Firstly, you may notice a bit of a different title and header for this blog. During my usual 4am "let's contemplate the universe" wake-up call this morning, I realized that if I continue to post as I have for the past year then this is no longer a blog about all things fat but is instead just a blog about my life. Additionally, I realized that I had unwittingly painted myself into a corner with the original topic of this blog (speaking out for all of fatkind, which has grown tiresome) and that it's time to just let go and write without having to tie it all back to fat advocacy. So, from here on out, it will consciously continue to be about my personal life and how fatness may or may not color it. Thanks for coming to my party!
I preface this next section by saying that I'm at home sick today and therefore a little bit crabby and a little bit bored. This morning I took my usual spin around the internet, as I always do, by checking out People, Go Fug Yourself and various blogs by friends and non-friends alike. One of my very favorite blogs, and has been for over a year, is Dooce. Heather Armstrong has the ability to pull off hilarious and deadly serious with equal aplomb, and generally within the same posting. She also takes great photographs and I would give my left arm to have her decorate my apartment. And recently, she got involved in a little project called Momversation.
As someone who has increasingly been toying with the idea of becoming a mom, Momversation originally fascinated me. One of my biggest fears about becoming a parent is, and always has been, that being hip seems to no longer be a possibility after giving birth. The bloggers involved with Momversation all seem to eschew this notion and that's what drew me to them. They are all incredibly hip ladies with interesting lives both inside and outside their respective "mom blogs".
I was drawn to one of these bloggers in particular, but I'm not going to say who it is. I bookmarked her blog and read every day just as I read Dooce. At first, just like with Dooce, I couldn't get enough and sought more reading in her blog's archive. Then, slowly, I began to get irritated with her postings - yet I wasn't sure why. I took her off my bookmarks one day only to put her back on after a week's respite. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today, and again this could be strongly colored by crabby sickness, I started to put my finger on what bugged me... and not just about her specifically, but about "them" generally. This was after I watched one particularly annoying episode of Momversation. Whereas I might find some of the Momversations amusing in sections, it is not particularly helpful in any way to someone contemplating motherhood, to someone who may be on the cusp of experiencing all the things these women are talking about. On a very base level, I'm not sure that Momversation really "works" (as a platform/vehicle for information).
In general, after sampling each woman's blog, I find there is a strange self-righteousness about what these women have to say about their lives and their parenting abilities. I'm getting the feeling that they think they belong to some exclusive club that they themselves founded, and you better be good enough, smart enough, savvy enough, hip enough, whatever, in order to obtain your own key. (And let me clarify, I've never felt this way about Dooce!)
I sat here thinking, "Geezus, it's like they're the self-appointed 'power ladies of lunching' a la Lipstick Jungle or Cashmere Mafia. Huh... mafia. Yes! They're the Mom Blog Mafia!
There are several other blogs I read by women who happen to be mothers, such as author Jennifer Weiner's, and they blog about their kids - sometimes in great depth - but it's not the complete focus, nor is their supposed unparalleled parenting abilities. If anything, I very much appreciate those who are self-deprecating, or at least conscious of their vulnerability, and that applies to pretty much all areas of life (not just blogs and the internet).
Ok, so why does this hold so much energy for me? That's a whole other can of worms for my therapist to open but for the purpose of this posting, it irks me because I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be one of the Mafia... with a hugely successful blog that supports not only me financially but my husband too, with a couple books on the shelf at Amazon.com, with some sort of wildly successful off-internet pursuit such as photography, graphic design or filmmaking. And, it makes me feel like a bit of a failure that all that stuff isn't in the cards for me, at least at this point in life. I'm not faulting any of them for "making" me feel this way, believe me. I just need to take the anonymous Mom Blogger off my bookmarks list for good, as well as Momversation, and live my own damn life.
As an aside, and quite honestly also a reason I feel irked, BlogHer rejected my request to be added to their Blog Directory, based on non-consistent posting. They were nice about it and all, but just adds a layer to my Mafia theory.
On a last note, one unusual blog that always cheers me up, no matter what, is Heather Champ's Flickr photostream.
05 February 2009
26 January 2009
Snowboarding
Back in my 20's, I was facinated by the X Games. Didn't matter if it was summer or winter. I would watch Street Luge (and did so in person once, actually, in front of SF's Cliffhouse!) with as much absorption as I watched Snocross (aka Snowmobile slalom).
My favorite, however, was watching All Things Snowboarding. I was an avid skier from ages 8-13 and wanted to pick it back up again as an adult... until snowboarding came into the picture. Then I wanted to be a snowboarder! A great one! And I would be so good at it, too! Because I also skateboarded as a kid, and had great balance!
Surely you're getting the picture here. I was an obsessed person. And given the culture on the slopes (from what I heard, anyhow, since I never actually went to the slopes at that time), skiing was out out out. Snowboarding was in and cool and would replace skiing because skiing was for old fogies.
As with many things in my 20's, my fantasy about becoming a snowboarder never materialized into reality. I blamed it on fat. After a couple hours on the slopes as a kid, I could barely pick myself up after falling because of exhaustion... how in heck was I going to pick myself up as a fat frequently-falling adult with both my feet strapped to one piece of board? And, there literally were no snowboarding (or skiing) clothes for fat people in the late 90's. Hell, when I was a kid my mom fashioned black wool pants used for adults in my dad's marching band into ski pants for me. That's how bad of an outlook it was for fat people of all ages who wanted to engage in winter sports. Thank goodness for Junonia now, for offering clothing for all types of sports to fat women.
Junonia, actually, is where Honey Bunny purchased me my Xmas present the first year we were together: a two-piece alpine jacket and black alpine pants. He took me at face value that I wanted to snowboard, god love him. Have I used them yet? No. Have I even tried them on since he gave them to me?? No. I'm still fearful of how fat will hold me back in the snowboarding venue. However... although I'm bigger than I was in my 20's, I'm much stronger now (thanks to personal training). Honey Bunny also - thankfully - believes only in private lessons. And of course, I'm much more enlightened now about how fat should never hold anyone back from what they want to do. So, what's the hold up?
This past weekend, we went up to the mountains to visit some of HB's family. While packing, he asked me - as he always does when we go to the snow - if I was going to pack my alpine clothing in case I wanted to snowboard while he went skiing. Gulp. I had a major internal struggle about what to do. Should I face down my demons and just do it??
It occured to me that, seeing as skiing is in vogue once again (yes, groan), I could just ski instead. It wouldn't be as big of a learning curve. Probably less bruising. A little safer emotionally and physically. Hmmm. This went on in my head for about 20 minutes until HB walked in the room and said, "Nevermind, I just looked at the resort's website... the snow sucks right now." Phew!
I kept thinking, though, and I realized that in my 20's I viewed snowboarding much like I viewed skydiving. It was something I had to do before I turned 30 because that would make me cool and hardcore and young. 30 came and went without doing either, so I moved the goal to 40. Thankfully by the time I turned 32 I'd decided that wanting to skydive was ridiculous, as I would have such a panic reaction just thinking about skydiving, or watching other people's skydiving videos, that I could barely breathe. Snowboarding is far from skydiving in quality, I realize, but the energy behind both was similar.
Now on the other side of 35 -- I don't need to snowboard to be cool! I'll probably do it because it looks fun, and it's good for the soul to try new things. And in the end, I'll have to face down some demons to once again try skiing... so why not just go full-tilt and try snowboarding? Why not try both skiing AND snowboarding? It will be tough no matter what, so just do it, girl!
On a last note, I must include this story that makes me laugh in retrospect. It was around the second Winter X Games I watched that a person from my school years placed in the top 5 in a snowboarding event. By "person", I mean Janelle, one of the neighborhood mean girls who made my life a living hell from ages 6 through 18. I remember jumping up off the couch and screaming (not in a good way) when I saw her name flash on the screen for her first run... and again when they interviewed her after her run... and again when I saw her name in the final results. People, I was spun on it. It was all I could talk about for at least a month, about how that bitch became a snowboarder in the X Games, and fuck her for stealing my dream. To top it off, I found an online interview of her in which she said her favorite foods were steamed vegetables and soft pretzles. My favorite foods at that time were nacho cheese sauce, nacho cheese Doritos and M&M's. Ahem. She said she had a great life and got to travel the world competing on her corporate sponsor's dime. I hated her even more because she looked uncharacteristically peaceful and sweet and like someone I would actually want to be friends with.
It took me awhile to come down from this. I was so incredibly pissed off that I didn't know what to do with myself. Eventually the memory faded and I went back to my normal life. I did think about it occasionally over the years. Now 10-ish years later, I have a good laugh over it. I was paralyzed by life at that time. Whereas I did not have the skills or resources to become an X Games competetion level snowboarder, I could have at least stepped a foot ON an actual snowboard and had some fun. Thank goodness for therapy and for a life that is (more or less!) unparalyzed now.
My favorite, however, was watching All Things Snowboarding. I was an avid skier from ages 8-13 and wanted to pick it back up again as an adult... until snowboarding came into the picture. Then I wanted to be a snowboarder! A great one! And I would be so good at it, too! Because I also skateboarded as a kid, and had great balance!
Surely you're getting the picture here. I was an obsessed person. And given the culture on the slopes (from what I heard, anyhow, since I never actually went to the slopes at that time), skiing was out out out. Snowboarding was in and cool and would replace skiing because skiing was for old fogies.
As with many things in my 20's, my fantasy about becoming a snowboarder never materialized into reality. I blamed it on fat. After a couple hours on the slopes as a kid, I could barely pick myself up after falling because of exhaustion... how in heck was I going to pick myself up as a fat frequently-falling adult with both my feet strapped to one piece of board? And, there literally were no snowboarding (or skiing) clothes for fat people in the late 90's. Hell, when I was a kid my mom fashioned black wool pants used for adults in my dad's marching band into ski pants for me. That's how bad of an outlook it was for fat people of all ages who wanted to engage in winter sports. Thank goodness for Junonia now, for offering clothing for all types of sports to fat women.
Junonia, actually, is where Honey Bunny purchased me my Xmas present the first year we were together: a two-piece alpine jacket and black alpine pants. He took me at face value that I wanted to snowboard, god love him. Have I used them yet? No. Have I even tried them on since he gave them to me?? No. I'm still fearful of how fat will hold me back in the snowboarding venue. However... although I'm bigger than I was in my 20's, I'm much stronger now (thanks to personal training). Honey Bunny also - thankfully - believes only in private lessons. And of course, I'm much more enlightened now about how fat should never hold anyone back from what they want to do. So, what's the hold up?
This past weekend, we went up to the mountains to visit some of HB's family. While packing, he asked me - as he always does when we go to the snow - if I was going to pack my alpine clothing in case I wanted to snowboard while he went skiing. Gulp. I had a major internal struggle about what to do. Should I face down my demons and just do it??
It occured to me that, seeing as skiing is in vogue once again (yes, groan), I could just ski instead. It wouldn't be as big of a learning curve. Probably less bruising. A little safer emotionally and physically. Hmmm. This went on in my head for about 20 minutes until HB walked in the room and said, "Nevermind, I just looked at the resort's website... the snow sucks right now." Phew!
I kept thinking, though, and I realized that in my 20's I viewed snowboarding much like I viewed skydiving. It was something I had to do before I turned 30 because that would make me cool and hardcore and young. 30 came and went without doing either, so I moved the goal to 40. Thankfully by the time I turned 32 I'd decided that wanting to skydive was ridiculous, as I would have such a panic reaction just thinking about skydiving, or watching other people's skydiving videos, that I could barely breathe. Snowboarding is far from skydiving in quality, I realize, but the energy behind both was similar.
Now on the other side of 35 -- I don't need to snowboard to be cool! I'll probably do it because it looks fun, and it's good for the soul to try new things. And in the end, I'll have to face down some demons to once again try skiing... so why not just go full-tilt and try snowboarding? Why not try both skiing AND snowboarding? It will be tough no matter what, so just do it, girl!
On a last note, I must include this story that makes me laugh in retrospect. It was around the second Winter X Games I watched that a person from my school years placed in the top 5 in a snowboarding event. By "person", I mean Janelle, one of the neighborhood mean girls who made my life a living hell from ages 6 through 18. I remember jumping up off the couch and screaming (not in a good way) when I saw her name flash on the screen for her first run... and again when they interviewed her after her run... and again when I saw her name in the final results. People, I was spun on it. It was all I could talk about for at least a month, about how that bitch became a snowboarder in the X Games, and fuck her for stealing my dream. To top it off, I found an online interview of her in which she said her favorite foods were steamed vegetables and soft pretzles. My favorite foods at that time were nacho cheese sauce, nacho cheese Doritos and M&M's. Ahem. She said she had a great life and got to travel the world competing on her corporate sponsor's dime. I hated her even more because she looked uncharacteristically peaceful and sweet and like someone I would actually want to be friends with.
It took me awhile to come down from this. I was so incredibly pissed off that I didn't know what to do with myself. Eventually the memory faded and I went back to my normal life. I did think about it occasionally over the years. Now 10-ish years later, I have a good laugh over it. I was paralyzed by life at that time. Whereas I did not have the skills or resources to become an X Games competetion level snowboarder, I could have at least stepped a foot ON an actual snowboard and had some fun. Thank goodness for therapy and for a life that is (more or less!) unparalyzed now.
03 January 2009
Hello, 2009!
As always, sorry for not posting in timely fashion, and I also apologize for a general lack of posting in 2008. 2008 is a year I'll never forget, and, quite honestly, it can kiss my ass goodbye.
The Wedding, getting married, being married, are all great things about 2008. So was seeing a lot of friends who live elsewhere because of (sometimes multiple) wedding festivities. Honey Bunny got his industry award, which was very awesome. Barack Obama was elected; that is off the charts wonderful. And... work didn't suck as badly? "Mamma Mia!" saved my Christmas and "Yes Man" saved my state of mind? YES, I'm reaching.
Unfortunately, for the majority of the year I dealt with panic attacks, insomnia and anxiety, and narrowly avoided a slew of anxiety-associated health problems. Most profoundly of all, I/we had to say goodbye to my best feline friend of 12 years just after Thanksgiving. We had had a major health scare with her in June but she emerged kitten-like. Shortly after my last post, she was diagnosed with the most fatal of liver cancers. It was one of the most devastating things I've ever had to endure, to witness her life come to an end and to say goodbye.
2008 was the year I should have made official Zaftig Chick t-shirts with the slogan, "What I could never have predicted was..." As in:
...that I'd develop major anxiety over planning a wedding.
...that I'd become mostly ready to become a parent.
...that I'd partially come to terms with spirituality.
...that I'd put my beautiful kitty to rest and be holding her as she exited this lifetime.
There are, of course, numerous other things I could add, mostly comprised of the daily minutia of life ("...that I'd become an instant messaging fanatic").
Anyhow, I'm trying to maintain a better attitude about 2009. I have a close friend who is in a 12-step program who routinely challenges me when I start feeling shitty about myself and life. She always asks me what my part in it is (whatever "it" may be), and then she talks to me about gratitude. I'm a cynical person, and it's not easy to take. But, she's right. If there is anything Kitty's passing taught me loud and clear, it's that life is fleeting. The old cliche comes to mind that you can either choose to see every moment in life/with someone you love/etc as a gift, or you can choose to watch it go by and be victimized by your losses. Believe me, when the grieving has more or less passed, I'm going to renew my effort to choose the former more than choosing the latter.
On that note, here's a good thing that has happened in the few short days since 2009 started. I got a tattoo today! Getting one has been a goal for about 15 years but I was always crippled by fear and stalemated by indecision about image and location on the body. When Kitty passed away, I knew immediately what my tattoo would be. A heart shape constructed of fur - in her coat colors and texture - with her first initial in cursive font located on the inside of the heart.
Of course it hurt... but nowhere near as badly as losing a best friend. I reminded myself of that many times in the couple hours it took.
For anyone who is considering a tattoo but is scared of it, I'll tell you this. I have gotten feedback from many tattooed friends over the years and the general consensus was absolutely correct: it feels like someone dragging their long-ass fingernails over your fresh, lobster-red, swollen sunburn. The thing I didn't capture from friends was that the pain spectrum is really wide.
For instance, when my artist put down the first line I was expecting it to feel so ouchy that I would howl in pain. I was gripping the table in anticipation. What it actually felt like was someone writing on me really hard with a Bic pen. Uncomfortable but nowhere near unbearable. I let go of the table and yelled out, "Oh my god, that hurts so much less than I thought it would!"
That lasted until she started doing long, curving, arching lines. Quite honestly, on certain portions of the design it felt like she was using a scalpel to draw. That was more on the unbearable end of the spectrum. Thank goodness she had to keep stopping to dip the needle into ink. The micro-breaks make it tolerable.
She also mentioned before doing the tattoo, and was quite right, that the location I'd chosen - my lower back/upper butt, north of the butt crack and off to one side - is known for discomfort. The right side of the heart shape was quite painful, whereas the left side was almost nothing. Seriously. Like, it felt like she was lightly drawing on me with a dull pencil. Why this is, I don't know. She said that that's just how it is with the body. For another person, the left could be painful while the right was nothing, or the whole thing could have been nothing, and so on and so forth.
The most common thing I'd heard about tattooing is that the outline, which uses only one needle, hurts quite a bit more than shading, in which my artist used a nine-needle machine. I would say that's partially true. The outline can be really intense but chances are the artist is only going over the area once or twice with the needle. It's intense for short bursts of time and when it's done, it's done.
When my artist started shading, it was a welcome change from the outline. It does hurt a lot less for awhile. However, at least on my design, she went over various areas several times and it started to really feel like I had a shitty sunburn that someone kept taunting over and over again... if "taunting" is having a cat knead your seriously inflamed skin with her freshly sharpened nails. Ouch! I had to take a break about 3/4 into shading. Breaks are good. There's no way I could have finished without it.
Long story short, it's over before you know it and you have art on your body and that's really awesome. I'm so glad that in 2009 I am able to mark off one of my life goals, and that it's not just a design that was arbitrarily chosen. No, it ain't the Egyptian symbol of death or anything like that, but it's deep to me. Here's hoping that I can make strides to mark another thing, or things, off my life goals list.
Happy new year!
The Wedding, getting married, being married, are all great things about 2008. So was seeing a lot of friends who live elsewhere because of (sometimes multiple) wedding festivities. Honey Bunny got his industry award, which was very awesome. Barack Obama was elected; that is off the charts wonderful. And... work didn't suck as badly? "Mamma Mia!" saved my Christmas and "Yes Man" saved my state of mind? YES, I'm reaching.
Unfortunately, for the majority of the year I dealt with panic attacks, insomnia and anxiety, and narrowly avoided a slew of anxiety-associated health problems. Most profoundly of all, I/we had to say goodbye to my best feline friend of 12 years just after Thanksgiving. We had had a major health scare with her in June but she emerged kitten-like. Shortly after my last post, she was diagnosed with the most fatal of liver cancers. It was one of the most devastating things I've ever had to endure, to witness her life come to an end and to say goodbye.
2008 was the year I should have made official Zaftig Chick t-shirts with the slogan, "What I could never have predicted was..." As in:
...that I'd develop major anxiety over planning a wedding.
...that I'd become mostly ready to become a parent.
...that I'd partially come to terms with spirituality.
...that I'd put my beautiful kitty to rest and be holding her as she exited this lifetime.
There are, of course, numerous other things I could add, mostly comprised of the daily minutia of life ("...that I'd become an instant messaging fanatic").
Anyhow, I'm trying to maintain a better attitude about 2009. I have a close friend who is in a 12-step program who routinely challenges me when I start feeling shitty about myself and life. She always asks me what my part in it is (whatever "it" may be), and then she talks to me about gratitude. I'm a cynical person, and it's not easy to take. But, she's right. If there is anything Kitty's passing taught me loud and clear, it's that life is fleeting. The old cliche comes to mind that you can either choose to see every moment in life/with someone you love/etc as a gift, or you can choose to watch it go by and be victimized by your losses. Believe me, when the grieving has more or less passed, I'm going to renew my effort to choose the former more than choosing the latter.
On that note, here's a good thing that has happened in the few short days since 2009 started. I got a tattoo today! Getting one has been a goal for about 15 years but I was always crippled by fear and stalemated by indecision about image and location on the body. When Kitty passed away, I knew immediately what my tattoo would be. A heart shape constructed of fur - in her coat colors and texture - with her first initial in cursive font located on the inside of the heart.
Of course it hurt... but nowhere near as badly as losing a best friend. I reminded myself of that many times in the couple hours it took.
For anyone who is considering a tattoo but is scared of it, I'll tell you this. I have gotten feedback from many tattooed friends over the years and the general consensus was absolutely correct: it feels like someone dragging their long-ass fingernails over your fresh, lobster-red, swollen sunburn. The thing I didn't capture from friends was that the pain spectrum is really wide.
For instance, when my artist put down the first line I was expecting it to feel so ouchy that I would howl in pain. I was gripping the table in anticipation. What it actually felt like was someone writing on me really hard with a Bic pen. Uncomfortable but nowhere near unbearable. I let go of the table and yelled out, "Oh my god, that hurts so much less than I thought it would!"
That lasted until she started doing long, curving, arching lines. Quite honestly, on certain portions of the design it felt like she was using a scalpel to draw. That was more on the unbearable end of the spectrum. Thank goodness she had to keep stopping to dip the needle into ink. The micro-breaks make it tolerable.
She also mentioned before doing the tattoo, and was quite right, that the location I'd chosen - my lower back/upper butt, north of the butt crack and off to one side - is known for discomfort. The right side of the heart shape was quite painful, whereas the left side was almost nothing. Seriously. Like, it felt like she was lightly drawing on me with a dull pencil. Why this is, I don't know. She said that that's just how it is with the body. For another person, the left could be painful while the right was nothing, or the whole thing could have been nothing, and so on and so forth.
The most common thing I'd heard about tattooing is that the outline, which uses only one needle, hurts quite a bit more than shading, in which my artist used a nine-needle machine. I would say that's partially true. The outline can be really intense but chances are the artist is only going over the area once or twice with the needle. It's intense for short bursts of time and when it's done, it's done.
When my artist started shading, it was a welcome change from the outline. It does hurt a lot less for awhile. However, at least on my design, she went over various areas several times and it started to really feel like I had a shitty sunburn that someone kept taunting over and over again... if "taunting" is having a cat knead your seriously inflamed skin with her freshly sharpened nails. Ouch! I had to take a break about 3/4 into shading. Breaks are good. There's no way I could have finished without it.
Long story short, it's over before you know it and you have art on your body and that's really awesome. I'm so glad that in 2009 I am able to mark off one of my life goals, and that it's not just a design that was arbitrarily chosen. No, it ain't the Egyptian symbol of death or anything like that, but it's deep to me. Here's hoping that I can make strides to mark another thing, or things, off my life goals list.
Happy new year!
21 November 2008
Two blues amongst 150 reds
Honey Bunny and I were in San Diego this week for an all-expenses-paid trip to an industry conference in which HB was presented with one of this industry's high honors. Yay for Honey Bunny! It was pretty sweet being set up at a nice hotel, most meals catered, not to mention being able to hang with my San Diegan peeps. Only problem was that people from this industry happen to be pretty darn conservative and pretty darn proud of it, while we are pretty darn liberal.
Under the best of circumstances, I don't really know how to gracefully disagree with someone. Seems like I either go way overboard and get defensive, or I don't say anything at all and feel regretful after the fact. This conference, in which we were being hosted because of an honor HB earned, could be considered the worst of circumstances.
For instance, we were making chit-chat with an industry person over cocktails at the big awards banquet. Industry Person would be presenting HB's award to him later in the program and HB has known him peripherally for many years and respects him. It was a time to play nice. It wasn't long before the conversation veered into dangerous territory, though.
Long story that I'm not going to get into but Industry Person shared his views on adoption. He said, "Adoption should only be allowed for married couples, and marriage should only be between a man and a woman. It's scary what's happening out there with gay marriage and all that stuff." Honey Bunny kind of grunted "hmmm", I kind of grunted "hmmm", and then we stole a "WTF?" glance at eachother. Then I took a page from my mother's book and mused about what the weather might be like tomorrow. Awkward!
I told this story to a gay friend earlier today and this friend is no longer speaking to me. Could be temporary, could be permanent... I never really know with this friend. But her point was that I should have said something to counter this guy's opinion because "I have lots of gay friends."
Moral of the story: don't talk to people about shit that you don't want to hear their opinions on. Seriously!
My personal opinion is that there's a time and a place to share your opinions and/or respond to other people's strong opinions. While I think it was totally distasteful for Industry Person to have voiced his opinion on gay marriage in that venue, just assuming we would share his opinion, I don't know that my opposing viewpoint would have done much more than put HB on edge on a very special night for him.
In my defense(iveness), what I wanted to say to Gay Friend is that sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your significant other, and that she doesn't understand that at this stage in her life because she has not yet been in a long-term significant relationship. When you're in a relationship, there are times you find yourself tripping out on something you've just done or said (or not done or not said, as the case may be) because in your single years you never would have dreamed of making a sacrifice like that for anyone. Maybe you'd watched a coupled friend make a decision you disagreed with and you vowed never to make that same mistake. But then you couple and you find yourself on the other side of the fence and you completely understand in retrospect why your friend made that decision. That's how long-term significantly coupled life has been for me, anyhow.
I won't say any of that to my gay friend, of course. I'm not gay, and further, I just got married. It's not my civil rights that were just trod upon. Ultimately, I understand her point about why I should have spoken up about my opinion on gay marriage to Industry Person. I don't like that she's chosen to not speak to me, but I do understand her reaction.
As a result, I keep thinking, Would I change how I responded to his comment in retrospect? If I could turn back time, probably... but only because I'm that person who can think of a million great witty/clever/barbed/whatever retorts to an insult if you give me 12 hours and a handful of Advil. (On the spot? Nope. See aforementioned paragraph re: best of circumstances.) But, then again, maybe I wouldn't.
Under the best of circumstances, I don't really know how to gracefully disagree with someone. Seems like I either go way overboard and get defensive, or I don't say anything at all and feel regretful after the fact. This conference, in which we were being hosted because of an honor HB earned, could be considered the worst of circumstances.
For instance, we were making chit-chat with an industry person over cocktails at the big awards banquet. Industry Person would be presenting HB's award to him later in the program and HB has known him peripherally for many years and respects him. It was a time to play nice. It wasn't long before the conversation veered into dangerous territory, though.
Long story that I'm not going to get into but Industry Person shared his views on adoption. He said, "Adoption should only be allowed for married couples, and marriage should only be between a man and a woman. It's scary what's happening out there with gay marriage and all that stuff." Honey Bunny kind of grunted "hmmm", I kind of grunted "hmmm", and then we stole a "WTF?" glance at eachother. Then I took a page from my mother's book and mused about what the weather might be like tomorrow. Awkward!
I told this story to a gay friend earlier today and this friend is no longer speaking to me. Could be temporary, could be permanent... I never really know with this friend. But her point was that I should have said something to counter this guy's opinion because "I have lots of gay friends."
Moral of the story: don't talk to people about shit that you don't want to hear their opinions on. Seriously!
My personal opinion is that there's a time and a place to share your opinions and/or respond to other people's strong opinions. While I think it was totally distasteful for Industry Person to have voiced his opinion on gay marriage in that venue, just assuming we would share his opinion, I don't know that my opposing viewpoint would have done much more than put HB on edge on a very special night for him.
In my defense(iveness), what I wanted to say to Gay Friend is that sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your significant other, and that she doesn't understand that at this stage in her life because she has not yet been in a long-term significant relationship. When you're in a relationship, there are times you find yourself tripping out on something you've just done or said (or not done or not said, as the case may be) because in your single years you never would have dreamed of making a sacrifice like that for anyone. Maybe you'd watched a coupled friend make a decision you disagreed with and you vowed never to make that same mistake. But then you couple and you find yourself on the other side of the fence and you completely understand in retrospect why your friend made that decision. That's how long-term significantly coupled life has been for me, anyhow.
I won't say any of that to my gay friend, of course. I'm not gay, and further, I just got married. It's not my civil rights that were just trod upon. Ultimately, I understand her point about why I should have spoken up about my opinion on gay marriage to Industry Person. I don't like that she's chosen to not speak to me, but I do understand her reaction.
As a result, I keep thinking, Would I change how I responded to his comment in retrospect? If I could turn back time, probably... but only because I'm that person who can think of a million great witty/clever/barbed/whatever retorts to an insult if you give me 12 hours and a handful of Advil. (On the spot? Nope. See aforementioned paragraph re: best of circumstances.) But, then again, maybe I wouldn't.
04 November 2008
Swagger
For those of you who watched "America's Best Dance Crew, Season 2" on MTV, could the word "swagger" be any more overused in reference to Supreme Soul? (And, was Fanny Pak robbed or what??)
Supreme Soul got labeled early on as having mega-egos. Eh, don't you kinda have to have a mega-ego if you're going to compete on an MTV reality show? Especially in the genre of hip-hop dancing where contests are known as "battles"? Especially a crew who battled ABDC Season 1 winner, and my personal dance favorites, JabbaWockeeZ, and WON?
The reason I bring this up is because I was reading one of Honey Bunny's motorcycle magazines this morning and was lucky enough to come across Valentino Rossi news. (Yes, when I run out of new issues of US Weekly and InStyle, I turn to HB's moto rags for warmth and comfort.) There was some coverage of the Laguna Seca race of the MotoGP 2008 race series. Rossi won again, no surprise there. Casey Stoner (heh, his last name is Stoner!) still fighting for first. Nicky Hayden still fighting for... anything above 10th, really.
By the way, Nicky Hayden is to blame for this whole MotoGP and Valentino Rossi interest of mine. MTV produced a little documentary early this year called "The Kentucky Kid", all about Hayden's rise to a completely unexpected MotoGP Championship win in 2006, and his ensuing fall from grace in the 2007 race year. It was an interesting story, for sure, but mostly I realized that watching motorcycle racing, at least MotoGP racing, is like watching baseball. The action is slow but sure, slightly meditative, with some spine-tingling action along the way.
Mostly, though, I was captivated by Valentino Rossi. The guy has enough swagger to last about five million lifetimes, yet somehow he manages to still be likeable. This moto mag described him as "fun-loving imp" on the outside and "fiercest competitor ever" on the inside. Rossi is the guy at press conferences who puts his feet up on the table and leans his chair back on two legs, like he hasn't a care in the world. But surely, surely that hides the inner-workings of someone who is completely competent, completely focused and completely FULL of cares.
After the wedding, my friend's boyfriend told her that I was different than other fat girls he's met. He said, "All the zaftig chicks I've known have been loud, crass and full of swagger." He said that I, on the other hand, was reserved and classy. It's too bad he's never seen me in full swing because I'm pretty sure he'd be surprised, but it was nice to get that feedback nevertheless.
I've also known several zaftig sisters who were loud, crass and full of swagger. In fact, they comprise the majority, at least in my world. At work I have a cube neighbor who is an aspiring stand-up comedian. Sometimes for annual staff retreats, she gets talked into doing stand-up routines and they invariably land her in the CEO's office for a stern talking-to about cussing, vulgarity and the very public trashing of said CEO. I love that!
It's funny because there are a lot of people in this world who I find annoying based solely on the swagger they exhibit. Then there are others who I find interesting primarily because of their swagger. Here's how I separate it out in this crazy head of mine... If I think there is an unabashed mega-ego behind the swagger, then it can be acceptable (see: Rossi). If I think there is a vulnerable person underneath who is trying to artifically pump up his/her ego by blowing swagger smoke up my ass, then I find the person completely distasteful (see: Perez Hilton). If I think there is a vulnerable person underneath who is fighting for something more, then it's deserved (see: cube neighbor).
Supreme Soul got labeled early on as having mega-egos. Eh, don't you kinda have to have a mega-ego if you're going to compete on an MTV reality show? Especially in the genre of hip-hop dancing where contests are known as "battles"? Especially a crew who battled ABDC Season 1 winner, and my personal dance favorites, JabbaWockeeZ, and WON?
The reason I bring this up is because I was reading one of Honey Bunny's motorcycle magazines this morning and was lucky enough to come across Valentino Rossi news. (Yes, when I run out of new issues of US Weekly and InStyle, I turn to HB's moto rags for warmth and comfort.) There was some coverage of the Laguna Seca race of the MotoGP 2008 race series. Rossi won again, no surprise there. Casey Stoner (heh, his last name is Stoner!) still fighting for first. Nicky Hayden still fighting for... anything above 10th, really.
By the way, Nicky Hayden is to blame for this whole MotoGP and Valentino Rossi interest of mine. MTV produced a little documentary early this year called "The Kentucky Kid", all about Hayden's rise to a completely unexpected MotoGP Championship win in 2006, and his ensuing fall from grace in the 2007 race year. It was an interesting story, for sure, but mostly I realized that watching motorcycle racing, at least MotoGP racing, is like watching baseball. The action is slow but sure, slightly meditative, with some spine-tingling action along the way.
Mostly, though, I was captivated by Valentino Rossi. The guy has enough swagger to last about five million lifetimes, yet somehow he manages to still be likeable. This moto mag described him as "fun-loving imp" on the outside and "fiercest competitor ever" on the inside. Rossi is the guy at press conferences who puts his feet up on the table and leans his chair back on two legs, like he hasn't a care in the world. But surely, surely that hides the inner-workings of someone who is completely competent, completely focused and completely FULL of cares.
After the wedding, my friend's boyfriend told her that I was different than other fat girls he's met. He said, "All the zaftig chicks I've known have been loud, crass and full of swagger." He said that I, on the other hand, was reserved and classy. It's too bad he's never seen me in full swing because I'm pretty sure he'd be surprised, but it was nice to get that feedback nevertheless.
I've also known several zaftig sisters who were loud, crass and full of swagger. In fact, they comprise the majority, at least in my world. At work I have a cube neighbor who is an aspiring stand-up comedian. Sometimes for annual staff retreats, she gets talked into doing stand-up routines and they invariably land her in the CEO's office for a stern talking-to about cussing, vulgarity and the very public trashing of said CEO. I love that!
It's funny because there are a lot of people in this world who I find annoying based solely on the swagger they exhibit. Then there are others who I find interesting primarily because of their swagger. Here's how I separate it out in this crazy head of mine... If I think there is an unabashed mega-ego behind the swagger, then it can be acceptable (see: Rossi). If I think there is a vulnerable person underneath who is trying to artifically pump up his/her ego by blowing swagger smoke up my ass, then I find the person completely distasteful (see: Perez Hilton). If I think there is a vulnerable person underneath who is fighting for something more, then it's deserved (see: cube neighbor).
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