting on the porch, and to wander out and find one of the neighbors keeping my father company.

To the point: I needed porch talk with Mama Bear tonight. Including a wide variety of other girly topics, we covered body image. After masterfully displaying my inability to gracefully receive a compliment or speak favorably about myself, Mama Bear asked, “Why are you so hard on yourself?”

Immediately I began to blame it on other things, other people. Excuses ranged from “monkey see, monkey do,” to “I put a negative twist on things that people say.” While these things may to some degree be true, there is no viable explanation for the magnitude of my negative self-image, which at some point consisted of some vicious comment about being past the “muffin top” phase and onto something more like an inner-tube.

After many failed attempts to justify my cruelty, Mama Bear stepped forward to save me. The comment that had the greatest impact was this: “Did you ever think that maybe you shoot yourself down so no one else gets the chance to?”

At the risk of appearing simpleminded, I can’t think of anything to say other than: That is SOOOO true.

Doesn’t it hurt less when I’m the first to admit that my calves are thicker than they used to be? Doesn’t it hurt less when I call my rolls an inner tube? We live in such a judgmental, image-conscious society that it's sufficiently less embarrassing to call yourself out than to risk someone else doing it for you. Hell, even Obama did it! He dug up his own dirt by admitting his past drug addiction during his 2008 campaign. How could McCain negatively use anything that Obama already put on the table? Though this has nothing to do with body image, it’s the same self-defense mechanism that I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on before.

Mama Bear then told me a story of when she was sorting through pictures taken ten years ago. At the time the pictures were taken, she harbored the same low self-esteem I’m struggling with. Today, she looks at those pictures and thinks, “I was nowhere near as fat or ugly as I thought I was. And the same thing will probably happen to me ten years from now. I hate my body, but in ten years I’ll look at the pictures from today and ask, ‘Why was I so hard on myself?’” I certainly can't figure it out. To me, Mama Bear is one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the honor of sharing my porch with.

Although I didn't get a chance to discuss this with Mama Bear, I started these musings last week after I misplaced my makeup case. After I finally found it and applied my makeup for the first time in eight days, I had a thought very similar to Meredith's, but much more simple: "Makeup doesn't make me more beautiful. It just hides my flaws and accentuates my natural beauty." In addition, I spend way too much money on hair-care products. And bright colored, well-fitted clothes. And ridiculous heels that are rarely worn but make my calves look more toned than chubby. But when you throw all of these things together, they make for that remarkable woman whose confidence gives onlookers whiplash.

And if that's what women need, I say unto my fellow girls: Have at it! Go nuts! Find what it takes to make you feel pretty and for God's sake, feel pretty!